village and passed the inn withthe red blinds I kept a wary eye, fearing lest Tramu might be in thevicinity.
That it was he who had been making inquiry of the landlord there was nodoubt. In what manner the French police had gained knowledge of thewoman Olliffe's address I knew not, and why he was in England watchingher, was equally a mystery. One fact was evident--namely, that theParis Surete had some serious charge against her; and further, that shemust be all unconscious of the presence of the renowned police-agent.
Should I discover any hint or gain anything by giving her warning? Iasked myself.
No; she was far too clever for that. If, as I had suspected, she hadhad any hand in poor Guy's death, then it was only right that theinquiries and action of the police should not be interfered with.Again, was it not a highly suspicious circumstance that, with herhusband--the man King, who posed as her brother--together with astranger, she had returned home at that early hour in a car, a few hoursafter a car had left the King's Wood, half a mile from my own house?
I passed through the village unobserved, and out again up the steephill, until I came to that low wall behind which lay the partsurrounding Ridgehill Manor--that same wall from which a few weeksbefore I had obtained my first sight of the house of the adventuress.Fortunately, the night had become cloudy, threatening rain, and the moonwas hidden. So, mounting the wall, I entered the park and walked acrosstowards the broad lawn in front of the manor. A dry ditch separated thelawn from the park to prevent cattle from approaching, and this Ipresently negotiated, at last standing upon the lawn itself. Near by, Isaw a weeping ash, and beneath its bell-like branches I paused and therewaited.
From where I stood I could see into the big lighted drawing-room, theblinds of which were up, but there was no one within, though the Frenchwindows stood open.
I could hear voices--of the servants, most probably--and the clatter ofdishes being washed after dinner. But the night was very still; not aleaf stirred in the dark belt of firs which lay on my left, and whichpresently afforded me better shelter, allowing me to approach nearer thehouse.
The night-mists were rising, and the air had become chilly. Certainlythis woman of many adventures, even though she were a convictedcriminal, managed to live amid delightful surroundings.
As the evening wore on I caught a glimpse of her crossing the room in ablack low-cut dinner-dress edged with silver--a truly handsome gown.She swept up to the piano, and next moment there fell upon my ear themusic of one of the latest waltzes of musical comedy.
Then her husband, cigar in hand and in well-cut evening-dress, came tothe French window, looked out upon the night, and retired again.
But after that I saw nothing until an hour later, when the butler closedthe window carefully and bolted it, and then one by one the lights inthe lower portion of the fine mansion disappeared and those upstairswere lit. Two windows, evidently the double windows of a corner-roomopposite me, were lit brilliantly behind a green holland blind, but halfan hour later they also were extinguished.
I glanced at my watch. It was then half-past eleven, and the house wasin total darkness. Yet I still waited, wondering vaguely if Tramu werestill in the vicinity.
I found an old tree-stump, and sitting upon it, waited in watchfulpatience, wondering if the agent of French police would make hisappearance. Suddenly, however, a bright stream of light, evidently froman electric torch, shot from one of the upstairs windows, and continuedfor some seconds. Then it was shut off again, only to be renewed abouta minute later.
It was a signal, and could be seen from the high road!
My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused, and I moved cautiously acrossthe lawn to such a position that I could see any one leaving orapproaching the house by the drive.
Again I waited for fully twenty minutes, when a slight movement causedme to turn, and I saw the figure of a woman hurrying along the side ofthe lawn in the shadow of the belt of firs. At first I was puzzled asto who it might be, but presently, when she was compelled to pass out ofthe shadow into the grey light cast by the clouded moon, I saw that itwas the woman who called herself Olliffe. She wore a dark dress with adark shawl thrown over her head.
In her eager hurry she had not noticed my presence as I stood there inthe shadow; therefore, when she had passed out into the misty park withits dark clump of trees, I quickly followed with noiseless tread overthe dewy grass.
