your possession, you walk the narrow way, your life hangs upon a thread. Better surrender it and attend to your stocks and shares. Heaven knows how you first came into our affairs, but the sooner you are out of them the better. What do you say now to my offer?”
“It is refused,” Laverick declared. “I regret; to add,” he continued, “that I have already spared you all the time I have at my disposal. Forgive me.”
He pressed a button with his finger. His visitor rose up in anger.
“You are not such a fool!” he exclaimed. “You are not going to send me away without it? Why, I tell you that there won’t be a safe corner in the World for you!”
Halsey opened the door. Laverick nodded toward his visitor.
“Show this gentleman out, Halsey,” he ordered.
Halsey started. The noise of the revolver shot had evidently been muffled by the heavy connecting doors, but there was a smell of gunpowder in the room, and a little wreath of smoke. The man rose slowly to his feet, still blinking.
“It must be as you will, of course. I wonder if you would be so good as to let your clerk direct me to an oculist? I am, unfortunately, a helpless man in this condition.”
“There is one a few yards off,” Laverick answered. “Put on your hat, Halsey, and show this gentleman where he can get some glasses.”
His visitor leaned towards Laverick.
“It is your life which is in question, not my eyesight,” he muttered. “Do you accept my offer? Will you give me the document?”
“I do not and I will not,” Laverick replied. “I shall not part with anything until I know more than I know at present.”
The man stood motionless for a moment. His fingers seemed to be twitching. Laverick had a fancy that he was about to spring, but if ever he had had any thoughts of the kind, Halsey’s reappearance checked them.
“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Laverick,” he said quietly. “We shall, perhaps, resume this discussion at some future date.”
With that he turned and followed Halsey out of the room. Laverick went to the window and threw it wide open. The smoke floated out, the smell of gunpowder was gradually dispersed. Then he walked back to his seat. Once more he locked up the notes. The document was safe in his pocket. There was a slight mark by the side of his temple, and his ear, he discovered, was bleeding. He rang the bell and Halsey entered.
“Has our friend gone, Halsey?”
“I left him in the optician’s, sir,” the clerk answered. “He was buying some spectacles.”
Laverick glanced at the floor, where the remains of those gold-rimmed glasses were scattered.
“You had better send for a locksmith at once,” he said. “The gentleman who has been here had a skeleton key to my safe. We’ll have a combination put on.”
“Very good, sir,” Halsey answered.
“And, Halsey,” his master continued, “be careful about one thing, for your own sake as well as mine. If that man presents himself again, don’t let him come into my room unannounced. If you can help it, don’t let him come in at all. I have an idea that he might be dangerous.”
The clerk’s face was a study.
“If he presents himself here, sir,” he announced stiffly, “I shall take the liberty of sending for the police.”
Laverick made no reply.
CHAPTER XXVIII
LAVERICK’S NARROW ESCAPE
At precisely a quarter past four, nothing having happened in the meantime but a steady rush of business, Laverick ordered a taxicab to be summoned. He then unlocked his safe, placed the pocket-book securely in his breast pocket, walked through the office, and directed the man to drive to Chancery Lane. Here at the headquarters of the Safe Deposit Company he engaged a compartment, and down in the strong-room locked up the pocket-book. There was only now the document left. Stepping once more into the street, he found that his taxicab had vanished. He looked up and down in vain. The man had not been paid and there seemed to be no reason for his departure. A policeman who was standing by touched his hat and addressed him.
“Were you looking for that taxi you stepped out of a few minutes ago, sir?” he asked.
“I was,” Laverick answered. “I hadn’t paid him and I told him to wait.”
“I thought there was something queer about it,” the policeman remarked. “Soon after you had gone inside, two gentlemen drove up in a hansom. They got out here and one of them spoke to your driver, who shook his head and pointed to his flag. The gent then said something else to him – can’t say as I heard what it was, but it was probably offering him double fare. Anyway, they both got in and off went your taxi, sir.”
“Thank you,” Laverick said thoughtfully. “It sounds a little perplexing.”
