 Chapter 28 of A May Fair Magician, A Romance of Criminal Science Can you not see, Dr. Halkie, that all things considered, the course which I propose is the only practicable, in fact the only possible one for all of us? By some means or other, your continual existence and presence here have become suspected. You know perfectly well that if Harold Endstone can send you back to prison, he will, and this time there will be no escape. You know also that I have the best of reasons for wishing him permanently out of the way. I won't say that his existence is quite as dangerous to me as it is to you, but it is sufficiently so to be exceedingly unpleasant. Now, here we have an opportunity which could hardly come to us again. You will assume one of those admirable disguises of yours and come with us to Natyafburg, your niece, as I think you prefer to call her, your daughter. Ah, yes, interrupted Jenner Halkie in a voice like the snarl of an angry dog. Of course you know that too, and therefore the reason. I do, replied Siemens Grave, looking at him with unconcealed disgust, and therefore I know that you are the most unspeakable mixture of madman and scoundrel that ever was allowed to live. However, for decency's sake, we will call her your niece. If you come, she must, and when we get into the safe seclusion of Natyafburg you will cause her to write a note to her husband saying that at the last moment the princess had persuaded her to accompany us on our trip as far as Paris. We can send her carriage back for her maid in the necessary luggage. There will be plenty of time for that before we catch the train. Then the letter from Natyafburg will bring her husband their hot foot, and meanwhile we can arrange for the necessary accident to happen to him. Of course I know that I am talking to one of the greatest criminals, potentially at least, that exists, replied Halkie slowly. I would rid the earth of you if I could, but unfortunately, perhaps for the world, neither you nor I can harm each other. Therefore, as we must live, we may as well do so in the most convenient fashion. As you know, I have nothing to live for except science, but for that I would live a thousand years if I could. In comparison with science, I hold nothing of any value, and therefore I agree, although I know you ought to be killed for even thinking of what you wish to do. For me, it is a choice between continuing the glorious and mighty work that I have begun at the institute, a work which before I die will place me on the throne of the world with statesmen and monarchs as my servants and puppets, and the living death of the prison. Therefore, Harold Endstone shall come to Natieffburg and never leave it, and when that danger to us both, which is incarnate in him, has ceased to exist, I will go back to my work, will live my life, and you will live yours. There will be no need for us to meet again. I quite agree with you, said Henley Siemens, taking a cigar out of his case and snipping the end with his cutter. It is just as well that people who know each other as intimately as you and I do should keep as far apart as possible. You perform your part of the bargain, and I'll perform mine. As soon as Harold Endstone has been duly abolished, I will give you a million's worth of negotiable securities, and we will say goodbye, I hope, forever. At least, as far as this existence is concerned, what we shall be in the next, well, we needn't trouble ourselves about that for the present. If we get what we deserve, I suppose we shall be reborn as the children of pickpockets and grow up in the slums on the edge of starvation and steal for a living and go to prison as an occasional diversion. One life at a time, if you please, said Halkin, with a smile which was anything but mirthful. Who were we that we should anticipate the intentions of internal wisdom? Well, we won't trouble about that now, said Siemens getting up. This is a curious sort of conversation for a man to have on his wedding day, but of course one can't trifle with necessities. Then you will be ready to start with us for Paris this evening. We know we shall have a special train, and my yacht will be waiting at Dover, so we shall have quite a comfortable trip. Yes, replied Halkin, I should be ready. And now perhaps the princess had better arrange for Grace's maid to bring what she will want. He got up and opened the door of his own sanctum in which this conversation had taken place, and Headley Siemens went in search of his bride to discuss the final details of the villainous plot with her. Of all the facts which are repeated over and over in the history of crime, the most remarkable is that no matter how daringly or how skillfully a crime is planned, some apparently trifling detail, which might or might not have been foreseen, is left out of the calculation, and more often than not either upsets the whole scheme or becomes the means of bringing the criminal to justice after the crime has been committed. Now it will be admitted that the crime which Headley Siemens and Karanatyev had planned, and which Jenner Halkin, in his insane devotion to what he believed to be the preeminent interest of science, was as foul and revolting in its nature as it was clever in the simplicity of its conception. Apparently nothing had been overlooked. Grace, once more, completely under the influence of the overmastering, although deranged intellect of her father, would travel with them just as though she were the guest instead of, as she might be called, a mental prisoner. There would be no suspicion. Not even her maid would be able to detect the fact that she was not the mistress of her own actions. She would reach Natyaevburg practically without knowing how or why she had come. Then, at Halkin's dictation, she would write a letter to her husband, which would bring him, wondering perhaps, but unsuspicious of evil to the princess' stronghold in the Polish wilderness. There the deadly work would be done in such fashion as would leave no trace of anything. But Grace's maid happened to be a North country girl, the daughter, in fact, of one of Sir Godfrey's tenants, who had shown science of peculiar brightness which had attracted Sir Godfrey's attention. He knew that Harold would someday marry, and, by a most happy chance, he selected this girl as a possible maid for his future wife. He had her well educated, perhaps somewhat beyond her station in life, but her quick intellect had amply justified his choice, and the consequence was that Grace came into the possession of a lady's maid very far above the average, and, moreover, gratefully devoted to the fortunes of the House of Endstone, in the person of Miss Lucy Marrett. When the carriage came back with the message from her mistress, she at once set to work on her packing. But while she was engaged on this task, her shrewd wits were also working rapidly, and by one way or another she speedily arrived at the conclusion that the first person who ought to know about this curious journey was her master, and the result of this very essential little piece of thinking was that, late that evening, unhappily, just too late to get a train to the south, Harold Endstone, in a remote village in Northumberland, which was to be the center of the new iron fields, received by a mounted messenger a telegram which, to his utter amazement, told him that his wife was starting, indeed had started, for Paris, as the guest of Headley