frequentlymade inquiry over the telephone to Lydford, yet, though I wrote to Davisat the Poste Restante at Charing Cross, I could learn no news of them.They had descended those back stairs of the hotel at Aix, anddisappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed them up.
One day in the middle of October, with sudden resolve to carry outNicholson's injunction to investigate, I drove over to Lydford, and onarrival, about noon, found all smart and well-kept as though its ownerwere in residence.
I told a rather lame story to the housekeeper, who, knowing me, came tome in the long, chintz-covered drawing-room, the blinds of which weredown. She had not heard from her master for a month past, thepleasant-faced woman explained. He was then in Aix. I said that I hadleft him there and returned to England, and was now anxious to discoverwhere he was.
Then, after a brief chat, I exhibited my left forefinger enveloped in anold glove, and told her that on my way I had some engine-trouble and hadhurt my finger.
"I believe Mr Shaw keeps up in his room a small medicine chest," Isaid, for I recollected that he once told me that he kept one there. "Iwonder if I might go up and try and find a piece of bandage."
"Certainly," replied Mrs Howard, and she led me upstairs to theapartment over the drawing-room, which I had come to Lydford for thepurpose of examining. It was a large, airy, and well-furnished room,with a big book-case at one end and a canary in a cage at the window.
Without much difficulty she discovered the small black japanned box,containing various surgical drugs and bandages, and I at once sent herdown to obtain a small bowl of warm water.
Then, the instant she had gone, I sought for the cupboard indicated bythe dead man's letter.
Yes, it was there, a long, narrow cupboard beside the fireplace, securedby two large locks of a complicated character such as one finds on safeor strongroom doors.
I bent and examined them thoroughly.
The bed, I noticed, was set so that the eyes of any one lying in itwould be upon that door.
What secret could be concealed there? What had the dead man suspected?Ay, what indeed?
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
"A FOREIGNER."
I remained a long time attending to my damaged finger--which in realityhad been injured a week before--at the same time thoroughlyinvestigating the missing man's apartment. Except for the cupboard,secured so mysteriously by those combination locks, there was nothingextraordinary about it. The outlook was pleasant across the wideundulating park, and the chairs with soft cushions and couch showedplainly that Harvey Shaw loved to take his ease.
In no hurry to depart, I chatted affably to Mrs Howard, wandering aboutthe big, old-fashioned home, into regions I had never been before.
"Poor Mr Nicholson used to stay here sometimes, didn't he?" I inquiredpresently, in a casual way.
"Oh yes, sir, the master used to delight in having the poor younggentleman here, sir. He used to have the blue room, nearly opposite MrShaw's--the one which looks out over the front drive. Poor MrNicholson! We all liked him so much. Wasn't it sad, sir?"
"Very sad, indeed," I said. "The blow must nearly have broken MissAsta's heart."
"Ah! It did, sir. At first I thought the poor child would have goneout of her mind. She was so devoted to him. Mr Shaw was also veryfond of him, I know, for I once heard him say that he was the only manhe would choose as Miss Asta's husband."
"When did he say that?"
"He was sitting in the smoking-room with a friend of his--one of thejustices--Sir Gilbert Campbell, one evening after dinner, about afortnight before the poor young gentleman died. I happened to be;passing and overheard his words."
I pondered for a moment. Either Shaw was a past-master in the art ofpreparing a _coup_, or else Guy's surmises were wrong. Here, in theintimacy of the family, it was declared that Shaw was devoted to Asta.Certainly my own observations went to confirm that supposition.
"I wonder who knows Mr Shaw's whereabouts?" I said presently. "I wantto communicate with him upon a very important matter."
"Well, sir, it's very funny that he hasn't written to me. He's neverbeen silent so long before."
"How long have you been with him?"
"Oh, about three years now, sir."
Then together we descended the broad oak staircase, and I went forthinto the beautiful gardens chatting with the old white-beardedhead-gardener, and going through the grape and peach houses, all ofwhich were most perfectly kept.
