CHAPTER XI
AFTER REMBRANDT
"Before we go any farther," Bell said, after a long pause, "I should liketo search the house from top to bottom. I've got a pretty sound theory inmy head, but I don't like to leave anything to chance. We shall be prettycertain to find something."
"I am entirely in your hands," David said, wearily. "So far as I amcapable of thinking out anything, it seems to me that we have to findthe woman."
"_Cherchez la femme_ is a fairly sound premise in a case like this, butwhen we have found the woman we shall have to find the man who is at thebottom of the plot. I mean the man who is not only thwarting the woman,but giving you a pretty severe lesson as to the advisability of mindingyour own business for the future."
"Then you don't think I am being made the victim of a vile conspiracy?"
"Not by the woman, certainly. You are the victim of some fiendishcounterplot by the man, who has not quite mastered what the woman isdriving at. By placing you in dire peril he compels the woman to speak tosave you, and thus to expose her hand."
"Then in that case I propose to sit tight," David said, grimly. "I ambound to be prosecuted for robbery and attempted murder in due course. Ifmy man dies I am in a tight place."
"And if he recovers your antagonist may be in a tighter," Bell chuckled."And if the man gets well and that brain injury proves permanent--I meanif the man is rendered imbecile--why, we are only at the very thresholdof the mystery. It seems a callous thing to say, but this is theprettiest problem I have had under my hands."
"Make the most of it," David said, sardonically. "I daresay I should seethe matter in a more rational light if I were not so directly concerned.But, if we are going to make a search of the premises, the sooner westart the better."
Upstairs there was nothing beyond certain lumber. There were dust anddirt everywhere, save in the hall and front dining-room, which, asBell sapiently pointed out, had obviously been cleared to make readyfor Steel's strange reception. Down in the housekeeper's room was alarge collection of dusty furniture, and a number of pictures andengravings piled with their faces to the wall. Bell began idly to turnthe latter over.
"I am a maniac on the subject of old prints," he explained. "I never seea pile without a wild longing to examine them. And, by Jove, there aresome good things here. Unless I am greatly mistaken--here, Steel, pull upthe blinds! Good heavens, is it possible?"
"Found a Sistine Madonna or a stray Angelo?" David asked. "Or a ghost?What _is_ the matter? Is it another phase of the mystery?"
"The Rembrandt," Bell gasped. "Look at it, man!"
Steel bent eagerly over the engraving. An old print, an old piece ofchina, an antique jewel, always exercised a charm over the novelist. Hehad an unerring eye for that kind of thing.
"Exquisite," he cried. "A Rembrandt, of course, but I don't recollectthe picture."
"The picture was destroyed by accident after Rembrandt had engraved itwith his own hand," Bell proceeded to explain. He was quite coherent now,but he breathed fast and loud, "I shall proceed to give you the historyof the picture presently, and more especially a history of theengraving."
"Has it any particular name?" David asked.
"Yes, we found that out. It was called 'The Crimson Blind!'"
"No getting away from the crimson blind," David murmured. "Still, I canquite imagine that to have been the name of the picture. That shutteror blind might have had a setting sun behind it, which would accountfor the tender warmth of the kitchen foreground and the deep gloomwhere the lovers are seated. By Jove, Bell, it is a magnificent pieceof work. I've a special fancy for Rembrandt engravings, but I never sawone equal to that."
"And you never will," Bell replied, "save in one instance. The pictureitself was painted in Rembrandt's modest lodging in the KeizerskroonTavern after the forced sale of his paintings at that hostel in the year1658. At that time Rembrandt was painfully poor, as his recorded tavernbills show. The same bills also disclose the fact that 'The CrimsonBlind' was painted for a private customer with a condition that thesubject should be engraved as well. After one impression had been takenoff the plate the picture was destroyed by a careless servant. In asudden fit of rage Rembrandt destroyed the plate, having, they say, onlytaken one impression from it."
"Then there is only one of these engravings in the world? What a find!"
"There is one other, as I know to my cost," Bell said, significantly."Until a few days ago I never entertained the idea that there were two.Steel, you are the victim of a vile conspiracy, but it is nothing to theconspiracy which has darkened my life."
"Sooner or later I always felt that I should get to the bottom of themystery, and now I am certain of it. And, strange as it may seem, Iverily believe that you and I are hunting the same man down--that the oneman is at the bottom of the two evils. But you shall hear my storypresently. What we have to find out now is who was the last tenant andwho is the present owner of the house, and incidentally learn who thislumber belongs to. Ah, this has been a great day for me!"
Bell spoke exultingly, a great light shining in his eyes. And Davidsapiently asked no further questions for the present. All that he wantedto know would come in time. The next move, of course, was to visit theagent of the property.
