 8 The Puzzled and Slightly Dissatisfied Audience Poured out of the Inquest Hall with a feeling that they had been defrauded. There was no chance of a verdict of murder against Bruce after the last two bits of startling and quite unexpected evidence. Two credible witnesses had proved that one of the people who had called Bruce to the corner house had remained after he had left. The case was just as fascinating and at the same time as puzzling as ever. The real culprit as yet might have to be found, but there was no getting away from these facts about the stolen banknotes. Still the coroner's jury were not called to try that question, and at the suggestion of Prout the matter was adjourned for a month. Bruce was allowed to take his own way, a result he had not confidently expected. The vulgar curiosity of the passing crowd annoyed him. Standing outside the vestry-hall was a carriage and a pair of horses, Lionel LaLage, seated inside, smiled brilliantly on Bruce and his companion, and the footman opened the door. I managed to get inside, the Countess said, did anybody ever hear so foolish a fuss and that silly juryman? I'm afraid I should have shared his opinion under similar circumstances, said Bruce. You see, my guilt, I shall not listen to a word of it, the Countess cried. The mere suggestion is revolting to one's common sense. Fancy you committing a vulgar crime like that. Jump in and let us get away from this awful crowd. Where shall I drive you? It was all the same to Hedy so long as she got away from the insolent people. They must go back and have tea at Lytton Avenue. There would be nobody present, and the Countess would not be at home to anybody. Nothing could be sweeter or more sympathetic than her manner. To lounge there in that dimly-lighted and perfectly-appointed room was soothing and restful. Bruce carried his head a little higher as he made his way home. There was a smell of tobacco in his room and a vision of Lawrence with his heels on the mantelpiece smoking a cigarette. He was looking at a paragraph in an early edition of The Globe that seemed to give him satisfaction. So you've got back, he said. Rather a sensational bit of copy for the papers over the inquest, eh? That pompous juryman's face was a study when Hedy and that reporter chap knocked him out of time. I didn't see you, said Bruce. All the same I was there all the time. I fetched the Countess lalajin. As I entered I bought a copy of The Globe. The first thing that took my eye was the very strange advertisement inside by the theatrical notices. Bruce glanced carelessly at the paragraph. Then his eye brightened. It ran as follows. Danger. The danger lies in the second-floor back bedroom of the corner house. Zee. Toujour the corner house, Bruce cried. What do you make of it? Lawrence looked at his friend with a smile. I'll tell you my opinion later on, he said. I think that after an exhibition of my marvellous powers you can safely leave the matter to me. Should you like to have a little bit of adventure this evening? Bruce replied that he was just in the frame of mind for something of the kind. He was far too restless to settle down to anything. It may be lively and it may be the reverse, said Lawrence, but it is nothing more or less than an hour or two spent in the corner house. We are going there after ten, and I prophesy that we shall catch something. If we are very lucky it may be the being with the secret. In other words, you propose to drag my unlucky self into house-breaking? Nothing of the kind. I have procured the key to the back part of the premises from Prout, who has the profoundest respect for my sagacity. When I pointed out that notice in the globe to him, he proposed to have the house watched, which is so like a policeman's intellect. It was a little past ten when the two friends set out upon their errand. There was nothing of note until the house was reached. The blinds were all closely drawn, so that the adventurers had to grop their way from room to room, the suggestion of a light being out of the question. We'll sit in the hall, said Lawrence. We'll take it for granted that the owner is a hospitable man, and permit ourselves the luxury of tobacco. It was a long and weary vigil, and when the clock struck midnight, Bruce heartily wished himself out of it. It was a strain on the nerves, too, sitting in that dark, silent house, waiting for something that might not come. Lawrence did not usually display any bulldog qualities, but he sat on grimly now. The traffic grew quieter. Only a solitary pedestrian or a tramping policeman passed the house. Then came a firm footstep that paused before the house, with a suggestion of listening or waiting for someone on the part of the wayfarer. Bruce's heart beat a little faster as he heard a scuffling on the step, and the muffled rattle of a latchkey in the door. There was a breath of welcome fresh air in the stuffy place, the impact of two bodies, and Lawrence rushed upon the newcomer. There was a muttered curse and a fall. Got him, Lawrence cried, I knew we should, or he's got me, like the Gas Gordon will have to risk it this time. Bruce fumbled for the bracket and found it at length. There was a flaring rush, and the day's dyes made out a tall man with a pair of blazing, angry dark eyes, and a beard quivering with rage. Come, my man, what's your name, Lawrence panted? My name, sir, said the other coolly and clearly, is Mr. Garrett Charlton, the owner of this house, and who are you? End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Mr. Charlton Speaks For once in his life Lawrence was utterly taken aback. He could do no more than stammer out an apology and assure the stern, dark-eyed stranger that nothing in the way of a liberty was intended. You see, I have found something out, he said. I rather hoped, indeed I have still hopes, that the culprit. What on earth are you talking about, Charlton asked impatiently? But surely, my dear sir, the tragedy that took place here so recently. So recently? Ah, this is a veritable house of tragedies. I must get you to explain. I have come here direct from Paris to get certain papers. Put the gas out and come into the dining room where the shutters are up. We don't want the police fussing about. You can tell me everything. If I don't make a mistake, you are Mr. Gilbert Lawrence, the novelist. And I remember you now, Lawrence, replied. So you know nothing of what has been happening lately? The story was told at length, Charlton listening with a certain amount of interest. He looked like a man under the cloud of a great sorrow, the contemplation of which was never far from his eyes. This is an accursed house, he said presently. My father went mad here and committed suicide. My wife did the same thing, but then she was the victim of one of the greatest fiends that ever took mortal guise. Mr. Charlton's melancholy eyes seemed to be fixed on space, just for the moment he had forgotten that he was not alone. Lawrence gave a sympathetic cough. As a matter of fact he had not yet explained what he was doing there, and the longer the explanation was postponed, the better he would be pleased. You remember the case of my wife, Charlton asked suddenly? Ah, I see you do. Well, I'm going to tell you my story. You are a man of sentiment and feeling, or your novels greatly belie you, and a doctor always respects confidence. When my wife died there was an inquiry extending over many days. The great question was, had she poisoned herself, did she take poison by misadventure, or did I kill her? Nine people out of every ten believed I was guilty. I let them believe it at the risk of my neck. And why? the speaker asked the question quite fiercely. Because you loved your wife and respected her memory, said Lawrence. Correct. You are a man after my own heart, sir. My wife committed suicide because she thought I no longer loved her, and that I had transferred my affections to the woman who acted as her companion. That woman was perhaps the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, we never dreamt the depth of her wickedness, that she was a gambler and a forger, but she was, and when the jail loomed before her she took my wife's jewels to sell, and so save herself from exposure. But she never got those jewels out of the house. She was found out by a piece of good luck, whether good or bad luck I shall leave you to guess. She had barely time to throw the gems down the well which is in the little courtyard behind the house, and my wife saw it all. The woman was informed that on my return from a journey I should be told everything. She knew that investigation would follow, and what did that fiend of a woman do? She forged a letter from me in which I made the most violent love to her and asked her to fly with me. Mind you, that letter was posted and delivered here. It was very easy to contrive that it should find its way into the hands of my poor wife. It was safe to reckon upon her emotional temperament. She read the letter, she took from a drawer a file of some sleeping-draft, and she poisoned herself. Charlton paused and wiped his forehead. He spoke quite calmly and collectively, but the great drop stood on his face. I got home sooner than expected, got home in time to find my wife dead and that fatal letter in her hand, the woman who was the cause of all the mischief entered the room just too late to get the letter back. She was off her guard for the instant, and I saw it all in a flash. The part about the jewels I got later from one of the servants who had been afraid to speak before. I said nothing. For my dear wife's sake I was silent. You see, I could prove nothing. No jury would have got anything out of the fiend who brought this about. The letter I carefully concealed, I took the risk of hanging, and as people blamed me my wife's good name was saved. I'm afraid I don't follow your reasoning, Bruce said. I do, Lawrence observed. At the time it was quite natural, but it seemed a pity to let that woman get off scot-free. A queer hard smile came over Charlton's face. Nemesis is slow but sure, he said. My turn will come. That letter is locked up in the safe yonder. Would you like to see it and compare it with my own ordinary handwriting? Oh, that was a wonderful woman. Charlton proceeded to open a safe in the wall and took from it two letters. There, he exclaimed, that is the letter. The other is my own handwriting. Did you ever see a more marvellous imitation? There are times when I feel as if I really must have written the letter myself. Look at it, Mr. Lawrence. Lawrence had pounced upon it eagerly. His lithe little frame was thrilling with excitement. He held his head back as if sniffing at some pungent odor. Here's a discovery, he said excitedly. Here's a perfect revelation. Mr. Charlton, will you trust me for four and twenty hours with this letter? I've found out something that fairly takes my breath away. As you please, Charlton said indifferently, all discoveries are the same to me now, but why do you smell that letter? I'm on the scent, Lawrence laughed, all the same if I am correct. It will be no laughing matter for somebody before long. CHAPTER 17 THE GAMBLERS The lights were flaring at No. 1 Lytton Avenue as they seemed to flare almost day and night, the red carpet crossed the pavement, inside the banks of flowers knotted their brilliant heads. There was a rustle of silk and drapery and a ripple of laughter from the drawing-room. It was all typical of a life of pleasure. In one corner was an oblong table surrounded by an eager, silent group, a bald-headed man with a matted black beard and a great curved nose was taking the place of banker. The great financier Isaac Isidor was as keen over the bank-notes here as he was over the millions he gambled in the city. No servants were present, they had been sent away long ago. Tempting things were set out on a side-table, and whoever wanted anything helped himself. The players were so intent upon their game that nothing could be heard beyond their laboured breathing. They were gambling in earnest, there were hundreds of pounds in notes and gold on the dull green cloth. A handsome youth, who was ruining himself