EPISODE V
THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT
I was bringing my journal up to date one day at my Long Island hotel,when a page-boy brought me a card engraved with the very last name Ishould ever have guessed: "Lady Allendale."
"Is the lady downstairs?" I asked, dazed.
"The lady is here!" answered a once familiar voice at the half-opendoor of my sitting-room; and I jumped up to face a tall, slim figure inwidow's weeds. "I hope you don't mind my surprising you?" went on thecharming voice. "I wanted to see how you looked, when you saw my name."
"How do you do?" I greeted her, as we shook hands, and the page meltedaway and was forgotten. I tried to sound sincerely welcoming, for hereshe was, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. But I wasn't as gladas some men would have been to see a celebrated beauty and charmer.
She explained that she had found herself in need of rest after her warwork (the last time I had seen her was the day when I fled from theprivate hospital in London of my sister-in-law, Lady Haslemere), andshe had thought a sea voyage might be beneficial. She added, with anair of beautiful boldness, that perhaps she'd come partly to meet meagain. "I read that you were at the Belmont in New York; so I wentthere. But they said you were staying on Long Island. Country airwill be as good for a tired nurse of wounded officers as it is for thewounded officers themselves, _n'est ce pas_? And it will be nicehearing your news, for we were rather pals!"
"Don was my best friend," I reminded her. "Here's his picture." And Itook from the flat top of the desk where I had been writing, one ofseveral framed photographs. A flush sprang to her cheeks as thehusband's eyes looked into hers, and snatching the frame she dashed itdown so violently that the glass smashed on the parquet floor.
"How cruel of you!" she cried. "He was a thief! He threw away my loveand made me hate him. I thank Heaven he died!"
An impulse of anger shook me. If she had been a man I should havestruck her. I'm not sure I didn't want to, as it was, in spite of herbeauty--or even because of it, so did it flaunt itself like an enemyflag.
"It's you who are cruel," I said. "Not to me, but to Don's memory. Icould never believe he did what you thought. There may have been somehorrible mistake. And his death has never been proved----"
"He's dead to me; and the proof's incontestable, or I shouldn't wearthese things," she almost sobbed, indicating with a gesture her blackdress and veil.
In my secret heart I had thought in London, and continued to think,that the motive for draping herself in black might be more complex thanshe admitted. Sir Donald Allendale had sailed for America on strangecircumstances months ago; had disappeared, and a body found floating inthe East River had been (superficially, I thought) identified as his.If widow's weeds hadn't been an effective frame for Irene Allendale'sdazzling beauty, I wondered if she would have mourned in so many yardsof crape for a husband she professed to hate?
"Oh, well," I said, controlling myself, and realising that she had someexcuse to execrate Donald's memory, "let's not discuss Don now. Therewere faults on both sides. He was jealous, and you made him miserable.You were the greatest flirt as well as the greatest beauty in Indiathat year, and--but come to think of it, we needn't discuss thateither. The present's enough. You've arrived on this side, and----"
"You're not glad to see me. No use pretending. I _know_, and--here'sthe reason!" She darted forward and seized from the desk, close to myopen journal, the greatest treasure I had in the world--Maida Odell'spicture.
Roger had given it to me, knowing how I felt towards Maida. It was aminiature painted on ivory, and almost--though of course not quite--didMaida justice, as no photograph could do. I kept it in a gold,jewelled frame with doors like the doors of a shrine which could shutthe angel face out of sight. Usually the doors of the frame were notonly shut but locked. When I sat at the desk, however, and expected novisitors, I opened and put it where each time I glanced up from mywriting I could look straight into Maida's eyes. Lady Allendale,however, had come as a bolt from the blue, and for once I neglected toshut the shrine.
If I had been angry before, I was doubly angry now; but I said not aword. Gently I took the frame, closed, and placed it in a drawer ofthe desk.
"Did you say you thought of spending a few days on Long Island?" Iasked, when I could control my voice.
"I've engaged a suite at this hotel," Lady Allendale answered sharply."My maid's putting my things in order now. I do think, Jack, you'rebeing _horrid_ to me, and if it weren't too late to change withoutmaking gossip I should give up the rooms and go somewhere else."
I didn't want a scene, so I reminded myself how sweet she had been whenDon had brought her as a bride to India, and I had always been welcomeat their bungalow. I soothed her as well as I could; refused to talkpersonalities, and when she decided that her visit to my sitting-roomhad better end, I took her to the door. At that moment a face almostas familiar as hers appeared at a door opposite--the face of IreneAllendale's French maid who had come with her to India four years ago.This woman (Pauline, I remembered hearing her called) was receiving bigtrunks with White Star labels on them; and I realised not only that thelady's new quarters were close to mine, but that she was provided for along stay in them!
When she had gone, and the door of her sitting-room had been shut byPauline (whose personality I disliked) I picked up Don's photograph,and sat down to look at it, reviewing old times.
Poor Don! Whatever his failings might have been, fate had been hard onhim!
He was among the smartest officers my regiment ever had, one of themost popular--despite his hot temper--and the best looking. Everyonesaid when Irene Grey came to India to be married, chaperoned on thevoyage by a dragon of a maid, that she and Donald were the handsomestcouple ever seen. The trouble was--for trouble began at once--thatIrene was _too_ pretty. She was a flirt too; and her success as _the_beauty went to her head. She ought to have understood Don well enoughto know that he was stupidly jealous. Perhaps she did know, andthought it "fun." But the fun soon turned to fighting. Theyquarrelled openly. She would do nothing that Don wanted her to do. Inblack rage, he told her to live her own life, and he would live his.Both were miserable, for she had loved him and he--had adored her. Sheflirted more than ever, and Don tried to forget his wretchedness bydrinking too much and playing too high. So passed several years. Ileft the regiment and India, and took up flying. Then came theoutbreak of war. Don was ordered to England. Irene sailed on the sameship, though by that time they were scarcely civil to each other. Donused influence and got ordered to America to buy horses for the army,he being a polo man and a judge of horseflesh.
