CHAPTER XV
THE BAYSWATER BOARDING-HOUSE
Some time previous to these remarkable events, Marshall Allerdyke,being constantly in London, and having to spend much time on businessin the Mansion House region, had sought and obtained membership of theCity Carlton Club, in St. Swithin's Lane, and at noon of the dayfollowing the arrival of the Princess Nastirsevitch, he stood in awindow of the smoking-room, looking out for Appleyard, whom he hadasked to lunch. In one hand he carried a folded copy of the rewardbill, which Blindway had left at the Waldorf Hotel for him, and whilehe waited--the room being empty just then save for an old gentleman whoread _The Times_ in a far corner--he unfolded and took a surreptitiousglance at it, chuckling to himself at the thought of the cupidity whichits contents and promises would arouse in the breasts of the manythousands of folk who would read it.
"Fifty thousand pounds!" he thought, with high amusement. "Egad, some of'em 'ud feel like Rothschild himself if they could shove that bit intheir pockets--they'd take on all the airs of a Croesus!"
The thought of the Rothschild wealth made him lift his eyes and glancethrough the window at the gate of the quiet, ultra-respectableestablishment across the way. Allerdyke, like all men of considerablemeans, had a mighty respect for wealth in its colossal forms, and henever visited the City Carlton, nor looked out of its smoking-roomwindows, without glancing with interest and admiration at the famousRothschild offices, immediately opposite. It amused him to speculate andtheorize about the vast amounts of money which must needs be turned overin theory and practice within those soberly quiet walls, to indulge infancies about the secrets, financial and political, which must bediscussed and locked up in human breasts there--to him the magic address,New Court, St. Swithin's Lane, was as full of potential mystery as theSphinx is to an imaginative traveller. He glanced at its gates and at itssign now with an almost youthful awe and reverence--the reverence of theman of considerable wealth for the men of enormous wealth--and while hiseyes were thus busy a taxi-cab came along the Lane, stopped by theentrance to New Court, and set down Mrs. Marlow.
Allerdyke instinctively shrank back within the curtains of thesmoking-room window. There was no reason why he should have done so. Hehad no objection to Franklin Fullaway's secretary seeing him standing ina window of the City Carlton Club; he knew no reason why Mrs. Marlowshould object to be seen getting out of a cab in St. Swithin's Lane. Yet,he drew back, and, from his concealed position, watched. Not that therewas anything out of the ordinary to watch. Mrs. Marlow, who lookeddaintier, prettier, more charming than ever, paid her driver, gave him asmiling nod, and tripped into New Court, a bundle of papers in herwell-gloved hand.
"Business with Rothschild's, eh?" mused Allerdyke.
"Well, I daresay there's a vast lot of folk in this city who do businessacross there. Um!--smart little woman that, and no doubt as clever asshe's smart. I'd like to know--"
Just then the ancient hall-porter of the club (who surely missed hisvocation in life, and should have been a bishop, or at least a dean)ushered in Appleyard, whom Allerdyke immediately beckoned to join himamongst the window-curtains.
"I say!" he whispered, with a side glance at _The Times_-reading oldgentleman, "you remember me telling you yesterday about thelady-secretary of Fullaway's--Mrs. Marlow?--what a smart bit she lookedto be. Eh?"
"Well?" replied Appleyard. "Of course, what about her?"
"She's just gone into Rothschild's across there," answered Allerdyke."Come here, this corner; she'll be coming out before long, no doubt, andthen you'll see her. As I told you about her, I want you to take a lookat her--she's worth seeing for more reasons than one."
Appleyard allowed himself to be drawn into the embrasure. He waitedpatiently and in silence--presently Allerdyke dug a finger into his ribs.
"She's coming!" he whispered. "Now!"
Appleyard looked half-carelessly across the street--the next instant hewas devoutly thanking his stars that since boyhood he had sedulouslytrained himself to control his countenance. He made no sign, gave noindication of previous acquaintance, as he watched Mrs. Marlow's sveltfigure trip out of New Court and away up St. Swithin's Lane; his facewas as calm and unemotional, his eyes as steady as ever when he turnedto his employer.