How strange, I reflected; what would this large staff of superiorservants think if they knew the truth--that their master, a man ofmystery, was a fugitive from justice--that he and Asta had crept downthe back stairs of an hotel and disappeared into the night while thepolice had entered from the front.
As I drove back in the evening through those autumn-tinted lanes, withsmiling meadows everywhere, I calmly reviewed the situation. After all,there was really no actually mysterious fact in Harvey Shaw having inhis bedroom a cupboard so securely locked. He, upon his own admission,led a double life, therefore it was only to be supposed that hepossessed a good many papers, even articles of clothing, perhaps, whichhe was compelled to hide from the prying eyes of his servants.
I recalled the whole of Guy's letter, and found that the chief point wasthe fact that he had solved the weird mystery of that strange hand--thatshadowy Something which I myself had witnessed, and against which I hadbeen warned by Arnold.
What was it?
But I put aside the puzzle. My chief thought was of Asta. Where couldshe be? Why had she not sent me word in secret of her hiding-place?She had, by tacit agreement, accepted me as her friend, hence I wasdisappointed at receiving no word from her.
That night, after reading my London paper over a cigar, as was my habit,I left the library about eleven o'clock and retired to my room.
I must have been sound asleep when, of a sudden, the electrical alarmwhich my father years ago had had placed upon the door of the big safein the library for greater security went off with a tremendous clatter,and I jumped up, startled.
Taking my revolver from a drawer in the dressing-table, I rang the bellin the servants' quarters and switched on my electric hand-lamp. Butalready the household was alarmed, and the dogs were barking furiouslyat the intruders, whoever they were.
Accompanied by my man Adams, I descended the front stairs and, revolverin hand, entered the library, the window of which stood open, whilebelow the safe door there lay upon the carpet a cheap bull's-eye lanternwith two cylinders containing gas and some other paraphernalia, showingthat the thieves were men of scientific method, for their intention had,I saw, been to use the oxy-hydrogen blow-pipe. The heads of some of therivets had been removed and a small hole drilled through the chilledsteel three-quarters of an inch thick.
All had gone well until they had touched the handle of the safe door,which had set off the alarm, the existence of which they had neversuspected. Then their only safety lay in flight, and they had escaped,leaving behind them the objects I have enumerated.
Adams telephoned for the police, while Tucker came up from the Lodge,and I let loose the dogs and went outside into the drive. But,unfortunately, the thieves were already safely away, and were not likelyto be caught, for in response to the telephonic message I was told thatthe rural constable was out on his beat, and was not expected back foranother couple of hours.
We three men, with several of the maid-servants, stood outside on thelawn discussing the affair with bated breath in the dead stillness ofthe night when, of a sudden, we distinctly heard in the far distancedown in the valley beyond the King's Wood the starting of a motor-carand the gradual faintness of the sound as it receded along the highroad.
"There they go!" I cried. "They came in a car, and it was awaitingthem at the foot of the hill near the Three Oaks crossways."
Then I rushed to the telephone instrument and spoke to thepolice-sergeant on duty in Newport Pagnell, asking him to stop any carapproaching from my house, informing him what
had occurred.
But half an hour later he rang up to tell me that no car had entered thetown from any direction; therefore it was apparent that in preference topassing through Newport Pagnell it had been turned into one of the sideroads and taken a cross-country route to some unknown destination.
I said nothing, but to me it was quite apparent that the object of theattempt upon my safe was the mysterious bronze cylinder, which I held intrust from Melvill Arnold.
When alone in the room I opened the safe with my key, and to mysatisfaction saw the battered ancient object still reposing there,together with the letters and the translation of the hieroglyphics.
Once again I took out the heavy cylinder, the greatest treasure of thestrange old fellow who had deliberately destroyed a fortune, and held itin my hand filled with wonder and bewilderment. What could it containthat would astonish the world? Surely nothing