Siemens and his wife on their wedding tour. His first idea was to wire Colonel Raoul Grover, who was the one man in London whom he felt he could absolutely depend, and ask him to follow Grace to Paris, and to bring her back by any means that he might find possible. But a moment's reflection told him the Colonel could not possibly cross the channel until the next morning, and by that time, if Headley Siemens and his wife really had any sinister designs upon Grace, they certainly would have made pursuit for the present impossible. The telegram told him that the party were travelling by a special train, and that Siemens' yacht was to take them from Dover to France, but whether Caillet or Boulogne it did not say, and for the matter of that, what was to prevent Headley Siemens, who, as he now felt certain, had every reason to fear him, and therefore injure him, from taking the yacht anywhere else. She was a thousand-tonner, one of the finest yachts afloat, and could go anywhere. Once away from Dover, and every trace of her might be lost for days and weeks, she could run down to the Mediterranean, an idle about there among the Ionian islands, or in the islands studded Aegean. She could take a passage around the Cape to Australia, coal up at one of the Australian ports, and spend a year or so among the South Sea islands. She could run across the Atlantic, coal at Kingston, and get away down to the east coast of South America, where Headley Siemens' millions could buy him absolute immunity from the operations of all civilised law, until it was too late for the law to act. He could do anything, because he possessed the first two factors of civilisation, money, and the means of rapid transit. He was fully convinced now that Headley Siemens was the scoundrel whom he had hoped to run to earth, but what a hostage to fortune he had so skillfully and so suddenly captured. How many horrible possibilities were there, just in the simple fact that Grace was the guest, and very possibly the prisoner of Collier Banfield and his Polish wife. His early training under his father, and Sir Godfrey in the wild life that he had led in the outlands of the earth, and what is perhaps the most invaluable lesson that a man can learn, to think quickly and to act instantaneously on the thought. This is what he did now. He had crushed the telegram up in his hand. He had spread it out again, and read it, took out his watch, and said between his teeth, If I can only catch the five train from Newcastle to London tonight, I'd be in London by eleven in the morning. But damn it all, I'm five and twenty miles from the nearest station on the main line. I can't possibly catch it. No, it's no good tonight, I'm afraid. He was striding up and down the little sitting room he had taken at the end, chewing half inches off a cigar which he was trying to smoke, while these agonizing thoughts were chasing each other through his brain. He stopped and threw himself down into an armchair and said, biting each syllable off as it came. Now what the devil am I to do? The next moment he heard the rattle of machinery, a loud tutut under the window. He jumped up and looked out. Thank God there's hog-reeves with his panhard. He'll get me there in time. She'll do it in fifteen minutes. He ran downstairs just as a big forty-horse power motorcar owned by his partner, hog-reeves, the man with whom he was working against other iron and coal-kings, stopped panting, puffing, and stinking at the door. He had snatched his golf cap off the peg in the hall as he ran out, but he had forgotten he had left his coat off in order to do a cool and luxurious smoke and think at the end of the long northern summer afternoon. Hello and Stone! exclaimed Arthur Hog-reeves, billionaire, mine owner, and much-fined motorist. What the deuce is the matter with you? Your costume seems a bit different to mine, he went on, as he climbed out of the big car, capped, goggled, and leather-coated. Nothing serious, I hope. Endstone caught him by the arm and pulled him away out of the hearing of his chauffeur. It's everything that's serious to me, Hog-reeves. He said in a hurried whisper, I'm in a difficulty and a bad one, and you're the only man who can help me get out of it. Anything you like, old man, what is it? If it's anything that wants speed in it, well, here you are, sixty-five miles an hour and hang on the police. We can afford the fines, I think, if it's anything urgent. Well, that's just it, replied Harold. Never mind about the details just now. I'm twenty-five miles from Endstone and sixty from Newcastle, and I want to catch the Five Express to town or to get a special. It's something more than life or death to me, but I will tell you afterwards. Can you do it for me? Do it, my dear chap, replied the owner of the mechanical monster that was panting, rattling and throbbing, as though it had made up his mind to either burst or go flying away down the long straight road. Do it. The roads are open enough. There's very little traffic here. Now we'll put you into Newcastle inside eighty minutes, bar, accidents, and then I can give you plenty of time to pack your portmanteau and have a whiskey and soda with me. Good enough, said Harold, putting his hand on his shoulder. Come and have that whiskey and soda. By the Lord, Harry, you are a friend indeed this time, Hog-reeves. Within ten minutes, he had taken his place beside Hog-reeves on the panting, shuddering machine, the horn hooted twice. Hog-reeves turned the wheel and with swift series of angry snorts, as though it were venting its rage at having its powers so long restrained, the great motor-car bounded forward and vanished in a cloud of dust away down the long, solitary country road. End of Chapter 28. Chapter 29 of A Mayfair Magician, A Romance of Criminal Science. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Fraser Shepardson, Melbourne. A Mayfair Magician, A Romance of Criminal Science by George Griffith. Chapter 29. Hog-reeves and his chauffeur made the big panhard do its best and had thumped and bounded and jumped along the roads anywhere between 60 and 70 miles an hour until, within about 15 miles of new castle, it became absolutely necessary to slow down or run the risk of manslaughter. Sorry, old man, said Hog-reeves, but I really must do it. We can't go charging through these little villages at the speed of the flying scotchmen. There you are, great Caesar. We nearly did some damage there. I'm afraid I've hurt the kid after all. He shut the power off, jammed the breakdown hard, and brought the throbbing, panting monster to a standstill almost within its own length. I am afraid you have, said Harold, jumping out of the car and running back about 20 yards to where the little girl was standing with her knuckles dug into her eyes, surrounded by a small, but vociferous crowd. I'm very sorry, he said, breaking through the circle and taking the girl by her shoulders and lifting her from the ground. He put her onto her feet again and she stood upright, though still shaking with the fright. Fortunately, it's a case of more frightened than hurt. I don't think it touched you after all, little woman. Come now, I'm in a hurry. See if these won't make you feel a bit better. He pulled his sovereign case out of his right waistcoat pocket, rattled six sovereigns and took hold of her little tear-stained hand, put them into it, closed the fist, broke through the circle again and jumped into the car. Right away, Hargreaves. Let her go. I am afraid that will miss us the train. The car jumped away into space, but now it was necessary to slow down time after time as they passed through the more and more crowded, narrow streets, leading into the north-eastern metropolis. The car ran up one side of the semi-circle in front of the new castle station at perhaps a little over-regulation speed. Very sorry, End Stone, but I'm afraid we have missed it," said Hargreaves, as he brought the volcanic monster to a standstill under the clock tower. Harreld jumped out, ran into the station, collided with an inspector whom he caught by the shoulders. Here, where are you going at a speed like that? Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. End Stone. Excuse me, but is there anything serious the matter? Yes, I beg your pardon, Hawkins, running into you like this, but there is really something very serious the matter, and I've missed the up-express, haven't I? Yes, sir, you have, by about two minutes and a half. That was the kids' fault for nearly getting in the way, thought Harreld rapidly. Now look here, Hawkins, he went on, taking his hands from the inspector's shoulders. I've got to get to London in the shortest possible time, even if I have missed the express. I know you always have one or two good engines round here. Go and tell the station master to get one of those coupled up to a carriage of some sort and pull it in just as quickly as he can. He didn't worry about the cost, but he must wire up the line, stop everything, and give me a free run to King's Cross. Hurry up now. He turned away and went back to the motor-car. She's gone, Hargreaves. But perhaps I can get a special. If I can, will you come to London with me? As a matter of fact, I want a man like you, and I don't know too many of your sort in England, and I believe you've got a bit of influence on this line, haven't you? And I have some. What's up, Enstone? Give me the facts quick, and if you are in real trouble, I didn't say that. I know that, Hargreaves. The trouble is just this. It may not be very understandable to you just now, but I will explain it when we get into the special. My wife has, by some absolutely mysterious means, been persuaded to go to Paris, and after that, to the Lord knows where, on a honeymoon trip with Headley Simons, and his bride, Carina Tief. I just got the telegram at the moment you stopped at the inn up there. You've come too fast for me to speak, or I would have told you before, but that's so. Oh, good Lord, replied Hargreaves, getting out of the car. And from what I happen to know of Mr. H.S., I suppose you are pretty anxious to stop that little excursion. Look here. I fortunately happen to know Mr. Sanderson, the district superintendent here. In fact, I did a little bit towards getting him his birth, and if there is anything in the way of specials that he can manage, he'll do it. Come along now, and we'll see. They went into the station, and the inspector met them. He touched the peak of his cap to Harold and said, I've seen the station master, sir, and he'll be glad to see you in his office. This way, sir, if you please. And as it just happens, the line superintendent is with him. Oh, that's all right then, said Hargreaves. I think we can manage things all right now. Come along. The interview with the station master and the line superintendent was not very long, but it was very much to the point. Both Harold, Enstone and Hargreaves were known as men to whom money, even in thousands, was a very little account. And when Harold said, after a very brief interview to the superintendent, look here, sir, I will give you a thousand pounds if you will clear the line and run Mr. Hargreaves and myself through to King's Cross in the fastest possible time. Shut everything. I'll pay any loss there may be to the company through delay, but I want to get there. He took his checkbook out of the right hand pocket of his Norfolk jacket and stylographic pen out of the left hand pocket of his waistcoat, sat down at the table and wrote out a check for a thousand pounds payable to the district superintendent to the account of the Great Northern Railway Company. He blotted it, tore it off, threw it across the table. There you are, Mr. Sanderson. Now what can you do for me? The superintendent picked up the little slip of paper which meant so much, looked at it, and then at the station master. Then he put the check down again on the table, took the station master by the arm and led him away from the table for a few moments, during which he engaged him in a hurried whispered conversation punctuated with frequent nods of the station master's head. Then the superintendent came back to the table and said, It is not in my power, Mr. Endstone, to accept this check of yours, but if you will allow it to remain in the safe until the manager comes in the morning, I will take it on my own responsibility to clear the line for you and give you a couple of saloon cars and one of our new flyers that we are going to race the north-western with. She's been running one of her trial trips today and she has to steam up. I'll have her ready alongside the platform in ten minutes and she'll take you to London inside three hours. That's about half an hour in front of the Scotchman. I'm there, said Endstone, getting up and tossing the check towards him. You can do what you like with that. I'll buy the engine if you like, but have her ready quick. You needn't worry about the cars. It wouldn't be the first time that I've had a run on an engine. The cars are here, sir," replied the superintendent. And the engine shall be at the platform in a few minutes. Mr. Andrews, will you kindly wire down the line and clear it? Everything threw from here to King's Cross. She'll about overtake the express at Peterborough, but we don't want any accidents. There won't be any fear of that, said the stationmaster. Specials are specials, and everything else has to keep out of the way for them. That'll be all right, Mr. Endstone. And now, said Hargreaves, I think we may as well go and get a whiskey and soda and have some provisions for the trip put on board. If you only have a good digestion, eating and drinking are a great relief from the variegated worries of life. Come along. Let's go and find the bar. About ten minutes later, they were standing on the platform in front of a long corridor carriage with a big postal brake van behind it. There happened to be a very heavy correspondence from the north to London that evening, and so the superintendent had taken advantage of the special to get away a few dozen bags, and too late for the mail. A long, high-shouldered, short-funneled, green-painted, and yet with all graceful shape came sliding in on its 14 smoothly revolving wheels until it touched the buffers of the saloon car, hissing, snorting and vibrating throughout the length and breadth of its steel fabric with the suppressed energy of the 3,000 horsepower which its boilers and furnaces were ready to put into its compound cylinders. As the buffers touched, the superintendent went to the foot plate and said to the driver, a grizzled descendant of some Norse invader of a thousand years back, Jock, you are to drive her for all she's worth. We've cleared the line for you, and if ever 999 had a chance of a record, you've got one now. And if the way is right, she'll make it," replied Jock, pulling