I was in France then, but running over to England on leave, Irene sentfor me to tell the astounding news that Don had taken with him all herjewellery. She had money of her own--not a great fortune; but herjewels, left her by a rich aunt, were magnificent and even famous.This scene between Irene and me, when she accused Don and I defendedhim, lingered in my memory as one of the most disagreeable of my life:and the maid Pauline was associated with it in my mind, as Irene hadcalled her, to describe certain suspicious circumstances. Later Icouldn't help admitting to myself, if not to Irene, that Don'sdisappearance on reaching New York, before he had begun to carry outhis mission, did look queer. Search was made by the police of New Yorkin vain, until a body past recognition, but wearing a watch andidentification papers belonging to Captain Sir Donald Allendale, wasfound in the East River. I induced Irene to give Don the benefit ofthe doubt, not to blacken his memory by connecting him with the loss ofher jewels; and she seemed to think that yielding to my persuasions wasa proof of friendship for me.
"Well," I said to myself, extracting bits of broken glass from theframe of Don's portrait, "better let sleeping dogs lie. Irene'll gettired of this quiet place before long, and be off to New York--or home."
I felt that it would be a relief to have her go; but I had no idea thatit was in her power, even if she wished it, to do me harm.
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But while I was thinking of her presence in the hotel as a harmlessbore, the lady had instructed Pauline to make inquiries concerning me.This I learned later: but had I guessed, I should have supposed therewould be nothing to find out. I had no idea that gossip about me andmy affairs was a dining-room amusement among the maids and valets ofthe hotel guests: that all Lady Allendale's _femme de chambre_ need dowas to ask "What's the name of the girl Lord John Hasle's in lovewith?" in order to have my heart bared to her eyes. That first day sheheard all about Maida--with embellishments: the beautiful Miss Odell,adopted sister of a well-known millionaire who had lately married andgone abroad with his bride: girl not fond of society: pledged to theGrey Sisterhood for a year: the Sisterhood House being near Pine Cliff,Lord John's reason for living in the one hotel of the neighbourhood.
That was enough for Irene. Her anger having brought "to the scratch"all the cat in her nature, she made herself acquainted with thevisiting days and hours of the Grey Sisterhood. Though men were notreceived, ladies interested in the alleged charitable work of theSisterhood were welcomed twice a week, between three and five in theafternoon. Maida was a valuable asset to the Head Sister, as a younghostess on these reception days, for she believed in the genuineness ofthe mission, and was enthusiastic on the subject of "saving" women andchildren. In her innocence she could not have been aware that most ofthose "saved" were hardened thieves protected in the old house at PineCliff till their "services" should be needed in New York. It was asplendid advertisement for the Sisterhood that so important a girl asMiss Odell should be a member, and she was always bidden to showvisitors about, even if the veiled Head Sister were able to receivethem.
So it fell out, while I was assuring myself of Irene's harmlessness,that she was making acquaintance with the original of the portrait inthe gold frame. She wore, it seems, an open-faced locket containing aphotograph of me, painted to look like an ivory miniature: and seeingMaida glance at it she asked if Miss Odell had ever met Lord John Hasle.
The girl admitted that she had; whereupon Lady Allendale said, "We are_very_ good friends," and purposely said it in such a way as to conveya false impression. I had told Maida that I loved her, but she hadgiven me no answer except that, if I cared, I must care enough to wait.Many weeks had passed since then, and it was long since we had set eyesupon each other. Lady Allendale was the most beautiful woman she hadever seen; and the miniature in the locket, the meaning of the smilewhich went with the words, were too much for the girl's faith in myconstancy. She thought, "Why should he go on loving me when I've givenhim no real hope? No wonder he forgets me for such a dream of beauty!"
Perhaps no girl as lovely as Maida ever thought less of her own charm.She believed that the one interest which had held her to the world andgiven her strength to resist the Head Sister's persuasions was a falsestar. It came into her mind that the best way to forget would be topromise, as her friend the grey lady had begged her to do, that shewould become a life member of the Sisterhood.
Maida made no irrevocable decision that day: but when the Head Sistersaid next time (there were many of these times), "Dear child, how happyI should be if I could count upon you in the future!" she answered,"Perhaps you may. I don't feel the same wish to go out into the worldthat I have had."
She was praised for this concession: and it seems to me probable thatthe grey lady set her intelligence to work at discovering the motivefor the change. She had seen Irene, and had without doubt noticed thelocket. She was aware that the visitor and the youngest, sweetestmember of the Sisterhood had talked in the garden. She must have put"two and two together": and the thing that happened later proves thatshe reported all she knew and all she guessed to that "greatphilanthropist" Doctor Rameses. It was certain that, soon after LadyAllendale arrived, he was informed of her presence at my hotel. Therewere ways in which he could ascertain that my friendship had been forDonald Allendale and not his wife: therefore the theatrical effect ofthe locket would have been lost upon him.
Irene and I were on friendly terms, but I manoeuvred to keep her out ofthe way. This was comparatively simple, as I had a lot of work to do;but I invented extra engagements, and was never free to go anywherewith her. I even tried to take such meals as I ate in my hotel, athours when she wasn't likely to be in the restaurant: but one evening,as I stepped out of my sitting-room dressed for dinner, she appeared ather door. It was almost as if she had been on the watch!
It was early, and I intended motoring to New York, for Carr Price andhis bride were there for a day or two. I had my overcoat on my arm,and a hat in my hand, which advertised the fact that I was not diningin the hotel. Lady Allendale also was dressed for the evening, andPauline was giving her a sable cloak.
"How do you do, stranger?" Irene exclaimed, with a kind of spuriousgaiety, more bitter than merry. "I've been here a week, and this isthe fourth time we've met."
