knowyou are going?" asked the girl.
"Oh, yes. But I particularly asked her not to see me off."
"In order that I might come alone. Oh! how very good of you, Charlie!"
"No. Forgive me for saying so, but like a good many men who travel alot I never like being seen off--not even by you, yourself, my darling!"
"Very well," she sighed, looking up into his serious eyes. "I must, Isuppose, act as you wish. May God protect you, my dearest, and bringyou back again in safety to me." Then as he whispered into her earwords of courage and ardent affection, with linked arms they re-tracedtheir steps back to Earl's Court Road, where, with lingering reluctance,he took affectionate leave of her.
Having watched her turn the corner, he went slowly back towards Earl'sCourt Station, and as he did so, beneath his breath he murmured "Ah! ifshe knew--if she knew! But she must never know--she shall never know--never as long as I have breath. I love her--love her better than mylife--and she is mine. Yet--yet how can I, after--after--"
And he sighed deeply without concluding the sentence, while his facewent ashen pale at the thought which again crossed his mind--a thought,secret and terrible.
CHAPTER FOUR.
WHICH IS DISTINCTLY MYSTERIOUS.
Max Barclay, on leaving Dr Petrovitch, had taken a cab straight toCharlie's chambers in Jermyn Street, arriving there shortly before six.Green, his man, had told him, however, that his master had returned soonafter luncheon, ordered two big bags to be packed, and had left withthem upon a hansom, merely saying that he should be absent a week, orperhaps two, and that no letters need be forwarded.
Max was not surprised at this sudden departure, for old Statham had ahabit of sending his confidential secretary hither and thither at almosta moment's notice. The old fellow's financial interests were enormous,and widely dispersed. Some of them were in Servia and Bulgaria, wherehe held concessions of great value.
He had had a finger in most of the financial undertakings in the NearEast during the past fifteen years or so. Out of the Oriental Railwayextension from Salonica to the Servian frontier alone he had, it wassaid, made a huge fortune, for he was the original concessionaire. Forsome years he had lived in the Balkans, looking after his interests inperson, but nowadays he entrusted it all to his agents with occasionalvisits by this confidential secretary.
Therefore Max suspected that Charlie had left for the East, moreespecially that at the hour he had left Jermyn Street he could havecaught the afternoon Continental service from Charing Cross _via_Boulogne.
So he went on to his own rooms, changed, dined at the Automobile Club,his mind being full of what the Doctor had told him concerning Charlieand Maud. He had, of course, suspected it all along. Marion knew thetruth, but, loyal to her brother, she had said no word. Yet when he hadseen Rolfe with the ex-statesman's pretty daughter, he had long agoguessed that the pair were more than mere friends.
That the Doctor disapproved of the affair was somewhat disconcerting,more especially as he had openly declared that he had other ideas ofMaud's future. What were they? Was her father hoping that she wouldmarry some young Servian--a man of his own race?
He sat in the club over a cigar till nearly nine o'clock, wondering howhe could assist the man who was not only his dearest friend but brotherof the girl to whom he was so entirely devoted and whom he intended tomake his wife.
He sighed with regret when he thought of her undergoing that shopdrudgery to which she had never been accustomed. The early rising, theeternal drive of business, the calm, smiling exterior towards thosepettish, snapping women customers, and those hasty scrambles for meals.He had seen her engaged in her business, and he had met her after shophours, pale, worn, and fagged out.
And yet he--the man who was to be her husband--lived in that ease andidleness which an income of twelve thousand a year secured.
Had Petrovitch not told him that Marion was dining at Cromwell Road andgoing to a concert with Maud afterwards, he would have wired to her tomeet him. But he knew how devoted the two girls were to each other,notwithstanding the difference of their stations, and how Maud welcomedMarion's company at concerts or theatres to which her father so seldomcared to go.
Suddenly it occurred to him that if he returned to the Doctor's he wouldmeet Marion there later on, when she came back from Queen's Hall, and beable to drive her home to that dull street at the back of Oxford Streetwhere the assistants of Cunnington's, Limited, "lived in."