He hesitated for a moment.
“Constable,” he continued, “I have just made a very valuable deposit in there, and I had an idea that I might be followed. I have still in my pocket a document of great importance. I have no doubt whatever but that the object of the men who have taken my taxicab is to leave me in the street here alone under circumstances which will render a quick attack upon me likely to be successful.”
The policeman turned his head and looked at Laverick incredulously. He was more than half inclined to believe that this was a practical joke. Were they not standing on the pavement in Chancery Lane, and was not he an able-bodied policeman of great bulk and immense muscle! Yet his companion did not look by any means a man of the nervous order. Laverick was broad-shouldered, his skin was tanned a wholesome color, his bearing was the bearing of a man prepared to defend himself at any time. The constable smiled in a non-committal manner.
“If you’ll excuse my saying so, sir,” he remarked, “I don’t think this is exactly the spot any one would choose for an assault.”
“I agree with you,” Laverick answered, “but, on the other hand, you must remember that these gentlemen have had no choice. I stepped from my office direct into the taxi, and I proposed to drive straight from here to the place where I shall probably leave the other document I am carrying with me. Why I have taken you into my confidence is to ask you this. Can you walk with me to the corner of the street, or until we meet a taxicab? it sounds cowardly, but, as a matter of fact, I am not afraid. I simply want to make sure of delivering this document to the person to whom it belongs.”
The constable stood still, a little perplexed.
“My beat, sir,” he said, “only goes about twenty-five yards further on. I will walk to the corner of Holborn with you, if you desire it. At the same time, I may say that I am breaking regulations. How do I know that it is not your scheme to get me away from this neighborhood for some purpose of your own?”
“You don’t believe anything of the sort,” Laverick declared, with a smile.
“I do not, sir,” the policeman admitted. “Keep by my side, and I think that nothing will happen to you before we reach Holborn.”
Laverick was a man of more than medium height, but by the side of the policeman he seemed short. Both scanned the faces of the passers-by closely – the police-man with mild interest, Laverick with almost feverish anxiety. It was a gray afternoon, pleasant but close. There seemed to be nothing whatever to account for the feeling of nervousness which had suddenly come over Laverick. He felt himself in danger – he had no idea how, or in what way – but the conviction was there. He took every step fully alert, absolutely on his guard.
They were almost within sight of Holborn when a cry from the bystanders caused them to look away into the middle of the road. Laverick only cast one glance there and abandoned every instinct of curiosity, thinking once more only of himself and his own position. With the constable, however, it was naturally different. He saw something which called at once for his intervention, and he immediately forgot the somewhat singular task upon which he was engaged. A man had fallen in the middle of the street, either knocked down by the shaft of a passing vehicle or in some sort of fit. There was a tangle of rearing horses, an omnibus was making desperate efforts to avoid the prostrate body. The constable sprang to the rescue. Laverick, instantly suspicious and realizing that there was no one in front of him, turned swiftly around. He was just in time to receive upon his left arm the blow which had been meant for the back of his head. He was confronted by a man dressed exactly as he himself was, in morning coat and silk hat, a man with long, lean face and legal appearance, such a person as would have passed anywhere without attracting a moment’s suspicion. Yet, in the space of a few seconds he had whipped out from one pocket, with the skill almost of a juggler, a vicious-looking life-preserver, and from the other a pocket-handkerchief soaked with chloroform. Laverick, quick and resourceful, feeling his left arm sink helpless, struck at the man with his right and sent him staggering against the wall. The handkerchief, with its load of sickening odor, fell to the pavement. The man was obviously worsted. Laverick sprang at him. They were almost unobserved, for the crowd was all intent upon the accident in the roadway. With wonderful skill, his assailant eluded his attempt to close, and tore at his coat. Laverick struck at him again but met only the air. The man’s fingers now were upon his pocket, but this time Laverick made no mistake. He struck downward so hard that with a fierce cry of pain the man relaxed his hold. Before he could recover, Laverick had struck him again. He reeled into the crowd that was fast gathering around them, attracted by what seemed to be a fight between two men of unexceptionable appearance. But there was to be no more fight. Through the people, swift-footed, cunning, resourceful, his assailant seemed to find some hidden way. Laverick glared fiercely around him, but the man had gone. His left hand crept to his chest. The victory was with him; the document was still there.
