CHAPTER V. THE DOOR IS OPENED
Quentin Gray and Seton strolled out of Prince's and both paused whilstSeton lighted a long black cheroot.
"It seems a pity to waste that box," said Gray. "Suppose we look in atthe Gaiety for an hour?"
His humor was vastly improved, and he watched the passing throngs withan expression more suited to his boyish good looks than that of angerand mortification which had rested upon him an hour earlier.
Seton Pasha tossed a match into the road.
"My official business is finished for the day," he replied. "I placemyself unreservedly in your hands."
"Well, then," began Gray--and paused.
A long, low car, the chauffeur temporarily detained by the stoppage of amotorbus ahead, had slowed up within three yards of the spot where theywere standing. Gray seized Seton's arm in a fierce grip.
"Seton," he said, his voice betraying intense excitement, "Look! Thereis Monte Irvin!"
"In the car?"
"Yes, yes! But--he has two police with him! Seton, what can it mean?"
The car moved away, swinging to the right across the traffic streamand clearly heading for old Bond Street. Quentin Gray's mercurial colordeserted him, and he turned to Seton a face grown suddenly pale.
"Good God," he whispered, "something has happened to Rita!"
Neglectful of his personal safety, he plunged out into the traffic,dodging this way and that, and making after Monte Irvin's car. Of thefact that his friend was close beside him he remained unaware until, onthe corner of old Bond Street, a firm grip settled upon his shoulder.Gray turned angrily. But the grip was immovable, and he found himselfstaring into the unemotional face of Seton Pasha.
"Seton, for God's sake, don't detain me! I must learn what's wrong."
"Pull up, Gray."
Quentin Gray clenched his teeth.
"Listen to me, Seton. This is no time for interference. I--"
"You are about to become involved in some very unsavory business; and Irepeat--pull up. In a moment we shall learn all there is to be learned.But are you determined openly to thrust yourself into the family affairsof Mr. Monte Irvin?"
"If anything has happened to Rita I'll kill that damned cur Pyne!"
"You are determined to intrude upon this man in your present frame ofmind at a time of evident trouble?"
But Gray was deaf to the promptings of prudence and good taste alike.
"I'm going to see the thing through," he said hoarsely.
"Quite so. Rely upon me. But endeavor to behave more like a man ofthe world and less like a dangerous lunatic, or we shall quarrelatrociously."
Quentin Gray audibly gnashed his teeth, but the cool stare of theother's eyes was quelling, and now as their glances met and clashed, asympathetic smile softened the lines of Seton's grim mouth, and:
"I quite understand, old chap," he said, linking his arm in Gray's. "Butcan't you see how important it is, for everybody's sake, that we shouldtackle the thing coolly?"
"Seton"--Gray's voice broke--"I'm sorry. I know I'm mad; but I was withher only an hour ago, and now--"
"And now 'her' husband appears on the scene accompanied by a policeinspector and a sergeant. What are your relations with Mr. Monte Irvin?"
They were walking rapidly again along Bond Street.
"What do you mean, Seton?" asked Gray.
"I mean does he approve of your friendship with his wife, or is it aclandestine affair?"
"Clandestine?--certainly not. I was on my way to call at the house whenI met her with Pyne this evening."
"That is what I wanted to know. Very well; since you intend to followthe thing up, it simplifies matters somewhat. Here is the car."
"At Kazmah's door! What in heaven's name does it mean?"
"It means that we shall get a very poor reception if we intrude.Question the chauffeur."
But Gray had already approached the man, who touched his cap inrecognition.
"What's the trouble, Pattison?" he demanded breathlessly. "I saw policein the car a moment ago."
"Yes, sir. I don't rightly know, sir, what's happened. But Mr. Irvindrove from home to the corner of old Bond Street a quarter of an hourago and told me to wait, then came back again and drove round to VineStreet to fetch the police. They're inside now."
Even as he spoke, with excitement ill-concealed, a police-sergeant cameout of the doorway, and:
"Move on, there," he said to Seton and Gray. "You mustn't hang aboutthis door."
"Excuse me, Sergeant," cried Gray, "but if the matter concerns Mrs.Monte Irvin I can probably supply information."
The Sergeant stared at him hard, saw that both he and his friend woreevening dress, and grew proportionately respectful.