As she spoke, and I composed a suitable answer, two messengers camealong the corridor. One was a seedy-looking individual who might, Ithought, be a messenger from Teano, and the other was a boy employed bythe Grey Sisterhood to run errands. My heart leaped at sight of anenvelope in his hand. It was of the peculiar dove grey used by theSisters: and I know now that it was recognised by Lady Allendale.She'd sent money for the Sisterhood's charities, and had received theirthanks written on this paper.
"No answer, sir," said the boy, giving me the letter, pocketing a"tip," and passing out of the way to let the shabby man advance,directed by a page. He, too, put a letter in my hand, with a mumble of"This is pressing."
Irene could not hide her curiosity; but she dared not stand staring inthe hall. She went on, as if to go to the lift: but I learned laterthat she took refuge in the maid's room, to see (without being seen)what I might do next.
What I did do was to return for a moment to my own room. And there,despite the alleged "pressing" importance of the second letter, Iopened Maida's first.
"Please don't feel in any way bound to me," she wrote. "Indeed,there's no real reason why you should: but lest there should be theslightest shadow over your happiness, I wish to tell you that mostprobably I shall become a life member of the Sisterhood. I must writeRoger before deciding, but when he knows that after these many weeks Ihave less longing than ever for the world, I think he will withdraw hisobjections.--Yours ever sincerely, M.O."
This was a blow over the heart. I had hoped so much, since thewonderful night when she had let me take her home to Roger! True, shehad gone back next day to the Sisterhood House, but I had thought Imight read between the lines of the message left for me, and othermessages since then.
I did not think of any connection between Irene Allendale and Maida'schange of mind, but attributed the adverse influence wholly to the HeadSister. I determined to see Maida somehow: and then remembered theletter which I had not yet opened. Envelope and paper were of thecheapest, and the handwriting was crude, most of the words beingabsurdly spelt.
"If yu haven't furgot yur old friend Donald Allendale and wud like tohelp him in grate truble cum at wuns with the messenger and dont wate asecund or it may be tu late."
Nothing else could have taken me out of myself in a moment of deepdepression, as did this cry from the grave of a lost friend. I hadsaid to Irene "we have no proof of his death," yet I had hardly doubtedit: and it was now as if I heard the voice of a dead man. If I hadstopped to reflect I might have reasoned that the letter was more thanlikely a trick of the "enemy," as I named the Egyptian doctor to myselfand Teano: but even if I had, I should have chanced it, for the callwas too urgent to admit of delays--such as telephoning Teano to meetme, for instance. I ought to have seen (and perhaps didsub-consciously see) that the appeal for haste was in itselfsuspicious, framed in the hope of inducing me to do precisely what Idid do, rush off on the instant without taking any companion or leavingword in the hotel that I was bound for an errand that might bedangerous.
The man who had brought the letter had prudently gone to w
ait outside,where, if needful, he could make a quick "getaway." This detail seemedof small importance at the time, but its influence on the fate of twoothers besides myself was great. If Lady Allendale had seen mestarting with the messenger, she would have known that I was not goingout in answer to the letter written on grey paper--the letter shebelieved to be from Maida Odell. Pauline's window overlooked the noisyfront entrance of the otherwise quiet hotel. From behind the curtainsIrene could see anyone coming or going. If the messenger had waitedoutside my door, she would have seen us together: but as he stood closeagainst the wall, she could see only that I stopped to speak withsomeone. She could not hear the man explaining that he had beendirected to travel back to New York in the taxi which had brought himto Long Island, and that instead of accompanying, I was to trail him."Somebody's afraid I might get something out of you--what?" said I.Since argument with such a person was useless, Irene must have heard meorder a taxi, and have telephoned down for one herself. If I'dsuspected the interest she still felt in my movements, I might havebeen more on the alert, and have noticed a taxi always pursuing mine:but my eyes were for the one ahead.
When my leader's taxi drew up at last, it was the signal agreed uponfor me to do the same. The neighbourhood was unfamiliar, but as Ifollowed the man on foot I soon saw that we were in the heart ofChinatown. It was agreed that I should not try to speak with himagain, but simply to go where I saw him go. He entered a Chineserestaurant which made no pretence at picturesqueness for the attractionof sightseers. I, close upon his heels, entered also, and had scarcelyan instant to take in the scene, so promptly did the man make for a rowof doors at the back of a large, smoke-dimmed room. Determined not tobe left behind, I too made for the little low-browed door he chose inthe row, and saw a private dining-room just comfortably big enough fortwo.
"This is where you're to wait," my man announced, "and where my part ofthe business is done. Good night. I expect you won't be kept long."
I offered him money, which he refused. "I've been paid, thank you," hesaid; and touching his shabby cap with an attempt at a military salute,returned to the main restaurant. He shut the door behind him, but notquickly enough to prevent my recognising a face in the room outside:the face of Donald Allendale's valet.
"By Jove!" I heard myself say half aloud. I remembered now that theman--Hanson or some name like that--had left his master in England, notwishing, he explained, to go to America. Yet here he was; and I sprangto the rash conclusion that it was he who had sent for me with thismysterious ceremony.
The door was shut in my face before I could even jump up from the chairinto which I had subsided; and when I threw the door open again to lookout, the face had vanished. A number of Europeans of middle-class anda few Chinese, apparently respectable merchants, were dining at littletables. Some were already going: others were coming in: and I saw atthe street door a tall woman in a long dark cloak and a kind of motorbonnet covered with a thick blue veil. She had the air of peeringabout through the veil, to find someone she expected to meet: and if Ihad ever happened to see Lady Allendale's maid Pauline in automobileget-up, when motoring with her mistress, my thoughts might possiblyhave flashed to Irene. They did not, however, and I should have passedthe woman without remark if she had not darted at a man just making hisexit. I didn't recall Don's valet well enough from Indian days to beas sure of his back as of his face, but I wondered if it were Hansonwhom the veiled woman sought. I was half inclined to step out andaccost him: but I knew by experience what errors arise from a change inthe programme when an appointment has been planned. Possibly Hansonwas not the person who should meet me here, and in following the valetI might miss my aim. After a few seconds' hesitation I went back intothe tiny room and reluctantly closed the door.