She had evidently signalled to somebody, unknown to her husband!
Straight across the wide grass-lands I followed until she gained a spotwhere a stile gave entrance to a dark wood on the opposite side of thepark. There she halted, and I was only just in time to draw back in theshadow and hide myself.
I watched, and a few minutes later I was startled at hearing thatpeculiar whistle of Shaw's, and next moment he emerged from the wood andjoined her.
"Well, what's the fear?" I heard him ask her quickly. "I had your wirethis morning, and got to Bath by the last train. Couldn't you havewritten?"
"No; it was highly dangerous," was her low response; and then sheuttered some quick explanation which I could not catch.
Was it possible that she had learnt of Tramu's visit, for I distinctlyheard him cry--
"You fool! Why did you bring me here? Why weren't you more wary?"
But in her reply she turned her back upon me, so that I could notdistinguish her words.
They stood close together in the darkness, conversing in low tones, asthough in earnest consultation, while I, holding my breath, strove invain to catch their words.
The only other sound was the mournful hooting of an owl in the treesabove; for the dead stillness of the night was now upon everything.
"Exactly," I heard the woman say. "My own opinion is that he suspects.Therefore you must act quickly--as before."
"I--I am hesitating," the man's voice replied. "I can't bring myself todo it. I really can't!"
"Bosh! Then leave it to me," she urged, in a hard, rasping voice."You're becoming timid--chicken-hearted. It isn't like you, surely."
"I'm not timid," he protested. "Only I foresee danger--great danger."
"So do I--if you don't act promptly. Get her away from Bournemouth. Goanywhere else you like."
They were speaking of Asta! I strained my ears, but her further wordswere inaudible.
In a moment, however, I became conscious of a slight stealthy movementin the bushes near where I was standing, and turned my head quickly.
The next second I realised that only a few yards distant from me thedark figure of a man had come up through the undergrowth, but socarefully that he had made no noise.
He stood ten yards away, peering out at the pair, but all unconscious ofmy presence there. He was watching intently, and by his silhouette inthe darkness I recognised the bearded face of none other than the greatagent of the Paris Surete, Victor Tramu!
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
IN THE NIGHT.
Fearing lest his quick eye should detect my presence, I stood theremotionless as a statue.
The pair, in earnest conversation, suddenly strolled away over thefallen leaves at the edge of the wood, whereupon Tramu emerged silentlyfrom his hiding-place and crept after them, I being compelled to remainwhere I was.
So the French police had traced Shaw to his place of concealment!
I longed to give him warning, but was unable. What should I do? Howshould I act?
Asta was at the Bath Hotel at Bournemouth. At least I could ring her upon the telephone, and tell her what I had seen! So the watcher and thewatched having disappeared, I hurried across the park until at length Igained the main road, and went on at a brisk pace till I was back againat my hotel.
It took me a full hour to get on to Bournemouth, and after long delay Iat last heard her sweet, well-remembered voice at the instrument.
I expressed regret at awakening her, but told her that I was leaving bymotor in half an hour to meet her.
"Where is your father?" I inquired.
/> "I don't exactly know. He left me at Burford Bridge Hotel, at Box Hill,last Monday, and I came here to await him. Five days have gone, andI've had no letter."
"Then he hasn't been to Bournemouth?"
"No."
"Well," I said, "do not go out of the hotel until I arrive, will you?"
"Not if you wish me to remain in," was her reply; and then, promising Iwould be with her at the earliest moment, as I wished to see her on amatter of gravest importance, I rang off. Half an hour afterwards Ipaid my bill, even though it were the middle of the night, and going outto the garage, started my engine, and with my bag in the back of the carsped away in: the drizzling rain eastward out of Bath.
I chose the road through Norton St Philip, Warminster, and Wilton toSalisbury, where I had an early breakfast at the old White Hart, andthen, striking south, I went by Downton Wick and Fordingbridge, throughRingwood and