A smart, dapper little man, looking absurdly out of place in anexceedingly spacious office, was quite ready to give every information.It was certainly true that 218, Brunswick Square, was to be let at anexceedingly low rent on a repairing lease, and that the owner had a lotmore property in Brighton to be let on the same terms. The lady wasexceedingly rich and eccentric; indeed, by asking such low rents she wasdoing her best to seriously diminish her income.
"Do you know the lady at all?" Bell asked.
"Not personally," the agent admitted. "So far as I can tell, the propertycame into the present owner's hands some years ago by inheritance. Theproperty also included a very old house, called Longdean Grange, not farfrom Rottingdean, where the lady, Mrs. Henson, lives at present. Nobodyever goes there, nobody ever visits there, and to keep the place freefrom prying visitors a large number of savage dogs are allowed to prowlabout the grounds."
Bell listened eagerly. Watching him, David could see that his eyesglinted like points of steel. There was something subtle behind all thiscommon-place that touched the imagination of the novelist.
"Has 218 been let during the occupation of the present owner?"Bell asked.
"No," the agent replied. "But the present owner--as heir to theproperty--I am told, was interested in both 218 and 219, which used to bea kind of high-class convalescent home for poor clergy and the widows anddaughters of poor clergy in want of a holiday. The one house was for themen and the other for the women, and both were furnished exactly alike;in fact, Mr. Gates's landlord, the tenant of 219, bought the furnitureexactly as it stands when the scheme fell through."
Steel looked up swiftly. A sudden inspiration came to him.
"In that case what became of the precisely similar furniture in218?" he asked.
"That I cannot tell you," the agent said. "That house was let as it stoodto some sham philanthropist whose name I forget. The whole thing was afraud, and the swindler only avoided arrest by leaving the country.Probably the goods were stored somewhere or perhaps seized by somecreditor. But I really can't say definitely without looking the matterup. There are some books and prints now left in the house out of thewreck. We shall probably put them in a sale, only they have beenoverlooked. The whole lot will not fetch L5."
"Would you take L5 for them?" Bell asked.
"Gladly. Even if only to get them carted away."
Bell gravely produced a L5 note, for which he asked and received areceipt. Then he and Steel repaired to 218 once more, whence theyrecovered the Rembrandt, and subsequently returned the keys of the houseto the agent. There was an air of repressed excitement about Bell whichwas not without its effect upon his companion. The cold, hard linesseemed to have faded from Bell's face; there was a brightness about himthat ad
ded to his already fine physical beauty.
"And now, perhaps, you will be good enough to explain," David suggested.
"My dear fellow, it would take too long," Bell cried. "Presently I amgoing to tell you the story of the tragedy of my life. You have doubtlesswondered, as others have wondered, why I dropped out of the road when thegoal was in sight. Well, your curiosity is about to be gratified. I amgoing to help you, and in return you are going to help me to come backinto the race again. By way of a start, you are going to ask me to comeand dine with you to-night."
"At half-past seven, then. Nothing will give me greater pleasure."
"Spoken like a man and a brother. We will dine, and I will tell you mystory after the house is quiet. And if I ask you to accompany me on amidnight adventure you will not say me nay?"
"Not in my present mood, at any rate. Adventure, with a dash of danger init, suits my present mood exactly. And if there is to be physicalviolence, so much the better. My diplomacy may be weak, but physically Iam not to be despised in a row."
"Well, we'll try and avoid the latter, if possible," Bell laughed."Still, for your satisfaction, I may say there is just the chance of ascrimmage. And now I really must go, because I have any amount of work todo for Gates. Till half-past seven, _au revoir_."
Steel lighted a cigarette and strolled thoughtfully homewards along thefront. The more he thought over the mystery the more tangled it became.And yet he felt perfectly sure that he was on the right track. Thediscovery that both those houses had been furnished exactly alike at onetime was a most important one. And David no longer believed that he hadbeen to No. 219 on the night of the great adventure. Then he foundhimself thinking about Ruth Gates's gentle face and lovely eyes, until helooked up and saw the girl before him.
"You--you wanted to speak to me?" he stammered.
"I followed you on purpose," the girl said, quietly, "I can't tell youeverything, because it is not my secret to tell. But believe meeverything will come out right in the end. Don't think badly of me, don'tbe hard and bitter because--"
"Because I am nothing of the kind," David smiled. "It is impossible tolook into a face like yours and doubt you. And I am certain that you areacting loyally and faithfully for the sake of others who--"
"Yes, yes, and for your sake, too. Pray try and remember that. For yoursake, too. Oh, if you only knew how I admire and esteem you! If only--"
She paused with the deep blush crimsoning her face. David caught herhand, and it seemed to him for a moment that she returned the pressure.
"Let me help you," he whispered. "Only be my friend and I will forgiveeverything."
She gave him a long look of her deep, velvety eyes, she flashed him alittle smile, and was gone.