observant, Mr Kemball," he exclaimed, with a slightgrin. "Yes, I am in danger--grave danger at this moment; and how toescape I know not."
"Escape from what?"
"From arrest."
"Is that young-looking man a police-officer?" I asked, much surprised.
"Yes; he's older than he looks. I ought never to have dared to go toTotnes."
"Why not Totnes?" I asked.
"I was lying low--for a certain reason, Mr Kemball. All of us have towash in dirty water sometimes, you know," he smiled grimly. "You are anhonest man, no doubt--I too was, once."
"And now the police are in search of you--eh?"
I asked. So my estimate of the man was not very far wrong.
He nodded slowly in the affirmative.
A silence fell between us. This discovery, coupled with Arnold'smysterious connection with the trial of the adventuress who calledherself Lady Lettice Lancaster, caused me to ponder. Arnold had warnedme not to trust him entirely.
The train was now rushing down the incline, and in a few moments wouldbe at Newton Abbot, the junction for Torquay.
Without a word, my companion suddenly sprang to his feet, and taking arailway key from his pocket, went out into the corridor and locked bothdoors at either end of the carriage so that no one could pass along.
Then, returning to me, he said--
"Perhaps it would be better, Mr Kemball, if you went into the nextcompartment while we are stopping. We must not appear to have knowledgeof each other."
Scarcely had I time to enter the adjoining compartment when the trainpulled up. I lit a cigarette, and sat gazing lazily out of the window,when, sure enough, the man in the straw hat who had travelled in therear of the train strolled aimlessly along, and as he passed thecompartment occupied by Dawnay glanced in to satisfy himself that he wasstill there.
The wait was long, for the corridor coaches from Torquay for London werebeing joined on. But at last we moved off again, and as soon as we didso I returned to the mysterious fugitive.
"Tell me, Mr Dawnay, something concerning Mr Arnold," I urgedearnestly, without preamble. "He did me the honour of entrusting mewith certain purely personal matters, but gave me no information as towho or what he was."
"Melvill Arnold was a most remarkable person," declared the man in thered tie. "He divided his time between life in London and exploring theremains of the extinct civilisation in Egypt."
"Then he lived in Egypt?"
"Mostly in the deserts. His knowledge of Egyptology was, perhaps,unequalled. The last letter I received from him was from El Fasher, inDarfur."
"Arnold was not his real name?"
"Not exactly his baptismal one," laughed Dawnay, lightly. "It wouldhardly have suited him to use that!"
"What was it? Is there any reason why I should not know?"
"Yes. I am scarcely likely to betray my dead friend, Mr Kemball."
I was silent beneath his stern rebuke. At one moment I felt repulsionwhen I gazed upon his pimply face, yet at the next I experienced acurious sense of fascination. The mystery of it all had become mosttantalising. Thought of the bronze cylinder and what it might containflashed across my mind, whereupon I asked whether Arnold had had anypermanent address in London.
"No. I usually wrote to him to the Poste Restante at Charing Cross. Hewas an elusive man always, and when in London--which was on very rareoccasions--seemed to change his abode each day. He boasted that henever slept two nights running in the same bed. He had reasons forthat--the same reasons, truth to tell, that I had."
"He feared the police--eh?"
Dawnay's fat face relaxed again into a grim smile. "But now that Arnoldis dead I have to secure my own safety," he exclaimed quickly. "I'm inan infernal trap here in this train. I may be arrested when I step outof it--who knows?"
"And would arrest entail serious consequences?" I asked slowly, my eyesfixed upon his.
"Yes, very serious consequences. For myself I don't care very much, butfor another--a woman--it would, alas! be fatal," he added hoarsely.
A woman! Did he refer to that remarkable adventuress, details of whosestrange career I had read in that old copy of the newspaper?
I remembered that Arnold, in his letter to me, had appealed to me toassist this man--who was evidently his very intimate friend.
"You must evade this person who is watching," I said. "How can it bedone?"