and his estate as speedily as possible, sat easy and collected next to a young society-lady, whose husband would have been shot rather than see her in such company. A pretty Marchioness, the daughter of an American millionaire, was plunging greedily and losing as steadily. Countess Lalage smiled with perfect equanimity as she saw her own counters vanishing. She pushed over two small notes with a little sigh. She did not look as if they were the last she had in the world, but they were. The whole brilliant House of Cards must topple down soon unless help came from somewhere. Already capitalists in the city were asking questions about the securities they held. The hearts of certain tradesmen were beginning to grow anxious. Lend me five hundred pounds, Lady Longmere, the Countess asked gaily. Not a cent, Lady Longmere cried in a high nasal voice. I guess my luck's just in, and I'm going to make the most of it. I'm eight thousand pounds to the bad, and once I make that up you don't catch me at this game again. If Longmere knew that I had broken my word like this he would kill me. Who'll lend me a few hundreds, Leona Lalage cried with a red spot on her cheeks. Nobody replied. They were all under her own roof. They had all enjoyed her hospitality times out of mind, but not one of them was prepared to lend her money, and Leona had had a fearful run of luck lately. Out of all those dainty smiling friends of hers seated round that table there was not one who did not hold her IOU for considerable sums of money. She was beginning to be talked about. That very morning in the park a well-known society leader had ignored her until recognition was forced upon her by sheer audacity. No one to help me at all, she pleaded. Her voice was low, but she shook with passion. The big financier growled out that he would trust her to fifty pounds. In two minutes this was gone, and the banker made no further sign. She must go on. It was absolutely necessary. Audacity would carry her far, but even she had need of ready money. And luck must turn now if she had a hundred or two she was certain of it. It was madness to sit there and watch that golden stream change hands and not share it. She could have risen up and smitten her guests and turned them furiously out of the house, but she had to sit there and smile. The gambler's fever was upon her and there was dire necessity for some ready money on the morrow. She rose from the table with a sudden resolution. As she turned she saw Lawrence looking critically round him. You don't play, she said. What interest is there to you? It is a fine study in human nature, Lawrence replied. All the evil emotions are here nicely chained up. I like to watch and study for myself. Let me sit down and smoke a cigarette and study. Leona Lalage flew up into her own room. She was going to do a desperate thing. She had always recognized the fact that at some time or other it might be necessary to disappear suddenly and mysteriously from the brilliant field and that is not possible even to the cleverest without money. Desperately needy as she had been more than once lately she had never broken into the little reserve that she kept for emergencies. Our hostess has gone to rob a bank, the gentlemanly youth suggested, or to pawn her jewels, Lady Longmere laughed. Isidore, why didn't you offer to lend her money on her tiara? Because it is probably paced, the banker said coolly. I have seen enough of society women to know something of the value of their gems. The spiteful little ripple of laughter was hushed as Leona Lalage returned. There was a flush on her face and a glitter in her eyes that Lawrence did not fail to notice. A little sheaf of bank notes fluttered in her hands. Give me gold for these, she cried. Gold, red gold, two hundred sovereigns. Now we will see whether fortune is still going to spite me. For an hour they played on steadily with varying fortune. The clocks were striking, too, as three of the party dropped out, having lost everything. A great pile of gold stood before Leona Lalage, a large pile of notes opposite Lady Longmere. There were only five in the game now, and the banker was losing in a manner that caused the beads to stand out on his bald head. He shoveled out the last of his notes and his remaining gold, and shook his head. I have gone my limit, he said. Gordon, give me a brandy and soda. Would you like to take my place, Lady Longmere? The American beauty shook her head and smiled. Not eyes, she said. I've got all my seasons losing back, and I've done with this kind of thing right here. I'm very fond of Longmere in my funny way, and I'm not going to deceive him any more. But I shall be afraid to go home with all these notes on me. I'll take them off your hands and give you a check, said Isidore. I shall want a lot of notes in the morning. He scribbled out a check, and then with the custom of his class went through the whole pile of notes down to the last one. There was a puzzled frown on his face. Are they bad, Lady Longmere asked quizzically? It isn't that, said Isidore. I've got a fine head for figures, and some of the numbers of these notes strike me as familiar. They are identified in my mind with some sensation or tragedy. It seems to me, ah, got it. What is it now, you have got, Leona asked. Why, the corner house, Isidore cried. Forty of these notes form part of the money taken from the body of that poor murdered fellow in the corner house. Here they are, one nine zero seven nine three to one nine zero eight three two. Now, which of you was it who came here tonight with these particular notes in your pocket? The gamblers looked at one another uneasily, but not one word was said. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Lawrence is mysterious Despite his vast wealth and the manner in which he was courted and flattered by society, Mr. Isaac Isidore had contrived to remain single. He had only one passion, and that was the making of money by ingenious schemes. In fact, had he not been a capitalist, he would have made a wonderfully good novelist, as Lawrence often said. Mystery and intrigue were the very air he breathed, and for recreation he asked for nothing better than a romance by Caboreo or Dubwagobi. He was breakfasting rather later, but quite modestly, in his chambers, when Lawrence called on him the next morning. There were a good many points in common between the two men, despite their different dispositions. Funny thing over those notes last night said the man of money. I suppose that is what you came to talk to me about? What a luminous mind yours is, Lawrence replied. That's just why I did come. As you know, I am deeply interested in clearing up the corner house mystery. I've gotten nearer to it than anybody imagines. Do you happen to have any idea who came with those particular notes last night? Not a ghost of one, Isidore admitted. I can read men and minds, but motives are sometimes beyond an amateur like me. Do you know? Yes, said Lawrence, I do. Which means that you are not going to tell me? Not for the present, my boy. Without boasting, I do know, but I could not prove it yet, at least not to the legal mind. Have you got those notes? Isidore intimated that they were in his safe. He took out the whole roll and asked Lawrence to sort out the particular ones for himself. I only want one, Lawrence explained, and this one will do admirably. I'm going to take it away, if you don't mind. You will be able to recognize it by this queer yellow stain. Why didn't you decline to take them last night? Why should I, Isidore asked Cooley. They came to me through a third party for value received, so that they are quite good. When these notes are presented the bank is bound to cash them. I'd give six pence to know what is behind that queer, clever, ingenious brain of yours. Lawrence laughed and departed with the assurance that Isidore should know soon enough. He spent the rest of the morning at the club, and after luncheon took his way gaily in the direction of Lytton Avenue. The Countess was at home and glad to see her visitor. The back drawing-room was cool and secluded and opened onto the garden. Leona Lalage lounged back in a deep chair and indicated the cigarettes on a table. I've told Saunders not to admit any more visitors, she said. Positively I shall break down if I don't get a rest soon. Does Mamie make too much noise for you? If so, call to Miss Lawrence. Mamie and Hetty were playing together in the garden. The child was shouting merrily. Fond of children, Lawrence disclaimed any feeling of annoyance. Children and dogs never bore me, he said. I wish I had a garden like yours. Pleasant perfumes always stimulate the imagination. Did you ever notice how the smell of certain flowers recalls vivid recollections? A sudden pallor came over the listener's face. It was gone in an instant, and a deep car-mind flush succeeded it. Sometimes horrible recollections, she said in a low voice. A certain flower you love gets mixed up with a tragedy, and you never care for it afterwards. Of course, I've noticed that, said Lawrence thoughtfully. For instance, I was once exceedingly fond of the smell of tuberose, but— A little ornament fell from the table by Countess Lalage's side, and a cry escaped her. Lawrence looked up in mild surprise. Nothing the matter, I hope, he asked. Oh, nothing, came the reply. Only I was so silly as to place the wrong end of my cigarette in my mouth and burnt my lips. Quit tuberose! Lawrence gave the necessary information. He was a little surprised to hear that his hostess had never heard of the tuberose, nor fond of flowers as she seemed. Did she appear in the least interested? That child's noise makes my headache, she said. Lawrence stepped into the garden. Mamie welcomed him eagerly. No books of hers were half so popular as the novelist's impromptu stories. Tell me a tale, she demanded imperiously. Lawrence complied with resignation. It was all about a beautiful bad woman who guarded a precious treasure locked away in a box covered with paintings of exquisite flowers. Mamie clapped her hands with delight. Like Mother's Antoinette Cabinet in the drawing-room, she said. That's it, Lawrence said gravely, but with a glance at Hetty that caused her to flush a little. And the key is like this one. We'll give it to Hetty, and some time when the wicked woman is out of the way she may get the tiny little file that is in the cabinet so that we can do all kinds of wonderful things with it. Perhaps we could get it now, Hetty smiled. Mamie clapped her hands again, a significant look past between the two conspirators, a small key changed hands. Before the story proper was finished Countess Lalage came down the steps into the garden. Admiration was necessary to her, and the idea of a man's preferring Mamie's conversation to hers was absurd. How you spoil that child, she said. Hetty, take her away. But Lawrence would not hear of anything of the kind. He would like to have his tea out in the garden if Hetty would fetch it for him. Hetty came back presently and handed the tea to her uncle. He hardly dared to look at her, but a smile on her lips told him she had succeeded. As he left the house presently Hetty followed him out, she nodded significantly. What does it all mean, she asked? That you shall know all in good time, Lawrence replied. It's a pleasure to have you to do anything for one, Hetty. How quickly you took in my parable. It was rather paltry to talk over a child's head like that, but if ever there was a case when the end justifies the means, this is one. Of course you got it. Of course I did. A tiny glass bottle with a tiny glass stopper. She took it from her pocket and held it out. There were a few drops of amber, hued liquid inside. Hetty would have removed the stopper, but Lawrence grabbed it. Don't touch it, he exclaimed. Keep as far from it as possible. There is real danger here if you only knew it. And whatever you do, don't you go near a soul in the house till you have washed your hands with sanitas or some pungent disinfectant of that kind. You must be very careful about this. Hetty promised, wondering. Where did you get that key from, she asked? Well I borrowed the original and had a copy made, Lawrence confessed. You see, I was bound to have a copy as I'm going to return the little bottle as soon as I have more or less verified its history. Now I want you to get away after dinner and come as far as my chambers to meet Bruce. Hetty promised and went her way homeward. She was sorely puzzled, but on the whole she felt wonderfully bright and happy. The mystery was still as dark as ever, but she had faith in Lawrence. But there was much to be done before one good man's name was cleared. End of Chapter 18 End of Section 9 Section 10, chapters 19 and 20 of The Corner House This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Corner House by Fred M. White Chapter 19 Stolen Not till now did Gordon Bruce fully appreciate the blow that a cruel fate had dealt him at first he had been confused and bewildered and a little disposed to doubt the evidence of his senses. There was a vague hope that it was a trick, a mistake that a moment would rectify. He had not been arrested yet. His own voluntary evidence, backed up so strangely by the evidence of Hetty and the reporter, had staved that off for the present. But really things were almost as bad. He had his own friends, of course, who were prepared to back him up through thick and thin, but there were others who passed him with a cold bow or cut him altogether. He had called at one or two houses professionally, where he had been informed that his services would no longer be required. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Bruce met it bravely. Even Hetty did not quite guess what he was suffering. He was only too glad of any excuse to meet her now, anything to get away from himself and his own disturbed thoughts. And he had not so very much faith in Lawrence, despite the latter's pretty gift of prophecy, the artistic temperament is always a sanguine one. Hetty was waiting for him now in Lawrence's study. She looked bright and cheerful so that Bruce kissed her passionately. It would be hard if he could not live up to her courage and devotion. My poor boy, she whispered, my poor boy, but it is not going to last. The truth is bound to come out before long, and then it will be like one of those queer bank panics, only whether the storm and you will be more sought after than ever. Bruce forced a smile to his lips. If you can be brave, so can I, he said, and perhaps Lawrence will bring off one of his wonderful problems. But one thing I'm pretty sure of, it has nothing to do with your employer, Countess Lalage. Bruce came in puffing one of his eternal cigarettes. His manner was full of confidence. I wanted to have a chat with you two people, he said. In the first place I have made a startling discovery. Of course you know that the victim of the cornerhouse tragedy changed four hundred pounds for notes at the National Credit Bank. We know that somehow or other half those notes found their way into the possession of our friend Bruce here. Now did it not strike you as strange that nobody should worry about the other half? Perhaps already disposed of elsewhere, had he suggested? Perhaps. Or the poor fellow might have had them in his pocket with the list, but the notes were there, and as a matter of fact I have quite recently had them all in my hands. Bruce's listless manner departed, his respect for Lawrence began to revive again. When did you see them, he asked? Did Prout? Prout, that esteemable man, is not likely to help much in a complicated case like this. As a matter of fact I saw those notes in Isaac Isidor's chambers this morning. They had been paid to him in a certain fashionable house, where they were gambling heavily last night. Can you guess where the house is? Bruce shook his head. Had he shook her finger at him disapprovingly. How slow you are, she said. Where does anything happen that touches on this case? And I know where there was some heavy gambling going on last night. The incident took place in the drawing-room of No. 1 Lytton Avenue. Is that really a fact, Bruce cried? Honestly, said Lawrence, I was there and saw it. Isidor has a perfect figure memory, and spotted those numbers at once. But unfortunately it was impossible to identify the person who introduced the notes into the room, as there were so many of those bits of paper on the table. But I shall find out. I know what the enemy's next move will be. Do enlighten us a little, heady pleaded? Well I will. From the very first the mystery has developed exactly on the lines laid down in that skeleton story I told you of. My locale was the corner house, and the plot started there. Did I not forecast all about the Spaniard and the lights going out and everything? It is easy when you know how it is done. Therefore I was quite prepared for the next move. But nobody has seen this plot, said heady. My dear girl, what I have just told you proves the contrary. Much as I owe to coincidence I am not going to swallow that. Now I have not so much as taken the trouble to look at that synopsis, which was pigeon-holed in my desk a long time ago. It would be useless to look for it. And why? asked Bruce. Because I feel quite sure it isn't there, said Lawrence. Now take my keys, heady. I am pretty methodical, as you know. I always know exactly where to put my hand on everything. Unlock the panel on the left-hand side. Tell me what you can see in the pigeon-hole to the right. Heady unlocked the desk and searched as desired. There's nothing whatever in that pigeon-hole, she said. As I expected, cried Lawrence. Stolen! There's a pretty piece of valuable information for you. The person who stole that is at the bottom of the crime. In other words, the key to the future movements of the criminal is in my hands. End of Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Uneasy Lies the Head The roast-tinted silken blinds were drawn in the Boudoir. The house in Lytton Avenue was hushed. There was a smell of odocolone on the perfumed air. Society deeply regretted to hear that Countess Lalage was suffering from nervous prostration. Leona Lalage lay there, pressing her hands to her head fiercely. It was only laterally that she had suffered from these nerve troubles. Hitherto she had regarded herself as absolutely invincible to anything of the kind. A queer sort of fainting fit had been followed by a ghastly sense of fear. Intrigue had hitherto been the very air that this woman breathed. Now she was frightened. Every ring of the bell sent her heart into her mouth. She was horribly frightened. If she could only have seen her antagonist it would have been bearable. But she was fighting shadows. Whichever way she turned she found herself checkmated and beaten. Somebody had found her out. It must be so, because all her plans were anticipated by the terrible antagonist who worked in the dark. Her case was much like that of a despairing criminal who takes one huge sum to conceal the loss of another until the inevitable crash comes. If my brain gives way now, she muttered. If my reason plays me false now, even for a day, I—but I dare not think of it. Well, what do you want? A liveried servant looking into the darkened room murmured that Dr. Bruce had arrived. Bruce came in with his softest professional manner. He was sorry to hear that anything was wrong. He asked a great many pertinent questions. You have overdone yourself, he said, with his cool hand on the fevered pulse. Few men could stand the strain of your present life. You must go away at once to some very quiet place and be in the open air all day. Leona Lalage laughed aloud. The touch of those cool fingers thrilled her. To go away now, to abandon it all just when—ah, the thing was impossible. She might just as well have cast herself off Waterloo Bridge. Excuse me, she gasped. I am a little mad today. My dear boy, I cannot go away. The thing is impossible. If you could only look into my heart—but nobody can do that. Oh, Gordon, Gordon! Her voice sank to a thrilling whisper. Bruce touched her hand soothingly. The mere contact of his fingers seemed to madden her. Don't do that, she said, in the same strained whisper. If you only knew how I cared for you, how I love you, there is nothing I would not do for you. I am rich and powerful, and men who know say I am beautiful. Take me away, make me your wife, and you shall never know a moment's pain. Your good name is gone, Gordon, but what does that matter? If— She paused as Gordon recoiled from her. His eyes were full of loathing. Forget this, he said sternly. Put it from your mind, as I shall do. It is a passing madness. My future wife would blush if she could hear you. The woman's eyes dilated. Her bosom heaved. She might have been waking as from a trance. She was fighting passionately for the mastery of herself. It was a short, sharp fight, but it left her trembling from head to foot. Forget it, she said hoarsely. I never meant a word of it. Leave me now. Send me something to soothe these frayed nerves of mine. Only leave me alone. The door closed quietly behind Bruce. Just for a moment the lace-clad figure lay motionless on the couch. Then she rose and swept up and down the room like a tornado. She had shown her hand, she had betrayed her secret, and the man who had her heart scorned her. She was filled with shame and rage and hate. I began to be sorry, she murmured. My remorse spoilt my rest. I thought that all the world would turn from him and that he would come to me, and then— Well, the dream is dispelled, for he will never come to me now. They say that a woman who loves at forty is capable of every madness. I was mad just now, and now there is but one thing to live for. I will live for that. Ah, yes, I will live for that. She sat down quietly for a moment with her hands locked together, that indomitable will was acting on the wracked body. She crept upstairs before dinner white and shaky. She came down shimmering in white and diamonds in her magnificent hair and corsage, smiling, brilliant, as if she had the whole world at her feet. Hetty looked at her with dazed admiration. That dreadful headache has gone, the Countess cried. I am myself again. We will dine quietly together, you and I, and go to hear Melba presently. Come, you can leave Mamie for just one night. Leona Lalage swept into her box later on, with the air of one who feels that she is the centre of all attraction. Society was charmed and gratified. Distinguished men dropped into the box on the grand tear and whispered their congratulations. The brilliant stream of diamonds in her hair was no brighter than the woman's eyes. The house was fairly full on the fall of the curtain after the first act of the new opera. There was light and life and movement there, and Melba was scoring new triumphs. The curtain fell on the second act amidst a crash of applause and the waving of handkerchiefs. Leona Lalage had an artistic soul, and she was moved. Wonderful, she cried, ah, to have a gift like that, to think that the human voice. She paused as someone entered the box. A slight dark man, almost a half-cast with black hair and glasses. He was immaculately dressed. His style was quiet with a touch of humility about it. Countess, he said, I kiss your hand. I have come from Paris to see you, if I could have a word with you alone. Louis, the Countess, cried, ah, this is good of you. We will have a little chat in the foyer. Hetty, will you keep guard till I return? Her smile was light and pleasant, but it faded to a white mask once she and her companion were outside the box. Quick, she whispered, Quick, has the blow fallen? A blow, said the other. That is a poor word. It is absolute destruction. End of Chapter 20. End of Section 10. Section 11, chapters 21 and 22 of The Corner House. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Corner House by Fred M. White. Chapter 21. Peril. One quick gasp, a deadly pallor of the face ghastly behind the artificial colouring, and the woman was herself again. She led the way to a secluded seat where they could talk without the chance of being overheard. Now tell me about it, Louis, she said. Madame, there is but little to tell. You are indebted to that Paris firm for nearly a hundred thousand pounds. They call themselves financial agents, but they are moneylenders of the hardest type. Me tranc is as hard as your diamonds, and he has found you out, Countess. Found me out? Why, only yesterday I had a letter from him consenting to a further advance on the property at Saint Salvatore. And after all is said and done there is a property at Saint Salvatore. On that I have borrowed nearly half a million from first to last. I ought to know for it was I who added those fresh papers to the original deeds, and forged the reports of the prosperity of the mine. Me tranc seemed quite satisfied till yesterday. Then he made a great discovery. It was an unfortunate discovery and a cruel piece of luck for you. Go on, man, I am all impatient. I am coming to the point fast enough. You know Lefevre of Lyon? Of course, did we not raise money on the Saint Salvatore property from him also. That was nearly a hundred thousand pounds. Quite so, Louis Balmain said coolly, for I also manipulated those papers. The romance of the mine and the way it came into your possession fascinated Lefevre. He lent you money at a great rate of interest, but he lent it. On him comes the misfortune. Lefevre has been speculating and burnt his fingers badly. He wanted money badly. He comes to Paris to borrow it from Me Tranc. The Countess smote her fan on her gloves passionately. You need not tell me any more, she whispered hoarsely. He offered the Saint Salvatore as security to Me Tranc and the murder is out. Precisely, but not quite in the way you imagine. Directly Me Tranc saw those deeds he knew exactly what had happened, but that wonderful man did not betray himself. His confidential secretary told me that he never turned a hair. He simply regretted that he had no spare capital. He got a warrant for your arrest and he will be in London tomorrow morning. Ah, if only I could lay my hands on a good sum, Louis, then I might induce Me Tranc to wait, for the sake of his own pocket he would keep the secret. He will do nothing so long as he can recover part of his own property. You are a wonderful woman, Balmain said admiringly. You have guessed it. As to the money, it is to your hand. The coast is clear now. The encumbrance is out of the way. You have only to act at once. And where is the money you speak so casually about? The means of safety, madame, seemed to me to dangle at the end of a rope. The woman's eyes gave a flash of triumph. Ah, she exclaimed, I had forgotten that, in the press of other things it had been swept out of my mind. A professional acrobat like yourself should make light of a task like that. The way is all clear for the experiment, but when? What better time could we have than to-night? To-night. Impossible. There are matters to be got ready. My absence at this hour would attract attention, if only I could be in two places at once. So you can, Balmain said coolly. I have taken the liberty to borrow the only machine in London that permits you to do that seemingly impossible feat. Put that long cloak over your dress and come with me. It is not your cloak, but it does not matter. I pledge my word that you shall be back here at the end of an hour, long before the performance is over. Come. There was no further hesitation. This was an adventure after the woman's own heart. With the perloined cloak covering her from head to foot, she passed down the steps and into the roadway. Nobody noticed her, for the spectacle was not a very uncommon one. Under the shadow of the portico a little way off stood a motor, watched by a nightbird who would have done anything for a few coppers. I like this, Lyonna Lalage exclaimed. It braces the nerves. If those people in New York only do as they promise, I shall be free yet. A little courage and I shall pluck safety from the corner house yet. The motor passed along swiftly in the darkness. Inside the opera house many people noticed that Countess Lalage's box was only tenanted through the second act of the new opera by a very pretty girl in white with no ornaments in her hair. Hetty on the other hand noticed nothing at all but the stage she had actually forgotten that her employer was not there. The opera was a rare treat to her and she reveled in music. There was a veritable scene of triumph at the end of the third act, and whilst the curtain was raised for the second time, Countess Lalage and her companion returned. They strode into the box with the calm air of people quite accustomed to this sort of thing. They might have been merely flirting outside. Twelve o'clock Balmain whispered, not a minute later, on this occasion the longest way round will be the shortest way home. The applause was gradually dying down. Hetty, conscious of a figure behind her, moved back. The box door shut and the air grew oppressive. Leona Lalage, still talking earnestly to her companion, motioned Hetty to open it. She did so just as a telegraph boy came along with one of the orange-coloured envelopes in his hand. He looked at the address and at the number of the box. Box 11A Grand Tier, he suggested, Miss Lawrence? For me, Hetty replied, what a strange thing. The boy passed on whistling under his breath. Outside Hetty opened her message, her fingers trembled slightly. On no account let Countess leave house before midnight it ran, when she gets home keep her there till after twelve at all costs. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 For Love and Duty Hetty gazed at the strange unsigned message with the feeling that she was being made the victim of some foolish joke, but who would play her a silly prank like that? Perhaps Gordon had had something to do with it. At any rate she must act if it turned out to be a hoax she could apologize afterwards, but on the other hand it might be a matter of life and death. It might affect her lover's honour. It was a good thing that Hetty had been fortunate to handle the telegram where she could be secluded from the sharp eyes of her employer, otherwise she would assuredly have betrayed herself. She tore the telegram into tiny fragments and pushed them under the edge of one of the mats. It was far better to be cautious. She had herself well in hand when she stepped back into the box again. At any hazard she was going to carry out the instructions to the very letter, and she had a fairly good excuse ready to her hand. If Mamie was no better when she got home she would use that as a lever. The performance came to an end at length. The dapper smiling little Balmain handed them both into the carriage and then went off smoking a cigarette like any honest gentleman whose conscience is at peace. Once home Hetty flew up to her little patient. She seemed to be restless and disturbed. Dr. Bruce has been Miss Nurse remarked. He says Miss Mamie is not to be left alone. The Countess was to be told that. Hetty was deeply interested. Was this another mere coincidence? Or was Bruce acting here like a puppet in the hands of the mysterious person who seemed to be pulling the strings in the drama? Anyway it strengthened her hands. There was a light supper in the dining room. Countess Lalage talked fitfully from time to time glancing at the clock. The guilt hands were striding on towards a quarter to twelve. I'm going to make a late call, Leona Lalage said suddenly. I should like you to see Mamie first, said Hetty. She spoke coolly enough, but her heart was beating furiously. She is not at all well tonight. Dr. Bruce has been here and says she is not to be left alone. A mother's care. The Countess laughed lightly. Her mood seemed friendly. Very well, she said, I'll come up for a moment. I'm not going far and I shall not be a long time away, if there is a crisis in the case. Mamie is far worse than you imagine, Hetty said coldly. Your own constitution is so magnificent that you cannot understand weakness in others. If Mamie were mine I should be in grave anxiety about her. Leona Lalage laughed again. Once more she glanced at the clock. Come along, then, she said gaily. I know I am a bad mother. The child looked flushed and ill. Her hand was hot and she groaned in her sleep. The Countess bent and kissed her carelessly. She moved to her own room and Hetty followed. There was just a touch of hoature in the manner of the Countess as she intimated that she had nothing further to say. Perhaps I have something to say to you, Hetty said, between her teeth. The hour had come to show her pluck and courage and Hetty was not going to flinch. It wanted ten minutes to twelve by the clock on the dressing-table. You are forgetting yourself, the Countess said coldly. Leave the room. When I have finished, Hetty replied, you heard Dr. Bruce's message. He said that child should not be left. You may urge that I am sufficient, but there is a time for a mother's care. If I had my way you should not go. It all sounded sorry nonsense in Hetty's ears, but she was playing her part and merely talking against the clock. With blazing eyes the Countess advanced, but Hetty did not flinch. Stand aside, she said furiously, and let me pass. If it was not for the child and the love she has for you I should dismiss you on the spot. Now go. I shall not go, Hetty cried. She was surprised at the ease with which she was working herself up into a genuine passion. Nor shall you pass. You shall stay here as long as I please. Ring the bell and have me put out. Sheer astonishment got the better of Leona Lalage's rage, that Hetty above all people should turn upon her like this was amazing. She looked again at the clock which pointed to four minutes to twelve. You are disturbed and hysterical tonight, she said. Go and lie down. I am a strong woman, and if you provoke me too far. You shall not go, Hetty gasped. I say you shall not go. Nothing less than physical power will induce me to yield. The anger of the other woman blazed out again magnificently. At the back of her mind was a haunting fear that Hetty was acting apart. It was absolutely imperative that she should leave the house at once. How if Hetty had discovered this and was taking this course to prevent her keeping her appointment? The mere suggestion added flame to her anger. She caught Hetty by the arm and dragged her from the door. There was a crash and a tear as the dress sleeve parted, the quick rattle of a key in the lock, and a defiant smile from Hetty. I may be mad, she gasped, but there is method in it. I may not— A deadly faintness came over her. She staggered to a chair and fell into it. As she did so the great clock on the landing boomed the hour of midnight. Nothing mattered now. The thing was done. The victory accomplished. In a vague kind of way Hetty heard the cry of rage and disappointment uttered by her companion. She felt the key snatched with cruel force from her hand. There was a whirl of draperies and footsteps flying down the stairs. Hetty dragged herself to her feet. She was utterly exhausted with her fight, but there was the fierce triumph of knowing that she had won. She had played her part, and the rest of it was in cleverer hands than her own. Meanwhile the Countess was tugging with impatient fingers at the hasp of the drawing-room windows. There was murder in her heart. The little Jezebel she muttered. Was it madness or what? At last the window flew open and she raced down the garden like a hare. CHAPTER 23 TEN MINUTES PAST TWELVE Mr. Garrett Charlton sat in Lawrence's chamber the same evening, impatiently waiting for him in response to a telegram. It was already long past eleven and the visitor was thinking of departing when Lawrence came in. He had evidently hurried fast for he was out of breath. He signified to his companion to sit down and lighted a cigarette. I couldn't possibly come before, he said. I've been busy all the evening on this business, and as it was I had to leave a little matter to chance. I fancy that you will not be sorry that I persuaded you to stay in London. To me it is the gloomiest place in the world, said Charlton. That I can easily understand, but you are still of the same opinion, you still value the good name of your dead wife? I would give all I possess in the world to clear it, Lawrence. It shall be done. I pledge you my word that it shall be done. I have the key