At the outside of the double crowd he perceived a taxi. Ignoring the storm of questions with which he was assailed, and the advancing helmet of his friend the policeman at the back of the crowd, Laverick hailed it and stepped quickly inside.
“Back out of this and drive to Dover Street,” he directed. The man obeyed him. People raced to look through the window at him. The other commotion had died away, – the man in the road had got up and walked off. A policeman came hurrying along but he was just too late. Very soon they were on their way down Holborn. Once more Laverick had escaped.
A French man-servant, with the sad face and immaculate dress of a High-Church cleric, took possession of him as soon as he had asked for Mademoiselle Idiale. He was shown into one of the most delightful little rooms he had ever even dreamed of. The walls were hung with that peculiar shade of blue satin which Mademoiselle so often affected in her clothes. Laverick, who was something of a connoisseur, saw nowhere any object which was not, of its sort, priceless, – French furniture of the best and choicest period, a statuette which made him, for a moment, almost forget the scene from which he had just arrived. The air in the room seemed as though it had passed through a grove of lemon trees, – it was fresh and sweet yet curiously fragrant. Laverick sank down into one of the luxurious blue-brocaded chairs, conscious for the first time that he was out of breath. Then the door opened silently and there entered not the woman whom he had been expecting, but Mr. Lassen. Laverick rose to his feet half doubtfully. Lassen’s small, queerly-shaped face seemed to have become one huge ingratiating smile.
“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Laverick,” he said, – “very glad indeed.”
“I have come to call upon Mademoiselle Idiale,” Laverick answered, somewhat curtly. He had disliked this man from the first moment he had seen him, and he saw no particular reason why he should conceal his feelings.
“I am here to explain,” Mr. Lassen continued, seating himself opposite to Laverick. “Mademoiselle Idiale is unfortunately prevented from seeing you. She has a severe nervous headache, and her only chance of appearing tonight is to remain perfectly undisturbed. Women of her position, as you may understand, have to be exceptionally careful. It would be a very serious matter indeed if she were unable to sing to-night.”
“I am exceedingly sorry to hear it,” Laverick answered. “In that case, I will call again when Mademoiselle Idiale has recovered.”
“By all means, my dear sir!” Mr. Lassen exclaimed. “Many times, let us hope. But in the meantime, there is a little affair of a document which you were going to deliver to Mademoiselle. She is most anxious that you should hand it to me – most anxious. She will tender you her thanks personally, tomorrow or the next day, if she is well enough to receive.”
Laverick shook his head firmly.
“Under no circumstances,” he declared, “should I think of delivering the document into any other hands save those of Mademoiselle Idiale. To tell you the truth, I had not fully decided whether to part with it even to her. I was simply prepared to hear what she had to say. But it may save time if I assure you, Mr. Lassen, that nothing would induce me to part with it to any one else.”
There was no trace left of that ingratiating smile upon Mr. Lassen’s face. He had the appearance now of an ugly animal about to show its teeth. Laverick was suddenly on his guard. More adventures, he thought, casting a somewhat contemptuous glance at the physique of the other man. He laid his fingers as though carelessly upon a small bronze ornament which reposed amongst others on a table by his side. If Mr. Lassen’s fat and ugly hand should steal toward his pocket, Laverick was prepared to hurl the ornament at his head.
“I am very sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Laverick,” Lassen said slowly. “I hope very much that you will see your way clear to change your mind. I can assure you that I have as much right to the document as Mademoiselle Idiale, and that it is her earnest wish that you should hand it over to me. Further, I may inform you that the document itself is a most incriminating one. Its possession upon your person, or upon the person of any one who was not upon his guard, might be a very serious matter indeed.”