"Pretty woman," he said. "Looks a sharp 'un, too, Mr. Allerdyke. Well,"he went on, turning away into the room as if Mrs. Marlow no longerinterested him. "I got those two reports for you--shall I tell you aboutthem now?"
"Aye, for sure," replied Allerdyke. "Come into this corner--we'll have aglass of sherry--it's early for lunch yet. Those reports, eh? AboutFullaway and Delkin, you mean?"
"Just so," said Appleyard, settling himself in the corner of a lounge andlighting the cigarette which Allerdyke offered him. "They're ordinarybusiness reports, you know, got through the usual channels. Fullaway'sall right, so far as the various commercial agencies know--nothing everbeen heard against him, anyhow. The account of himself and his businesswhich he gave to you is quite correct. To sum up--he's a sound man--quitestraight--on the business surface, which is, of course, all we can getat. As for Delkin, that's a straight story, too--anyway, there's aChicago millionaire of that name been in town some weeks--he's stoppingat the Hotel Cecil--has a palatial suite there--and his daughter's aboutto marry Lord Hexwater. All correct there, Mr. Allerdyke, too--I mean asregards all that Fullaway told you."
"Well, there's something in knowing all that, Ambler, my lad,"answered Allerdyke. "You can't get to know too much about the folksyou're dealing with, you know. Very good--we'll leave that now. Whatd'ye think o' this?"
He unfolded and held up the reward bill, first looking as fondly at it asa youthful author looks at his first printed performance, and thenglancing at his manager to see what effect it had upon him. And he sawAmbler Appleyard's sandy eyebrows go up in a definite arch.
"Fifty thousand!" muttered Appleyard. "Whew! It's a stiff figure, Mr.Allerdyke. You've put a thick finger in that pie, I'm thinking!"
"One half from the Princess; twenty thousand from me; five thousand fromthe singing lady," whispered Allerdyke. "That's how it's made up, my lad.And naught'll please me better than to see it paid out--that's a fact!"
"You'll have some triers," said Appleyard, with an emphatic wag of thehead. "Make no mistake about that! Fifty thousand! Gosh!--why, anybodythat's got the least clue, the slightest idea--and there must besomebody--'ll have a go in for all he or she's worth!"
"Let 'em try!" exclaimed Allerdyke. "The welcome man's the chap thatenables us to recover and convict. Here, shove that bill in your pocket,and read it at your leisure--there's something to think about in what itsays, I promise you."
Appleyard went away from the club an hour and a half later, thinking hardenough. But he was not thinking about the reward bill. What he wasthinking about, had been thinking about from the moment in whichAllerdyke had drawn him into the smoking-room window and pointed her outto him, was--Mrs. Marlow. For Appleyard knew Mrs. Marlow well enough, but(always those buts in life, he reflected with a cynical laugh as hethreaded his way back to Gresham Street) he knew her by anothername--Miss Slade. And now he was wondering why Miss Slade or Mrs. Marlowhad two names, and why she appeared to be one person as he knew her inprivate life, and another as he had seen her that very morning.
On Appleyard's first coming to town in the capacity of sole manager ofthe London warehouse of Allerdyke and Partners, Limited, he had sethimself up in two rooms in a Bloomsbury lodging-house. He knew little ofLondon life at that time, or he would have known that he was thuscondemning himself to a drab and dreary existence. As it was, he quicklylearnt by experience, and within six months, having picked up acomfortable knowledge of things, he transferred himself to one of thosewell-equipped boarding establishments in the best part of Bayswater,wherein bachelors, old maids, young women, widowers, and married coupleswithout encumbrance, can live together in as much or as little friendshipand intercourse as pleases their individual tastes. Ambler Appleyard tookhis time and selected the likel
iest place he could find after muchinspection of many similar places. His salary of a thousand a year (towhich was to be added a handsome, if varying commission) enabled him topick and choose; the house which he did choose, in the immediateneighbourhood of Lancaster Gate, was of the luxurious order; its privaterooms were models of the last thing in comfort, its public rooms wereequal to those of the best modern hotels. If you wanted male society, youcould find it in the smoking-room and the billiard-room; if you desiredfeminine influences there was a pleasing variety in the drawing-room andthe lounges. You could be just as much alone, and just as much in companyas you pleased--anyway, the place suited Ambler Appleyard, and there hehad lived for two and a half years. And during a good two of them, theyoung lady whom he knew as Miss Slade had lived there too.
