CHAPTER VIII
PRECAUTIONS
But it wasn't apoplexy. It was Parks who reassured us, when he camehurrying back a minute later with a glass of water in one hand and asmall phial in the other.
"He has these spells," he said. "It's a kind of vertigo. Give him awhiff of this."
He uncorked the phial and handed it to Godfrey, and I caught thepenetrating fumes of ammonia. A moment later, Rogers gaspedconvulsively.
"He'll be all right pretty soon," remarked Parks, with readyoptimism. "Though I never saw him quite so bad."
"We can't leave him lying here on the floor," said Godfrey.
"There's a couch-seat in the music-room," Parks suggested, and thethree of us bore the still unconscious man to it.
Then Godfrey and I sat down and waited, while he gasped his way backto life.
"Though he can't really tell us much," Godfrey observed. "In fact, Idoubt if he'll be willing to tell anything. But his face, when helooked at the picture, told us all we need to know."
Thus reminded, I took the photograph out of the pocket into which Ihad slipped it, and looked at it again.
"Where did you get it?" I asked.
"The police photographer made some copies. This is one of them."
"But what made you suspect that the two women were the same?"
"I don't just know," answered Godfrey, reflectively. "They were bothFrench--and Rogers spoke of the red lips; somehow it seemed probable.Mr. Grady will find some things he doesn't know in to-morrow's_Record_. But then he usually does. This time, I'm going to rub itin. Hello," he added, "our friend is coming around."
I looked at Rogers and saw that his eyes were open. They were staringat us as though wondering who we were. Godfrey passed an arm underhis head and held the glass of water to his lips.
"Take a swallow of this," he said, and Rogers obeyed mechanically,still staring at him over the rim of the glass, "How do you feel?"
"Pretty weak," Rogers answered, almost in a whisper. "Did I have afit?"
"Something like that," said Godfrey, cheerfully; "but don't worry.You'll soon be all right again."
"What sent me off?" asked Rogers, and stared up at him. Then his faceturned purple, and I thought he was going off again. But after amoment's heavy breathing, he lay quiet. "I remember now," he said."Let me see that picture again."
I passed it to him. His hand was trembling so he could hardly takeit; but I saw he was struggling desperately to control himself, andhe managed to hold the picture up before his eyes and look at it withapparent unconcern.
"Do you know her?" Godfrey asked.
To my infinite amazement, Rogers shook his head.
"Never saw her before," he muttered. "When I first looked at her, Ithought I knew her; but it ain't the same woman."
"Do you mean to say," Godfrey demanded sternly, "that that is not thewoman who called on Mr. Vantine to-night?"
Again Rogers shook his head.
"Oh, no," he protested; "it's not the same woman at all. This one isyounger."
Godfrey made no reply; but he sat down and looked at Rogers, andRogers lay and gazed at the picture, and gradually his face softened,as though at some tender memory.
"Come, Rogers," I urged, at last. "You'd better tell us all you know.If this is the woman, don't hesitate to say so."
"I've told you all I know, Mr. Lester," said Rogers, but he did notmeet my eyes. "And I'm feeling pretty bad. I think I'd better begetting to bed."
"Yes, that's best," agreed Godfrey promptly. "Parks will help you,"and he held out his hand for the photograph.
Rogers relinquished it with evident reluctance. He opened his lips asthough to ask a question; then closed them again, and got slowly tohis feet, Parks aiding him.
"Good-night, gentlemen," he said weakly, and shuffled away, leaningheavily on Parks's shoulder.
"Well!" said I, looking at Godfrey. "What do you think of that?"
"He's lying, of course. We've got to find out why he's lying andbring it home to him. But it's getting late--I must get down to theoffice. One word, Lester--be sure Rogers doesn't give you the slip."
"I'll have him looked after," I promised. "But I fancy he'll beafraid to run away. Besides, it is possible he's telling the truth. Idon't believe any woman had anything to do with either death."
Godfrey turned, as he was starting away, and stopped to look at me.
"Who did then?" he asked.
"Nobody."
"You mean they both suicided in that abnormal way?"
"No, it wasn't suicide--they were killed--but not by a human being--at least, not directly." I felt that I was floundering hopelessly,and stopped. "I can't tell you now, Godfrey," I pleaded. "I haven'thad time to think it out. You've got enough for one day."