It was a dull little hole, though clean. The walls or partitions whichdivided the place from others of its kind seemed to be of thin wood,papered with red and hung with cheap Chinese banners. Even the backwall was of wood, and boasted as decoration a large, ugly picture of aChinese hunter, in a bamboo frame. The only furniture consisted of twochairs, and a small table laid for two persons. In one of these chairsI sat, staring at the door, hoping that it might soon open for Hansonor another.
Hanson, I learned afterwards, had never intended to meet me or be seenby me. His business in the restaurant concerned me, to be sure, butonly indirectly: and catching sight of my face in the door of theprivate room, he had made a dash for the door of the street, to bestopped by the veiled woman on the threshold. The veil wasimpenetrable, but recognising the voice that spoke his name, he triedto shove her aside and escape. She seized his arms, however, obliginghim to stop inside the restaurant or risk a street scene. She inquiredwhy he had come to America, and if he had been with Sir Donald.
"No, your ladyship," the man stolidly answered to both questions,doubtless longing to ask some of his own in return. He mumbled that hehad come to New York after his master died, for no object connectedwith Sir Donald--merely wishing to "find a good job with some richAmerican," a wish not yet realised. When asked if he had seen andrecognised in the restaurant his master's old friend Lord John Hasle,at first he said, "No, he hadn't noticed anyone like him." But thenext words, following swiftly and excitedly, for some reason quickenedhis memory as if by magic.
"Well, he is there. I saw him go in!" the veiled Lady Allendaleinsisted. "I believe you know he is there. I'm sure there's a _woman_in the case!"
On this, Hanson admitted that he had seen "a man who looked a bit_like_ his lordship," and there was a woman with him, _not_ the kind ofwoman her ladyship would want to know.
"I've got to get somewhere in a hurry," he added, "but if I mightadvise, the best thing for your ladyship is to do the same--gosomewhere else, most _anywhere_ else, in a hurry too."
With this, he took advantage of a relaxed hold on his arm, and was offlike a frightened rabbit, old custom forcing him to touch his hat as hefled.
He doubtless hoped that Lady Allendale would be terrified intoabandoning her project, whatever it might be: and intended to disclaimresponsibility if she lingered. As it happened she did linger,summoning courage to enter the restaurant and take a table close to thedoor where, for an instant, she had seen me appear.
"He was looking for _her_!" Irene said to herself; and as no woman hadpassed in while she talked to Hanson in the street, she determined towait close to the door. It was almost incredible that Maida Odellshould come from the house of the Grey Sisterhood to such a place asthis, but Lady Allendale was in a mood when anything seemed possible.Anyhow, if it were not Maida, it was some other--some other about whoseexistence she might let Maida know--since Maida continued to writeletters to the guilty one! Irene ordered food as an excuse to keep thetable; but when it came she did little more than pretend to eat.Alternately she consulted her wrist-watch and frowned at the closeddoor.
All this time she supposed me to be sitting alone, fuming withimpatience for the arrival of an unexpected woman: but as a matter offact while she questioned Hanson the door had quickly opened and shut.It had admitted a man: and that man was with me when Lady Allendale satdown at her table near by to watch.
In appearance he was a Chinaman, a very tall, respectably dressedChinaman with a flat-brimmed hat shading his eyes, and a generouspigtail whipping his back. But his long dark eyes were not Chineseeyes, though Eastern they might be. He was magnificently made up, sowell that my impression of his falseness came by instinct rather thanby reason. I would have given much if my brain had carried away aclearer picture of the "man with the scar" from the theatre, on thefirst night of the play. If I could have got nearer to him then, thedifficulty of identifying him with Doctor Rameses might havedisappeared altogether, despite the Egyptian's genius for establishingan alibi whenever I clamoured to the police. Now, in trying to piercethe surface calm of the dark eyes I should have had certainty to goupon, one way or the other. As it was I could only ask myself, "Isthis the everlasting enemy? Or--am I a monom
aniac on that subject?"
If it were Rameses, I could hardly help admiring his impudence insending for and meeting face to face--even in disguise--the man whosebusiness in life it had become to ruin him.
"Good evening, sir," he began politely, with the accent of an educatedman and a suggestion of Chinese lisp--or a good imitation. "I am partowner of this place. I have come to know through my partner a sad caseof a client of his, a poor man who was a friend of yours in anothercountry. My partner is a good man but he is hard. He would have putthis fellow out and not cared; but I said, keep him and I will sendword to that friend he talks about, that Lord John Hasle. Maybesomething can be done to help. My partner did not wish me to do thisthing, because there might be danger for him, from the police. If yougo further, you will soon understand why. But I have been years inEngland. I know Englishmen. I said to my partner, if this lord isasked to come alone, in a hurry, for the sake of his friend, he willnot be a traitor. That is why I had to do things in a prudent way. Iwas right. You are here. But this is not all you have to do. Yougive me your word you will make no noise if I show you the secret ofour place?"
"As to that, I give you my word," I said, curious, but far fromtrustful. "The message I received hints that Sir Donald Allendaledidn't die. Is he here?"
"He is downstairs," replied the alleged Asiatic.
As he spoke, he touched one of the big, brass-headed tacks whichappeared crudely to keep in place the bamboo frame of the ChineseHunter. Instantly the picture moved out of the frame, like a slidingpanel, and showed an opening or door in the wooden wall at the back ofthe room.