his beard and looking from end to end of the steel darling of his widowed life. And every minute that you make over ordinary time will be worth a pound to you and here's something to begin with," said Harold Endstone, putting a five pound note into his hand. And now, as soon as you are ready, I am. All right, gentlemen," replied the driver, climbing back into the cab. And thank you, sir. As soon as you have taken your places will be off. The superintendent conducted the two millionaires to the door of the long saloon carriage, shut it, touched his cap, and signalled right away to the driver. There was a shrill hiss of steam under the great engine, and with an almost imperceptible motion, Harold Endstone's special slid out of the station and crossed the long high-level bridge over the tine. Then the great engine settled down to its work. Jock let her go, and she did go. He knew that he had an almost perfect, permanent way under him and a clear road in front of him, and so, when he had cleared the outlying stations, he threw the throttle valve open and gave her her head. Conversation soon became impossible for Endstone and Hargreaves, and so they laid down on the sofas of the luxuriously furnished saloon and surrendered themselves, even in spite of their anxiety, to the rapturous delight of rapid travel. They heard the whistle shriek and saw the lights of Gateshead flash past them in a swift, continuous gleam. They roared out into the darkness. The moon and the stars danced and jumped about the heavens as the great engine and its two satellites plunged, thundering through the night. The fields and the scattered woods and the coppices on either side of the line melted into a confused blur. The lights of Hamlets and towns a few miles away from the line jumped out of the growing darkness, shunned for a moment, and vanished. The special rushed, shrieking and roaring through Peterborough where the scotchmen lay waiting on a siding and sped away out into the darkness again. The lights of Grantham glittered out ahead. Number 999 shrieked and thundered through the long station, and the next moment the lights were lost behind. She covered the hundred and four miles to King's Cross in eighty minutes, and when they ran up alongside the platform at King's Cross as easily and smoothly as though nothing had been done out of the common, and the green giant came to a stop, fizzling as modestly as a teakettle, Endstone went to the driver with his watch in hand and said, I think that was a rather fine performance. He was almost an hour ahead of the express this time. 83 miles an hour, sir, replied Jock, and if it hadn't been for the junctions and the cross lines, I could have made it ninety with safety. She's as fine a bit of machinery as ever run on metals. Talk about your Yankee engines. I'd pull one of them backwards and then make pretty good time. And if it came to racing, I could get a hundred out of her easy. Yes, I daresay you could, replied Endstone. I know you have done your best, but I'm afraid we have cut it too fine. Well, here you are. He continued, putting four five-pound notes into his hand. Share up with your mate. Good night. Now, hard griefs, quick, a smart handsome. Yes, that will do. Bylin, charring cross, he shouted to the driver. As hard as you can go, I will pay the fine if you hurt anyone. The horse was a good one, and the man a good driver. Instead of keeping to the main streets, he went away down the less crowded thoroughfares. Endstone made the journey with a watch in his hand and at last, as they were bowling down charring cross road, he snapped the case of his watch too, threw himself back with a comprehensive American curse, and said, It's no good, old man. It's nine o'clock. These southeastern trains do sometimes start punctually whatever time they get there, and we cannot hire a great northern flyer here. The horse skated and clattered up into the station. Harold drew the doors open and shouted to a porter, Has the boat train gone? Yes, sir, four minutes ago. Harold jumped out, gave the cab man a sovereign, and strode onto the platform. He found an important official with plenty of gold lace on his cap and asked him if there were any chance of a special to catch the boat at Dover. The official pondered deeply for a few intolerable moments and then said, with exasperating slowness, Well, no, sir. I'm afraid not to night. At least one could not be got ready in less than an hour, even if we had an engine, and you see, the express are all out. Yes, said Harold. I ought to have known that none of your old kettles on wheels on this line would have done it. I got a special at Newcastle in ten minutes and got here under three hours, and this company cannot do seventy-six miles and catch the boat. Are you sure? If you will come with me to the station master's office, sir, I will see if anything can be done, replied the official, in a tone of injured dignity. Harold followed him, fuming with rage, and yet not willing to miss even the limited chance of getting what he wanted, but the station master only repeated what his subordinate had said. The traffic on the line was very heavy just then, and a special to catch the boat was quite out of the question, added to which it would be impossible to get the boat and the train on the French side. It's no good, Hargreaves. We can do nothing tonight, he said, as he left the office. These people have not got an engine that could catch the boat train. It is only what one might have expected from the amalgamated crawlers. Now, the best thing we can do is to get away to the kernels, and if he happens by good luck to be at home, we might get some information out of him. It is infernally annoying, but I suppose there's no help for it. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 of A Mayfair Magician A Romance of Criminal Science This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Fraser Shepardson. Melbourne A Mayfair Magician. A Romance of Criminal Science Chapter 30 Fortunately, the Roelle Grovers were having an early, quiet dinner at home that night, prior to indulging in a couple of frivolous hours at the palace. They were naturally somewhat surprised to see Endstone, who was not expected back for three or four days. He apologised for the sudden invasion, introduced his friend Hargreaves, and with his usual directness, got to business at once. To his disgust, but not altogether he learned that they knew nothing of Grace's departure for the continent. All Mrs Grover could tell him was that the princess had brought a message from Grace to herself and Lady Georgina to the effect that Grace had been a little overcome by the heat and had a headache, so she was lying down for half an hour with the princesses made looking after her. And of course that settles it, said Endstone. If this trip had been all fair and square, Grace would certainly not have gone without sending me a wire, as that to you. Instead of the princess brings you a message, which is probably a lie, sends the carriage home for Lucy and some luggage, and vanishes. Now, my dear Mrs Grover, is that the sort of thing that Grace would be likely to do? It is certainly very extraordinary, she replied, but the idea of her being taken away against her will, if that is what you mean, is surely out of the question. This is the twentieth century, yes, he replied, but money can still work miracles. Quite so, said the Colonel, but my dear