 CHAPTER IX. A NEW PHASE. There was not the slightest doubt that Gordon had hit the mark. As far as they could see at present, the man most likely to benefit by the death or disappearance of the cripple was Mark Fenwick. Still it was impossible to dismiss the thing in this casual way, or could it be forgotten that the cripple had actually been present at the Grant-Empire Hotel on the night when the alleged millionaire received his message by means of the mummified finger. Therefore, logically speaking, it was only fair to infer that on the night in question Fenwick had not been acquainted with the personality of the cripple. Otherwise the latter would have scarcely ventured to show himself in a place where his experiment had been brought to a conclusion. On the other hand it was just possible that Fenwick had been looking for the cripple for some time past. But all this was more or less in the air, though there was a great deal to be said for the conclusion at which the two friends had arrived. I work it out like this, Venor said, after a long, thoughtful pause. You know all about the forefinger mine. You know exactly what happened to the Dutchman Van Fort after the murder of Lyphineau. It will be fresh in your recollection how, by some mysterious agency, the fingers of the Dutchman were conveyed to his wife, though he himself was never seen again. It is quite fair to infer that Fenwick has contrived to get hold of the same mine, though that dangerous property does not seem to have harmed him as much as it did the other thief. Still, we know that he has lost all the fingers of his left hand, and we have evidence of the fact that the vengeance has been worked out in the same mysterious fashion as it was worked out on the Dutchman. We know, too, who is at the bottom of the plot. We know that the cripple could tell us all about it if he liked. Obviously, this same cripple is a deadly enemy of Fenwick's. And no doubt, Fenwick has found out where to lay his hands upon his man quite recently. Fenwick is a clever man. He is bold and unscrupulous, and without question he is set to work at once to get the better of the cripple. Of course, this may be nothing but a wrong theory of mine, and it may lead us astray, but it is all I can see to work upon at present. I don't think you are very far wrong, Gerdon said, but I am still puzzled about the house in Portsmouth Square. Which house do you mean? Venner asked. The one in which my adventure took place, the house from which the furniture vanished so mysteriously. That seems to me capable of an easy explanation, Venner replied. There is no doubt that the man called Bates and the cripple are one and the same person. You must admit that. Yes, I admit that freely enough. Go on. Well, this Bates, as we will call him, has a large establishment at seventy-five Portsmouth Square. The house next door was empty. Possibly it belonged to Mr. Bates. He had a whim for furnishing a room or two in an empty house, or perhaps there was some more sinister purpose behind it. Anyway, after you had blundered on the place and had taken your life in your hands, it became necessary for the man to disappear from number seventy-four. He had that furniture removed at once. I dare say, if we investigated the house carefully, we should find that there was some means of communication between the two. At least, that is the only explanation I can think of. You've got it, Gurdon cried. I'll wager any money you are right, but I am sorry the man has vanished in this mysterious way, because it checks our investigations at the very outset. The last thing you wanted in this matter was police interference. Now the whole thing has got into the papers, and the public are sure to take the matter up. It is the very class of mystery that the cheap press loves to dwell upon. It has all the attributes of the cause célèbre. Here is a handsome man, picturesque looking, a cripple into the bargain, a man leading an absolutely secluded life, and the very last person in the world one would expect to have enemies. He is very rich, too, and lives in one of the finest houses in the west end of London. He disappears in the most mysterious manner. Unless I am greatly mistaken, within the next two or three days London will be disclosing this matter, and the newspapers will be full of it. I am afraid you are right," Venner admitted, but I don't see how we are going to gain anything by telling the police what we have found out. As you know, I investigated this matter slowly in the interest of the woman I love, and with the one intention of freeing her life from the cloud that hangs over it. In any other circumstances I would go direct to Scotland Yard and tell them everything we know, but not now. I think you will agree with me that we should go our own way and say nothing to anybody about our discovery. The events of the next day or so verified the fears of the two friends. The Bates case appealed powerfully to the large section of the public who delight in crimes of the mysterious order. Within a couple of days most of the newspapers were devoting much space to the problem. It so happened, too, that the week was an exceedingly barren one from a news point of view. Therefore the Bates case had the place of honour. There was absolutely no fresh information, not a single line that pointed to a definite solution of the problem. Indeed, the ingenious way in which most of the papers contrived to fill some three columns a day was beyond all praise. But both Gerdin and Venner searched in vain for a scrap of information that threw any light on the identity of the missing man. His habits were described at some length. A tolerably accurate description of his household appeared in several quarters, but nothing very much beyond that. The missing man's servants were exceedingly reticent, and if they knew anything whatever about their master they had preferred to confide it to the police in preference to the inquisitive reporter. Not a single relative turned up, though it was generally understood that the missing man was possessed of considerable property. It was on the third day that Venner began to see daylight. One of the evening papers had come out with a startling letter which seemed to point to a clue, though it conveyed nothing to the police. Venner came round to Gerdin's rooms with a copy of the evening paper in his hand. He laid it before his friend and asked him to read the letter, which, though it contained but a few lines, was of absorbing interest to both of them. You see what this man says, Venner remarked. He appears to be a working man who got himself into trouble over a drinking-bout. Two days ago he was charged before the magistrate with being drunk and disorderly, and was sentenced to a fine of forty shillings or fourteen days' imprisonment. According to his story, the money was not forthcoming, therefore he was taken to jail. At the end of the two days his friends contrived to obtain the necessary cash and he was released. He writes all this to show how it was that he was entirely ignorant of the startling events which had taken place in the Bates case. This man goes on to say that on the night when Mr. Bates disappeared he was passing Portsmouth Square on his way home from some public-house festivities. He was none too sober and has a hazy recollection of what he saw. He recollects quite clearly, now that he has time to think the matter over, seeing a cab standing at the corner of the square within three doors of number seventy-five. At the same time a telegraph boy called at number seventy-five with a message. It was at this point that the narrator of the story stopped to light his pipe. It was a rather windy evening so that he used several matches in the process. Anyway, he stood there long enough to see the telegraph boy, deliver his message to a gentleman who appeared to have great difficulty in getting to the door. No sooner had the telegraph boy gone than the gentleman crept slowly and painfully down the steps and walked in the direction of the cab. Then somebody stepped from the cab and accosted the cripple, who, beyond all question, was the mysterious Bates. The writer of the letter says that he heard a sort of cry. Then someone called out something in a language that he was unable to understand. He rather thinks it was Portuguese, because among his fellow workmen is a Portuguese artisan, and the language sounded something like his. We are getting on, Gerdon said. That little touch about the Portuguese language clearly points to Fenwick. Of course it does, Venner went on, but that is not quite all. The letter goes on to say that something like a struggle took place, after which the cripple was bundled into the cab, which was driven away. It was a four-wheeled cab, and the peculiarity about it was that it had India rubber tires, which is a most unusual thing for the typical growler. The author of all this information says that the struggle appeared to be of no very desperate nature, for it was followed by nothing in the way of a call for help. Indeed, the workman who is telling all this seemed to think that it was more or less in the way of what he calls a spree. He said nothing whatever to the police about it, fearing perhaps that he himself was in no fit state to tell a story, and besides, there was just the possibility that he might find himself figuring before a magistrate the next morning. That is the whole of the letter, Gerdon, which though it conveys very little to the authorities, is full of pregnant information for ourselves. At any rate it tells us quite clearly that Fenwick was at the bottom of this outrage. Quite right, Gerdon said. The little touch about the Portuguese language proves that. Is there anything else in the letter likely to be useful to us? No, I have given you the whole of it. Personally, the best thing we can do is to go and interview the writer, who has given his name in address. A small but judicious outlay in the matter of beer will cause him to tell us all we want to know. It was somewhere in the neighborhood of the docks where the man who had given his name as James Taylor was discovered later on in the day. He was a fairly intelligent type of laborer who obtained a more or less precarious livelihood as a docker. As a rule he worked hard enough four or five hours a day when things were brisk, and in slack periods, when money was scarce, he spent the best part of his day in bed. He had one room in a large tenement house, where the friends found him partially dressed and reading a sporting paper. He was not disposed to be communicative at first, but the suggestion of something in the way of liquid refreshment stimulated his good nature. Right you are, he said. I've had nothing today besides a mouthful of breakfast, and when I've paid my rent, I shall have a solitary tanner left, and I hope your gents are not down here with a view of getting a poor chap into trouble. Gerdon hastened to reassure him on that head. He was balancing a half-sovereign thoughtfully on his forefinger. We are not going to hurt you at all, he said. We want you to give us a little information. Improve of what I say, you can take this half-sovereign and obtain what liquid refreshments you require. Also, you can keep the change. If you don't like my proposal, there is an end of the matter. Don't be short, Governor. Taylor responded. I like that their proposition of yours so well that I'm going to take it. Half-sovereign's ain't so plentiful as all that comes to. If you just wait a moment, I'll be back in half a tick, then I'll tell you all you want to know. The man was back again presently, and professed himself ready to answer any questions that might be put to him. His manner grew just a little suspicious, as Venor mentioned the name of Bates. You don't look like police, he said. Speak in personally. I ain't fond of them, and I don't want to get into trouble. We have no connection whatever with the police, Venor said. In fact we would rather not have anything to do with them. It so happens that we are both interested in the gentleman that you saw getting into the cab the other night. I have read your letter in the paper, and I am quite prepared to believe every word of it. The only thing we want to know is whether you saw the man in the cab. Which one? Taylor asked. There were two blokes in the cab. That is very interesting, Venor murmured. I shall be greatly obliged to you if you will describe both of them. I couldn't describe the one governor, Taylor replied. His back was to me all the time, and when you come to think of it, I wasn't quite so clear in the air as I might have been, but I caught a glimpse of the other man's face, as he looked out of the cab, the light on the lamp shown on his face. He'd a big cloak on, as far as I could judge, with the collar turned up about his throat, and a soft hat on his head. He knocks the hat off looking out of the cab window, then I see as his head is as bald as a blooming egg, and yellow, same as if he had been painted. I can't tell you any more than that, not if you was to give me another aft sovereign on top of the first one. Just another question, Gordon said. Then we won't bother you any more. About what age do you suppose the man was? Taylor paused thoughtfully for a moment before he replied. Well, I should think he was about fifty-five or sixty, he said. Looked like some sort of foreigner. That will do, thank you, Venor said. We will not detain you any longer. At the same time I should be obliged, if you would keep this information to yourself. But, of course, if the police question you, you will have to speak, but a discreet silence on the subject of this visit of ours would be esteemed. Taylor winked and nodded, and the friends departed, not displeased to get away from the stuffy, invitiated atmosphere of Taylor's room. On the whole they were not dissatisfied with the result of their expedition. At any rate they had now proved positive of the fact that Fenwick was at the bottom of the mysterious disappearance of the man called Bates. I don't quite see what we are going to do next, Venor said. So far we have been exceedingly fortunate to find ourselves in possession of a set of clues which would be exceedingly valuable to the police. But how we are going to use these clues is quite another matter. What do you suggest? Keeping a close eye on Fenwick at any rate, for that purpose it would not be a bad idea to employ a private inquiry agent. He need know nothing of what we are after. Thereupon it was decided that Gerdon was to dine with Venor that night and go fully into the matter. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Of the Mystery of the Four Fingers It was perhaps fortunate for all concerned that though Venor was so closely identified by the irony of fate with the movements of Mark Fenwick he was not known to the latter personally, though they had been almost side by side three years previous in Mexico. Therefore it was possible for Venor to get a table in the dining room quite close to that of the alleged millionaire. It was all the more fortunate, as things subsequently turned out, that Fenwick had returned to town that afternoon and had announced his intention of dining at the hotel the same evening. This information Venor gave to Gerdon when the latter turned up about half past seven. Then the host began to outline the plan of campaign which he had carefully thought Fenwick is dining over there, he said. He generally sits with his back to the wall and I have had our table so altered that we can command all his movements. Vera, of course, will dine with him. Naturally enough, she will act as if we were absolute strangers to her. That will be necessary. Of course, Gerdon admitted, but isn't it a strange thing that you should be an absolute stranger to Fenwick? Well, it does seem strange on the face of it, but it is capable of the easiest explanation. You see, when I first met Vera she was at school in a town somewhere removed from the forefinger mine. I saw a good deal of her there, and when finally she went up country we were practically engaged. At her urgent request the engagement was kept a secret, and when I followed to the mines it was distinctly understood that I should not call it Fenwick's house or make myself known to him except in the way of business. As it happens we never did meet, and whenever I saw Vera it was usually by stealth. The very marriage was a secret one, and you may charge me fairly with showing great weakness in the matter. But there I have told you the story before, and you must make the best of it. On the whole I am glad things turned out as they did, for now I can play my cards in the game against Fenwick without his even suspecting that he has me for an opponent. It is certainly an advantage in my favour. Then her head scarcely see-speaking before Fenwick and Vera appeared. She gave one timid glance at Venor, then averting her eyes she walked merely across to her place at the table. Fenwick followed, looking downcast and moody and altogether unlike a man who is supposed to be the happy possessor of millions. His manner was curt and irritable, and he seemed disposed to find fault with everything. Venor noticed too that though the man ate very little he partook a far more champagne than was good for anyone. Thanks no doubt to the wine the man's dark mood lifted presently and he began chatting to Vera. The two men at the other table appeared to be deeply interested in their dinner, though as a matter of fact they were listening intently to every word that Fenwick was saying. He was talking glibly enough now about some large house in the country which he appeared to have taken for the winter months. Vera listened with polite indifference. In Kent, Fenwick was saying, not very far from Canterbury, a fine old house filled with grand furniture, just the sort of place you'd like. I've made all the arrangements and the sooner we get away from London the better I shall be pleased. It will be rather dull, I fear, Vera replied. I don't suppose I shall go down very well with county people. Hang the county people! Fenwick growled. Who cares a straw for them? Not but what they'll come along fast enough when they hear that Mark Fenwick the millionaire is in their midst. Still, there's a fine park round the house and you'll be able to get as much riding as you want. Venner, watching furtively, saw that Vera was interested for the first time. He had not forgotten the fact that she was an exceedingly fine horsewoman. He recollected the glorious rides they had had together. Interested as he was in the mysterious set of circumstances which had wound themselves into his life, he was not without hope that this change would enable him to see more of Vera than was possible in London. In the lonely country he would be able to plan meetings with her. Indeed, he had made up his mind to leave London as soon as Vera had gone. Moreover, in this instance duty and inclination pointed the same way. If the mystery were to be solved and Vera freed from her intolerable burden, it would be essential that every movement of Fenwick's should be carefully watched. The only way to carry out this plan successfully would be to follow him into Kent. You heard that? He murmured to Gerdon. We must find out exactly where this place is, and then look out some likely quarters in the neighborhood. I must contrive to see Vera and learn her new address before she goes. No reason to worry about that, Gerdon said. It will all be in the papers. The doings of these moneyed men are chronicled as carefully now as the movements of royalty. It is any odds, when you take up your morning post in the morning, that you will know not only exactly where Fenwick is going to spend the winter but get an exact history of the house. So far as I can see, we might finish our dinner and go off to a theater. We are not likely to hear any more tonight, and all this mystery and worry is beginning to get on my nerves. What do you say to an hour or two at the gaiety? Venner pleaded for a few moments delay. So far as he was personally concerned, he felt very unlike the frivolity of the typical musical comedy. But still, he had finished his dinner by this time, and was not disposed to be kurlish. Fenwick had completed his repast also, and was sipping his coffee in an amiable frame of mind, heedless, apparently, of business worries of all kinds. At the same moment a waiter came into the room and advanced to the millionaire's table with a small parcel in his hand. A letter for you, sir, an express letter that has just arrived. Will you be good enough to sign the receipt? Khan found the people. Fenwick growled, can't you leave me alone for half an hour when I'm having my dinner? Take the thing up to my room. You sign for it, Vera. I'll sign for it, of course, Vera replied. But don't you think you had better open the parcel? It may be of some importance. People don't usually send express letters at this time of night unless they are urgent. Or shall I open it for you? The waiter had gone by this time, taking the receipt for the letter with him, with a gesture Fenwick signified to Vera that she might open the parcel. She cut the string and opened the flat packet, disclosing a small object and tissue paper inside. This she handed to Fenwick, who tore the paper off leisurely. Then the silence of the room was startled by the sound of an oath uttered in tones of intense fury. Cursed a thing! Fenwick cried. His yellow face was wet and ghastly now. The big purple vein stood out like cords on his forehead. Am I never to be free from the terror of this mystery? Where did it come from? How could it be possible when the very man I have most reason to tread is no longer in a position? The speaker broke off suddenly, as if conscious that he was betraying himself. The little object in the tissue paper lay on the table in such a position that it was impossible for Venor or Gurdon to see what it was, but they could give a pretty shrewd guess. Venor looked inquiringly at his friend. Well, what do you suppose it is? He asked. Personally I have no doubt whatever as to what it is, Gurdon said. I am as sure as if I held the thing in my own hand at the present moment. It is the second finger, which at some time or another was attached to Fenwick's hand. You've got it! Venor said, upon my word. The farther we go with this thing the more complicated it becomes. No sooner do we clear up one point than a dozen fresh ones arrive. Now, is not this amazing? We know perfectly well that the man whom we have to call Bates has been kidnapped by our interesting friend opposite, and yet here the second warning arrives just as if Bates were still free to carry out his vengeance. What can one make of it? Well, the logical conclusion is that Bates has an accomplice. I fail to see any other way of accounting for it. Fenwick still sat there mopping his heated face and turning a disgusted eye upon the little object on the table. He seemed to be terribly distressed and upset, though there was nothing like the scene on the previous occasion, and doubtless few diners besides Venor and Gurdon knew that anything out of the common was taking place there. But they were watching everything carefully. They noted Fenwick's anxious face. They could hear his sturturous breathing. Then, though he had dined so freely, he called for Brandy now, a large glass of which he drank without any addition whatever. Then his agitation became less uncontrollable, and a little natural color crept into his cheeks. Without glancing at it, he slipped a little object on the table into his pocket, and rose more or less unsteadily to his feet. I have had a shock, he muttered. I don't deny that I have had a terrible shock. You don't understand it, Vera, and I hope you never will. I wish I had never touched that accursed mind. I wish it had been fathoms under the sea before I heard of it. But the mischief has been done now, and I shall have to go on to the end. You can stay here if you like. As to me, I am going to my own room. I want to be alone for a bit, and think this matter out. Fenwick lurched across the room with the air of a man who is more or less intoxicated, though his head was clear enough and his faculties undimmed. Still, his limbs were trembling under him, and he groped his way to the door with the aid of a table here and there. It was perhaps rather a risky thing to do, but Venor immediately crossed over and took the seat vacated so recently by Fenwick. Vera welcomed him shyly, but it was palpable that she was ill at ease. She would have risen had not Venor detained her. Don't you think you are being very imprudent? She said. Suppose he should change his mind and come back here again. I don't think there's much chance of that. Venor said grimly. Fenwick will only be too glad to be by himself for a bit, but tell me, dear, what was it that gave him such a shock? I don't understand it at all, Vera said. It was something to do with that dreadful mind, and the vengeance connected with it. This is the second time the same thing has happened within the last few days, and I fear it will culminate sooner or later in some fearful tragedy. I have some hazy idea of the old legend, but I have almost forgotten what it is. I don't think you need to worry about it, Venor said, though it will have to be spoken of again when the whole thing is cleared up. But now I wish to talk to you on more personal matters. Did I not understand Fenwick to say tonight, that he was taking a large house somewhere in Kent? That is his intention, I believe, Vera replied. I understand it is a large, dull place in the heart of the country. Personally, I am not looking forward to it, with the least pleasure. Things are bad enough here in London, but there is always the comfortable feeling that one is protected here, whereas in a lonely neighborhood the feeling of helplessness grows very strong. You are not likely to be lonely or neglected, Venor