This reflection aroused him, and, glancing at the smoking-room clock, hesaw it wanted a quarter to ten.
Two other men, friends of his, were sitting near, discussing motoringmatters, and their eternal chatter upon cylinders, tyres, radiators, andelectric horns bored him. Therefore he rose, put on his coat, and,hailing a cab, told the man to drive to Victoria, where he took theunderground railway to Gloucester Road Station.
From there to the house of the ex-Minister was only a very short walk.The night was mild, bright, and starlight, for the haze of sundown whichhad threatened rain had been succeeded by a brilliant evening. CromwellRoad is always deserted at that hour before the cabs and carriages beginto return from restaurants and theatres, and as he strolled along,knowing that he was always welcome at the Doctor's house to chat andsmoke, his was the only footfall to be heard in the long openthoroughfare.
Ascending the steps beneath the wide portico, he pressed the visitors'bell, but though he waited several minutes, there was no response.Again and again he rang, but the bell was apparently out of order, so hegave a sounding rat-tat with the knocker.
Then he listened intently; but to his surprise no one stirred.
Over the door was a bright light, as usual, revealing the number ingreat white numerals, and through the chinks of the Venetian blinds ofthe dining-room he could see that the electric lamps were on.
Again and again he rang and knocked. It was surely curious, he thought,that all the servants should be out, even though the Doctor might beabsent. The failure to arouse anybody caused him both surprise andapprehension. Though the electric bell might be out of order, yet hisloud knock must be heard even up to the garrets. London servants areoften neglectful in the absence of their masters, and more especially ifthere is no mistress, yet it seemed hardly creditable that they would goout and leave the place unattended.
Seven or eight times he repeated his summons, standing upon thedoor-steps with his ears strained to catch the slightest sound.
Once he thought he heard distinctly the noise of stealthy footsteps inthe hall, and he held his breath. They were repeated. He was quitecertain that his ears had not deceived him, for in the street all wassilent as the grave. He heard someone moving within as though creepingslowly from the door.
What could it mean? Were thieves within?
He examined the door to see if the lock had been tampered with, but, sofar as he could discern, it was untouched. He was undecided how to act,though now positively certain that something unusual was in progress.
He glanced up and down the long road, with its rows of gas lamps, but noone was visible. The only sound was the far-distant rat-tat of thepostman on his last round.
For the Doctor to be out of an evening was very unusual; and thatstealthy footstep had alarmed him. If there were actually thieves, thenthey had probably entered by the area door. Max was by no means acoward. There was a mystery there--a mystery he intended to at onceinvestigate.
Doctor Petrovitch was one of his dearest friends and he meant to act asa friend should act.
What puzzled him most of all was the absence of the servants. All ofthem were apparently highly trustworthy, yet the foreigner in London, heremembered, often engaged servants without sufficient inquiry into theirpast.
For a few moment he stood motionless, his ears strained, at the door.
The movement was repeated. Someone seemed to be leaving thedining-room, for he distinctly heard the light footfall.
Therefore, with scarce a sound, he crept down the steps to the
pavementand descended the winding flight to the area door. With great cautionhe turned the handle, but alas! the knob went right round in his hand,the door remaining still fastened.
A light showed in the kitchen, but whether anyone was there he of coursecould not tell. Again he tried the door, but without avail. It wassecurely fastened, while, as far as he could ascertain, there were nomarks of any forcible entry.
Should he rap at the door? Or would that further alarm the intruders?He had knocked many times at the front door, it was true, but they wouldno doubt wait until they believed he had gone. Or else they mightescape by the rear of the premises.
What should he do?
He hesitated again, with bated breath.
Next instant, however, he heard upon the stone steps above him, leadingfrom the pavement to the front door, the light tread of feet quicklydescending. Someone, having watched him descend there, was leaving thehouse! And yet so noiselessly that at first Max believed himselfmistaken.