Endstone, people don't run such a tremendous risk as that of, well, if you like, we will say, abducting, the wife of a millionaire and a member of parliament and one of the best known women in society without some very strong motive, and what earthly reason could headly Simmons and the princess have for such an amazing act and on their own wedding trip, too? I think I can throw some light on that, replied Endstone. Then he gave them a rapid outline of his suspicions as to Simmons' identity with the desperado, Banfield, and the means he had taken to satisfy himself upon the point. Now, he continued, if I am right and he knows it, he is just the man to go into any length for either revenge or self-protection. But my dear fellow, said the Colonel, granted all that, how could they possibly have got her away unless she had gone of her own free will? As Fanny said just now, you can't carry well-known women off to the coast and put them on board a yacht, Vietnamese nowadays, and besides, they've gone to Paris. I have not the slightest doubt you will have a letter from her in the morning or a telegram. I wish I could believe it, replied Endstone, shaking his head. But I can't. Something bad has happened. I'm absolutely certain. I must have given me some of that queer power of second sight of hers or else I got it from some northern ancestor for I am absolutely certain that she is in danger and great danger. Good heavens. I believe I've got it," he exclaimed, suddenly getting up from his chair. Got what? said Mrs. Grover. Second sight or an idea? Both, I think, he replied. The one suggested the other. That fellow, Isaiah Ramal at the Institute, I'm sure he has the same uncanny powers as that villain Halkine had. And at one time, Grace was very susceptible to hypnotic influence or whatever the infernal thing is. Now, suppose they got her under Ramal's influence and suggested the trip to Paris. She would go just as though she went of her own free will. No one would notice anything out of the way about her and they could take her where they liked. Then, when they got her safely stowed away somewhere in the wilds of Poland or Russia, of course, Siemens, Julius Banfield could make what terms he liked with her. That's what they've done it for. He couldn't have any other motive. Harold Endstone had gotten nearer to the facts than any of his hearers really believed. And it was well for him that he did not know the whole of the horrible truth. He wanted all his energy and wits about him if Grace was to be found. And the knowledge that she was threatened by the hideous fate that Karen Atif and her husband had doomed her to might well have gone far towards unhinging his mind for the time being. Well, I must say there might be something in that, said Mrs Grover, who had, or believed she had, a very strong leaning towards the occult and was already inclined to look upon the famous doctor and director of the institute as the high priest of a new religion. Everyone says that Dr. Romal does possess the most remarkable powers, but Mr. Endstone, I am perfectly convinced that he would never use them for such an abominable purpose as that. He is far too distinguished, and I am certain too good a man to lend himself to anything of that sort. Well, for the sake of your confidence I hope he is Mrs. Rowell Grover, but he is an Oriental, and I know enough about the east to trust an Oriental about as far as I could throw him with one hand. But that's not the question now, and we've troubled you quite enough. You had better come back and sleep at my place, Hargroves, than you are inclined for a man-hunt on the continent, will be off by the mail tomorrow morning. Of course I shall have to put off that business in the north for the present, but don't let me hold you away unless you feel you can come without hurting things. I think the others will be able to fix that business up now if we send them away, giving them the full powers to act, replied Hargroves, on whom the excitement of the prospective chase had already taken hold, and if I can be of the slightest use to you, I'm there. Of course you can, said Endstone, you're just the man I want, and I don't think it will be quite the sort of journey that will be good for one to be alone on. I should think not, said the Colonel, and if I can be of any service to you here, of course, command me as one entirely at your disposal. For instance, as you'll be pretty busy, suppose I wire to all the likely hotels in Paris, find out where they are stopping, and let you know, say, at the Bristol. We've an office near here that's open all night, and as they went over in Simon's Yacht, of course, we can find out it's whereabouts. And now, just before you go, you must have a whiskey and soda to help you on your way. Endstone and Hargroves drove to the Prince's Gardens in almost absolute silence, only broken now and then by the strange oaths in many languages which escaped between Harold's tightly clenched teeth. His friend knew what his feelings must be, and respected them. He had not been married quite as long as Endstone, and so it was not difficult for him to sum up the situation. When Harold opened the door with his latch-key, a footman rose from a chair and straightened himself up in a somewhat sleepy fashion and said, there's a gentleman in the library to see you, sir. I told him you were out of town, but he said he thought he would wait till midnight in case you did come back. I think the gentleman's an American, sir. This is his card, sir. Harold took it up and looked at it, and read Albert J. Cantor 150 Water Street, Liverpool Can't say I know the gentleman, said Harold, but come along Hargroves. We may as well go and make his acquaintance. I suppose it's something important or he wouldn't be quite so persistent. As they went into the library a tall, well-dressed man got out of an armchair and came to meet them. He was a man of about fifty, well-preserved and set up, and with the iron-grey hair and dark mustache so often found among Americans who have fought hard in the battle of life and won. Mr. Cantor, I believe. My name is Endstone. I am afraid we have kept you waiting a long time. This is my friend Mr. Hargroves. We have only just come back from the north of England. Good evening, Mr. Endstone, said the stranger, with just the slightest transatlantic intonation. I am afraid it is I who have taken the liberty, but I had an urgent cable from my old friend Judge Bromjod, mayor of Pine Bluff City at Liverpool this morning about you and a mutual friend of ours. And as I happened to be in the country and know the man pretty well, I thought I had better come on right ahead as advance guard. Four old citizens of Pine Bluff will be here the day after tomorrow to complete the identification you ask for beyond doubt. I have wired to you in the north have had that yet as it only went this afternoon. Anyway, I thought I'd wait a bit in case you did arrive. Quite right, Mr. Cantor, said Harold, putting his finger on the bell push. Sit down. Of course, you will take a whiskey and soda and have a cigar. My man ought to have offered you something before. Now, about this identification, I am sorry to say that only this very day the man that I believe to be Collier Bounfield married a Polish princess to the continent, and what is more, the happy couple managed in some mysterious way to persuade my wife to go with them at a few moments' notice and