"What is your name, sir?" he asked. "I'll mention it to the officer incharge."
"Quentin Gray. Inform Mr. Monte Irvin that I wish to speak to him."
"Very good, sir." He turned to the chauffeur. "Hand me out the bag Igave you at Vine Street." Pattison leaned over the door at the frontof the car, and brought out a big leather grip. With this in hand thepolice-sergeant returned into the doorway.
"We're in for it now," said Seton grimly, "whatever it is."
Gray returned no answer, moving restlessly up and down before the doorin a fever of excitement and dread. Presently the Sergeant reappeared.
"Step this way, please," he said.
Followed by Seton and Gray he led the way up to the landing beforeKazmah's apartments. It was vaguely lighted by two police-lanterns. Fourmen were standing there, and four pairs of eyes were focussed upon thestair-head.
Monte Irvin, his features a distressing ashen color, spoke.
"That you, Gray?" Quentin Gray would not have recognized the voice."Thanks for offering your help. God knows I need all I can get. You werewith Rita tonight. What happened? Where is she?"
"Heaven knows where she is!" cried Gray. "I left her here with Pyneshortly after seven o'clock."
He paused, fixing his gaze upon the face of Brisley, whose shifty eyesavoided him and who was licking his lips in the manner of a dog who hasseen the whip.
"Why," said Gray, "I believe you are the fellow who has been followingme all night for some reason."
He stepped toward the foxy little man but:
"Never mind, Gray," interrupted Irvin. "I was to blame. But he wasfollowing my wife, not you. Tell me quickly: Why did she come here?"
Gray raised his hand to his brow with a gesture of bewilderment.
"To consult this man, Kazmah. I actually saw her enter the inner room, Iwent to get a cab, and when I returned the door was locked."
"You knocked?"
"Of course. I made no end of a row. But I could get no reply and wentaway."
Monte Irvin turned, a pathetic figure, to the Inspector who stood besidehim.
"We may as well proceed, Inspector Whiteleaf," he said. "Mr. Gray'sevidence throws no light on the matter at all."
"Very well, sir," was the reply; "we have the warrant, and have giventhe usual notice to whoever may be hiding inside. Burton!"
The Sergeant stepped forward, placed the leather bag on the floor,and stooping, opened it, revealing a number of burglarious-lookinginstruments.
"Shall I try to cut through the panel?" he asked.
"No, no!" cried Monte Irvin. "Waste no time. You have a crowbar there.Force the door from its hinges. Hurry, man!"
"It doesn't work on hinges!" Gray interrupted excitedly. "It slides tothe right by means of some arrangement concealed under the mat."
"Pass that lantern," directed Burton, glancing over his shoulder toGunn.
Setting it beside him, the Sergeant knelt and examined the threshold ofthe door.
"A metal plate," he said. "The weight moves a lever, I suppose, whichopens the door if it isn't locked. The lock will be on the left of thedoor as it opens to the right. Let's see what we can do."
He stood up, crowbar in hand, and inserted the chisel blade of theimplement between the edge of th
e door and the doorcase.
"Hold steady!" said the Inspector, standing at his elbow.
The dull metallic sound of hammer blows on steel echoed queerly aroundthe well of the staircase. Brisley and Gunn, standing very closetogether on the bottom step of the stair to the third floor, watched thepolice furtively. Irvin and Gray found a common fascination in the dooritself, and Seton, cheroot in mouth, looked from group to group withquiet interest.
"Right!" cried the Sergeant.
The blows ceased.
Firmly grasping the bar, Burton brought all his weight to bear upon it.There was a dull, cracking sound and a sort of rasping. The door movedslightly.
"There's where it locks!" said the Inspector, directing the light ofa lantern upon the crevice created. "Three inches lower. But it may bebolted as well."
"We'll soon get at the bolts," replied Burton, the lust of destructionnow strong upon him.
Wrenching the crowbar from its place he attacked the lower panel of thedoor, and amid a loud splintering and crashing created a hole big enoughto allow of the passage of a hand and arm.
The Inspector reached in, groped about, and then uttered an exclamationof triumph.
"I've unfastened the bolt," he said. "If there isn't another at the topyou ought to be able to force the door now, Burton."
The jimmy was thrust back into position, and:
"Stand clear!" cried Burton.
Again he threw his weight upon the bar--and again.