He shrugged his shoulders with an expression indicative of bewilderment.
A sudden thought occurred to me.
"You and I are about the same build. Could we not exchange clothes?" Isuggested. "At Exeter, you could walk up to the front of the train andescape away, and out of the station, while I will still sit here, myback turned towards the window. The detective will believe you to bestill in the train."
"Capital?" he cried, starting up. "A splendid plan, Mr Kemball! ByJove! you are resourceful!" And he began quickly divesting himself ofcoat and trousers. "This train is express to Exeter, therefore we shallnot stop at either Teignmouth or Dawlish." I threw off my coat, vest,cravat, and trousers, and in five minutes had exchanged my garments forhis, and had assumed the scarlet tie in place of my own, while he, onhis part, got into my suit, which, however, seemed slightly tight forhim. He laughed heartily as we stood regarding each other so quicklytransformed.
I assumed the grey suede gloves, slightly large for me, tilted the smartgrey hat a little over my eyes, and then ensconced myself against thecorridor, so that my back only could be visible when the train drew upat St David's Station in Exeter.
Dawnay went out into the corridor to observe the effect critically.
"Capital!" he cried. "Capital! Won't the fellow be done in the eye!"
"Yes," I laughed; "it will be really amusing to watch his face when hecomes to arrest me."
"But he may not come until you get to Paddington--after midnight. Andwhat excuse shall you make for changing clothes with me?"
"Oh, don't bother about that," I said, rather enjoying the prospect of ajoke, but little dreaming of the serious predicament in which I wasplacing myself. "Where shall I meet you again?"
"Ah! Be careful--be very careful, Mr Kemball. You will no doubt bewatched. They will suspect you of an intention to meet me again insecret, and for that reason will keep strict surveillance upon you. Usethe name Hamilton Davis, and write to me at the Poste Restante atCharing Cross. That is as safe as anywhere. I shall be in London; butI must be off now, and the moment the train stops I shall be out andaway. There's sure to be a crowd upon Exeter platform. Ah! You can'ttell what a great service you have rendered me in assuming my identitythis evening--you have saved me. Good-bye--and a thousand thanks."
Then, with a wave of his hand and a merry smile, the elusive person--forsuch he no doubt was--went forth into the corridor and disappeared.
I took up my previous position, so that when the train ran into Exeter Iwas seated with my back to the window, one leg upon the cushion, lazilyreading a newspaper which I had found in Dawnay's pocket.
Much bustle was going on outside on the platform, and I knew that thepolice-officer had passed in order to reassure himself that I had notescaped. For perhaps ten minutes I sat there in lazy indolence, untilat last the train moved off again, and once more I was free fromobservation.
I could not for the life of me discern why the man had feared to be seenin my company. Arnold must have somehow foreseen that his friend wouldbe watched, and had therefore prearranged the sign of the gloves.Perhaps he had expected that another enemy, not the police, would bewatching. Yet even there, in the train, Dawnay had expressed fear lestwe be observed together. It was a point the full meaning of which Ifailed to grasp.
At Taunton we stopped again, and I assumed my attitude just as before,with my back to the window, when of a sudden the carriage door was flungopen unceremoniously, and a man's voice exclaimed--
"Alfred Dawnay, I am a police-officer and I hold a warrant for yourarrest!"
/>
I roused myself slowly and, facing the man who had addressed me,remarked in a cool voice--
"I think you've made a slight mistake--eh? My name is not Dawnay."
The man in the straw hat uttered an ejaculation of surprise and stoodstaring at me dumbfounded, while a man at his side, evidently one of theTaunton police in plain clothes, looked at us both in wonder.
"If you are not Dawnay, then where is Dawnay?" demanded the detectivequickly.
"How do I know?"
"But you are wearing his clothes! You assisted him to escape, thereforeyou will have to make some explanation."
"I have no explanation to offer," I said. "If you want Dawnay you'dbetter go and