In a second he had dashed up the area steps and stood upon the pavement.But already he realised the truth. The front door stood ajar, and theintruder was flying as fast as his feet could carry him in the directionof the Brompton Road.
Swiftly, without looking back, the man sped lightly along the pavementto the next corner, which he turned and was a moment later lost to view.
Max Barclay did not follow. He stood there like a man in a dream.
"What--in Heaven's name--is the meaning of this?" as, held powerless, hestood staring in the direction the fugitive had taken.
His first impulse had been to follow, but next moment, as the escapingintruder had passed beneath a street lamp he recognised the figureunmistakably, both by the clothes and hat, as none other than his friendCharles Rolfe!
He fell back, staggered by the discovery.
For quite a brief space he stood unable to move. Then, seeing the doorajar, he ascended the steps and entered the house. The lights wereswitched on everywhere, but, on going in, something--what it was hecould never describe--struck him as peculiar. Hardly had he crossed thethreshold than he became instinctively aware that some mystery wasthere.
In a few seconds the amazing truth became apparent, for when he enteredthe dining-room, to the left of the hall, he started, and an involuntaryexclamation of surprise escaped him. The place was empty, devoid ofevery stick of furniture!
From room to room he dashed, only to find that everything had beenmysteriously removed. In the few brief hours or his absence DoctorPetrovitch had apparently fled, taking with him all his householdeffects.
He stood in the hall utterly dumbfounded.
Why had Rolfe been there? What had he been doing in the empty house?
The swift manner in which the removal had been effected increased themystery, for he had not left the Doctor till five o'clock. Besides, hehad no doubt dined with his daughter Maud and with Marion, and theywould not leave until about eight o'clock.
Again, a removal of that magnitude, requiring at least two vans, afterdark could not possibly be effected without attracting the notice of theconstable on duty!
Perhaps the police really did know who carried out the sudden change ofresidence. Anyhow, the whole affair was a complete enigma which amazedand stupefied him.
Presently, when he had somewhat recovered from his surprise, he ascendedthe stairs, his footsteps now echoing strangely through the empty place,and there found that the drawing-room, and, in fact, all the otherrooms, had been completely and quickly cleared. The carpets had in somecases been left, but in the hasty removal curtains had been torn downfrom the rings, leaving cornices and poles, and the grand pianoremained, it being apparently too large and heavy for rapid transit.
He ascended, even to the servants' rooms on the top floor, but foundscarcely a vestige of furniture left.
In one back room, a small half-garret with a slightly eloping roof, henoticed a cupboard which curiosity led him to open, as he had openedother cupboards. As he did so, he saw a bundle upon the floor, asthough it had been hastily thrown there.
As he pulled it forth it unrolled, and he then saw that it was a woman'slight grey tweed skirt and coat.
The latter felt damp to his touch, and as he held it up to examine it hesaw that the breast and sleeve were both saturated with blood!
It dropped from his nerveless fingers. Some secret crime had beencommitted in that house, so suddenly and mysteriously divested of itsfurniture.
But what?
Max Barclay, pale as death, stood gazing around him, staggered,bewildered, horrified, scarce daring to breathe.
Why had Charles Rolfe fled so hurriedly and secretly from the place?
CHAPTER FIVE.
WHAT A CONSTABLE SAW.
Slowly Max Barclay regained possession of his senses. The discovery hadso staggered him that, for a few moments, he had stood there in thatroom, staring at the woman's tweed coat, transfixed in horror.
There was some great and terrible mystery there, and with it CharlieRolfe, the man whom he had so implicitly trusted, his most intimatefriend, and brother of the woman who was all the world to him, wasclosely associated.
He glanced around the bare garret in apprehension. All was so weird andunexpected that a queer, uncanny feeling had crept over him. What couldhave occurred to have caused this revolution in the Doctor's house?