I felt that the long eyes watched to see if I "funked," but I think myfeatures remained as noncommittal as those of Buddha himself. As amatter of fact I was scarcely surprised to find myself in one of thosesecret rabbit warrens of which I had read. I guessed that each of theprivate dining-rooms in the row I had seen, possessed a concealed doorleading down to a hidden "opium den" underneath. I guessed, too, thatonly certain trusted habitues of the restaurant were allowed to learnthe secret. Whether my being let into it were a compliment, or a signthat I shouldn't get a chance to betray it, I was not sure. But Iwished that I had looked to the loading of my revolver which, so far asI remembered, held no more than one cartridge. I fancied that myChinese friend was Rameses himself, and that he might indeed be afinancial "power behind the throne" in the business of this house.Deliberately I went to the table and selected a steel knife which laybeside one of the plates. The tall Chinaman watched me pocket it, witha benevolent smile, such as he might have bestowed upon a child armingitself with a tin sword to fight a shadow. As he stood statue-likebeside the aperture in the wall, two men in Chinese costume, dressedlike the waiters of the restaurant, came through the panel-door fromthe mysterious dusk on the other side. Each had a small tray in hishand, as if to serve at a meal. With a bow for my companion and anextra one for me they moved along the wall, one on either side of theroom, passing behind us both, and ranging themselves to right and leftof the exit to the restaurant.
It was obvious that they were ready to prevent my making a dash if Iwere inclined to do so. They were big fellows, regular "chuckers out"in size; and my host himself was more than my equal in height. All thesame, if I'd wanted to escape, I thought I could have downed the three,unless they were experts in ju jitsu, where I was an amateur. No suchintention, however, was in my mind. I determined to see the adventureto the end, in the hope of finding Allendale. He might have falleninto such hands as these, and be held for some reason which I hoped tolearn.
"After you!" I said politely to my guide who would have let me goahead. We bowed like Chinese mandarins, and then, as if to prove thathe meant no harm, he passed before me through the panel-door. Whetherthe two men closed it again in case of a police raid (which must alwaysbe dreaded in such a place) I don't know; but I guessed that they wereunder orders to follow at a distance.
There was just enough light in a narrow passage behind the panel toprevent those who entered it from stumbling over each other. I sawthat it was a long, straight corridor running between the wooden backwall of the row of private dining-rooms and the house wall. Such lightas there was came from the end of the passage, and from below, where itcould be turned off in case of danger. I followed my companion, ourfeet making no noise on the matting-covered floor: and voices of thosein the private rooms were audible through the thin partition. I smiledrather grimly for my own benefit as my fancy pictured a raid: how analarm would be sent to those below stairs: an electric bell, perhaps:and how those in a condition to move would swarm up from secret,forbidden regions underground, running like rats through this corridorto take their places in the row of dining-rooms. There they would befound, calmly eating and drinking: and unless the "sleuths" had certaininformation concerning the concealed doors, there would be no excuse tolook further!
At the far end of the passage, as I expected, there was a steepstairway. My guide still went in advance, as a proof of good faith.Having opened a baize door which muffled sound, he held it open for meto pass into a large room lit by green-shaded electric lamps that hungfrom the low ceiling. There was gas also, which could be used if theelectricity failed. Here, men were gambling, silent as gamblingghosts. They played fan tan and other games: Chinese and Europeans,both men and women. Nobody glanced up when we arrived. We might havebeen flies for all the interest we excited. I looked over my shoulderas we came to the head of a second staircase leading down anotherstorey, to see if the supposed "waiters" were behind us. They were notto be seen: nevertheless I "felt in my bones" that they were not faroff.
The floor below the gambling-room was devoted to the smoking of opium.There were several doors no doubt leading into private rooms for thosewho could pay high prices: and ranged along the two side walls wererows of berths protected by curtains. Two "cooks" were at work makingthe pills to fill the pipes, handed to customers by attendants. Therewas practically no furniture in the large, low room, which was filledwith the peculiar, heady fragrance of cooking opium.
Yet even then we had not reached our destination. A third staircaseled down to a deeper cellar; and I could but think as I continued thegame of "follow my leader," what a neat trap the fly was allowing thespider to land him in! However, I went quietly on, consoling myselfwith the thought that it's a wise fly who is up to the spider's tricksand watching for the lid of the trap to fall.
This last cellar was evidently for the cheapest class of customers.There were berths here too, but the curtains were poor, ornon-existent, and many Chinamen lay about the floor on strips ofmatting. The atmosphere was foetid, and thick with opium smoke. As wemoved towards a rough partition at the further end, our figures torethe grey cloud as if it had been made of gauze.
"Your friend lies very sick in a room there," said my guide, speakingfor the first time since he had stepped through the panel. "We havepaid for his keep a long time now."
I made no answer, only following with my eyes the gesture he made,pointing at the unpainted wooden partition. In this partition werethree doors, also of rough, unpainted wood. Two stood ajar, showingsmall rooms which I fancied were used by the attendants and opium"cooks." One door was closed. My companion opened it, indicating,with a smile, that it possessed no lock, only an old-fashioned latch."You need not fear to go in and talk with your friend alone," he said,in his low, monotonous voice. "You see, he is not a prisoner! And wecannot make you one."
I shrugged my shoulders, and passed him without a word, shutting thedoor behind me as I entered the wretched den on the other side. It waslit by one paraffin lamp, supported by a bracket attached to the wall,and such light as existed brought out from the shadows the vaguelumpish shape of a mattress on the floor. Two or three odds and endsof furniture lurked in corners, but I scarcely saw their squalor. Myone thought was for a dark form stretched on the grey heap of bedding.
I bent over it, and a hand seemed to grip my heart. "My God, poor oldDon! W
hat have they done to you?" I broke out.
A skeleton in rags lay on the filthy mattress. The yellow light fromthe bracket lamp lit his great eyes as they suddenly opened, in deephollows. Even his face looked fleshless. There were streaks of greyin the dark hair at his temples, and an unkempt beard mingled with theshadows under his cheekbones. This was what remained of DonaldAllendale, one of the smartest and handsomest men in the army.