Laverick shrugged his shoulders.
“As a matter of fact,” he declared, “I certainly have no idea of carrying it about with me. On the other hand, I shall part with it to no one. I might discuss the matter with Mademoiselle Idiale as soon as she is recovered. I am not disposed – I mean no offence, sir – but I may say frankly that I am not disposed even to do as much with you.”
Laverick rose to his feet with the obvious intention of leaving. Lassen followed his example and confronted him.
“Mr. Laverick,” he said, “in your own interests you must not talk like that, – in your own interests, I say.”
“At any rate,” Laverick remarked, “my interests are better looked after by myself than by strangers. You must forgive my adding, Mr. Lassen, that you are a stranger to me.”
“No more so than Mademoiselle Idiale!” the little man exclaimed.
“Mademoiselle Idiale has given me certain proof that she knew at least of the existence of this document,” Laverick answered. “She has established, therefore, a certain claim to my consideration. You announce yourself as Mademoiselle Idiale’s deputy, but you bring me no proof of the fact, nor, in any case, am I disposed to treat with you. You must allow me to wish you good afternoon.”
Lassen shook his head.
“Mr. Laverick,” he declared, “you are too impetuous. You force me to remind you that your own position as holder of that document is not a very secure one. All the police in this capital are searching to-day for the man who killed that unfortunate creature who was found murdered in Crooked Friars’ Alley. If they could find the man who was in possession of his pocket-book, who was in possession of twenty thousand pounds taken from the dead man’s body and with it had saved his business and his credit, how then, do you think? I say nothing of the document.”
Laverick was silent for a moment. He realized, however, that to make terms with this man was impossible. Besides, he did not trust him. He did not even trust him so far as to believe him the accredited envoy of Mademoiselle.
“My unfortunate position,” Laverick said, “has nothing whatever to do with the matter. Where you got your information from I cannot say. I neither accept nor deny it. But I can assure you that I am not to be intimidated. This document will remain in my possession until some one can show me a very good reason for parting with it.”
Lassen beat the back of the chair against which he was standing with his clenched fist.
“A reason why you should part with it!” he exclaimed fiercely. “Man, it stares you there in the face! If you do not part with it, you will be arrested within twenty-four hours for the murder or complicity in the murder of Rudolph Von Behrling! That I swear! That I shall see to myself!”
“In which case,” Laverick remarked, “the document will fall into the hands of the English police.”
The shot told. Laverick could have laughed as he watched its effect upon his listener. Mr. Lassen’s face was black with unuttered curses. He looked as though he would have fallen upon Laverick bodily.
“What do you know about its contents?” he hissed. “Why do you suppose it would not suit my purpose to have it fall into the hands of the English police?”
“I can see no reason whatever,” Laverick answered, “why I should take you into my confidence as to how much I know and how much I do not know. I wish you good afternoon, Mr. Lassen! I shall be ready to wait upon Mademoiselle Idiale at any time she sends for me. But in case it should interest you to be made aware of the fact,” he added, with a little bow, “I am not going round with this terrible document in my possession.”
He moved to the door. Already his hand was upon the knob when he saw the movement for which he had watched. Laverick, with a single bound, was upon his would-be assailant. The hand which had already closed upon the butt of the small revolver was gripped as though in a vice. With a scream of pain Lassen dropped the weapon upon the floor. Laverick picked it up, thrust it into his coat pocket and, taking the man’s collar with both hands, he shook him till the eyes seemed starting from his head and his shrieks of fear were changed into moans. Then he flung him into a corner of the room.
“You cowardly brute!” he exclaimed. “You come of the breed of men who shoot from behind. If ever I lay my hands upon you again, you’ll be lucky if you live to whimper about it.”
He left the room and rang for the lift. He saw no trace of any servants in the hall, nor heard any sound of any one moving. From Dover Street he drove straight to Zoe’s house. Keeping the cab waiting, he knocked at the door. She opened it herself at once, and her eyes glowed with pleasure.
“How delightful!” she cried. “Please come in. Have you come to take me to the theatre?”