smiled. As soon as I have definitely ascertained where you are going, Gurdon and myself will follow. It is quite necessary that we should be somewhere near you. But, of course, if you object. But Vera was not objecting. Her face flushed with a sudden happiness. The knowledge that the man she loved was going to be so near her, filled her with a sense of comfort. Don't you think it will be dangerous? she asked. Not in the least, Venor said. Don't forget that I am a stranger to Mark Fenwick, which remark applies with equal force to Gurdon. And if we take a fancy to spend a month or two hunting in the neighborhood of Canterbury, surely there is nothing suspicious in that. I am looking forward to the hunting as a means whereby we may manage to get some long rides together, and even if Fenwick does find out, it will be easy to explain to him that you made my acquaintance on the field of sport. I am glad to hear you say that, Vera whispered. I may be wrong, of course, but I feel that strange things are going to happen, and that I shall need your presence to give me courage. Vera might have said more, but a waiter came into the room at the same moment, with an intimation to the effect that Mr. Fenwick desired to speak to her. She flitted away now, and there was nothing for it, but for Venor to fall in with Gurdon's suggestion of a visit to the theatre. It was not long after breakfast on the following morning that Venor walked into Gurdon's rooms with a new proposal. I have been thinking out this confounded thing, he said. I have an idea. As you know, the house where you had your adventure the other night is empty. It has occurred to me that perhaps it may be to let. If so, we are going to call upon the agent in the characters of prospective tenants. What I want to do is to ascertain if possible the name of the owner of the premises. I see, Gurdon said thoughtfully. I am ready for you now. It was some little time before the friends got on the right track, but they found the right man at length. The agent was not quite sure whether he was in a position at present to make any definite arrangements on the part of the owner. I presume he wants to let the house, he said, though I have no instructions, and it is some considerable time since I have heard from my client. You see, he lives abroad. Can't you give us his address? Venor asked, and let us write to him direct. It would save time. That I fear is equally impossible, the agent explained. My client wanders about from place to place, and I haven't the remotest idea where to find him. However, I'll do my best. You might tell us his name, Venor said. Certainly, his name is Mr. Luthin you. What do you make of it? Venor said, when once more he and Gurdon were in the street. I see you have forgotten what the name of Luthin you implies. Don't you remember my telling you that the original owner of the Four Finger Mine, who was murdered by the Dutchman Van Fort, was called Luthin you? End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of The Mystery of the Four Fingers This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Mystery of the Four Fingers by Fred M. White Chapter 11 An Unexpected Move On the whole, the discovery was startling enough. It proved to demonstration that the man who called himself Bates must have been in some way connected with the one-time unfortunate owner of the Four Finger Mine. There was little said as the two friends walked down the street together. Venor paused presently and stood as if an idea had occurred to him. I have a notion that something will come of this, he said. I had a great mind to go back to the agents and try to get the key of the empty house under some pretext or another. What do you want it for? Gurdon asked. I am not sure that I want it for anything, Venor admitted. I have a vague idea, a shadowy theory, that I am on the right track at last. But I may be wrong, especially as I am dealing with so unscrupulous an opponent as Fenwick. All the same, I think I'll step around to that agent's office this afternoon and get the key. Sooner or later I shall want a town house, and I don't see why that Portsmouth Square place shouldn't suit me very well. Venor was true to his intention, and later in the afternoon was once more closeted with the house agent. Do you really want to let the place? He asked. Well, upon my word, sir, I am not quite sure, the agent replied. As I said before, it is such a difficult matter to get in contact with the owner. But unless he wanted to let it, why did he put it in your hands? Venor asked. Still, you can try to communicate with him, and it will save time if you let me have the keys to take measurements and get estimates for the decorating and so on. I will give you any references you require. Oh, there can be no objection to that, the agent replied. Yes, you can have the keys now, if you like. You are not in the least likely to run away with the place. Venor departed with the keys in his possession, and made his way back to the hotel. He had hardly reached his own room before a waiter came in with a note for him. It was from Vera, with an urgent request that Venor would see her at once, and the intimation that there would be no danger in his going up to the suite of rooms occupied by Mark Fenwick. Venor lost no time in answering this message. He felt vaguely uneasy and alarmed. Surely there must be something wrong, or Vera would not have sent for him in this sudden manner. He could not quite see, either, how it was that he could call at Fenwick's rooms without risk. However, he hesitated no longer, but knocked at the outer door of the self-contained rooms, which summons was presently answered by Vera herself. You can come in, she said. I am absolutely alone. Mr. Fenwick has gone off in a great hurry with all his assistants, and my own maid will not be back for some little time. But is there no chance of Fenwick coming back? Venor asked. If he caught me here, all my plans would be ruined. My dear girl, why don't you leave him and come to me? I declare it makes me miserable to know that you are constantly in contact with such a man as that. It isn't as if you were any relation to him. Thank goodness I am no relation at all, Vera replied. It is not for my own sake that I endure all this humiliation. Then why endure it? Venor urged. Because I cannot help myself. Because there is someone else whom I have to look after and shield from harm. Someday you will know the whole truth, but not yet, because my lips are sealed. But I did not bring you here to talk about myself. There are other and more urgent matters. I am perfectly sure that something very wrong is going on here. Not long after breakfast this morning, Mr. Fenwick was sitting here reading the paper, when he suddenly rose in a state of great agitation and began sending telegrams right and left. I am certain that there was terribly disturbing intelligence in that paper. But what it was, I of course cannot say. I have looked everywhere for a clue, and all in vain, no sooner were the telegrams dispatched, than the three or four men here, who Mr. Fenwick calls his clerks, gathered all his papers and things together, and sent them off by express fans. Mr. Fenwick told me that everything was going to the place that he had taken at Canterbury. But I don't believe that, because none of the boxes were labeled. Anyway, they have all gone, and I am instructed to remain here until I hear from Mr. Fenwick again. Venor began to understand, in the light of his superior knowledge, it was plain to him that these men had been interrupted in some work, and that they feared the grip of the law. He expressed a wish to see the paper which had been the cause of all the trouble. The news sheet lay on the floor, where Fenwick had thrown it, and Venor took it up in his hands. This has not been disturbed, he asked. No, Vera replied. I thought it best not to. I have looked at both sides of the paper myself, but I have not turned over relief. You see, it must have been on one side or another of this sheet, that the disturbing news appeared, and that is why I have not looked further. Perhaps you will be able to pick out the particular paragraph? There is plenty of time. Very carefully, Venor scanned the columns of the paper. He came at length to something that seemed to him to bear upon the sudden change of plans, which appeared to have been forced upon Fenwick. The paragraph in question was not a long one, and emanated from the New York correspondence of the Daily Herald. We are informed, the paragraph ran, that the police here believe that at length they are on the track of the clever gang of international swindlers who were so successful in their bank forgeries two years ago. Naturally enough, the authorities are very reticent as to names and other details, but they declare that they have made a discovery which embraces what is practically a new crime, or at any rate a very ingenious variant upon an old one. As far as we can understand, the police were first put on the track by the discovery of the fact that the head of the gang had recently transported some boxes of gold dust to London. Quite by accident this discovery was made, and at first the police were under the impression that the gold had been stolen. One, however, they had proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the gold in question was honestly the property of the gang. They naturally began to ask themselves what it was intended for. As the meadow could be so easily transferred into cash, what was the object of the gang in taking the gold to Europe? This question, the head of the Criminal Investigation Department feels quite sure that he has successfully solved. The public may look for startling developments before long. Meanwhile, two of the smartest detectives in New York are on their way to Europe, and are expected to reach Liverpool by the Lusitania today. There is the source of the trouble. Venor said, I hardly care about telling you how I know, because the less information you have on this head the better, and I don't want your face to betray you to the sharp eyes of Mark Fenwick, but I am absolutely certain that that paragraph is the source of all the mischief. I dare say it is, Viraside. I feel so terribly lonely and frightened sometimes, so afraid of something terrible happening that I feel inclined to run away and hide myself. What shall I do now, though I am afraid you cannot help me? I can help you in a way you have a little dream of, Venor said through his teeth, for the present at any rage you had better do exactly as Fenwick tells you. I am not going to leave you here all alone. When we have a chance like this, after dinner, I am going to take you to a theatre. Meanwhile, I must leave you now, as I have much work to do, and there is no time to be lost. It will be no fault of mine if you are not absolutely free from Mark Fenwick before many days have passed. Venor sat alone at dinner, keeping a critical eye open for whatever might be going on around him. He had made one or two little calculations as to time and distance, and unless his arithmetic was very far out, he expected to learn something useful before midnight. The meal had not proceeded very far when two strangers came in and took their places at a table close by. They were in evening dress and appeared to be absolutely at home, yet in some subtle way they differed materially from the other diners about them. On the whole they might have passed for two mining engineers who had just touched civilization after a long lapse of time. Venor noticed that they both ate and drank sparingly, and that they seemed to get through their dinner as speedily as possible. They went off to the lounge presently, to smoke over their coffee, and Venor followed them. He dropped into a seat by their side. You have forgotten me, Mr. Egan. He said to the smaller man of the two. Don't you remember that night on the Bowery, when I was fortunate enough to help you lay hands on the notorious James Daly? You were in rather a tight place, I remember. Bless me if it isn't Mr. Venor, the other cried. This is my friend Grady. I daresay you have heard of him. Of course I have, Venor replied. Mr. Grady is quite as celebrated in his way as you are yourself. But you see, there was a time when I took a keen interest in crime and criminals, and some of my experiences in New York would make a respectable volume. When I heard that you were coming over here— You heard we were coming over? Egan exclaimed. I should very much like to know how you heard that. Oh, you needn't be alarmed. Venor laughed. Nobody has betrayed your secret mission to Europe. Though strangely enough, I fancy I shall be in a position to give you some considerable assistance. I happen to see a paragraph in the Herald today, alluding to a mysterious gang of swindlers who had hit upon a novel form of crime. Something to do with gold dust, I believe it was. At the end of the paragraph it stated that two of the smartest detectives