"Drive it further in!" said Monte Irvin; and snatching up the heavyhammer, he rained blows upon the steel butt. "Now try."
Burton exerted himself to the utmost.
"Take hold up here, someone!" he panted. "Two of us can pull."
Gray leapt forward, and the pair of them bent to the task.
There came a dull report of parting mechanism, more sounds ofsplintering wood... and the door rolled open!
A moment of tense silence, then:
"Is anyone inside there?" cried the Inspector loudly.
Not a sound came from the dark interior.
"The lantern!" whispered Monte Irvin.
He stumbled into the room, from which a heavy smell of perfume swept outupon the landing. Quentin Gray, snatching the lantern from the floor,where it had been replaced, was the next to enter.
"Look for the switch, and turn the lights on!" called the Inspector,following.
Even as he spoke, Gray had found the switch, and the apartment of Kazmahbecame flooded with subdued light.
A glance showed it to be unoccupied.
Gray ran across to the mushrabiyeh cabinet and jerked the curtainsaside. There was no one in the cabinet. It contained a chair and atable. Upon the latter was a telephone and some papers and books. "Thisway!" he cried, his voice high pitched and unnatural.
He burst through the doorway into the inner room which he had seen Mrs.Irvin enter. The air was laden with the smell of frankincense.
"A lantern!" he called. "I left one on the divan."
But Monte Irvin had caught it up and was already at his elbow. His handwas shaking so that the light danced wildly now upon the carpet, nowupon the green walls. This room also was deserted. A black gap in thecurtain showed where the material had been roughly torn. Suddenly:
"My God, look!" muttered the Inspector, who, with the others, now stoodin the curious draped apartment.
A thin stream of blood was trickling out from beneath the torn hangings!
Monte Irvin staggered and fell back against the Inspector, clutching athim for support. But Sergeant Burton, who carried the second lantern,crossed the room and wrenched the green draperies bodily from theirfastenings.
They had masked a wooden partition or stout screen, having an aperturein the centre which could be closed by means of another of the slidingdoors. A space some five feet deep was thus walled off from this secondroom. It contained a massive ebony chair. Behind the chair, and dividingthe second room into yet a third section, extended another woodenpartition in one end of which was an ordinary office door; andimmediately at the back of the chair appeared a little opening orwindow, some three feet up from the floor. The sound of a groan,followed by that of a dull thud, came from the outer room.
"Hullo!" cried Inspector Whiteleaf. "Mr. Irvin has fainted. Lend ahand."
"I am here," replied the quiet voice of Seton Pasha.
"My God!" whispered Gray. "Seton! Seton!"
"Touch nothing," cried the Inspector from outside, "until I come!"
And now the narrow apartment became filled with all the awe-strickencompany, only excepting Monte Irvin, and Brisley, who was attending tothe swooning man.
Flat upon the floor, between the door and the ebony chair, arms extendedand eyes staring upward at the ceiling, lay Sir Lucien Pyne, his whiteshirt front redly dyed. In the hush which had fallen, the footstepsof Inspector Whiteleaf sounded loudly as he opened the final door, andswept the interior of an inner room with the rays of the lantern.
The room was barely furnished as an office. There was anotherhalf-glazed door opening on to a narrow corridor. This door was locked.
"Pyne!" whispered Gray, pale now to the lips. "Do you understand, Seton?It's Pyne! Look! He has been stabbed!"
Sergeant Burton knelt down and gingerly laid his hand upon the stainedlinen over the breast of Sir Lucien.
"Dead?" asked the Inspector, speaking from the inner doorway.
"Yes."
"You say, sir," turning to Quentin Gray, "that this is Sir Lucien Pyne?"
"Yes."
Inspector Whiteleaf rather clumsily removed his cap. The odor of Seton'scheroot announced itself above the oriental perfume with which the placewas laden.
"Burton!"
"Yes?"
"See if this telephone in the office is in order. It appears to be anextension from the outer room."
While the others stood grouped about that still figure on the floor,Sergeant Burton entered the little office.
"Hello!" he cried. "Yes?" A momentary interval, then: "It's all right,sir. What number?"
"Gentlemen," said the Inspector, firmly and authoritatively, "I am aboutto telephone to Vine Street for instructions. No one will leave thepremises."
Amid an intense hush:
"Regent 201," called Sergeant Burton.