to this mystery. I have had it from the first. That is why I persuaded you not to go away again, and not to let anybody know you were in London. But we have by no means done with the corner house yet. We are going to spend an hour or so there this very night. Charlton looked up in quick surprise. You and I are going there secretly, he asked. Do you mean now? As soon as I have finished this cigarette, Lawrence said coolly. We may be too late to see the beginning of the play, but I have faith in my assistant. Now come along. You have brought your latch-key, as I asked you. Charlton nodded. He was a man of few words. He said nothing when Lawrence gave him a pair of galoshes to put over his boots, and in silence the two set out for Raven Street. The place was practically deserted as they came to the house, so that to enter without being seen was a matter of no difficulty. We are in time, Lawrence whispered, in good time. I felt sure I could trust the one I picked out to assist me. If I had not been detained I should have been here before. There is not much for us to do. Are we waiting for somebody, Charlton asked? That's it. For the present we have to sit here in the passage with the kitchen door open and watch for the faint gleam of light in the courtyard. It is safe to have a light there because there are blank walls on either side. I think, I rather think, that I am going to astonish you presently. Charlton said nothing, but from the sound of his labored breathing it was evident that the spirit of adventure was upon him. They sat there for some time with the two doors open, so that they might see through the grimy windows into the courtyard beyond. It was weary work and the minutes passed slowly. I'm not a patient man, Lawrence muttered, but I could manage with a cigarette. Under the circumstances perhaps I'd better not. Charlton's heavy breathing ceased for a moment. I have good sight, he said, and unless I am greatly mistaken I saw a figure cross the dim light given by yonder window. There it is again. It was like a shadow and quite as noiseless. Lawrence pressed the slide of his repeater. The rapid little pulse beat twelve and then stopped. Between midnight and a quarter past he muttered, that's about the time. We had better creep a little closer to the window. That's one advantage of being in a house in the dark. You can see everything that is going on outside without being spotted by anybody. Come along and see what you shall see. They reached the kitchen window and looked out. There was a figure there and what looked like another one in the background. A lantern stood on the flags. The first figure pitched something on the ground that looked like a coil of rope. What on earth is that? Charlton asked. A rope, Lawrence replied. Can't you guess what that rope is for? I'm afraid I am utterly in the dark, Lawrence said, Charlton. Are you? There is a well in that courtyard, and if perchance anything valuable got into that well, I should say that a rope would be the best way of getting it out. Now do you understand? Charlton nodded. It had been his whim and mood after the tragic death of his wife, to leave those fatal jewels where that wicked woman had dropped them. So far as he was concerned, the cause of all the trouble might be at the bottom of the sea. They were gone, and only he and another person knew the secret of their hiding-place, that she might come back and try to regain them he had never troubled himself about, even if it had occurred to him he would not have moved in the matter. That fiend probably told some accomplice, he said. Lawrence chuckled. He could see further than his companion. He could see the figure of a woman dressed in a foreign fashion with a shawl over her head. She had long, fair hair. Her back was to the window all this time. The Spaniard with the Mantilla Lawrence whispered, the evil genius of the house, we shall see something more presently, not that we are going to interfere. On the whole I rather want these people to get the jewels. Charlton said nothing. He was deeply interested. The man outside raised the lantern, and the dim light fell upon the ghastly outline of Charlton's white-set face as he pressed against the panes. At the same instant the woman chanced to glance in the same direction. Charlton gripped Lawrence's arm with convulsive force. Men, he said sternly, that fiend of a woman was my dead wife's late companion. The Lodge raced down the garden. With a bitter little smile she wondered what her society friends would say if they could see her at this moment. The thorns of a rose-bush caught a drooping mass of frippery and tore it away, but the woman paid no heed. Her dressmaker's bill need never be paid. She came at length breathless with running to the end of the garden. A little green gate led to the lane which divided Lytton Avenue from the corner house. It was absolutely quiet there. Leona Lalage could catch the faintest humming noise. Then a glaring white eye flamed out. Behind it was a black motor and the form of Balmain. Never can trust a woman as to time he growled. There was not the faintest shadow of politeness in his manner now. Didn't I say twelve sharp? I was detained, the Countess gasped. After all, what are a few minutes? Everything, Maytrank, reaches Charing Cross in a little over half an hour, and it is absolutely imperative that I should see the arrival and find out where he stays. I suppose you can see that? The Countess had no more to say. She held out her hand silently. She tore all her long train of lace and silk away as if it had been rags. She buttoned a cloak over her dress. A blonde wig and lace shawl over her head completed the disguise. Come along, she said, I've got the key to the courtyard, not that we are in the least likely to find anything there. And why not, Balmain growled? Stranger things have happened. I know a poor man at this minute who owns one of the richest gold mines in the world. He won't work it because when the gold was found he quarreled with his partner on the spot and killed him. That's a fact. I'd get it out of him, Leona said between her teeth. I'd like to bind him and torture him bit by bit until he yelled out the truth. Well, Charlton was always a strange man, and the jewels may be there yet. That is one of the reasons why I took up my abode at Lytton Avenue. One of the reasons, Balmain said sardonically. Never mind that. We know too much about one another to say much. I'll open the door whilst you push the motor in, quiet as the grave. It was very quiet and still there when, once the gates were closed, Balmain took one of the lamps from the motor and extinguished the other. In the center of the place was the well, partially covered over by a flat stone. There was a windlass, but no rope. Balmain produced one. Very carefully he fitted it to the windlass. His dark eyes gleamed and dilated. Quickly he lowered the rope till the bulge of it showed that the bottom was reached. He wound up the rope again, and as he did so a grunt of satisfaction escaped him. It was far better than he had expected. Here's a piece of rare good luck, he exclaimed, why the well is dry. I always heard that there was only a foot or two of water in there, the Countess said. It was never used in my time. People don't care to drink well water in London. Still it is a slice of luck, as you say. Got to get down there all the same, Balmain grunted. I'll make a loop in the rope and put my foot in it. You used to be pretty strong at one time. I suppose you can manage to let me down safely. Leona smiled with contempt as she surveyed the slim figure before her. She was always proud of her strength. She bared her beautiful white arm and showed the strong sinews and muscles under the skin. You need not be afraid, she said. If I couldn't—ah!—she broke off, her voice rose to a scream. She grew white her far than the linen about her shoulders. Balmain laid his hand on her mouth in an instant. Fool, he exclaimed hoarsely, do you want to bring the police upon me? Leona pointed to the window, against which Charlton's face had been pressed a moment before. The dimness of it, the stern, accusing eyes, made up a picture so grim, so ghostly, that the woman's heart turned to water within her. The fear of yesterday took the strength out of her limbs. The face she gasped, the face of Charlton at the window, it was just for an instant and seemed to read my soul. Can't you see it? Balmain could see nothing and said so bluntly, as a matter of fact the face was gone, but the terror of the Countess still remained. Of course there was no face there, Balmain flared out. That's the worst of doing this kind of thing with a woman one never knows when she's going to have an attack of nerves. The idea of Charlton standing at the window and knowing what we are going to do is too good. Pull yourself together. The trembling fit passed away, the woman was herself again. All the same Balmain was not without misgiving as he put his foot in the loop, but the crank of the windless turned steadily and smoothly, the stone walls slid by, and presently the adventurer stood at the bottom of the well. There was no water, nothing but a slight dampness underfoot. A moment later, and Balmain was up again, Lyonna Lalage looked at him inquiringly, he had no breath to speak, with gleaming eyes Balmain held two rusty old cases over his head. Lyonna grasped the motor-lamp and Balmain forced back the clasps of the cases. Got them, he croaked. What do you think of this, my noble Countess? A stream of living fire, a ripple of all the colours of the rainbow. Balmain shut the cases as if jealous of the eyes of the night. Saved, he said, take these and hide them, take the rope and hide that. I must be off to cheering-cross like the wind. This is perhaps the best night's work I have had in my experience. Now be gone. A moment later, and the courtyard was deserted. Of course it would be a very dramatic finish to the night's adventure, but I can't permit it. Go easy. Charlton gave up the struggle. Those jewels, the cause of all his misfortunes, had lain there at the bottom of the well where he had intended them to stay. He hated the very mention of them, had not diamonds inspired some of the most awful crimes since crime began? They should stay there for all time, those stones with the blood upon them, but now, when they were being carried off by the woman who had robbed him of all that life holds dear, Charlton's passion flared out. He would have followed those people and demanded them, but Lawrence held him back until his passion was spent. He yielded suddenly. After all, it matters little, he said. It matters a great deal, Lawrence replied. You want your jewels back? My dear sir, the first beggar in the street can have them for all I care. Well, you don't want those people to get them. Neither will they for long. It is all part of my little scheme. If you had dashed out just now you would certainly have caused a great sensation, and there would have been a great gap in the dazzling ranks of fashion, but you would have ruined my plans. But will those people be punished eventually? Of course they will. But there are vileer crimes than the theft of diamonds. There is the conspiracy to rob a good man of his good name, to make the lives of that man and the girl he is going to marry dark for the sake of a passing caprice. I tell you this has been done, and a murder has been committed in the doing of it, and I am going to get to the bottom of the foul tangle. It was not the usual voice of Gilbert Lawrence that spoke. There was a dogged grimness about him that would have surprised his friends. Let us light the gas and smoke here for a time, he said. There is not the slightest chance of those people coming back, and there are no windows overlooking this one. I have a good deal to say to you. Charlton made no objection. He was evidently in the company of a man who knew quite well what he was doing. I will be guided entirely by you, he said. You tell me that that vile woman will be punished, and I believe you. Strange that she should be mixed up with the lives of people you care for also. You must have been sure of your ground