in the New York force were coming over here, and therefore it was quite fair to infer that you might be one of them. In any case, if you had not been, I could have introduced myself to your colleagues and used your name. Egan looked relieved, but he said nothing. You are quite right to be reticent, Venor said. But as I remarked before, I think I can help you in this business. You hope to lay hands on the man you wanted in this hotel. I quite see you know something, Egan replied. As a matter of fact, we are a long way at present from being in a position to lay hands on our man with a reasonable hope of convicting him. There will be a great deal of watching to do first, and a lot of delicate detective work. That is the worst of these confounded newspapers. How that paragraph got into the herald, I don't know, but it is going to cause Grady and myself a great deal of trouble. To be quite candid, we did expect to find our man here, but when he had vanished as he did just before we arrived, I knew at once that somebody must have been giving him information. Do I know the name of the man? Venor asked. If you don't, I certainly can't tell you, Egan said. One has to be cautious, even with so discreet a gentleman as yourself. That's very well, Venor said, but it so happens that I am just as much interested in this individual as yourself. Now let me describe him. He is short and stout. He is between fifty and sixty years of age. He has beady black eyes and a little hooked nose like a parrot. Also he has an enormous bald head, and his colouring is strongly like that of a yellow tomato. If I am mistaken, then I have no further interest in the matter. Oh, you are not mistaken, Egan said. That is our man right enough, but tell me, sir, do you happen to know what his particular line is just at present? I have a pretty good idea, Venor said, but I am not quite sure as yet. I have been making a few inquiries, and they all tend to confirm my theory, but I am afraid I cannot stay here discussing the matter any longer, as I have an important appointment elsewhere. Do you propose to stay at the Empire Hotel for any time? Egan replied that it all depended upon circumstances. They were in no way pressed for time, and as they were there on state business, they were not limited as to expenses. With a remark to the effect that they might meet again later on in the evening, Venor went on his way and stood waiting for Vera at the foot of the stairs. She came down presently, and they entered a cab together. We won't go to a theatre at all, Venor said. We will try one of the music halls, and we shall be able to talk better there. If we have a box, we shall be quite secure from observation. It is all the same to me, Vera smiled. I care very little where I go, so long as we are together. How strange it is that you should have turned up in this extraordinary way. There is nothing strange about it at all, Venor said. It is only fate, making for the undoing of the criminal. It may be an old-fashioned theory of mine, but justice always overtakes the rogue sooner or later, and Fenwick's time is coming. I have been the instrument chosen to bring about his downfall, and save you from your terrible position, if you would only confide in me. But I can't, dear, Vera said. There is somebody else. If it were not for that somebody else, I would end my troubles to-morrow. But don't let us talk about it. Let us have two delightful hours together, and thank Providence for the opportunity. The time passed all too quickly in the dim seclusion of one of the boxes. Indeed, Vera sat up with a start when the orchestra began to play the national anthem. It seemed impossible that the hour was close upon twelve. As to the performance itself, Vera could have said very little. She had been far too engrossed in her companion to heed what was taking place upon the stage. Come along, Venor said. It has been a delightful time, but all too brief. I am going to put you in a cab and send you back to the hotel, as I have to go and see Gertin. Vera made no demer to this arrangement, and presently was being confide back to the hotel, while Venor thoughtfully walked down the street. Late as it was, the usual crop of horse-yelling newsboys were ranging the pavement and forcing their wares on the unwilling passersby. Here you are, sir, late special, startling developments of the bait's case, the mystery solved. I'll take one of those, Venor said. Here's a sixpence for you, and you can keep the change. Call me that cab there. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of The Mystery of the Four Fingers This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Mystery of the Four Fingers by Fred M. White Chapter 12 The House Next Door Venor lost no time in reaching the rooms of his friend Gertin, and was fortunate enough to find the latter at home. He was hard at work on some literary matter, but he pushed his manuscript aside, as Venor came excitedly into the room. Well, what is it? he asked. Anything fresh? But your face answers that question. Have you found baits? No, I haven't, Venor said. But he seems to have been discovered. I bought this paper just now in Piccadilly, but I have not been able to look at it yet. It is stated here that the mystery has been solved. Hand it over, Gertin cried excitedly. Let's see if we can find it. Ah, here we are. The press association has just received a letter, which appears to come from Mr. Bates himself. He says he is very much annoyed at all this fuss and bother in the papers about his so-called kidnapping. He goes on to say that he was called to the continent by pressing business, and that he had not even time to tell his servants he was going, as it was imperatively necessary that he should catch the midnight boat to Dieppe. The correspondent of the press association says that Mr. Bates has been interviewed by a foreign journalist who is absolutely certain as to his identity. Moreover, an official has called that Mr. Bates' residence and found that his servants have had a letter from their master instructing them to join him at once, as he has let his house furnished for the next two months. Well, my dear man, that seems to be very satisfactory and effectually disposes of the idea that Mr. Bates has been mysteriously kidnapped. I am rather sorry for this in a way because it upsets all our theories and makes it necessary to begin our task all over again. I don't believe a word of it. Venor said, I believe it's a gigantic bluff. I was coming to see you tonight in any case, but after buying that paper I came on here post-taste. Now that story of the press association strikes me as being decidedly thin. Here is a man, living comfortably at home, who suddenly disappears in a most mysterious manner, and nothing is heard of him for some time. Directly the public begin to regard it as a fascinating mystery, and the miscreants realizing what a storm they were likely to stir up, the man himself writes and says that it is all a mistake. Now, if he had come back and shown himself, it would have been quite another matter. Instead of doing that, he writes a letter from abroad or sends a telegram or something of that kind, saying that he has been called away on urgent business. That might pass easily enough, but mark what follows. He writes to his servants asking them to join him at once in some foreign town because he has let his house for two months, and the new tenant wishes to get in without delay. Did ever anybody hear anything so preposterous? Just as if a man would let a house in that brick-neck fashion without giving his servants due warning. The thing is not to be thought of. Then you think the servants have been lured away on a fool's errand? Girden asked. You don't think there's anybody in the house? Oh, yes, I do, Venor said dryly. I have a very strong opinion that there are people in the house, and I also have a pretty shrewd idea as to who they are. It happens also that I am in a position to test my theory without delay. How do you propose to do that? Girden asked. Quite easily. After I left you this afternoon, I went back to the agent and succeeded in obtaining possession of the keys to the empty house in Portsmouth Square. My excuse was that I wanted to go into detail and to take measurements and the like. I need not remind you that Bates's house is next door to the empty one. In fact, there is no question that both houses belong to the same person. You will remember also the mysterious way in which that furniture vanished from the scene of your adventure. I remember, Girden said grimly, but all the same, I don't quite see what you are driving at. The thing is quite plain. That furniture did not vanish through the prosaic medium of a van, nor was it carted through the front door from one house to the other. The two houses communicated in some way, and it will be our business to find the door. As I have the keys and every legitimate excuse for being on the premises, we can proceed to make our investigations without the slightest secrecy, and without the least fear of awkward questions being asked. Now do you follow me? I follow you fast enough. I suppose your game is to try and get into the next house by means of the door. You have hid it exactly, Wiener said. That is precisely what I mean to do. We shall find it necessary to discover the identity of Mr. Bates's tenant. When are we going to make the experiment? Girden asked. We are going to make it now, Wiener replied. We will have a cab as far as the Empire Hotel, so that I can get the keys. After that the thing will be quite easy. Come along, and thank me for an exciting evening's adventure. I shall be greatly surprised if it is not even more exciting than the last occasion. They were in the empty house at last. The windows were closed and shuttered, so that it was possible to use matches in the various rooms without attracting attention from the outside. But search how they would, for upwards of two hours, they could find no trace whatever of a means of communication between the two houses. They tapped the walls and sounded the skirtings, but without success. Wiener paced the floor of the drawing-room mootily, racking his brains to discover a way out of the difficulty. It must be here somewhere, he muttered. I am sure that all that furniture was moved backwards and forwards through some door, and a wide one at that. Then it must be on the ground floor, Girden remarked. When you come to think of it, some of that furniture was so heavy and massive that it would not go through an ordinary doorway. Neither would it have been brought upstairs without the assistance of two or three men of great strength. We shall have to look for it in the hall. If we don't find it there, we shall have to give it up as a bad job, and try some other plan. I am inclined to think you are right, Wiener said. Let us go down and see. At any rate, there is one consolation. If we fail tonight, we can come again tomorrow. Girden did not appear to be listening. He strode resolutely down the stairs into the hall, and stood for some moments contemplating the panels before him. The panels were painted white. They were elaborately ornamented with reese of flowers after the Adam's style of decoration. Then it seemed to Girden that two pairs of panels, one above and one below, had at one time taken the formation of a doorway. He tapped on one of the panels, and the drumming of his fingers gave out a hollow sound. Girden tapped again on the next panel, but hardly any sound came in response. He looked triumphantly at Wiener. I think we have got it at last, he said. Do you happen to have a knife in your pocket? Unless I am greatly mistaken, the decorations around these panels come off like a bead. If you have a knife with you, we can soon find out. Wiener produced a small knife from his pocket, and Girden attempted to insinuate the point of the blade under the elaborate molding. Surely enough, the molding yielded, and presently came away in Girden's hands. There you are, he said. It is exactly as I told you. I thought at first that those moldings were plaster, but you can see for yourself now that they are elaborately carved wood. Wiener laid the ornament aside and stood watching Girden with breathless interest while the latter attacked another of the moldings. They came away quite easily, pointing to the fact that they must have been removed before within a very short period. Once they were all cleared away, Girden placed the point of the knife behind one of the panels, and it came away in his hands, disclosing beyond a square hole, quite large enough for anybody to enter. Here was the whole secret exposed. Exactly what I thought, Girden said. If I removed all the moldings from the other three panels, there would be space enough here to drive a trap through. I think we have been exceedingly lucky to get to the bottom of this. How clever and ingeniously the whole thing has been managed. However, I don't think there is any occasion for