without letting me know. To be quite frank, I suspect foul play. If Collier Bounfield has any hand in it, you can bet your life it won't be any too clean a business, replied the American. I knew him pretty well in the rough days out there, and I never knew anything good of him yet. And so he's blossomed out into headly Simmons, millionaire, railway king, gold king, and all the rest of it. That's what has to be proved yet, replied Einstein. But personally I feel morally certain of it. But at present, as you will understand, I am rather more concerned about my wife. Mr. Hargreaves and I are crossing to Paris by the next train to see if we can get on his tracks. Well, said Mr. Cantor, if there's anything like a chance of running Collier Bounfield down by a man who knows him from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet and doesn't like a little bit of him and can be of any service to you, I reckon I'll come too. Nothing would please me better, replied Einstein. Hello, what's that? Sounds like a wire. A thundering double knock resounded through the quiet hall and presently the door opened and a footman came in with a telegram marked for urgent delivery. Harold almost snatched it out of his hand, tore it open, and at the next moment said to Hargreaves, well, I'll be kicked. Read that. And Hargreaves read, Mr. Simmons and Princess married today, took sudden resolve to run over to Paris with them and now they have persuaded me to go with them to her castle Natiefburg, north-eastern Poland. Will you follow when business is settled? Good sport and delighted to see you. Grace. The telegram had been sent from Calais to Endstone and repeated via a new castle by an intelligent clerk who knew that Harold had left by the special. Either you are entirely wrong, said Hargreaves, or it is a trap. I believe it is a trap, said Harold, and anyhow Grace is in it, so I'm going. Mr. Cantor, if you care to join us on the trip, will you meet us at Charing Cross a little before nine? I'll be there, replied the American, meaningly, his hand wandering instinctively towards his hip pocket. And if Carly or Banfield really is in it, I guess we ought to have some good sport before we get back. I hope so very much, said Harold. Now, we may as well have a smoke and a drink, and see if we can knock out some sort of a plan of campaign. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of A Mayfair Magician, a romance of criminal science. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Fraser Shepardson, Melbourne. A Mayfair Magician, a romance of criminal science by George Griffith. Chapter 31 Natif Burr, which had been the home and stronghold of Cara Natif's ancestry ever since the dim old days when there had been a fortress of logs fenced about by triple stockades of outward pointing, sloping stakes, was now a curious mixture of medieval castle and 18th century pleasure house. It stood on the top most rise of a promontory about 500 feet high, which jutted out between a very considerable river and an inconsiderable tributary, which joined its sluggish flow to the mainstream about 7 miles from the broad entrance into the Baltic. For the rest, the vast forest clad regions, which lay south and east and west of it, and the long sandy reaches to the north were a sort of debatable ground between the Russian and the German empires. Most of the princesses ancestors had died fighting one or other of the two encroaching despotisms as occasioned demanded, and the inhabitants of the region, foresters, huntsmen, charcoal burners, small farmers and fishermen still hated both with a cordial impartiality. The long northern summer was still in the midmost height of its glory. The forests and the vast interspersed stretches of meadow and corn land were like dark green oceans dotted with islands of gold and emeralds, and the sands were golden too. The ripples of the shallow sea, like long lines of frosted silver and the waters of the Baltic beyond, almost as smooth as a sea of ice, glittered with a million ripples. The older portion of the castle, the high round keep, and the thick crumbling walls, flanked at every corner and angle as they climbed around the sides of the headland, were flanked with round watchtowers, all ivy and moss-grown, like the rest of the ruin, and grey with the age of many centuries. Below the remains of the great Outer Bastions, and fronting a magnificent sweep of the great gleaming river, fringed to its edge with dusky lines of giant ripples, and yet divided from the forest by flower-covered terraces and smooth green lawns, sloping away into the gloom of the wilderness, was the modern schloss built of red bricks that had been burned over three centuries before, tiraded at the corners and roofed with tiles blackened and moss-grown as old as the bricks. It was here that Karin Atif had brought her strangely one husband, and her no less strangely invited guests, present and to come, in order that she might, as she believed, enjoy the complete fruition at once of her love for the man that she loved, and her revenge on the woman whom, in a sense, he loved better than herself, and bleak and ghastly as these northern wildernesses were when once the shroud of winter fell over them, they were very beautiful now, with a weird and somber beauty, which no southern landscape can show. In a word, the scene exactly suited both the mood and beauty of the woman who owned everything, but the sea as far as the eye could reach from the topmost tower of Natifburg. According to the old custom of the land, Princess Cara and her husband occupied separate sleeping chambers, communicating with each other by a curtained archway. Very early in the morning of the third day after their arrival, in fact, soon after the brief northern night had ended, she was lying awake with many thoughts revolving in her mind, when she heard her husband's voice in the next room speaking in Spanish, a language which she of course understood, but which he had never used in converse with her. The words came slowly and brokenly with little intervals of silent, deep breathing between them, but the first few that she had heard were quite enough to bring the blood to her cheeks and the fire to her eyes. The truth was that, like nearly all women who have passed a great part of their lives in the silences and solitudes of the outlands of the world, Headley Simons had contracted the habit of talking to himself, which strongly conduces to sleep talking, and, curiously enough, yet by no means singily, he never spoke but one language in his sleep, and that was Spanish. Oh, gracia, gracisima! These were the words which flushed her cheeks and kindled her eyes. She sat up in bed and listened with tensely strained ears. There was a little pause, and he went on again, in those words slow and broken, yet for her fatally distinct. Thou knowest that I love thee and thee alone. Thou alone art the love of my heart, the light of my eyes, the star of my life. Shall I tell thee again that I married her only to get possession of thy sweet self and obtain vengeance on that husband of thine who has ruined me? It was the easiest way, and bah, what matters another crime or two? He is coming here, lured by the knowledge of thy sweet presence, coming to his death, for we shall kill him. But it must be she that will kill him, she and that evil eyed uncle of thine shall kill him. The guilt shall be theirs and the penalty of it. Then