to let her escape you to-night. Lawrence flicked the ash from his cigarette. I am, he said. See, I am familiar with her plot before she carried it out. As I told you before, the whole thing is founded on the novel of mine which has yet to be published. How she got the thing is a mystery, but she has got it. It could not possibly have been a coincidence. If you know where she lives, Charlton began, my dear sir, I know who she is. From the very moment that Bruce told his strange story, I felt pretty certain that the Spanish business was a disguise. But it is no disguise. My wife's companion was a Spanish blonde. Then during the time that woman was in your house she wore a wig. You may make yourself pretty clear on that point. The creature you saw tonight in the courtyard has no doubt passed at different times under many names, but to the world she is at present known as Countess Lalage. I have heard of her, but she is very rich. So most people think. To my mind she is a brilliant adventurous, with beauty and brains and audacity a woman like that never need want for money. Of course the crash will come sooner or later, but meanwhile she is having a good time. But you are going to see my patience rewarded. A murder has been committed here, and that woman knows all about it. Out of that murder came the terrible charge that hangs over my friend Bruce, and she knows all about that. I know all about it too, but knowing and proving are two very different things. It is a fight in the dark between us, and I am going to win at the finish. You wouldn't force her to confess? Not a woman like that. Get her back to the wall, and she will be dangerous. Bless the man, if she knew I was her antagonist, she would not hesitate to ask me to dinner and poison me over one of her excellent dishes. When I strike I must strike her down to the ground. My lines are laid pretty carefully, and she is going into them one by one. She walked into one of them to-night. Did you know that she was coming here? My dear sir, I was the means of letting her know the jewels were still in the well. She is very hard up for money. I found that out at her house the other night, and that is why I waited here this evening. She is playing out my story, you see, and she has gone off for the present with your diamonds. Which will be a powerful weapon in her hands. Lawrence laughed silently. He seemed to be intensely amused about something. He took a flat brown paper parcel from his pocket. You saw those people go off with the diamonds, he said. You saw those gems flash and dazzle in the light of the lamp. I'm going to give you a surprise now, and the surprise of our predatory friends will come later on. Your wife's gems were three rows of diamonds and a collar of the same set plain in silver. How did you know that, Charlton asked? Lawrence proceeded to unpack his parcel. Inside were two cases which he opened and exposed in the light of the flaming gas. Will you have the goodness to look at these, he asked? Charlton did so. There was a blank surprise on his face. I should like to know what you make of them, said Lawrence. Amazing, Charlton cried. Why, these are my wife's diamonds, the real stones beyond doubt. End of Chapter 25 End of Section 12 Section 13, chapters 26, 27, and 28 of The Corner House This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Corner House by Fred M. White Chapter 26 The Black Motor A certain sense of elation had taken possession of Hetty. She had been tried in the fire and she had not been found wanting. She had done her work well and she knew it. And she was not quite satisfied. Things were going on here that she ought to know. At any moment she might come across important information that would be of the greatest use to Gordon. She no longer had the slightest doubt that the Countess was at the bottom of the business that threatened to deprive him of his good name. As soon as the weakness was passed she followed Lyonna Lalage. She heard the latter fumbling with the sash of the drawing-room window. She felt the sudden rush of air. The owner of the house had barely reached the garden before Hetty was after her. It was all for Gordon's sake, she told herself. For him she would do anything. She crept on until the green door in the wall was reached. It was risky to peep out, but Hetty had to hazard that. The Black Motor Car was in front of her, so that she was behind the gleaming lights. With a thrill Hetty recognized that motor, it was the same one that she had seen leaving the Corner House on the morning of the murder. She was destined to see more of it before long. But she saw other things. She saw Lyonna tear the skirt of her dress away. A wild cry of surprise rose to her lips, but she choked it down. Here before her was the Spanish woman of Gordon's story. The sudden flood of light set Hetty trembling from head to foot. For the present she was not destined to obtain further information. The big gates of the Courtyard of the Corner House was closed upon her, but she waited. Wit! Her little white teeth shut together. She would have waited there all night. She heard La Laja's sudden cry. She heard the muttered conversation that followed. She was only just in time to get back behind the green gates when the countess emerged again with something in her hand. Her head was held high, her eyes gleamed with triumph. Then the great black car shot noiselessly away and Hetty crept back to the house. She managed to gain her bedroom unseen. She stood with a fast beating heart at the head of the landing, listening. All the servants had gone to bed long ago. There were only one or two of the electrics burning. A moment later Countess La Laja came out of her bedroom and swept down the stairs. All signs of her disguise had gone. She was dressed from head to foot in a new and magnificent gown, black set off with red. Her diamonds flashed and streamed in the light. Evidently the adventures of the night were not over, for the countess would not have taken all that trouble had she not expected someone. Hetty crept back to her room and softly closed the door. She could hear the snap of the electric switches as Lyonna La Laja proceeded from room to room downstairs until the whole place was brilliant with light. Evidently someone was to be welcomed royally, and crime and light do not go very well together. Or perhaps it was a crime, with all the servants in bed anybody alone with Lyonna La Laja and Balmain would have a dangerous time. I must see further into this Hetty told herself when this honoured guest comes I will creep downstairs and listen. It's not a very nice thing to do, but if ever the end justifies the means surely this is a case in point. She had to listen and wait a long time. Meanwhile the black motor was throbbing its way to Charing Cross. It was quite late as it passed under the archway into the station, but strange to say the motor was no longer black, but it gleamed with lacquer and steel and brass like the perfect beauty that it was. There were only a few passengers by the train, one an old bent man with a grey mustache and a hooked nose coming down over it. His boots and hat and gloves were shabby enough, but his fur-lined overcoat, which he wore in spite of the warm night, was a magnificent garment of real sable. He stepped along the platform absently as he looked round for a cab. Balmain hailed him. Can I be of any service to you, Hermet Rank, he asked. The little man's eyes twinkled shrewdly. He seemed to be amused about something. What a lucky meeting, he exclaimed. If that is your motor you can drive me to the metropole and sup with me. You are a clever young man, so clever that you will not pretend this meeting is an accident. I'm not going to try and deceive you, said Balmain. I'm going to play the game with all the cards on the table. So then you know why I am here? Yes, you have come to look into Countess Lalage's affairs. With a view to saving myself the loss of many thousand pounds, the money itself would not make much difference to me, but I love my money. To make it is the whole end and aim of my life. Lie to me, deceive me, abuse me, anything you like, and I care nothing, but rob me of money. Ah! The little beady eyes gleamed angrily, the speaker spat furiously. I found out by chance, he went on. A bit of good luck showed me how I had been swindled. But I said nothing. Ah! I said nothing, because in this case silence is golden, and nobody knows but myself. Thinks I, that woman is a long way from being played out yet. She has resources. Some people would have made a fuss and cried out and spoiled everything, but not so may Trank. I come here to get my money, and I shall have it, mark you. But I am not easy in my mind. About your money here, may Trank? About my money? No, I shall get that all right. What I am uneasy about is this. How did you know I was coming? And why? Balmain shrugged his shoulders. That is my affair, he said. Perhaps I have been prepared for this. Perhaps I have had a watch kept on you. But no matter. We have had time, and we are ready. Will you come and see the Countess now? May Trank hesitated a moment, and nodded. It will give me a good supper, free, he said, and a glass of wine, and if you try any tricks on me, Heaven help you, for I won't. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 A Glass of Wine Hetty's patience was rewarded at last. She could hear the faint murmur of the motor in the street. There was a sudden gush of air as the front door opened, and the voice of the Countess in her most honeyed tone as she ushered somebody into the dining room. Instantly the girl crept downstairs and hid herself behind the portier over the door. It was an audacious thing to do, but her audacity paid, as it generally does. All the lights in the room were ablaze. At one end of the table was a dainty supper, flanked by a couple of gold-topped bottles. A little shabby man with a hooked nose was in the act of taking off a heavy fur-lined coat. How good of you to come, the Countess said. Sit down and let me wait upon you. There is no need at all to ring for the servants. You can talk and eat at the same time. There I will give you some of the cigarettes you are so fond of. The meal was finished presently. Hetty caught the scent of cigarette smoke. The Countess lounged back in her chair, smoking too. She seemed perfectly self-possessed. She looked so easy and comfortable that May Trank was filled with admiration. You are quite well and blooming, he asked. Ah, it is an easy conscience. I have no conscience at all, the Countess laughed. If I had possessed such a thing I should not be here at this moment. May Trank muttered. Perhaps not. Also you would not have robbed me of the best part of a hundred thousand pounds. Charming swindler, where is my money? Most courteous of shy locks it is all spent. I am going to be frank with you, which is very virtuous on my part, seeing that you have found me out. That sand-salvatore property is worth exactly nothing. Also it is mortgaged in four places. But for a bit of pure bad luck I should have got more out of you for it. I, I, May Trank showed his yellow fangs in a grin. That is true. Go on. You have found me out and I must pay you. It is no question of honour. I am bound to do so to save my face. But meanwhile I must find another victim. Meanwhile you will do nothing of the sort, said the user. I am not going to wait. Give me half and I will hold the sword suspended for a fortnight. Give me those diamonds and I will write a receipt for thirty thousand pounds. A little flush of colour crept into Leona Lalage's cheek. They are worth half as much again, she cried. You are a coward to take advantage of your position like that and with a woman too. May Trank grinned again in no way abashed. I never want another woman like you to deal with, he said. I prefer a man, however great a scoundrel he may be. But you would have robbed me. I have turned the tables on you, and I am going to squeeze you. Give me those diamonds, take a receipt for the sum I mentioned, and I wait a fortnight. And if I refuse your offer, said Leona between her teeth. May Trank glanced meaningly round the luxurious