us to worry about moving any more of the panels, seeing that we can get through now quite easily. Wouldn't it be just as well to put all the lights out? I haven't thought of that, Wiener muttered. On the hole it would be exceedingly injudicious not to extinguish all the lights. We had better go at once, I think, and get it over. The house was reduced to darkness, and very quietly and cautiously the two adventurers crept through the panel. They were in the hall on the other side, of which fact there was no doubt, for they stepped at once off a marble floor onto a thick rug which deadened the sound of their footsteps. They had, naturally enough, expected to find the whole place in darkness, and the tenant of the house and his servants in bed. This on the hole would be in their favour, for it would enable them to take all the observations they required with a minimum chance of being disturbed. A surprise awaited them from the first. True, the hall was in darkness, and as far as they could judge, so was the rest of the house. But from somewhere upstairs came the unmistakable sound of a piano, and of somebody singing in a sweet but plaintive soprano voice. Gerdin clutched his companion by the arm. Don't you think it's just possible that we have made a mistake? He whispered. Isn't it quite on the cards that this is a genuine affair, and that we are intruding in an unwarranted manner upon some respectable private citizen? I am bound to say that that beautiful voice does not suggest crime to me. We must go on now, Venor said impatiently, it won't do to judge by appearances. Let us go up the stairs and see what is going on for ourselves. If we are intruding, we will get away as speedily as possible. Gerdin made no further objection, and together they crept up the stairs. There was no chance of there being surprised from behind by the servants, for they had taken good care to notice that the basement was all in darkness. They were getting nearer and nearer now to the sound of the music, which appeared to come from the drawing-room, the door of which was widely open enough for the brilliant light inside to illuminate the staircase. A moment later the music ceased, and someone was heard to applaud in a hoarse voice. Sing some more, the voice said. Now don't be foolish. Don't begin to cry again. Confound the girl. She makes me miserable. Do you recognize the voice? Venor whispered. Lord, yes, was Gerdin's reply. Why, it's Fenwick. No mistaking those tones anywhere. Now what on earth does all this mean? We shall find out presently. Venor said, you may laugh at me, but I quite expected something of this kind, which was one of the reasons why I obtained the keys of the house. It is a most extraordinary thing, Gerdin replied. Now isn't this man Fenwick one of the last persons in the world you would credit with a love of music? I don't know, Venor said. You never can tell. But don't let's talk. We are here more to listen than anything else. I wish we could get a glimpse of the singer. I am going to, Gerdin declared. Unless I am greatly mistaken, I have made a discovery, too. Oh, I am not going to take any risk. Do you see that mirror opposite the door? It strikes me. If I get close enough to look into that, I shall be able to see who is in the room without betraying my presence. So saying, Gerdin crept forward till he was close enough to the mirror to get a very good idea of the room and its occupants. He could see a pale figure in white standing by a piano. He could see that Fenwick was sprawling in a big armchair, smoking a large cigar. Then he noticed that the girl crossed the floor and laid a slim hand, half timidly, half imploringly, on Fenwick's shoulder. Why are you so unkind to me? she said. Why so cruel? How many times have you promised me that you will bring him back to me again? I get so tired of waiting. I feel so sad and weary, and at times my mind seems to go altogether. Have patience, Fenwick said. If you only wait a little longer, he will come back to you right enough. Now go to the piano and sing me another song before I go to bed. Do you hear what I say? The last words were harshly uttered. The girl reeled back as if fearing a blow. Gerdin, standing there, clenched his fists impulsively, he had considerable difficulty in restraining himself. Very well, she said, just one more, and then I will go to bed, for I am so tired and weary. Once more the sweet, pathetic voice rang out in some simple song. The words gradually died away, and there was silence. Gerdin had barely time to slip back to the head of the stairs before the girl came out and made her way to the landing above. Standing just below the level of the floor, Venner gazed eagerly at the pretty, tired face and mournful blue eyes. He grasped his companion by the arm in a grip that was almost painful. We are getting to it, he said. It was a good night's work coming here to-night. Do you mean to say you don't notice the likeness? Making due allowance for the difference in height and temperament, that poor girl is the image of my wife. I must have been adult, not to have noticed it before, Gerdin said. Now that you mention it, the likeness is plain enough. My dear fellow, can't you see in this a reason for your wife's reticence in speaking of the past? There was no time to reply, for the sinister evil face of Fenwick appeared in the doorway, and he called aloud in Spanish some horse-command, which was answered from above by someone in the same language. Gerdin whispered to his companion, with a view to ascertaining what had been said. You will see for yourself in a minute, Venner said in an excited whisper. You are going to have another surprise. You wanted to know just now what had become of Bates. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you will be able to judge for yourself in a few minutes. I believe the man to be a prisoner in his own house. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of The Mystery of the Four Fingers This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Mystery of the Four Fingers by Fred M. White Chapter 13 The White Lady Again It was perhaps an imprudent thing for the two friends to remain there, exposed as they were to the danger of discovery at any moment, but so completely were they fascinated by what was going on about them, that they had flung caution to the winds. One thing was in their favor, however. There was not much likelihood of their being attacked from below, seeing that all the servants had gone to bed, unless perhaps some latecomer entered the house. Still the risk had to be run, and so they stood there together, waiting for the next move. It was Venor who spoke first. I cannot get over the extraordinary likeness of that girl to my wife. He said, Is she anything like the woman you saw next door? I mean the poor half-demented creature who happened to come into the room when you were talking with the owner. Why, of course, it is the same girl! Gurdon replied. Then I am sure she is Vera's sister. I'll ask her about it the first time I have an opportunity. Be silent, and get a little lower down the stairs. There is somebody coming down from the top of the house. We can see here without being seen. Assuredly there were sounds emanating from the top of the house. A voice was raised in angry expostulation, followed by other voices, morose and threatening. As far as the listeners could judge, two men were dragging a third down the stairs against his will. But for that the house was deadly silent. The watchers could hear the jingle of a passing cabbell, a belated foot passenger whistled as he went along. It seemed almost impossible to believe that so close to light and law and order, and the well-being of the town, a strange tragedy like this should be in progress. Hidden from the eye of London by mere skill of brick and mortar, this strange thing was going on. Vanner wondered to himself how many such scenes were taking place in London at the same moment. But he had not much time for his meditation, for the shuffling of feet came closer. There were no more sounds of expostulation now, only the heavy breathing of three people, as if the captive had ceased to struggle and was making but a passive resistance. Then there emerged on the landing the figure of the handsome cripple, with a guardian on either side. His face was no longer distorted with pain, rather it was white with an overpowering anger, his eyes shone like points of flame. On his right side, Vanner and Gurdon recognized the figure of the man in the list slippers, the man who had been handling the sovereigns and Fenwick's rooms. His comrade was a stranger, though of the same type, and it seemed to Vanner that anyone would have been justified in repudiating either of them as an acquaintance. It was perfectly evident that the cripple came against his will, though he was struggling no longer. Probably the condition of his emaciated frame had rendered the task of his captors an easy one. They dragged him, limp and exhausted, into the drawing room where Fenwick was seated, and they stood in the doorway awaiting further instructions. You needn't stay here," Fenwick growled. If I want you, I can call. You had better go back to your cards again. The two men disappeared up the stairs, and just for a moment there was silence in the drawing room. It was safe for Vanner and his companion now to creep back to the drawing room door, and take a careful note of what was going on. With the aid of a friendly mirror on the opposite side of the room, it was possible to see and note everything. The cripple had fallen into a chair, where he sat huddled in a heap, his hand to his head, as if some great physical pain racked him. His heavy breathing was the only sound made, except the steady puffing of Fenwick's cigar. A fit of anger gripped Vanner for the moment. He would have liked to step in and soundly punish Fenwick for his brutality. Doubtless the poor crippled frame was racked with pain, caused by the violence of his late captors. But under that queer exterior was a fine spirit. Gradually the cripple ceased to quiver and palpitate. Gradually he pulled himself up in his chair and faced his captor. His face was still deadly white, but it was hard and set now. There was no sign of fear about him. He leaned forward and stared Fenwick between the eyes. Well, you scoundrel, he said in a clear cold voice. I should like to know the meaning of this. I have heard of and read of some strange outrages in my time, but to kidnap a man and keep him prisoner in his own house is to exceed all the bounds of audacity. You seem to be annoyed, Fenwick said. Perhaps you have not already learned who I am. I know perfectly well who you are, the cripple responded. Your name is Mark Fenwick, and you are one of the greatest scoundrels unhung. At present you are posing as an American millionaire. Fools may believe you, but I know better. The point is, do you happen to know who I am? Yes, I know who you are, Fenwick said with a sardonic smile. You elect to call yourself Mr. Bates, or some such name, and you pretend to be a recluse who gives himself over to literary pursuits. As a matter of fact, you are Charles Lefinneau, and your father was, at one time, the practical owner of the forefinger mine. We are getting on. Venner whispered, it may surprise you to hear this, but I have suspected it for some little time. The so-called absent owner of these houses is the man sitting opposite Fenwick there. Now do you begin to see something like daylight before you? I wouldn't have missed this for the worlds. We certainly have been lucky, Gerdon replied. There was no time for further conversation, for the cripple was speaking again. His voice was still hard and cold, nor did his manner betray the slightest sign of fear. So you have found that out, he said. You know that I am the son of the unfortunate Frenchman, who was murdered by a rascally Dutchman at your instigation. You thought that once having discovered the secret of the mine, you could work it to your own advantage. How well you worked it, your left hand testifies. The jeer went home to Fenwick. His yellow face flushed, and a half rose from his chair with a threatening gesture. Oh, you can strike me, the cripple said. I am practically helpless as far as my lower limbs are concerned, and it would be just the sort of cowardly act that would gratify a dirty little soul like yours. It hurts me to sit here, helpless and useless, knowing that you are the cause of all my misfortunes. Knowing that, but for you, I should be as straight and strong as the best of them. And yet, you are not safe. You are going to pay the penalty of your crime. Have you had the first of your warnings yet? Fenwick started in his seat. In the looking glass the watchers could see how ghastly his face had grown. I don't know what you mean, he muttered. Liar! the cripple cried. Paltry liar. Why you are shaking from head to foot now. Your face is like that of a man who stands in the shadow of