He followed her into the parlor and closed the door behind them.
“Zoe,” he said, “I am going to ask you a favor.”
“Me a favor?” she repeated. “I think you know how happy it will make me if there is anything – anything at all in the world that I could do.”
“A week ago,” Laverick continued, “I was an honest but not very successful stockbroker, with a natural longing for adventures which never came my way. Since then things have altered. I have stumbled in upon the most curious little chain of happenings which ever became entwined with the life of a commonplace being like myself. The net result, for the moment, is this. Every one is trying to steal from me a certain document which I have in my pocket. I want to hide it for the night. I cannot go to the police, it is too late to go back to Chancery Lane, and I have an instinctive feeling that my flat is absolutely at the mercy of my enemies. May I hide my document in your room ? I do not believe for a moment that any one would think of searching here.”
“Of course you may,” she answered. “But listen. Can you see out into the street without moving very much?”
He turned his head. He had been standing with his back to the window, and Zoe had been facing it.
“Yes, I can see into the street,” he assented.
“Tell me – you see that taxi on the other side of the way?” she asked.
He nodded.
“It wasn’t there when I drove up,” he remarked.
“I was at the window, looking out, when you came, she said. “It followed you out from the Square into this street. Directly you stopped, I saw the man put on the brake and pull up his cab. It seemed to me so strange, just as though some one were watching you all the time.”
Laverick stood still, looking out of the window.
“Who lives in the house opposite?” he asked.
“I am afraid,” she answered, “that there are no very nice people who live round here. The people whom I see coming in and out of that house are not nice people at all.”
“I understand,” he said. “Thank you, Zoe. You are right. Whatever I do with my precious document, I will not leave it here. To tell you the truth, I thought, for certain reasons, that after I had paid my last call this afternoon I should not be followed any more. Come back with me and I will give you some dinner before you go to the theatre.”
She clapped her hands.
“I shall love it,” she declared. “But what shall you do with the document?”
“I shall take a room at the Milan Hotel,” he said, “and give it to the cashier. They have a wonderful safe there. It is the best thing I can think of. Can you suggest anything?”
She considered for a moment.
“Do you know what is inside?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I have no idea. It is the most mysterious document in the world, so far as I am concerned.”
“Why not open it and read it?” she suggested; “then you will know exactly what it is all about. You can learn it by heart and tear it up.”
“I must think that over,” he said. “One second before we go out.”
He took from his pocket the revolver which Lassen had dropped. It was a perfect little weapon, and fully charged. He replaced it in his pocket, keeping his finger upon the trigger.
“Now, Zoe, if you are ready,” he said, “come along.”
They stepped out and entered the taxi, unmolested, and Laverick ordered:
“To the Milan Hotel.”
CHAPTER XXIX
LASSEN’S TREACHERY DISCOVERED
About twenty minutes past six on the same evening, Bellamy, his clothes thick with dust, his face dark with anger, jumped lightly from a sixty horse-power car and rang the bell of the lift at number 15, Dover Street. Arrived on the first floor, he was confronted almost immediately by the sad-faced man-servant of Mademoiselle Idiale.
“Mademoiselle is in?” Bellamy asked quickly.
The man’s expression was one of sombre regret.
“Mademoiselle is spending the day in the country, sir. Bellamy took him by the shoulders and flung him against the wall.
“Thank you,” he said, “I’ve heard that before.”
He walked down the passage and knocked softly at the door of Louise’s sleeping apartment. There was no answer. He knocked again and listened at the key-hole. There was some movement inside but no one spoke.
“Louise,” he cried softly, “let me in. It is I – David.”
Again the only reply was the strangest of sounds. Almost it seemed as though a woman were trying to speak with a hand over her mouth. Then Bellamy suddenly stiffened into rigid attention. There were voices in the small reception room, – the voice of Henri, the butler, and another. Reluctantly he turned away from the closed door and walked swiftly down the passage. He entered the reception room and looked around him in amazement. It was still in disorder. Lassen sat in an easy-chair with a tumbler of brandy by his side. Henri was tying a bandage around his head, his collar was torn, there were marks of blood about his shirt. Bellamy’s eyes sparkled. He closed the door behind him.