we shall be free, and all these lands shall be mine, and in this beautiful wilderness, far away from the world, we will taste the joys of a new paradise. By this time Princess Cara was out of bed, a morning wrapper girdled round her, and soft noiseless slippers of down on her feet. She was white now to the lips, and her eyes were blazing and black with anger. She went to a splendid black, old oak cabinet which nearly covered the end wall of the room, ran her fingers quickly over apparently solid wood at one end of it about five feet from the floor and presently a little panel flew out. She put her hand into the space behind and drew out a richly chased silver box about four inches square. She touched a spring at one of the corners and the lid slid off. Inside were eight tiny stopper bottles of clearest crystal. She took out the seventh and looked at it against the light. It was three parts full of a very pale greenish liquid the famous, or rather infamous aquatiphana which, with the other deadly liquids in the case, had been handed down by her ancestors from the time of the Borges. What she had done had occupied the space of only a few moments and, meanwhile she had heard more softly spoken words coming brokenly from the sleeper's lips, and there was such as only served to strengthen the deadly resolve which she had taken. And so I have loved and married a traitor a traitor who has outwitted me, more over, and used me, me, Kyra Natif as a mere means to an end. He has not only cheated me, but he has dishonoured me as well. There can be no forgiveness for that and no traitor ever entered the halls of Natifberg and left them alive. It shall not be for me, the last race, to break the tradition. The words were not spoken, or even whispered. They only ran like so many lightning flashes through her mind as she moved noiselessly towards the curtained archway. Headly Simons was lying a little on his right side with his head back and his left arm thrown up over it. Yes, it would be quite safe, ran the unspoken words again. It will be the usual verdict. Heart failure. She looked down for a moment on the dark, strong, almost grimly handsome face of a man who had inspired her so strangely with the only real love of her life. But hers was a nature whose love is very swiftly turned to hate and she hated him now with a hate that nothing but the sacrifice of his life could quench. Again, his lips opened in movement. Beautiful. Her eyes blackened deeper and her teeth clenched harder. She drew the stopper out of the vial with the little finger of her left hand, just as a practised chemist would do. Let a couple of drops fall into the palm of her hand, quickly replace the stopper and then lay her hand softly over the sleeper's mouth and nose. He drew one deep breath. His eyes opened and stared horribly at her for a moment and a shutter ran through his frame. His jaw dropped and he was dead. As she turned away from the bed to go back to her own room and replace the terrible poison, the curtains parted and Jenna Halkine stood before her, fully dressed his face, death white and his luminous eyes blazing with what seemed to her a supernatural light. For once in her life she was taken completely off guard by this utterly unexpected apparition. Dr. Halkine, she exclaimed in a voice which she vainly tried to keep steady. What are you doing here? Here in my bed chamber. It is an outrage. What have you been doing in that other chamber? He said in a perfectly even, passionless voice putting his hand quickly on her forehead, bending her head back a little and looking down into her fixed, wide-opened eyes. She struggled hard against the subtle, swiftly acting influence that was overcoming her, but it was no use. Her tongue stiffened and the word of protest would not come. Gently, irresistibly, he forced her back into the room where her husband lay dead. I saw you, he went on. I saw you with the eyes which are not of the flesh but of the spirit. Eyes to which nothing is opaque. You have killed him. A life more or less in the world does not matter but you have killed more than him. You have destroyed more than his one life. You have destroyed for the present, at least it may be for many years perhaps even beyond the scope of this life of mine. The hope of our great work. Without the money he promised and would have given the greatest project ever conceived by human minds must come to nothing. For that at least you are worthy of death. And you shall die. Die as you have killed him. Give me that bottle. He took the little file from her unresisting hand. Now lie there beside him. For this shall be the couch of your death bridle. She employed the last remains of will force that was left to her to resist him but the influence was already too strong upon her. It melted away under the searching fires of those terrible eyes. The hand was still upon her forehead and as it pressed she yielded. Then with a quick movement of his hand he caught hold of her limp yielding form and laid it on the bed beside the corpse of the man who but a few minutes before had been her husband. As her head fell back on the pillow he put his right hand on her forehead again for a moment and drew it down swiftly yet softly over her face. Her eyes closed and her lips parted. Sleep worker of evil. You who have interrupted the progress of the good work. Sleep until the awakening of another life you shall learn the full extent of the evil that you have wrought. Her eyes closed in the hypnotic sleep which was seen to change into one which most men believe has no awakening. Until the last trump calls up the sleepers from the land and sea to face the final judgment. He drew the stopper from the file and let a couple of drops fall between her parted lips and so she died as the man she had murdered had died a few moments before. He scattered the rest of the fluid over the thick carpet, dropped the stopper on the silken counterpane between them, closed the chilling fingers of her right hand over the file drew her left arm out over the dead man's breast and after a moments glance of mingled hate and genuine sorrow left the room with silent steps and went back into the princess's room. For a few moments his eyes were everywhere then at last they detected the little open panel in the end of the big cabinet and the silver box standing on the lower shelf. He looked into it, peeped out a few of the bottles and after a little hesitation said to himself No, they are of no use to me. I have other weapons even deadlier than these. I had better leave them here. They will make very convenient evidence. And so he left them there and went back to his own room. He packed a pormato with just what was necessary for a journey counted over his money then laid down upon his bed to do a little hard thinking. He lay for nearly an hour with his eyes looking mentally at the suddenly created problem from every possible point of view then the strain of three sleepless nights and the brief but intense mental activity of that early morning told upon him at last. Not even his powers could struggle against the overwhelming desire to sleep and his eyes closed again and again he opened them and again and again they closed in spite of the hill and then sleep deep and utterly oblivious held him fast in its invisible but unbreakable bonds. When he finally woke it was to see Harold Endstone with two other men in travelling clothes and an officer of