the gallows. I repeat, I don't know what you mean, Fenwick said. Oh, yes, you do. When your accomplice Van Forte foully murdered my father, you thought that the two of you could have the mine to yourselves. You thought you would work it alone, as my father did, and send your ill-gotten gains back to England. That is how the murdered man accomplished it. That is how he made his fortune. And you were going to do the same thing, both of you. When you had made all your arrangements, you went down to the coast on certain business, leaving the rascally Dutchman behind. He was quite alone in the mine. There was no one within miles of that secret spot. And yet he vanished. Van Forte was never heard of again. The message of his fingers was conveyed to his wife, for she was implicated in the murder of my father, and how she suffered you already know. But you are a brave man. I give you all the credit for that. You went back to the mine again, determined not to be deterred by what had happened. What happened to you? I need not go into. Shall I tell the story, or will you be content with a recollection of your sufferings? It is all the same to me. You are a bold man, Fenwick cried. He was trembling with rage that filled him. You are a bold man to defy me like this. Nobody knows that I am here. Nobody knows that you are back in your own house again. I could kill you as you sit there, and not a soul would suffer for the crime. The cripple laughed aloud. He seemed to be amused at something. Really, he sneered. Such cheap talk is wasted upon me. Besides, what would you gain by so unnecessary a crime? And how much better off would you be? You know as well as I do. Disguise it as you will, that the long arm has reached for you across five thousand miles of sea, and that, when the time comes, you will be stricken down here in London as surely and inevitably as if you had remained in Mexico under the shadow of the mountains. The dreadful secret is known to a few. In its entirety it is even unknown to me. I asked you just now if you had received the first of your messages, and you denied that you knew what I meant. You actually had the effrontery to deny it to me, sitting opposite to you as I am, and looking straight at the dreadful disfigurement of your left hand. For over three centuries the natives of Mexico worked the forefinger mine till only two of the tribe who knew its secret remained. Then it was that my father came along. He was a brave man and an adventurer to his fingertips, moreover he was a doctor. His healing art made those rough men his friends, and when their time came my father was left in possession of the mine. How that mine was guarded and how the spirit of the place took its vengeance upon intruders. You know too well. Ah, I have touched you now." Fenwick had risen, and was pacing uneasily, up and down the room. All the daredevil spirits seemed to have left the man for a moment. He turned a troubled face on the cripple huddled in his chair. He seemed half inclined to temper eyes, and then, with a short laugh, he resumed his own seat again. You seem to be very sure of your ground. He sneered. I am, the cripple went on. What does it matter what becomes of a melancholy wreck like myself? Doctors tell me that in time I may become my old self again, but in my heart I doubt it. And as sure as I sit here, the mere framework of a human being, my injuries are due to you. I might have had you shot before now, or I might even have done it myself, but I spared you. It would have been a kindness to cut your life short, but I had another use for you than that. And now, gradually, but surely, the net is closing in around you, though you cannot yet see its meshes, and you are powerless to prevent the inevitable end. You seem to have mapped it all out, Fenwick replied. You seem to have settled it all to your own satisfaction, but you forget that I may have something to say in the matter. When I discovered, as I did quite by accident, that you were in London, I laid my plans for getting you into my hands. It suits me very well, apart from the criminal side of it, to hide myself in your house, but that is not all. I am in a position now to dictate terms, and you have nothing else to do but to listen. I am prepared to spare your life on one condition. Now kindly, follow me carefully. I am listening, the cripple said coldly. If you were not the blind fool you seem to be, you would know that there could be no conditions between us, but go on, let me hear what you have to say. I am coming to that. I want you to tell me where I can find Felix Zary. Suddenly, without the slightest premonition, the cripple burst into a hardy laugh. He rocked backward and forward in a perfect ecstasy of enjoyment. For the moment at any rate, he might have been on the very best of terms with his companion. Oh, is that what you are driving at? he said. So you think that if you could get Felix Zary out of the way, you would be absolutely safe? Really, it is marvellous how an otherwise clever man could be so blind to the true facts of the case. My good sir, I will give you Zary's address with pleasure. Fenwick was obviously puzzled. Perhaps it was beginning to dawn upon him that he had a man of more than ordinary intellect to grapple with. He looked searchingly at the cripple, who was leaning back with eyes half closed. Hang me if I can understand you, he muttered. I am in imminent danger of my life, though I should be safe enough if Felix Zary and yourself were out of the way. And you are quite capable of putting us out of the way, the cripple said gently. Is not that so, my friend? Aye, I could, and I would, Fenwick said in a fierce whisper. If you are both dead, I could breathe freely. I could go to bed at night feeling sure that I should wake in the morning. Nothing could trouble me then, as to that accursed mind. I have done with it. Never again do I plant my foot in Mexico. Fool that you are, the cripple said in tones of infinite pity. So you think that if Zary and myself were out of the way, you might die eventually in your bed, honoured and respected of men? I tell you, never. The vengeance is upon you. It is following you here. It is close at hand, now. You have already had your warning. Perhaps for all I know, to the contrary, you may have had your second warning. That you have had one, your face told me eloquently enough a few moments ago. I am quite sure that a little quiet reflection will show you the absurdity of keeping me a prisoner in my own house. Of course, I know I am entirely in your hands, and that you may keep me here for weeks, if you choose. It will be very awkward for me, because I have important business on hand. I know your important business, Fenwick sneered. Everything that goes in your favour will naturally spell disaster to me, as I told you before. It was only an accident that told me where you were. Indeed, so changed are you, that I should not have recognised you if I had met you in the street. No, on the whole. You will stay where you are. At this point, Venor clutched Gurdon's arm and dragged him hurriedly across the landing, down to the half-staircase. So quickly was this done, that Gurdon had no time to ask the reason for it all. Someone is coming down the stairs. Venor whispered, Didn't you hear a voice? I believe it is the girl in white again. Surely enough, looking upward, they could see the slim white figure creeping down the stairs. The girl was crooning some little song to herself as she came along. She turned into the drawing-room and called aloud to the cripple in the chair, with an oath on his lips Fenwick motioned her away. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of The Mystery of the Four Fingers This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Mystery of the Four Fingers by Fred M. White Chapter 14 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 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 is a martyr. 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 Eivor's 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 Eivor's? 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 fire the shot in self-defense, 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 cars. 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? Gordon whispered excitedly. Murder might be going on here. I think we had better risk it a little longer, was Venor'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 gray 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 uproads in a long, wailing cry. I'd give something to see that! Venor whispered. Only I'm 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 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. All together 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 rib 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 his 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 ruffins 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 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 it 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 Evores 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. 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 to 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 Venor and Gurdon had barely time to get out of her way. They heard the street door open. They were conscious of the sudden draft 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 as long as they are caged in there. A din of mingled voices came from the other side of the door, followed quickly by the whip-like crack of a revolver shot, then someone tried the door and yelled aloud that it was locked. This spattered violently on the panels, and just as the din was at its height, the helmets of two policemen appeared mounting the stairs. Thener stepped coolly forward, as if he had every right to be there. I'm glad your 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 policemen 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. Thener 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 in sullen with his satellites behind him. There were four of them altogether, and the appearance they made was by no means attractive, seeing that at least two 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 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 constable 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 a rather thirsty business, and occasionally leads to rather more champagne than is good for one. I can only apologize 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 in gasp in his chair, while his two victims walk quietly away in the most natural manner in the world. We had better be off, Girden 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. It would never do to get away like this, he said hurriedly. Besides, it is much more than likely that we shall want to use that entrance again. We shall have to run the risk of losing sight of the cripple. Anything is better than leaving that panel open for the servants to discover in the morning. Venner could see for himself at once that there was no help for it, so without any further discussion on the matter, the two men hurried down the stairs, their feet making no noise on the thick carpet, and then they darted through the hole into the house next door. It was only the work of a moment to replace the panel, but hardly had they done so before they heard a confused murmur of voices on the other side. Girden pressed his back to the panel until the noise of the voices ceased. That was a pretty close call, he said. Give me the moldings and I will try to make them secure without any unnecessary noise. I daresay we can get the nails to fit the same holes. Anyway, there must be no hammering, or we shall be pretty sure to rouse the suspicions of the people next door. It was perhaps fortunate that the moldings fitted so well, for Girden managed to work the nails into the original holes and complete a more or less workman-like job to his own satisfaction. Certainly anybody who was not in the secret would never have detected anything wrong with the panels or imagined for a moment that they had been so recently moved. That's a good job well done, Venor said. Yes, but what do you do for it? In fact, what are you two gentlemen doing here at all? The voice came with a startling suddenness. It was an exceedingly clear melodious voice, yet with a steely ring in it. The two friends wheeled round sharply to find themselves face to face with an exceedingly tall individual whose length was almost grotesquely added to by the amazing slimness of his figure. In that respect he was not at all unlike the type of human skeleton which one generally expects to find in a traveling circus or some show of that kind. The man, moreover, was dressed in deep black, which added to his solemnity. He had an exceedingly long melancholy face, on both sides of which hung a mass of oily-looking black hair. His nose, too, was elongated and thin, and a long drooping mustache concealed his mouth. On the whole