"Yes," he smiled; "I've got enough for one day. And now good-bye.Perhaps I'll look in on you about midnight, on my way home, if I getthrough by then."
I sighed. Godfrey's energy became a little wearing sometimes. I wasalready longing for bed, and there remained so much to be done. Buthe, after a day which I knew had been a hard one, and with amany-column story still to write, was apparently as fresh and eageras ever.
"All right," I agreed. "If you see a light, come up. If there isn'tany light, I'll be in bed, and I'll kill you if you wake me."
"Conditions accepted," he laughed, as I opened the door for him.
Parks joined me as I turned back into the house.
"I got Rogers to bed, sir," he said. "He'll be all right in themorning. But he's a queer duck."
"How long have you known him, Parks?"
"He's been with Mr. Vantine about five years. I don't know much abouthim; he's a silent kind of fellow, keeping to hisself a good deal andsort of brooding over things. But he did his work all right, exceptonce in a while when he keeled over like he did to-night."
"Parks," I said, suddenly, "I'm going to ask you a question. You knowthat Mr. Vantine was a friend of mine, and I thought a great deal ofhim. Now, what with this story Rogers tells, and one or two otherthings, there is talk of a woman. Is there any foundation for talk ofthat kind?"
"No, sir," said Parks, emphatically. "I've been Mr. Vantine's valetfor eight years and more, and in all that time he has never beenmixed up with a woman in any shape or form. I always fancied he'dloved a lady who died--I don't know what made me think so; butanyhow, since I've known him, he never looked at a woman--not inthat way."
"Thank you, Parks," I said, with a sigh of relief. "I've been throughso much to-day, that I felt I couldn't endure that; and now--"
"Beg pardon, sir," said a voice at my elbow; "we have everythingready, sir."
I turned with a start to see a little, clean-shaven man standingthere, rubbing his hands softly together and gazing blandly up at me.
"The undertaker's assistant, sir," explained Parks, seeing my look ofastonishment. "He came while you and Mr. Godfrey were in themusic-room. Dr. Hughes sent him."
"Yes, sir," added the little man; "and we have the corpse ready forthe coffin. Very nice it looks, too; though it was a hard job. Was itpoison killed him, sir?"
"Yes," I answered, with a feeling of nausea, "it was poison."
"Very powerful poison, too, I should say, sir; we didn't get herenone too soon. Where shall we put the body, sir?"
"Why not leave it where it is?" I asked, impatiently.
"Very good, sir," said the man, and presently he and his assistanttook themselves off, to my intense relief.
"And now, Parks," I began, "there is something I want to say to you.Let us go somewhere and sit down."
"Suppose we go up to the study, sir. You're looking regularly doneup, if you'll permit me to say so, sir. Shall I get you something?"
"A brandy-and-soda," I assented; "and bring one for yourself."
"Very good, sir," and a few minutes later we were sitting oppositeeach other in the room where Vantine had offered me similarrefreshment not many hours before. I looked at Parks as he sat there,and turned over in my mi
nd what I had to say to him. I liked the man,and I felt he could be trusted. At any rate, I had to take the risk.
"Now, Parks," I began again, setting down my glass, "what I have tosay to you is very serious, and I want you to keep it to yourself: Iknow that you were devoted to Mr. Vantine--I may as well tell youthat he has remembered you in his will--and I am sure you are willingto do anything in your power to help solve the mystery of his death."
"That I am, sir," Parks agreed, warmly. "I was very fond of him, sir;nobody will miss him more than I will."
I realised that the tragedy meant far more to Parks than it did evento me, for he had lost not only a friend, but a means of livelihood,and I looked at him with heightened sympathy.
"I know how you feel," I said, "and I am counting on you to help me.I have a sort of idea how his death came about. Only the vaguestpossible idea," I added hastily, as his eyes widened with interest;"altogether too vague to be put into words. But I can say this much--the mystery, whatever it is, is in the ante-room where the bodieswere found, or in the room next to it where the furniture is. Now, Iam going to lock up those rooms, and I want you to see that nobodyenters them without your knowledge."
"Not very likely that anybody will want to enter them, sir," andParks laughed a grim little laugh.