“Come,” he exclaimed, “after all, I fancy that my arrival is somewhat opportune!”
Henri turned towards him with a reproachful gesture.
“Monsieur Lassen has been unwell, Monsieur,” he said. “He has had a fit and fallen down.”
Bellamy laughed contemptuously.
“I think I can reconstruct the scene a little better than that,” he declared. “What do you say, Mr. Lassen?”
The man glared at him viciously.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” he said. “I do not wish to speak to you. I am ill. You had better go and persuade Mademoiselle to return. She is at Dover, waiting.”
“You are a liar!” Bellamy answered. “She is in her room now, locked up – guarded, perhaps, by one of your creatures. I have been half-way to Dover, but I tumbled to your scheme in time, Mr. Lassen. You found our friend Laverick a trifle awkward, I fancy.”
Lassen swore through his teeth but said nothing.
“From your somewhat dishevelled appearance,” Bellamy continued, “I think I may conclude that you were not able to come to any amicable arrangement with Mademoiselle’s visitor. He declined to accept you as her proxy, I imagine. Still, one must make sure.”
He advanced quickly. Lassen shrank back in his chair.
“What do you mean?” he asked gruffly. “Keep him away from me, Henri. Ring the bell for your other man. This fellow will do me a mischief.”
“Not I,” Bellamy answered scornfully. “Stay where you are, Henri. To your other accomplishments I have no doubt you include that of valeting. Take off his coat.”
“But, Monsieur!” Henri protested.
“I’m d-d if he shall!” the man in the chair snarled.
Bellamy turned to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
“Look here,” he said, “I do not for one moment believe that Laverick handed over to you the document you were so anxious to obtain. On the other hand, I imagine that your somewhat battered appearance is the result of fruitless argument on your part with a view to inducing him to do so. Nevertheless, I can afford to run no risks. The coat first, please, Henri. It is necessary that I search it thoroughly.”
There was a brief hesitation. Bellamy’s hand went reluctantly into his pocket.
“I hate to seem melodramatic,” he declared, “and I never carry firearms, but I have a little life-preserver here which I have learned how to use pretty effectively. Come, you know, it isn’t a fair fight. You’ve had all you want, Lassen, and Henri there hasn’t the muscle of a chicken.”
Lassen rose, groaning, to his feet and allowed his coat to be removed. Bellamy glanced through the pockets, holding one letter for a moment in his hands as he glanced at the address.
“The writing of our friend Streuss,” he remarked, with a smile. “No, you need not fear, Lassen! I am not going to read it. There is plenty of proof of your treachery without this.”
Lassen’s face was livid and his eyes seemed like beads. Bellamy handed back the coat.
“That’s all right,” he said. “Nothing there, I am glad to see – or in the waistcoat,” he added, passing his hands over it. “I’ll trouble you to stand up for a moment, Mr. Lassen.”
The man did as he was bid and Bellamy felt him all over. When he had finished, he held in his hand a key.
“The key of Mademoiselle’s chamber, I have no doubt,” he announced, “I will leave you, then, while I see what deviltry you have been up to.”
He walked calmly to the table which stood by the window and deliberately cut the telephone wire. With the instrument under his arm, he left the room. Lassen blundered to his feet as though to intercept him, but Bellamy’s eyes suddenly flashed red fury, and the life-preserver of which he had spoken glittered above his head. Lassen staggered away.
“I’m a long-suffering man,” Bellamy said, “and if you don’t remember now that you’re the beaten dog, I may lose my temper.”
He locked them in, walked down the passage and opened the door of Louise’s bedchamber with fingers that trembled a little. With a smothered oath he cut the cord from the arms of the maid and the gag from her mouth. Louise, clad in a loose afternoon gown, was lying upon the bed, as though asleep. Bellamy saw with an impulse of relief that she was breathing regularly.