his appearance was redeemed from the grotesque by an extraordinary pair of black eyes which were round and large as those of a Persian cat. Despite the man's exceeding thinness he conveyed a certain suggestion of strength. At that moment he had a handkerchief between his fingers and Gurdon could see that his wrists were supple and pliable as if they had been made of India rubber. Gurdon had heard that sort of hands before described as conjurer's hands. As he looked at them he half expected to see the handkerchief disappear and an orange or apple or something of that kind take its place. Then the stranger coolly walked across the hall and turned up another of the lights. He seemed to be perfectly at home and conveyed a curious impression to the visitors that he expected to find them there. I beg to remind you that you have not yet answered my question. He said, What are you doing here? Let me answer your question with another. Venor said, Who are you and what may you be doing here? The man smiled in a peculiar fashion. His big black eyes seemed to radiate sparks. They were luminous and full of vivid fury, though at the same time the long, horse-like face never for a moment lost its look of profound ejection. They might have been eyes gleaming behind a dull, painted mask. We will come to that presently, he said. For the moment the mention of my name must content you. It is just possible that you might have heard the name of Felix Zary. Venor and Gurdon fairly started. The name of Felix Zary was familiar to them, but only during the last three-quarters of an hour. In fact, that was the name of the man as to whose whereabouts Fenwick had been so anxious to hear. Here was another element in the mystery, which up to this moment had not advanced very far towards solution. I have heard the name before, Venor said, but only quite recently, within the last hour in fact. Oh yes, the stranger said, I know exactly what you mean. You probably heard it next door when you were listening so intently to the conversation between my friend, a Charles LeFrenieux, the cripple, and that scoundrel who calls himself Fenwick. He is exceedingly anxious to know where I am, though without the smallest intention of benefiting me. Before long his curiosity will be gratified, but not in the way he thinks. The latter words came from the speaker's lips with a spitting hiss, such as the cat emits in the presence of a dog. The great round black eyes added intensity to the threat and rendered the feline similarly complete. The prophecy boated ill for Fenwick, when at length he and Felix Zary came face to face. I see my conjecture is right, the stranger went on, and as to you gentlemen, I have asked your names merely as a matter of courtesy. As a matter of fact, I know perfectly well who you are. You are Mr. Gerald Venor, and Mr. James Gurdon. But there is one thing I don't know, and that is why you have thrust yourselves into this diabolical business. You must be brave men, or absolutely unconscious of the terrible danger you are running. If either of you are friends of Fenwick's—not for a moment—Venor cried, you pay us a poor compliment indeed, if you take us to be in any way friendly with that scoundrel. And yet you are here, Zary went on, you are spying on the movements of my friends, Lyff and you. You have contrived to obtain possession of the keys of his house, for no other purpose. Why? Venor paused before he answered the question. He did not recognize the right of this man to put him through a cross examination. Indeed, it seemed to him, the less he said, the better. Perhaps Zary saw something of what was going on in his mind, for his big black eyes smiled, though the dejected visage remained the same. I see you do not trust me, he said. Perhaps you are right to be cautious. Let me ask you another question, assuring you at the same time, that I am the friend of Charles LeFrenieux and his sisters, and if necessary I will lay down my life to save them from trouble. Tell me, Mr. Venor, why are you so interested in saving the girl, who passes for Fenwick's daughter, from her miserable position? Tell me. Zary came a step or two closer to Venor and looked down into his face with a searching, yearning expression in those magnetic black eyes. The appeal to Venor was irresistible. The truth rose to his lips, it refused to be kept back. Because, he said slowly, because she is my wife. A great sigh of relief came from Zary. I am glad of that, he said, exceedingly glad, and yet I had suspected something of the kind. It is good for me to know that I am with friends, and that you two are only actuated by the best motives. For some days now I have had you under close observation. I followed you here to-night. Indeed, I was in the house when you removed those panels. As a matter of fact, Mr. Gordon's first involuntary visit here absolutely ruined a carefully laid plan of mine for getting Mark Fenwick into my hands. But I will tell you later on all about the mystery of the furnished dining room and how and why the furniture vanished so strangely. When I followed you here tonight, I was quite prepared to shoot you both if necessary, but some strange impulse came over me to speak to you and ask you what you were doing. I am rather glad I did, because I should not like to have a tragedy on my hands. Now, would you like to come with me, as far as my own rooms, where I shall be in a position to throw a little light upon a dark place or two? Venor and Gordon clutched eagerly at the suggestion. Without further words they passed into the street and would have walked down the steps, had not Zary detained them. One moment, he whispered, hang back in the shadow of the Portico. Don't you see that there are two or three men on the steps of the house next door? Ah, I can catch the tones of that rascal Fenwick, if only that vile scoundrel knew how close to him I was at the present moment. But let us listen. Perhaps we may hear something useful. It was very still and quiet in the square now, for the hour was late, and therefore the voices from the Portico came clear and distinct to the listener's ears. What is the good of it? One of the voices said, why on earth can't you wait till morning? Le Fenwick has got clear away, and there isn't much chance of catching him again in a hurry. It was one of the coolest things I have seen for a long time. Oh, he doesn't lack brains or pluck either. Fenwick said, I should have been proud of that trick myself. I ought to have poisoned him when I had the chance. I ought to have got him out of the way, without delay. But it seems such a safe thing to kidnap him, and hide him in his own house, where we could go on with our work without the slightest danger or interruption from those accursed police. And then, when fate played into our hands, and we got hold of Evors as well, it looked as if everything was going our way. How you fools ever contrived to let him get the upper hand of you is more than I can understand. It was Jones's fault. Another voice growled. He forgot a drug, and we ran clear out of it. Then I suppose we got interested over a game of cards. And one way or another, Evors managed to get six or seven hours' sleep, without having any of that stuff inside him. Bless me if it wasn't all like a dream, Dovner. There we were, interested in our cards. And before we knew where we were, our heads were banged together, and I was lying on the floor, thinking that the end of the world had come. That fellow has got the strength of the very devil itself. Poor weak creature, Fenwick sneered. Weak-minded, perhaps, and easily led, the first speaker said. But there is not much to matter with him when it comes to fists. We can't stop chattering here all night. Fenwick cried, It's all very well for you men, who don't care so long as you have something to eat and drink. You would be quite satisfied to sit like a lot of hogs in a stye in Lefene's house. But he'll certainly be back in the morning, with some infernal scheme or other for getting the best of us. Don't just say it is impossible for me any longer to play the part of a tenant of a furnished house, now that the owner of the house is at large again. It is a very fortunate thing, too, in a way, that I can pass all you people off as my servants. Now get away at once and do as I tell you. As for me, I'm going to take a cab as far as the old place by the side of the river. In an hour's time, I hope to be on my way to Canterbury. Now, you are quite sure you all know what to do? It's confoundedly awkward to have one's plans upset like this. But a clever man always has an alternative scheme on hand, and I've got mine. There, that will do. Be off at once. That's all very well, Governor. Another voice said, it is easy enough to put the door on the latch and turn out of the crib, leaving it empty. But what about the girl in the white dress? I ain't very scrupulous as a rule, but it seems rather cruel to leave the poor kid behind. And she not more than half right in her head. Devil, fly away with the girl. Fenwick said passionately, we can pick her up any time we want to. Besides, I think I can see a way to arrange for her and a method of getting her out of the house within the next hour. It was no bad thing for men who get their living as we do, when some genius invented motor cars. Now go along, or we shall never finish. The little group on the portico steps melted away, and one by one the slouching figures vanished into the darkness. Zary stepped onto the pavement, and proceeded to open the front door of the next house. It yielded to his touch. I am glad of this, he said, and really we owe quite a debt of gratitude to the tender-hearted Ruffian, who was averse to leaving a poor girl in this house all alone. We will spare Fenwick the trouble of any inconvenience, so far as she is concerned. So saying, Zary proceeded to walk up the stairs, turning up the lights as he went. He called the name of Beth softly three or four times, and presently a door opened overhead, and a girl in a white dress came out. A please smile spread over her face as she looked over the balusters and noted the collar. Felix, she said softly, is it really you? I have been hiding myself in my room because I was terrified, and after Charles had gone, those men quarreled so terribly among themselves. I suppose Charles forgot all about me in the excitement of the moment. Oh no, he didn't, dear one. Zary said very gently, he would have come back to you in any case, but I am going to take you away from this house where you have been so miserable. I am going to see that you are not molested in the future. That is all very well, men are interposed, but where can the young lady go? She is quite alone and helpless, and unless you have some reputable female relation. It is not a matter of my relations, Zary smiled. Miss Beth will go to one who is her natural protector, and one who will watch over her welfare with unceasing care. To put it quite plainly, Miss Beth is going to the Great Empire Hotel, and you are going to take her. Tonight she will sleep under the same roof as her sister. Venner was just a little startled by the suddenness of the proposal, yet on the whole the suggestion was an exceedingly natural one, for who was better capable of looking after the unfortunate Beth than her own sister. True, the hour was exceedingly late, but then a huge place like the Great Empire Hotel was practically open night and day, and a request at one o'clock in the morning that a guest in the house should be awakened to receive another guest would be nothing in the way of a novelty. Very well, Venner said, let her put on her hat and jacket, and she can come with me at once. CHAPTER XVI Beth raised no objection to the program. Indeed, the suggestion seemed to fill her with delight. She would not be a moment, she said. She would put certain necessities in a handbag, and come back for the rest of her wardrobe on the morrow. Venner had expressed a desire that Zary should accompany him, but the latter shook his head emphatically. No, no, he said, you are going alone. As for me, I have important business on hand, which will not brook the slightest delay. Mr. Gruden had best return to his own rooms, and, for his own sake, I would advise him to keep in the middle of the road. You too little know the danger you incurred when you decided to thrust your head into this hornet's nest. Now I will see you both off the premises, and put out all the lights. I may mention in passing that I have a latch-key to this place. A few minutes later Venner found himself walking down the deserted streets with his fair little companion hanging on his arm. She chattered to him very prettily and daintily, but there was a great deal in her remarks which conveyed nothing to him at all. She constantly alluded to matters of which he was entirely ignorant, apparently taking it for granted that he was offay with what she was saying. It struck Venner that though not exactly mentally deficient, she was