"I am not so sure of that," I dissented, speaking very seriously. "Infact, I am of the opinion that there _is_ somebody who wants to enterthose rooms very badly. I don't know who he is, and I don't know whathe is after; but I am going to make it your business to keep him out,and to capture him if you catch him trying to get in."
"Trust me for that, sir," said Parks promptly. "What is it you wantme to do?"
"I want you to put a cot in the hallway outside the door of theante-room and sleep there to-night. To-morrow I will decide what furtherprecautions are necessary."
"Very good, sir," said Parks. "I'll get the cot up at once."
"There is one thing more," I went on. "I have given the coroner mypersonal assurance that none of the servants will leave the houseuntil after the inquest. I suppose I can rely on them?"
"Oh, yes, sir. I'll see they understand how important it is."
"Rogers, especially," I added, looking at him.
"I understand, sir," said Parks, quietly.
"Very well. And now let us go down and lock up those rooms."
They were still ablaze with light; but both of us faltered a little,I think, on the threshold of the ante-room. For in the middle of thefloor stood a stretcher, and on it was an object covered with asheet, its outlines horribly suggestive. But I took myself in handand entered. Parks followed me and closed the door.
The ante-room had two windows, and the room beyond, which was acorner one, had three. All of them were locked, but a pane of glassseemed to me an absurdly fragile barrier against any one who reallywished to enter.
"Aren't there some wooden shutters for these windows?" I asked.
"Yes, sir; they were taken down yesterday and put in the basement.Shall I get them?"
"I think you'd better," I said. "Will you need any help?"
"No, sir; they're not heavy. If you'll wait here, you can snap thebolts into place when I lift them up from the outside."
"Very well," I agreed, and Parks hurried away.
I entered the inner room and stopped before the Boule cabinet. Therewas a certain air of arrogance about it, as it stood there in thatblaze of light, its inlay aglow with a thousand subtle reflections; aflaunting air, the air of a courtesan conscious of her beauty andpleased to attract attention--just the air with which Madame deMontespan must have sauntered down the mirror gallery at Versailles,ablaze with jewels, her skirts rustling, her figure swayingsuggestively. Something threatening, too; something sinister anddeadly--
There was a rattle at the window, and I saw Parks lifting one of theshutters into place. I threw up the sash, and pressed the heavy boltscarefully into their sockets, then closed the sash and locked it. Thetwo other windows were secured in their turn, and with a last lookabout the room, I turned out the lights. The ante-room windows weresoon shuttered in the same way, and with a sigh of relief I toldmyself that no entrance to the house could be had from thatdirection. With Parks outside the only door, the rooms ought to besafe from invasion.
Then, before extinguishing the lights, I approached that silentfigure on the stretcher, lifted the sheet and looked for the lasttime upon the face of my dead friend. It was no longer staring andterrible, but calm and peaceful as in sleep--almost smiling. Withwet eyes and contracted throat, I covered the face again, turned outthe lights, and left the room. Parks met me in the hall, carrying acot, which he placed close across the doorway.
"There," he said; "nobody will get into that room without my knowingit."
"No," I agreed; and then a sudden thought occurred to me. "Parks," Isaid, "is it true that there is a burglar-alarm on all the windows?"
"Yes, sir. It rings a bell in Mr. Vantine's bedroom, and another inmine, and sends in a call to the police."
"Is it working?"
"Yes, sir; Mr. Vantine himself tested it this evening just beforedinner."
"Then why didn't it work when I opened those windows just now?" Idemanded.
Parks laughed.
"Because I threw off the switch, sir," he explained, "when I came outto get the shutters. The switch is in a little iron box on the walljust back of the stairs, sir. It's one of my duties to turn it onevery night before I go to bed."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is it on again, now?"
"It certainly is, sir. After what you told me, I'd not be likely toforget it."
"You'd better have a weapon handy, too," I suggested.
"I have a revolver, sir."
"That's good. And don't hesitate to use it. I'm going home--I'm deadtired."
"Shall I call a cab, sir?"
"No, the walk will do me good. I'll see you to-morrow."
Parks helped me into my coat and opened the door for me. Glancingback, after a moment, I saw that he was standing on the steps gazingafter me. I could understand his reluctance to go back into thatdeath-haunted house; and I found myself breathing deeply with therelief of getting out of it.