With Miss Slade, Appleyard, as fellow-resident in the same house, was onquite friendly terms. He sometimes talked to her in one of thedrawing-rooms. He knew her for a clever, rather brilliant young woman,with ideas, and the power to express them. It was evident to him that shehad travelled and had seen a good deal of the world and its men andwomen; she could talk politics with far more knowledge and insight thanmost women; she knew more than a little of economic matters, and wasinclined, like Appleyard himself, to utilitarianism in all thingsaffecting government and society. But of herself she never spokedirectly; all Appleyard knew of her concerns was that she was engaged inbusiness of some nature, and went to it every morning as regularly andpunctually as he went to his. He judged that whatever her business wasshe must be well paid for it, or must possess means of her own; nobody,man or woman, could possibly live at that boarding-house, or privatehotel, as its proprietors preferred to call it, for anything less thanfour guineas a week. Well--here was the explanation of Miss Slade'sbusiness; she was evidently private secretary to Mr. Franklin Fullaway,and competent to do business at a place like Rothschild's. And whynot?--yet ... why did she call herself Miss Slade at the boarding-houseand Mrs. Marlow in her business capacity?
"And yet why shouldn't she?" asked Appleyard of himself. "A woman's aright to do what she likes in that way, and she isn't necessarilydeceitful because she passes as a single woman in one place and a widowin another. I daresay she could give a very good reason for all this--butwho's got any right to ask her for one? Not me, certainly!"
He had no intention of asking Miss Slade anything when he left the Cityfor Bayswater that evening, but chance threw him into her immediatecompany in one of the lounges, where, after dinner, they met at a tableon which the evening newspapers were laid out. As Miss Slade picked upone, Appleyard picked up another--certain big, strong letters on thefront sheets of both gave him an opening.
"Have you read anything about this affair?" he asked, with apparentcarelessness, pointing to a row of capitals. "This extraordinarymurder-robbery business which is becoming the talk of the town? Murdersof three people--theft of nearly three hundred thousand pounds' worth ofjewels--and fifty thousand pounds reward! It's colossal!"
Miss Slade, without showing the slightest shade of interest, shook herhead.
"I don't read murders," she answered. "Fifty thousand pounds reward!That's an awful lot, isn't it?"
"Worth trying for, anyway!" replied Appleyard. He gave her a sly look,and smiled grimly. "I think I'll try for it," he said. "Fifty thousand!"
"How could any one try unless he or she's some clue?" she asked. "If youdon't know anything about it, or any of the persons concerned, wherewould you begin?"
"There are plenty of persons named in these accounts about whom one couldfind something out, at any rate," replied Appleyard, tapping thenewspaper with his finger. "There's a Russian Princess with a sneezy sortof name; a Yorkshire manufacturer named Allerdyke; an American man calledFranklin Fullaway--all seem to be well-known people in town. You everhear of any of them?"
Miss Slade turned a face of absolute indifference on him and the paper towhich he was pointing.
"Never," she answered calmly. "But I daresay I shall hear of themnow--for nine days."
Then she went off, with her own newspaper, and Appleyard carried his to acorner and sat down.
"That's a lie!" he said to himself. "And a woman who will tell a lie ascalmly and quietly as that will tell a thousand with equal assurance andcleverness. She--"
There he stopped. In the doorway Miss Slade had also stopped--stopped tospeak to another resident, a man, about whom Ambler Appleyard had oftenwondered as keenly as he was now wondering about Miss Slade herself.