suffering from weakness of intellect, brought about probably by some great shock or terrible sorrow. On the whole he was not sorry to find himself in the great hall of the hotel, the lights of which were still burning, and where several guests were lounging for a final cigar. I know it is exceedingly late," Venner said to the clerk, but it is quite imperative that this young lady should see Miss Fenwick, where you'll be good enough to send up to her room and tell her how sorry I am to disturb her at this time of night, but that the matter is exceedingly urgent. Miss Fenwick is not in, sir, came the startling response. She went out shortly after eleven o'clock, and she told me that she might not be back for some considerable time. You see, she wanted to be quite sure that she could come back into the hotel at any time she returned. Oh, no doubt she is returning, or I don't suppose for a moment that she would have asked me all those questions. The information was sufficiently disturbing, but there was no help for it. All they had to do was to sit down and wait patiently till Vera came back. They were not in the least likely to attract any attention, seeing that several men in evening dress, together with their wives, were seated in the hall for a final chat after the theater or some party or reception. In her long white frock, partially concealed by a cloak and hood, Beth would have easily passed for a girl fresh from a theater or a dance. It was a long, weary weight of over an hour, and Venner was feeling distinctly anxious when the big folding doors at the end of the hall opened, and Vera's tall, graceful figure emerged. Here is your sister, Venner said. There was just a stern suggestion in his voice. Now, you are not to cry or make any scene. You are not to attract any attention to yourself, but take it all for granted. You can be as emotional as you please when you are alone together in your room. Vera came across the hall in a jaded, weary way, as if she were thoroughly tired out. Her face flushed a little as she recognized Venner. Then she looked at his companion and almost paused, while the blood ebbed from her face, leaving it deadly pale. Gerald, she whispered. Gerald and Beth, what does it mean? What strange thing has happened to bring you both together here? Don't make a scene, for goodness sake, Venner said. Take it as calmly as you can. Unless you are self-possessed, your sister is sure to give way, and that is the last thing in the world to be desired. I cannot possibly stop now to tell you all the extraordinary things which have happened tonight. Let it be sufficient to say that it is absolutely imperative that you give your sister shelter, and that nobody but yourself should know where she is. But how did you find her? Vera asked. And who was it suggested that you should bring her to me? Let me just mention the name of Zari, Venner replied. Oh, I can come round here to-morrow and tell you all about it. If you think that there is any possible danger. Of course there is danger, Vera said. Mr. Fenwick may be back at any moment. He does not know that I am aware that my sister is even alive. If he became acquainted with the fact that we had come together again, all my plans would be absolutely ruined, and my three years of self-sacrifice would be in vain. I am afraid you must run the risk now, Venner said. At any rate, your sister will have to stay here till the morning. It is perhaps a good thing that she does not understand what is going on. Apparently the girl had no real comprehension of all the anxieties and emotions, of which she was unconsciously the center. She was holding her sister's hand now, and smiling tenderly into her face, like a child who has found a long lost friend. You may rest assured on one point. Venner went on. For the present there is not the slightest reason to fear Fenwick. He has had a great shock tonight. All his plans have been upset, and he finds himself in a position of considerable danger. I know for a fact that he is going straight away to Canterbury, and probably by this time he is on his way there. According to what your mysterious friend Zary said, he had some plan cut and dried for providing for your sister's safety to-morrow. Now take the poor child to bed, for she is half asleep already, and when once you have made her comfortable, I want you to come down again and have a few words with me. You need not hesitate. Surely a man can talk to his wife whenever he pleases. And besides, there are several people here who show not the slightest signs of going to bed yet. Very well, Vera said. Come along, dear. I see you are dreadfully sleepy, so sleepy that you do not appear to recognize the sister you have met for the first time for three years. Venner had time to smoke the best part of a cigar before Vera reappeared. They took a seat in a secluded corner of the hall, where it was possible to talk without interruption. Now please, tell me everything, the girl said. I am afraid that is impossible. Venner replied, this is one of the most extraordinary and complicated businesses that I ever heard of. In the first place, I came to England, weary and worn out with my search for you, and half inclined to abandon it altogether. In the very last place in the world where I expected to meet you, I came in contact with you in this hotel. I find that you are being passed off as the daughter of one of the greatest scoundrels who ever cheated the gallows. But that does not check my faith in you. I had kept my trust in you intact. Ever since you left me on the day of our marriage, I have had nothing but a few words to explain your amazing conduct. And now here I am, doing my best to free you from the chains that bind you, and all the while you seem to be struggling to hug those chains about you, and to baffle all my efforts. Why do you do this? What is the secret that you can seal so carefully, from the man who would do anything, to save you from trouble, from the man you profess to love? If you do care for me?" Oh, I too, indeed, Vera whispered. There were tears in her eyes now, and her cheeks were wet. It is not for my own sake. It is for the sake of the poor girl upstairs. I had promised to say nothing of that to any one, to try and save her. And I left you and ran the risk of forever forfeiting your affection. But if Beth is better in the morning, I will try to get her to absolve me from my promise, and induce her. She is not capable of giving a promise or rescinding it. Venor said, Don't you think it would be far better if, instead, you discuss the matter with your brother, Charles LeFennu? So you know all about that? Vera cried. Yes, I do. I have seen him to-night. Gerdon has already had an interview with him, an interview that almost cost him his life. We have been having some pretty fine adventures the last two or three days, but if it all ends in saving you and lifting this cloud from your life, I shall be well content. I am not going to ask you to go into explanations now, because I see they would be distasteful to you, and because you have given some foolish promise which you are loath to break. But tell me one thing. You said just now that you had not seen your sister for three years, though she has been living with your brother, whom you visited quite recently. That is easily explained, Vera said. It was deemed necessary to tell Beth, one or two fictions, with a view to easing her mind, and leaving her still with some slight shadow of hope, which was the only means of preventing her reason from absolutely leaving her. These fictions entailed my keeping out of the way. Beth is exceedingly different from me, as you know. Indeed she is, said Venor, smiling for the first time, but does it not strike you as an extraordinary thing that I should be fighting in this fierce way in your behalf, and that you should be placing negative obstacles in my way all the time? I won't worry you any more tonight, dearest. You look tired and worn out, you had better go to your own room, and we can discuss this matter further in the morning. It was dark enough and sheltered enough in that secluded corner of the hall for Venor to draw the girl towards him and kiss her lips passionately. Just for a brief moment Vera lay in her husband's arms, then, with a little sigh, she disengaged herself and disappeared slowly up the stairs. She had placed Beth in her own room, which they would share together for that night at any rate. The younger girl was sleeping placidly, there was a smile on her face. Her lips were parted like those of one who was utterly and entirely happy. She made a fair picture as she lay there, with her yellow hair streaming over her shoulders. She just murmured something in her sleep, as Vera bent over and brushed her forehead lightly with her lips. Oh, I wonder how long this cloud will last. Vera murmured, how much longer I shall be till I am free. How terrible it is to have the offer of a good man's love and be compelled to spoil it as I do, or at least as I appear to do, and yet I should be a happy woman if I could only throw off these shackles. Vera paused, unable to say more. For something seemed to rise in her throat and choke her. She was utterly tired and worn out, almost too tired to undress and get into bed, and yet once her head was on the pillow she could not sleep. She tossed and turned wearily. All London seemed to be transformed into one noisy collection of clocks. The noise and the din seemed to stun Vera and throb through her head like the beating of hammers on her brain. She fell off presently into a troubled sleep, which was full of dreams. It seemed to her that she was locked in a safe, and that somebody outside was hammering at the walls to let her free. Then she became conscious of the fact that somebody really was knocking at the door. As Vera stumbled out of bed, a clock somewhere struck three. She flicked up the light and opened the door. A sleepy-looking chambermaid handed her a note, which was marked urgent on the envelope. With a thrill she recognized the handwriting of Mark Fenwick. What new disaster was here, she wondered. Is there anybody waiting for an answer? She asked tremblingly. Is the messenger downstairs? Yes, miss, the sleepy chambermaid replied. It was brought by a gentleman in a motor. I told him you were in bed and fast asleep, but he said it was of the greatest importance, and I was to wake you. Perhaps you had better read it. With a hand that trembled terribly, Vera tore open the envelope. There were only two or three lines there in Fenwick's stiff handwriting. They were curt and discourteous, and very much to the point. They ran as follows. I am writing you this from Canterbury, where I have been for the last hour, and where I have important business. I have sent one of the cars over for you, and you are to come back at once. Whatever happens, see that you obey me. You will tell the gentleman I will be down in a few moments, Vera said. I will not attain him any longer than I can help. What is to be done? The girl wondered directly she was alone. She felt that she dared not disobey this command. She would have to go at all costs. She knew by bitter experience that Fenwick was not the man to brook contradiction. Besides, at the present moment, it would be a fatal thing to rouse his suspicions, and yet she felt how impossible it was for her to leave Beth here in the circumstances. Nor could she see her way to call up Venner at this hour and explain what had happened. All she could do was to scribble a short note to him, with a view to explaining the outline of the new situation. Ten minutes later she was downstairs on the hall, where she found the man awaiting her. He was clad in furs. His motor-cap was pulled over his eyes as if he shrank from observation, but all the same Vera recognized him. So it is you, Jones, she said. Do you know that you have been sent all the way from Canterbury to fetch me at this time in the morning? It is perfectly monstrous that I should be dragged out of bed like this. Perfectly disgraceful. I don't know anything about that miss, the man said sullenly. It is the Governor's orders, and he gave me pretty plainly to understand that he would want to know the reason why, if I came back without you, don't blame me. I am not blaming you at all, Vera said coldly, nor am I going to stand here bandying words with you. I will just go to my room and put on a fur coat, then I shall be ready. Very well, miss. That's the proper way to take it. But where is the other young lady? Vera's heart fairly stood still for a moment. Fenwick's note had said nothing about her sister, though this man seemed to be aware of the fact that she was here. There was only one thing for it, and that was to lie boldly and without hesitation. She looked the speaker in the face in blank astonishment. I fail to understand you, she said. There is nobody here but me. There could be nobody here but me, and now I have nothing further to say. One moment and I will be with you.