room. He took in the works of art, the carpets and skins, the flowers, and the soft shaded light. This place is more comfortable than a jail, he said coolly. He saw nothing of the murderous look in the eyes of his companion. Nobody had seen him enter the house. Nobody even knew that he was in London. All the servants had gone to bed. Lalage had by her hand an accomplice ready for anything. She checked the words that rose to her lips. She produced pen, ink, and paper. With a passionate gesture she tore the diamonds from her throat and breast and hair. Take them, she said hoarsely. Take them and write me a receipt at once before I repent. Better do anything than come between a woman and her jewels. There a glass of wine to your speedy ruin and destruction. She poured out the amber liquid from a fresh bottle into a fresh glass and drank it down. With a shaking hand she filled another glass for May Trank, who accepted it gallantly. The diamonds he slipped coolly into his pocket. Never lose your temper, he said. It leads to apoplexy. Ah, my fine madame, you thought to pinch me, but I have pinched you instead. The countess rose with her eyes blazing. She pointed to the door. Be gone, she cried. Go, before I do you mischief. See, I help you on with your coat. Now go and don't let me see that ugly yellow face of yours for a fortnight. May Trank chuckled as he passed down the steps. A policeman bade him good night. A policeman chatting to a man in evening dress. The policeman passed along the empty road. The other followed May Trank. A second later and May Trank staggered and fell headlong into the roadway. The policeman had passed out of sight now. Like a flash the man in evening dress was upon the form of the unconscious capitalist. He was picked up as if he had been a featherweight. An instant later and he was back at Number One, Lytton Avenue again. Quick, the countess whispered. You managed that very cleverly, Balmain. We have a credible witness who saw this creature leave the house thanks to you. And the idea of drugging the glass before pouring out the wine thanks to you, said Balmain. I must get this chap through the garden and on the motor at once. Give me a few minutes' start and he's not likely to trouble us again. Hetty sped from her hiding-place through the hall into the garden. The little green gate was open and beyond the motor, once more in its black guise. Hetty stood there just a minute, wondering what next she should do, if there was only somebody near that she could confide in and send a message by, if she could only prevent Balmain from starting on his mysterious errand. There was no time to be lost, for she could hear Balmain coming down the garden. And then a happy inspiration came to her. From her head she removed the gold and ornamented dagger with its long steel pin. She stooped down. Balmain came with his burden, which he flung in and covered with a rug. He pulled at the lever and the great machine started, and then dragged, as if some great weight was hanging on behind. A snarling curse came from Balmain's lips. A thousand maledictions on it, he muttered. Both back tires are punctured. End of Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Baffled Balmain danced down the lane with impotent fury, despite her peril and the fear that was in her heart, Hethie smiled. Here was a daring and audacious rascal, engaged in some desperate and, no doubt, cunning scheme, who was utterly baffled by a mere girl and a hairpin. Hethie checked the smile, for that might have grown hysterical. She had to brace herself to the effort, an easier task seeing that Gordon Bruce was uppermost in her mind. For him she would have dared and done anything. The woman who was at the bottom of this thing was his deadly enemy. To gain her secrets must help in Gordon's final victory. Balmain knelt down there with one of the lamps in his hand. His face was not good to look upon. Leona Lalage watched him eagerly. Is it a very bad puncture, she asked? It isn't a puncture at all, Balmain snarled, at least not an accidental one. Some mischievous fiend must have passed down the lane just now and done this for pure wickedness. There are two long slashes in the tires. And the mending will be a matter of time? Rather, an expert couldn't do it under an hour. Both those tires will have to come off. Now what are we to do? The Countess clasped her hands together in hopeless rage. If only I had that ruffian here, she said. Her voice was low. She strode backwards and forwards like an angry wolf. Oh, if only I had him here. I should like you to hold him down so that I— Drop it, Balmain said rudely. What's the good of that theatrical nonsense? If something is not done at once, our plans are utterly ruined. Don't stand there like a tragedy actress, but suggest something. But what can I suggest? This thing has taken me utterly by surprise. The only thing is to carry that thing back into the street and lay him down where you found him. A policeman saw him leave the house. It will be thought that he had a fit in the street, and we shall not be suspected. And, meanwhile, the policeman on the beat has been at least twice past the spot where the body ought to be, Balmain sneered. People in fits don't get out of the way and then come back again. True, the Countess exclaimed, I had not thought of that. Wheel your motor into the courtyard of the corner house before a policeman comes this way and carry him back into the house. There was nothing else to do, and Balmain complied, muttering. The auto-car was disposed of, and Balmain, breathless and dripping under the weight of his burden, staggered back into Lytton Avenue Gardens again. Once the little green gate was closed he could breathe more freely, but the perils and dangers of the night were not over yet. The unconscious form of Maytrank was cast carelessly on the grass. Balmain wiped his heated forehead. The moon came out from behind a ragged bank of cloud, and fell on the face of the sleeping capitalist. It was so white and still that he might have been dead already. The white still face looked up. The murderous dark one looked down. Balmain kicked the body in a sudden spurt of passion. You miserly old dog he growled. A nice dance you are leading us. I wish I knew what on earth to do with you. The Countess gripped his arm convulsively. Kill him, she said in a horse whisper that thrilled Heddy. That is a sure and easy way out of the peril. We can prove that he left the house. Nobody can prove that he ever returned. I have my jewels back. There is nothing that we can be traced by, and the secret dies with him. Balmain gave a shudder. Even he recoiled. I have never had that on my conscience, he whispered. And if we do, kill him, urged the Countess. Kneel down and pin that wrap over his face. He is an old man, and the drug has affected his heart. He will go off quietly in his sleep. Then you can throw him down the well in the courtyard of the corner house. Can I help you, cried Heddy, with a voice so steady that it astonished herself. I had a dreadful headache, so I thought I would steal down into the garden. Have you killed a burglar or something of that kind? Leona Lalage was the first to recover herself. Something of that kind, she said. My friend Mr. Balmain was bringing my motor back when he found this poor fellow unconscious in the lane. Mr. Balmain called out to me for assistance, and I fortunately heard. Heddy nodded. Truly the woman was magnificent. Had you not best get him into the house, Heddy suggested. It is not cold, but anyone who is ill to lie on the damp grass. The Countess touched Balmain. She had turned her face away, fearful lest the expression of it should be seen. Convey him into the house, the Countess ordered. There was nothing for it now but to obey. Heddy followed slowly and crept up to her own bedroom. Once there she dropped into a chair, and just for the moment the whole world seemed to be whirling before her sightless eyes. End of Chapter XXVIII Section XIV CHAPTERS XXIXXXX and XXXXI of The Corner House This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Corner House by Fred M. White Chapter XXIX A Knock at the Door But it was not for long that Heddy remained like that. There was much to be done yet, and much to learn. The thought of Gordon spurred her on. If she could get this woman into her power and force her to speak, all would be well. Heddy never doubted for a moment that Leona Lalage was at the bottom of her lover's misfortunes. If she could only communicate with Gordon, but how is that to be done? Heddy thought for a moment. Then the inspiration came to her. In her stockinged feet she crept down to the basement, to the housekeeper's room, and closed the door behind her. She was not more than a minute gone, and when she reached her room again it was with the knowledge that she could count on somebody now. These two fiends would not dare to do him any harm now. All the same Heddy made up her mind not to go to bed. She had Mamie in her own room, the door of which she left purposely open. If the worst came to the worst she could ring the electric alarm on the top landing and rouse the household. Mamie was sleeping peacefully with her head on her hand. You poor little soul, Heddy murmured. Ah, you poor little soul! Meanwhile the precious twain downstairs had laid their burden on a couch in the dining room, Balmain himself poured out a glass of wine and carried it unsteadily to his lips. He was worn out and shaking. He did not know what to do. It was not often that he was so hopelessly beaten as this. A mischievous boy with a pocket-knife and a white-faced cat of a governess with a headache, she said bitterly. It's maddening to think of a little thing like that coming between us and our schemes. And if I thought for a moment that Heddy Lawrence really suspected anything. Pshaw! Balmain growled. She doesn't suspect anything. Her manner is too simple and natural for that. And the girl carries her goodness and purity in her face. Oh, you can laugh, but that girl lives in another world than ours. When I looked at her just now she reminded me of what I might have been. The Countess gave a low, scornful laugh. Balmain's sentimental was amusing. She had the profoundest contempt herself for girls of Heddy's type. It was always a mystery to her what men could see in them. Well, she saved us from murder to-night, Balmain said, looking grimly down into the white face on the sofa. By Jove, he's coming too. May Frank stirred and stirred uneasily. Then he opened his eyes and stared round him. His quick, active mind was beginning to work. But those eyes were a little uneasy and fearsome as they saw both Leona and Balmain there. What has happened, may Frank asked? Have I been asleep or what? There's something that seems to burn into my brain. Have I been ill? Looks like it, said Balmain. You left here all right some time ago. I know, I remember that now. I said good night to the Countess. The Countess. And there was a policeman outside talking to a man in evening dress. He said good night to me, and I walked down the road. I don't recollect anything else. He paused in some confusion. He had the profoundest respect for the cunning and audacity of the people with whom he had to deal. Was this some startling new plot that they had been working on him? Then how did I get back again? He asked. I found you in the road, Balmain said boldly. I was going away from here, seeing that my services were no longer required. I happened to find you. I was just in time for one of the street prowlers was going through your pockets. Probably your fur coat attracted his attention. It is fortunate. May Frank plunged his hands into his pockets. I've been robbed, he cried, robbed of those diamonds. Ah, tell me what is this new trick you've played on me. Help, help! He yelled aloud. The scream of rage and disappointment rang through the house. It caused a servant to turn over sleepily and wonder what the matter was. It roused little Mamie and brought her up in bed with a scream of fear. Hedy heard it, too, and wondered if murder was not being committed after all. She could not stand there doing nothing. She ran downstairs and burst into the dining-room. She had a good excuse at the end of her tongue. The Countess turned upon her fiercely and demanded what she was doing there. Mamie, Hedy said simply, the child has been greatly frightened. She is calling for you. Will you please go up at once? It was also simple and natural that Lionel Hollage could say nothing for a moment. The stranger was standing up, searching his pockets wildly. His eyes gleamed with hatred and defeat and baffled avarice. He knew that he had been made the victim of some trick, but there was no name for it yet. I will come up, Leona said, anything to get Hedy out of the room. It is very unfortunate that this should have happened here. The door closed behind them. May Trank's fingers crooked and reached for Balmain. Dog, he hissed. Dog, I'll be even with you yet. How it has been managed I do not know yet, but I shall find out. My diamonds, give me my diamonds! Balmain took the bare throat of the speaker in his grip and shook May Trank as a reed is shaken in the wind. Be silent, he hissed. Have a care, or— He paused. There was a loud, imperious knocking at the front door. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Prout Gets a Clue Sergeant Paul Prout was beginning to come to the conclusion that the corner house mystery would have to be relegated to the long list of crimes concerning which Scotland Yard is feigned to be silent. At any rate the matter was utterly beyond him. Given a clue to work on, no man in the force could display more tenacity and skill, but there was nothing to go upon, and Prout was utterly devoid of imagination. Of course there was always the chance of coming on the track obliquely. None knew better than Prout how frequently one crime interlocked with another, and how often in looking for one particular criminal another had been arrested. He came into the inspector's office in answer to a summons. Inspector Manton passed over some papers to his subordinate. I want you to read them and act upon them, he said. You'll have to put that corner house business out of your head, for a day or two at any rate. It appears that a gang of cosmopolitan swindlers have established their headquarters somewhere in Soho, and by means of using several addresses they are getting a tremendous quantity of goods which they proceed to turn into money. Here is one of their invertecements cut from the standard. You would better answer it and get in touch with the fellows that way, but nobody can manage that sort of thing better than you. Prout felt himself quite capable to account for this matter. He proceeded to lay the whole particulars before a friend in the whole sail's silver plate line, just the kind of article the gang of thieves affected, and so procured the genuine address of a genuine trader for the purposes of the capture. I expect you'll get orders from five or six addresses, said Prout, if so send the stuff on, not too much at a time, and ask for references. You'll get the reference, of course—in other words, Jones and Company of Grey's Inn will recommend Smith and Company of Market Street. When you get all the references in, let me know, because by that means I shall be in possession of every address used by these fellows. To keep the big swindle going on and to avoid awkward mistakes, it was necessary for the Confederates to meet at intervals. By small purchases at one address or another, Prout had pretty well got to know all the gang by sight, and by following one or another he discovered at last where the rendezvous was, a public house of not-too-good repute in White Lane leading off Oxford Street. Next day a sallow, seedy, broken-down shop assistant sought and obtained a bedroom at the Orange Tree Public House. He seemed to have money, and therefore he was welcome. He hinted that he was in trouble over some stolen goods from his late employer's shop, and the Orange Tree received him with open arms. It was weary work sitting there and pretending to drink, but patience has its rewards at last. Gradually the shy swindlers became accustomed to the seedy shop assistant, who even went out of his way to give them hints as to credulous firms. It seemed to Prout that he knew all the gang at last save one. And this one he particularly wanted to see, because the name was unknown to him. In all the swindlers in London it was the first time Prout had heard of one called Frenchie, and the particular member of the gang, absent from London on business, seemed to be the leader of them all. Once Frenchie showed himself Prout would give the sign, and within an hour the gang would be laid by the heels. He came at length, a little dapper man with a slight hump between the shoulders, a nose slightly crooked on one side. He appeared to take his warm welcome quite as a matter of course. He discarded a pair of grey suede gloves and called for a bottle of champagne. Behind his paper Prout gave a start. Here was a case where the pursuit of one crime led to another. The leader of the gang of thieves had large, orange-coloured freckles on his hand, the same as Prout had seen on the hands of the victim of the corner-house tragedy. Prout was calm again in an instant, in a dejected way he was looking admiringly at the newcomer. The little man's English was quite good, but all the same he spoke with an accent that had a strange French flavour about it. Just on closing time, Prout lounged out in his most dejected style and bought a late paper. Now look here, he said to the man with the papers, those men are to be arrested, but so far away from here as not to give any suspicion of the house being watched. The little dandy chap who just came in is to be left to me. That's all. Apparently it was quite sufficient, as the gangs separated one by one, each was picked up by an officer in plain clothes. The little man in the suede gloves went cautiously on till he came to a working man's flat off Grey's Inn Road, and here for the first time he became conscious that he was being followed. And what do you want with me, he asked? So you are the young man who got into trouble over a mistake as to your employer's goods. I want to speak to you for a moment, said Prout. The little man pointed gaily up the stairs. Prout followed him into a room and shut the door. The next instant the small Frenchman was on his back and the handcuffs encircled his wrists. No use making a noise here, said Prout coolly. It was a good idea of yours to hide yourself amongst respectable working men. The little man struggled silently, furiously. Now what's the good of that, said Prout, in his most soothing voice? With these bracelets on, you can't possibly get at the revolver in your hip pocket. I am a police officer, and by this time the whole of your lot are in custody. I've got the key of the door in my pocket, and I'm going to search the room. The little man's language burst out furiously. Nothing less than war between France and England should wipe out this insult to the tricolor. Prout had burst open a desk and was examining the papers there as tranquilly as if he were stoned deaf. He came across something presently that caused his eyes to gleam and his heart to beat with a feeling of triumph. Now you can come along with me, he said. If you like to walk, you can. And if you like to pay for a cab, I am agreeable. What do you say? The little man elected to have a cab. When Bow Street was reached, Prout had the satisfaction of finding that all his birds had been netted. He received the warm congratulations of his inspector modestly. Got your case complete, asked the latter? I've done more than that, sir, said Prout. I've stumbled on something important relating to that corner-house business. If you don't want me any more, I'd like to go and see Mr. Gilbert Lawrence. There was nothing more to be done for the present. Ten minutes later Prout was knocking at the door of Lawrence's chambers. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 An Urgent Call Lawrence was burning the midnight oil and therefore impatient of interruptions, but upon hearing Prout's name he finished the chapter he was writing and slung up his reading-lamp. He was hospitable over his cigarette and whisky. Come to tell me you have made a discovery, eh? he asked. No need to tell me that, I can see it in your face. Sit down, man, one o'clock in the morning is comparatively early for a novelist. Go on. It's a great discovery, sir, said Prout. I have found the brother of the murdered man. What, the corner-house victim? Is that really a fact? Indeed it is, sir. A good deal better looking than the other poor fellow, but directly I said eyes upon him I couldn't fail to see the likeness, and when he took off his gloves and showed the big orange spots I felt certain. I suppose you can lay hands upon him at any time? Rather, Prout grinned, he's my prisoner, arrested him tonight in connection with some long firm frauds. I arrested him in his own lodging so that I should have a chance to search the room, and what did I come across but a few letters written by the murdered man to this brother of his? Surely a curious coincidence, Lawrence cried. Not at all, sir. There's a marvellous freemasonry amongst criminals. I've started a hunt for a watch and chain and found a bank robbery. Once in looking for a missing man I dropped upon a sensational bankruptcy. One never knows. But touching these letters, they are undoubtedly the same handwriting as the letter we found on the corner-house victim. I've put them together, and I am certain. Do they contain anything likely to help us, Prout? Well, that I can't say for the present, sir, Prout replied. I have only looked at one, seeing that you are so interested I came here at once, but one thing I have discovered, if I was a creditor of a certain Countess who shall be nameless, I should go and sit on the doorstep until I had got the money. Lawrence winked never so slightly. He had his own ideas on that head. He read the one letter that Prout handed to him and smiled. Beyond doubt the letter had been written by the queer misshapen outcast who had been found dead in the corner-house. As Lawrence returned the letter he looked at his watch. It won't some time of two o'clock yet, he said. My friend Dr. Bruce does not go to bed early, so I shall go round and look him up. We'll go into the other letters carefully when we have time, Prout, but for the present I should like to borrow this one if you have no objection. What do you say? Prout had no objection to make. He had made a great discovery, but he felt pretty sure that he would need Lawrence's ingenious mind and fine imagination before he had succeeded in solving the problem. Take it and welcome, sir, he said. I shall have my hands full for the next day or two, and anyway there is no hurry. With the feeling that great events were in the air, Lawrence hurried round to Bruce's rooms. There was a light in the front window that disclosed the fact that Bruce had not gone to bed. He came to the door himself, looking fagged and worn out. I've had a trying day, he said. My dear fellow, I am losing my connection almost as fast as I made it. I shall have to give it up. Rot, Lawrence cried. I've got some news for you. Prout has been with me and has left a letter in my possession. What do you think of that? Bruce read the letter slowly and carefully, beyond establishing the fact that the murdered man had a brother he could see very little in it. Unless there are other letters, he concluded. There are five more which I have not read yet. I understand there are allusions to a certain countess, who, as Prout politely put it, shall be nameless. My boy, I feel quite certain that this will lead to— What's up? The shrill clatter of the telephone bell tinkled in the next room. The ring was repeated in a few seconds, imperiously. The telephone for me, said Bruce, I hope I shan't have to go out tonight. I'll get you to excuse me for a moment. Are you there? A whispered voice came back. It was Heddy's voice. For heaven's sake, come here at once. Don't wait, but— The voice ceased. Nothing more could be heard but the humming of the wire. Bruce swished into the dining room and huddled on his coat.