He stared at me dully for an instant, his eyes like windows of glassWith no intelligence behind them. Then abruptly they seemed to comealive. "Jack!" he gasped. "Am I--dreaming you?"
"No, dear old chap, no," I assured him, down on one knee by themattress, slipping an arm under his head. "It's Jack right enough,come to take you out of this and make you the man you were again."
As I spoke, slowly and distinctly, so that the comforting words mightreach his sick soul, I heard a faint, stealthy noise outside. Therewas a slight squeak as of iron scraping against wood, and in a flash Iguessed what had happened. My guide had made a point of showing thatthe door could not be locked; and I, like a fool--in my haste to seeDon--hadn't sought other means of fastening it, more efficient than anylock. I guessed that a bar of wood or iron had now been placed acrossthe door, the two ends in rungs or brackets which I had passedunnoticed.
"Well!" I said to myself, "the mischief's done. No use kicking againstthe pricks till I'm ready to kick. And I shan't be ready till I'veseen what can be done for Allendale."
The worst of it was that as I'd allowed myself to be trapped, it wasdifficult to see how anything could be done. My theory that I'd beenlet into a secret, because I should never be in a position to betrayit, seemed to be the true one. But my fury at Donald's state gave me asense of superabundant strength. I felt like Samson, able to pull downthe pillars of the Temple.
"You're--too late!" the man on the mattress sighed, his voice strangeand weak, sounding almost like a voice speaking through a telephone at"long distance." "But I'm glad to see you, Jack! I've thought of you.I've longed for you. Tell me--about Irene. Does she--believe I'mdead?"
"She's in New York, dear old boy," I said, evading his question.
His eyes lighted. It seemed that a faint colour stained his ash-whitecheeks. "She came--to look for me! Oh, Jack, she did love me, then!"
"Of course," I answered truly enough: for she _had_ loved him beforeeverything went wrong. Even if I hadn't been as sure of Don's loyaltyas of my own, I should have known by the radiance of his face. If hehad stolen her jewels, he would not be coming back from death to lifein the illusion that love had brought her across the sea.
"Thank God!" he breathed. "I can die in peace--but no, not yet.There's a thing I must tell you first, It's the thing they've kept mehere to get out of me. They've tried every way they knew--torture,starvation, bribes of freedom; everything. They'd have killed me longago, only if they had they could never have got the secret. But--howis it you're here? Is it another trick of theirs?"
As soon as I heard the word "secret" the mystery was clear. I was thecatspaw with which the chestnuts were to be pulled out of the fire. IfDoctor Rameses was the man who held us both, his intention wasevidently to kill two birds, two rare and valuable birds, with onestone. How he had got Donald Allendale into his clutches I didn't knowyet, though I soon should: but having him, and learning that he and Ihad been friends, he saw how to trap me securely and through me learnDon's secret.
Almost without telling I knew that the secret must concern Irene'sjewels, which were worth at least twenty thousand pounds; a haul not tobe despised. Bending over Don, I lifted my head and looked around. Iwas sure that a knothole in the wooden wall had come into being withinthe last five minutes. If there'd been an aperture there, it had beenstuffed with rags, now noiselessly withdrawn. It was distant not ayard from Donald's face as he lay on the mattress, and a personcrouching on the floor outside could catch every word, unless wewhispered. Somebody had deduced that the prisoner would open his heartto me. The "secret" would thus become the property of those whocoveted it; and once it was in their possession Donald and I could besuppressed. Thus the two birds would be felled with that one cleverlydirected stone--so cleverly directed that I was sure of the hand whichhad placed it in the sling.
It was a case of kill or cure, to startle poor Don; but there was noother way, and I took the one I saw. "Yes," I said, "they got me hereby a trick, but I don't regret coming. On the contrary. They--whoeverthey are--want to hear what you tell me. But we can prevent that. Letme help you to the other side of the mattress farther from thatknothole, and you'll whisper what you have to say. If that annoysanyone--I know there are people made nervous by whispering!--why, theycan come in, and get a warm welcome. Put the story into few words; andthen we'll be prepared for the next thing."
It was a tonic I had given him. He threw a look of disgust and rage atthe knothole, which was dark because, no doubt, the lights had beenturned down outside to make our cubicle seem lighter. Sitting upwithout my help, Don flung himself to the other side of the mattress;and as I knelt beside him, whispered. Unless they had a concealeddictaphone the secret was safe.
As I advised, this man raised from the dead, told his story in fewwords. On shipboard, coming to America, he had been taken over theship one day, by the first officer. To his astonishment, he recognisedHanson, his valet, in a rather clumsy disguise, travelling secondclass. Controlling himself, he appeared not to notice: but as Hansonhad refused to make the voyage in his service, there must be somecurious motive for this ruse. Don could not guess it, but he had onceoverheard a conversation between Hanson and Pauline which told him thatthey were more than friends. Don didn't like Pauline, and believedthat she had set her mistress against him. After a little thought, hedetermined to spring a surprise on Hanson. He learned the name underwhich the valet was travelling, found out that the man had a state-roomto himself; and the night after his discovery opened the door andabruptly walked in. He expected to catch Hanson unawares and surprisea confession; but the room was empty. Don was amazed to see under theberth a dressing-bag which had belonged to Irene. He could not believeshe had given it to Pauline or to Hanson, as it had been a present toher from a friend. It flashed into his head that the thing had beenstolen, and that it might have valuable contents. Acting on impulse,he took the bag and returned to his own cabin. There he opened it withone of his own keys, and found most of his wife's jewellery.