police standing by his bedside and hear Endstone's voice say in English Good heavens and the age of miracles hasn't passed after all that's Jenna Halkind the man that we thought was cremated three years ago. Hargriffs tie his eyes up quick and don't let him look at you we have had enough of his hypnotism or whatever it is. As he spoke Halkind struggled up into a sitting position I've heard something of his hypnotism too said Mr Cantor whipping out his revolver we have got just a bit more poison of that sort than we can do within the states but you just hypnotise that closer funeral than you had last time. Now Mr Hargriffs by this time Hargriffs or want of anything better had picked up a towel wrapped it in two or three times around Halkind's head at the risk of suffocating him tied the two ends tight across his face while Endstone was saying to the officer in German this man sir is a convict escaped from an English prison he was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to servitude for life if it had been in France or Germany the sentence would have been death perhaps you remember the famous case of Jenna Halkind ah yes said the officer straightening himself up of course I remember it was a notable case but I thought he escaped and was frozen to death so police journal said and also the English papers so they did replied Harold but he did not die now I pledge my credit that this is the man and I give him into your charge extradition will be applied for in the usual way and if I am wrong I will take care that you are held guiltless oh and stone applied the officer it is quite enough murder has been done in this house murder and perhaps suicide too all within the house accepting yourself and your friends who arrived with me after the crime was committed will be held responsible to the law until the inquiries have taken place you will make your statement in the proper form and you can rest assured that this man will be held until all charges against him have been cleared up End of Chapter 31 The mystery of the deaths of Headley Siemens and his newly wedded bride which fell like a thunderbolt upon the social world of Europe and America to say nothing of that financial world from which one of the greatest powers had so strangely and so suddenly disappeared was never cleared up the mystery of the deaths of Headley Siemens and his newly wedded bride which fell like a thunderbolt upon the social world of Europe and America was never cleared up the newspapers of many countries naturally did their best and worked up odds and ends of dubious and partially and wholly incorrect information into thrillingly sensational narratives which perhaps went quite as well as the truth would have done and there as far as the public was concerned the matter ended there were certain international reasons why the inner life of the brilliant woman who had once been Princess Cara Natyev should not be too closely inquired into she was dead and so was her newly wedded husband and they were buried with all due ceremony in the catacombs under the foundations of Natyevburg which had received the remains of nearly twenty of her ancestors although this was perhaps the first time that the body of a once notorious American desperado had received such honorable supplecher on examination of his body the wound inflicted by Godfrey Instone's bullet was found to be there both Harold Instone and Mr. Cantor identified him and the latter said with characteristic force well there is no doubt about that being what's left of Collier Banfield but whatever the princess may have been it seems an almighty shame to plant a low down skunk like that alongside of her from now to the day of judgment still I guess it's got to be and that's all there is to it there was very little difficulty about the extradition of Jenner Halkind there were many who had caused to know him too well and finally to make the matter quite certain Issa Ramall after a brief but pregnant interview with Harold Instone and a solicitor from the Treasury decided to escape prosecution by telling all that he knew about the extraordinary circumstances under which Halkind's apparent death had been arranged when this interview was over he at once went into the sanctuary of secrets and after looking for a while at the ill-omend machine on the table he murmured to himself I always told him that such a thing could work even in the hands of the wisest for evil and not for good it has produced no good and produced much evil we have not yet reached that perfection which would justify man in using such an instrument as this it shall cease to exist and its secrets shall die with him and with me and that day before sun had set the soul-searcher the most marvelous machine that human knowledge and almost superhuman experience had ever devised had most satisfactorily ceased to exist as soon as his extradition was completed Jenner Halkind once more masked and goggled was in the ordinary course of things taken back to Nethermore the prison from which he had escaped in such extraordinary fashion his advent was quite an event in the cold, silent world which is enclosed by prison walls as an escaped prisoner he had first to undergo the ordinary punishments the starvation diet the solitary cell in the forfeiture of all hope of remission of his sentence in the mental sense this killed him but as the event proved one element of human nature was left alive in him when his period of punishment was over he was sent out to work with one of the quarry gangs and when they got to work his eyes peering through the darkened glasses of his goggles recognized in the thin, bronzed scrubby-bearded convict beside him all that three years' penal servitude had left of the once sleek and well-fed man who had been his accomplice in the instone tragedy hello, Halkind he heard a familiar yet curiously unfamiliar voice whisper between the strokes of the picks back again, are you in spite of your dying and coming to life again but you'll have to die in real good earnest next time to get out that's the best of it after all instone's paying me a thousand a year while I'm here and I'm to have five thousand down when I... he never uttered the other word Halkind swung his pick as high as he could above his head and instead of striking the stones the point of it took bottom denier in the back of the neck smashed the vertebra and sank down deep into his lungs as the corpse dropped the handle walked up to the warder in charge of the party and told him what he had done a month later the man who might have been one of the most brilliant scientists in the world if his genius had only been properly directed and if it had not been as my friend Dr. Sanderson always maintained warped by one of the most obscure forms of insanity and might have added untold treasures to the stores of human knowledge stood with the white cap once all compelling eyes of his with the hangman's noose lying on his shoulders and the double doors opening into the pit of death beneath his feet he heard the chaplain read the words of the burial service the last words he heard were Christ have mercy upon us and as the bottomless pit opened myriads of lights flashed to and fro then came the darkness through which the soul of Jenner Halkind passed to its next incarnation the end End of Epilogue Recording by James K. White Chula Vista End of a Mayfair Magician A Romance of Criminal Science by George Griffith