Here in that house, only a few hours ago, he had smoked calmly withPetrovitch, the studious Servian patriot, the man whom the Serviansworshipped, and who was the right hand of his sovereign the King. Whenthey had chatted of Maud's flirtation there had been no suggestion ofdeparture. Indeed, the Doctor had invited him to return after dinner,as he so often did. Max was an easy, gay, careless man of the world,yet he was fond of study, and fond of the society of clever men likePetrovitch. The latter was well-known in literary circles on theContinent by reason of having written a most exhaustive history of theOttoman Empire. That night Marion, his well-beloved, had no doubt dinedat that house, prior to going to the concert with Maud. At least shewould be aware of something that might give a clue to this extraordinaryand hurried flight, if not to the ugly stain upon the woman's dresslying upon the floor at his feet.
He was undecided how next to act. Should he go to the police-stationand inquire of the inspector whether removing vans had been noticed bythe constable on the beat, or should he take a cab to Queen's Hall totry and find Marion and Maud?
He glanced at his watch, and saw that by the time he got to the concertthey would in all probability have left. Marion was compelled to be inby eleven o'clock, therefore Maud would no doubt come out with her.Indeed, in a quarter of an hour his friend's daughter would be due toreturn there.
This decided him, and, without more ado, he left the house. Was itworth while at present, he reflected, saying anything to the policeregarding the blood-stained garment? Charlie might give theexplanation. He would see him before the night was out.
Therefore, finding a constable at the corner of Earl's Court Road, heinquired of him if he had noticed any removing vans before the house inquestion. The man replied that he had only come on duty at ten,therefore, it would be best if he went to the police-station, to whichhe directed him.
"If the man on duty saw any removing vans in the evening, he wouldcertainly report it," the constable added politely, and Barclay thenwent in the direction he indicated.
A quarter of an hour later he stood in the police-office, while theinspector turned over the leaves of the big book in which reports ofevery untoward or suspicious occurrence are entered for reference, incase of civil actions or other eventualities.
At first he could find nothing, but at last he exclaimed:
"There's something here. I suppose this is it. Listen: P.C. Baldwin,when he came off duty, reported to the station-sergeant that two largepantechnicon vans and a small covered van of Harmer's Stores,Knightsbridge, drove up at 8:10 to Number 127a, Cromwell Road, close toQueen's Gate Gardens, and with seven men
and a foreman removed the wholeof the furniture. The constable spoke to the foreman, and learned thatit was a sudden order given by the householder, a Dr Petrovitch, aforeigner, for his goods to be removed before half-past ten that night,and stored at the firm's depository at Chiswick."
"But they must have done it with marvellous alacrity!" Max remarked, atthe same time pleased to have so quickly discovered the destination ofthe Doctor's household goods.
"Bless you, sir," answered the inspector, "Harmer's can do anything.They'd have sent twenty vans and cleared out the place in a quarter ofan hour if they'd contracted to do so. You know they can do anything,and supply anything from a tin-tack to a live monkey."
"Then they've been stored at Chiswick, eh?"
"No doubt, sir. The constable would make all inquiry. You knowHarmer's place at Chiswick, not far from Turnham Green railway station?At the office in Knightsbridge they'd tell you all about it. Thisforeign doctor was a friend of yours, I suppose?"
"Yes, a great friend," replied Barclay. "The fact is, I'm much puzzledover the affair. Only late this afternoon I was in his study, smokingand talking, but he told me nothing about his sudden removal."
"Ah, foreigners are generally pretty shifty customers, sir," was theofficer's remark. "If you'd seen as much as I have of 'em, when I wasdown at Leman Street, you'd think twice before you trusted one. Ofcourse, no reflection intended on your friend, sir."
"But there are foreigners who are gentlemen," Max ventured to suggest.
"Yes, there may be. I haven't met many, and we have to deal with allclasses, you know. But tell me the circumstances," added the inspector,scenting mystery in this sudden flight. "Petrovitch might be some Cityspeculator who had suddenly been ruined, or a bankrupt who hadabsconded."
Max Barclay was, however, not very communicative. Perhaps it wasbecause