This happened on the night when the ship docked. Don meant totelegraph Irene next day; and was debating whether to have Hansonarrested on board ship, or catechise him first. He determined upon thelatter course, as he wished to learn if Pauline were involved in thetheft. He wrote a note and sent it to Hanson, saying that his onechance lay in confession and that he--Sir Donald--would talk with himon the dock. The man kept the appointment, begged his ex-master'sforgiveness, told a long story of temptation, exonerated Pauline, andpromised to reform. Don, who had been fond of Hanson and valued him asa servant, decided that, as he now had the jewels in his ownpossession, he could afford to be generous. He bade the fellow "go andsin no more": and as far as Hanson was concerned, considered theepisode closed. The dressing-bag he gave with other luggage to anexpress man to take to his hotel, but the jewels (a rope of pearls, aflexible tiara of diamonds, and a number of brooches, pendants andrings) he had put (congratulating himself on his own prudence) into atobacco pouch in a pocket of his coat. He engaged a taxi, giving thename of a hotel; and had no suspicion that anything was wrong until herealised that, instead of leaving poor streets behind, he was beingdriven through a maze of slums. Not knowing New York, he still hopedthat his chauffeur had chosen an unattractive short cut: but instinctcried loudly that he was the victim of a trick. Fancying that the taxislowed down, he took the tobacco-pouch from his pocket and searched fora place to hide it, in case of trouble. He happened to find a curiousrepository. Lifting the leather cushion which formed the seat, hediscovered an inconspicuous rip
in the leather binding of the loweredge. He clawed out a piece of horsehair stuffing, threw it from thewindow, and tucked the tobacco-pouch into the hole that was left.Knowing the number of the taxi (Don was always great at rememberingnumbers) he could inform the police if necessary! Whereas, if all werewell, and he found himself arriving safely at his destination he wouldtake out the bag and laugh at his own suspicions.
No sooner had he hidden the valuables, however, than the taxi stopped.The chauffeur civilly informed him that a tyre was down, and apologisedfor having to stop in such a poor neighbourhood. The fellow seemed sofrank, that Donald was ashamed of his own timidity. He stuck his headout of the window to speak with the man at work, and--remembered nomore, till he came to himself in his present surroundings.
How long ago that was, he could not tell. He had waked to find severewounds on his head, and fancied that he had been delirious. He hadthought constantly of Irene, and bitterly regretted their quarrels. Itoccurred to him (as to me in hearing the story) that Hanson had crossedon Sir Donald Allendale's ship with the jewels, intending by the helpof Pauline at home, to throw suspicion on his master.
My evasive answers and the news of Irene's presence in New York, gaveDon new life and courage to fight for it, believing that through allshe had kept her love and faith. I, alas, knew that this was not thecase; but I hoped that Irene's heart would turn to him again if hisinnocence were proved. "You _must_ get out of this for her sake," Iurged. "Besides, I shan't try to escape without you. We stand or falltogether."
"If I can find strength enough not to hinder instead of help!" hegroaned. "But there's little chance for either of us. For heavenknows how long they've kept me chained to the wall. To-night, theChinaman who takes care of me after a fashion unlocked the iron ringthat was on my ankle. You can see the mark it's made! I wondered whatwas up, but thought as I was so weak, it was no longer worth while towaste the chain on me. Now I see they took it off because they didn'twant you to see at first glance that I was a prisoner, not a_pensionaire_. The fact that they've left me free shows they've takentheir precautions, though!"
"Perhaps they haven't taken enough," said I, still whispering as hedid, that ears outside might strain in vain.
I rose from my knees, and began to look for the iron staple which Iknew must exist. I soon found it in the solid wall at the back of theroom; with the chain and the iron ankle-band attached. A heap of strawand rags had been used to cover these from sight. No effort of Don'swasted muscles could suffice to pull out the staple, as his gaolersknew: and as for my strength, it had not occurred to them that I mightuse it in that direction. Probably no one dreamed that blind Samsonwould pull down the pillars!
I made Don move to a position where his body blocked the knothole, andunless there was another, which I failed to see, I could work withoutbeing overlooked. Grasping the iron ring, with all my might I pulledand jerked at the staple till I loosened it in the wall. The rest waseasy: and sooner than I'd dared hope I had in my hand a formidableweapon. If there were a chance of smashing the partition and breakingout on the other side, it lay in that. Also, it might be usefulafterwards, for if we got into the main cellar, our troubles would bebut just begun. Practically my one hope was that the men told off todeal with us might be cowards.
As for smashing the door, there was "nothing doing" there for us,because of the bar certainly securing it. On examination, however, therough plank supporting the bracket lamp looked rotten. It had crackedwhen the bracket was nailed up, and had never been mended. This wasgood; and I had a plan too, in which the lamp itself was to play apart. I took it from the bracket, and set it carefully on a ricketystool which I propped against the back wall. Then I whispered to Don:"Now for it! If I break through, I'll try and get hold of that baracross the door. If I do, it will be another weapon: and besides, wecan make a quick dash. Here's my revolver for you. There's only onecartridge in it; but nobody else knows that. And here's a knife Istole upstairs. I'll have the iron staple and chain which will make agood killing, and the bar too, if we're in luck."
"They may shoot through the partition when they find what we're up to,"said Don.
"They haven't got their precious secret yet!" I reminded him. "They'lltry and take us alive, and we'll give them a hot time doing it!"
To weaken the cracked plank, I wrenched off the bracket, and had thejoy of hearing the wood tear as if a saw had bitten through. Then Idealt blow after blow on the wounded spot, and when the wood began togive I flung my weight against it. The noise drowned lesser sounds,but I was conscious of a babble of voices like the chatter of angrymonkeys. Down went the upper half of the broken plank, and the onenext it gave way. It was close to the door, and reaching out an arm Ifound the bar. Luckily it was held by a pair of wooden horns, for hadit been slipped into rings I could not have succeeded. As it was aChinaman jabbed at my hand with a knife: but I surprised him with asmashing blow over the eyes, and seized the bar before he came at meagain. Instantly I had it out of the sockets, the door (which Don hadunlatched) fell open, and I burst through like a whirlwind, with himbehind me, carrying the lamp I'd yelled to him to bring.
