Read The Yellow Claw Page 22


  XXII

  M. MAX MOUNTS CAGLIOSTRO'S STAIRCASE

  At a few minutes before midnight, Helen Cumberly and Denise Ryland,escorted by the attentive Frenchman, arrived at Palace Mansions. Anydistrust which Helen had experienced at first was replaced now by theesteem which every one of discrimination (criminals excluded) formed ofM. Max. She perceived in him a very exquisite gentleman, and althoughthe acquaintance was but one hour old, counted him a friend. DeniseRyland was already quite at home in the Cumberly household, and sheinsisted that Dr. Cumberly would be deeply mortified should M. Gastontake his departure without making his acquaintance. Thus it came aboutthat M. Gaston Max was presented (as "M. Gaston") to Dr. Cumberly.

  Cumberly, who had learned to accept men and women upon his daughter'sestimate, welcomed the resplendent Parisian hospitably; the warm, shadedlights made convivial play in the amber deeps of the decanters, and thecigars had a fire-side fragrance which M. Max found wholly irresistible.

  The ladies being momentarily out of ear-shot, M. Gaston glancing rapidlyabout him, said: "May I beg a favor, Dr. Cumberly?"

  "Certainly, M. Gaston," replied the physician--he was officiating at thesyphon. "Say when."

  "When!" said Max. "I should like to see you in Harley Street to-morrowmorning."

  Cumberly glanced up oddly. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

  "Oh, not professionally," smiled Max; "or perhaps I should say onlysemi-professionally. Can you spare me ten minutes?"

  "My book is rather full in the morning, I believe," said Cumberly,frowning thoughtfully, "and without consulting it--which, since it isin Harley Street, is impossible--I scarcely know when I shall be atliberty. Could we not lunch together?"

  Max blew a ring of smoke from his lips and watched it slowly dispersing.

  "For certain reasons," he replied, and his odd American accent becamemomentarily more perceptible, "I should prefer that my visit had theappearance of being a professional one."

  Cumberly was unable to conceal his surprise, but assuming that hisvisitor had good reason for the request, he replied after a moment'sreflection:

  "I should propose, then, that you come to Harley Street at, shall wesay, 9.30? My earliest professional appointment is at 10. Will thatinconvenience you?"

  "Not at all," Max assured him; "it will suit me admirably."

  With that the matter dropped for the time, since Helen and hernew friend now reentered; and although Helen's manner was markedlydepressed, Miss Ryland energetically turned the conversation upon thesubject of the play which they had witnessed that evening.

  M. Max, when he took his departure, found that the rain had ceased, andaccordingly he walked up Whitehall, interesting himself in those detailsof midnight London life so absorbing to the visitor, though usuallyoverlooked by the resident.

  Punctually at half-past nine, a claret-colored figure appeared in sedateHarley Street. M. Gaston Max pressed the bell above which appeared:

  DR. BRUCE CUMBERLY.

  He was admitted by Garnham, who attended there daily during the hourswhen Dr. Cumberly was visible to patients, and presently found himselfin the consulting room of the physician.

  "Good morning, M. Gaston!" said Cumberly, rising and shaking his visitorby the hand. "Pray sit down, and let us get to business. I can give youa clear half-hour."

  Max, by way of reply, selected a card from one of the several divisionsof his card-case, and placed it on the table. Cumberly glanced at it andstarted slightly, turning and surveying his visitor with a new interest.

  "You are M. Gaston Max!" he said, fixing his gray eyes upon the face ofthe man before him. "I understood my daughter to say"...

  Max waved his hands, deprecatingly.

  "It is in the first place to apologize," he explained, "that I am here.I was presented to your daughter in the name of Gaston--which is atleast part of my own name--and because other interests were involved Ifound myself in the painful position of being presented to you under thesame false colors"...

  "Oh, dear, dear!" began Cumberly. "But--"

  "Ah! I protest, it is true," continued Max with an inimitable movementof the shoulder; "and I regret it; but in my profession"...

  "Which you adorn, monsieur," injected Cumberly.

  "Many thanks--but in my profession these little annoyances sometimesoccur. At the earliest suitable occasion, I shall reveal myself toMiss Cumberly and Miss Ryland, but at present,"--he spread his palmseloquently, and raised his eyebrows--"morbleu! it is impossible."

  "Certainly; I quite understand that. Your visit to London is aprofessional one? I am more than delighted to have met you, M. Max; yourwork on criminal anthroposcopy has an honored place on my shelves."

  Again M. Max delivered himself of the deprecatory wave.

  "You cover me with confusion," he protested; "for I fear in that bookI have intruded upon sciences of which I know nothing, and of which youknow much."

  "On the contrary, you have contributed to those sciences, M. Max,"declared the physician; "and now, do I understand that the object ofyour call this morning?"...

  "In the first place it was to excuse myself--but in the second place, Icome to ask your help."

  He seated himself in a deep armchair--bending forward, and fixing hisdark, penetrating eyes upon the physician. Cumberly, turning his ownchair slightly, evinced the greatest interest in M. Max's disclosures.

  "If you have been in Paris lately," continued the detective, "you willpossibly have availed yourself of the opportunity--since another may notoccur--of visiting the house of the famous magician, Cagliostro, on thecorner of Rue St. Claude, and Boulevard Beaumarchais"...

  "I have not been in Paris for over two years," said Cumberly, "nor was Iaware that a house of that celebrated charlatan remained extant."

  "Ah! Dr. Cumberly, your judgment of Cagliostro is a harsh one. We haveno time for such discussion now, but I should like to debate with youthis question: was Cagliostro a charlatan? However, the point is this:Owing to alterations taking place in the Boulevard Beaumarchais, someof the end houses in Rue St. Claude are being pulled down, among themNumber 1, formerly occupied by the Comte de Cagliostro. At the time thatthe work commenced, I availed myself of a little leisure to visitthat house, once so famous. I was very much interested, and found itfascinating to walk up the Grande Staircase where so many historicalpersonages once walked to consult the seer. But great as was my interestin the apartments of Cagliostro, I was even more interested in one ofthe apartments in a neighboring house, into which--quite accidentally,you understand--I found myself looking."