Half a dozen Chinamen stood lined up to beat us back. Two withpistols, two armed with axes, and the one I had tackled brandishing hiscarving-knife. I went for the pair with the pistols. My iron barcracked a shaved head like an egg-shell, and broke the hand of hismate. One dropped his weapon without a groan, the other let his fallwith a yelp: and Don, unexpectedly darting forward, snatched up boththe pistols. Thrusting one into my free hand he kept the other. Wewere thus doubly armed, and together made a rush for the stairs, Ikeeping my eyes open for a surprise attack from my late guide.
At the foot of the steps, I let Don lead with my revolver and the bigpistol, while I backed up stair by stair, keeping off the four Chinamenwho were still intact. It seemed too good to be true that we were toget away so easily. Perhaps, I thought, the tug-of-war would come onthe floor above: but it was the enemy's game to finish us before wegained a higher level. Here, the sound of shots could not reach thestreet; and the witnesses of the fight were so besotted with theirdrug, so lost to decency, that even if they woke to see strange doings,all would be woven with their dreams. Above, there was more to fear;some of the clients were still alive to human feeling: they might takeour part. An alarm might reach the police. Why then, if Rameses werethe hidden enemy, did he let his best chance go by? Almostsubconsciously I asked myself these questions, and half way up thestairs, my answer came. Men shielded with mattresses flung themselvesupon us from above. They in turn were pushed forward by others and Donand I fell back. I tried to use the iron bar like a battering ram, butthe weight I struggled against was too great. I stumbled, with Don ontop of me; there was a sound of shouting, and suddenly the lights wentout. I struggled in darkness with unseen enemies, as in a nightmare.
* * * * *
Two storeys above, in the restaurant, Irene Allendale sat pretending toeat, and glancing at her watch until she lost patience. It occurred toher that she had been a fool--that the woman she waited for might havearrived before her, might already be in the little private room, diningwith John Hasle. She sprang up and on a furious impulse flung open thedoor which she had so long watched in vain. To her astonishment theroom was empty.
This seemed a miracle; for she knew that John Hasle had gone in andhadn't come out. As she stood staring at the empty room which seemedto have no second exit, the Chinese proprietor came to her with athreatening air. "You do what we no 'low this place," he saidbullyingly. "That plivate loom. You no pay plivate loom. You nolight look in. You give me five dolahs you' dinnah, and you go 'way.We no like spies. You go, if you no want I call p'lice."
Already hysterical, Irene lost her head. "How dare you talk ofpolice!" she cried. "_I_ will call the police! You've very likelymurdered a friend of mine here and hidden his body."
The man had threatened her in a low voice. Sh
e threatened him at thetop of her lungs. The diners at little tables jumped to their feet.The Chinaman tried to catch her by the veil as she darted to the door,but only pulled off her motor bonnet and loosened her hair, whichtumbled over her shoulders. In an instant the place was in an uproar.An American in defence of a beautiful woman knocked the Chinaman down.A policeman passing the restaurant window blew his whistle, and hadhardly dashed in before he had a couple of comrades at his heels.
Nobody knew quite what had happened, but Lady Allendale gasped the word"Murder!" and pointed to the open door of the private room. In jumpedtwo of the policemen, while the third tried to restore order in therestaurant. A glance under the table in the little dining-room showedthat no corpse lay hidden there, but the lovely lady's persistence putthe idea of a secret entrance into their heads. One of them thumpedwith his fist on the picture of the Chinese hunter. The hollow soundsuggested a space behind. An experienced hand passed over the bambooframe found a spring, and the panel slid back. Somehow the cry of"Murder!" started by Irene flew from mouth to mouth. More policemenappeared, and Europeans who had been peacefully dining in therestaurant reinforced the courageous pair who had sprung through theopening behind the picture. So the rescue-party reached us in the nickof time, policemen's lanterns lighting up the darkness, revealingstealthy flitting forms that would escape at any price, and a mass ofmen struggling under and above a pile of mattresses.
My first thought (after I had seen that Don was safe) rushed toRameses. But the tall Chinaman with the long dark eyes was not amongthe prisoners. That night (the police gleefully informed me later)Doctor Rameses was engaged in giving a lecture at his own house, andcould not possibly have been in Chinatown. As usual, he had known howto save himself; and it was only long after that I learned theremarkable way in which he invariably established an alibi.
My hope for the reconciliation of Don and Irene was fulfilled evenbefore the overwhelming proof of his truth was obtained by finding thetobacco-pouch intact, still hidden inside the seat of the ancient taxiwhose number Don had never forgotten. The man who had driven it thenight of the attack had been discharged, and could not be found.Hanson, too, contrived to elude the vigilance of the police, andPauline passionately denied all knowledge of him. She was watched whenLady Allendale sent her away, but returned quietly to Europe, whileIrene remained in New York to help nurse Donald back to health. WithHanson and his accomplice of the taxi missing, and the Master Mind pastpursuit, it was impossible to clear up the mystery of the corpse foundfloating in the East River. But after all, that mattered only to thepolice, now that Captain Sir Donald Allendale was alive and safe, andhappier than he had been for years.
The day that Irene and he made up their differences, she sent for me."You won't tell Don that I said I hated him and threw his picture onthe floor, will you?" she asked me piteously.
"Of course not!" I assured her.
"Ah, if I could atone!" she sighed.
"You have atoned. You saved our lives, and----"
"Oh, but you don't know all. If you did, you'd loathe me."
"I can think of nothing which would make me loath you, Lady Allendale."
"I--made Miss Odell believe--that--that--I can't tell you _what_!But--never mind. I've written to her now. I've confessed that it wasa lie. If you wouldn't press me with questions, but just wait to hearfrom her, you'd be an _angel_, Lord John."
How long I could have remained an angel at that price I'm not sure.But a letter came to me from Maida next day to say that she had decided_not_ to become a life member of the Grey Sisterhood.