“This is Lassen’s work, of course!” he exclaimed. “What have they done to her?”
The maid spoke thickly. She was very pale, and unsteady upon her feet.
“It was something they put in her wine,” she faltered. “I heard Mr. Lassen say that it would keep her quiet for three or four hours. I think – I think that she is waking now.”
Louise opened her eyes and looked at them with amazement. Bellamy sat by the side of the bed and supported her with his arm.
“It is only a skirmish, dear,” he whispered, “and it is a drawn battle, although you got the worst of it.”
She put her hand to her head, struggling to remember.
“Mr. Laverick has been here?” she asked.
“He has. Your friend Lassen has been taking a hand in the game. I came here to find you like this and Annette tied up. Henri is in with him. What has become of your other servants I don’t know.”
“Henri asked for a holiday for them,” she said, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. “I begin to understand. But tell me, what happened when Mr. Laverick came?”
“I can only guess,” Bellamy answered, “but it seems that Lassen must have received him as though with your authority.”
“And what then?” she asked quickly.
“I am almost certain,” Bellamy declared, “that Laverick refused to have anything to do with him. I received a wire from Dover to say that you were on your way home, and asking me to meet you at the Lord Warden Hotel. I borrowed Montresor’s racing-car, but I sent telegrams, and I was pretty soon on my way back. When I arrived here, I found Lassen in your little room with a broken head. Evidently Laverick and he had a scrimmage and he got the worst of it. I have searched him to his bones and he has no paper. Laverick brought it here, without a doubt, and has taken it away again.”
She rose to her feet.
“Go and let Lassen out,” she said. “Tell him he must never come here again. I will see him at the Opera House to-night or to-morrow night – that is, if I can get there. I do not know whether I shall feel fit to sing.”
“I shall take the liberty, also,” remarked Bellamy, “of kicking Henri out.”
Louise sighed.
“He was such a good servant. I think it must have cost our friend Streuss a good deal to buy Henri. You will come back to me when you have finished with them?”
Bellamy made short work of his discomfited prisoners. Lassen was surly but only eager to depart Henri was resigned but tearful. Almost as they went the other servants began to return from their various missions. Bellamy went back to Louise, who was lying down again and drinking some tea. She motioned Bellamy to come over to her side.
“Tell me,” she asked, “what are you going to do now?”
“I am going to do what I ought to have done before,” Bellamy answered. “Laverick’s connection with this affair is suspicious enough, but after all he is a sportsman and an Englishman. I am going to tell him what that envelope contains – tell him the truth.”
“You are right!” she exclaimed. “Whatever he may have done, if you tell him the truth he will give you that document. I am sure of it. Do you know where to find him?”
“I shall go to his rooms,” Bellamy declared. “I must be quick, too, for Lassen is free – they will know that he has failed.”
“Come back to me, David,” she begged, and he kissed her fingers and hurried out.
CHAPTER XXX
THE CONTEST FOR THE PAPERS
Laverick, sitting with Zoe at dinner, caught his companion looking around the restaurant with an expression in her face which he did not wholly understand.
“Something is the matter with you this evening, Zoe,” he said anxiously. “Tell me what it is. You don’t like this place, perhaps?”
“Of course I do.”
“It is your dinner, then, or me?” he persisted. “Come, out with it. Haven’t we promised to tell each other the truth always?”
The pink color came slowly into her cheeks. Her eyes, raised for a moment to his, were almost reproachful.
“You know very well that it is not anything to do with you,” she whispered. “You are too kind to me all the time. Only,” she went on, a little hesitatingly, “don’t you realize – can’t you see how differently most of the girls here are dressed? I don’t mind so much for myself – but you – you have so many friends. You keep on seeing people whom you know. I am afraid they will think that I ought not to be here.”
He looked at her in surprise, mingled, perhaps, with compunction. For the first time he appreciated the actual shabbiness of her clothes. Everything about her was so neat – pathetically neat, as it seemed to him in one illuminating moment of realization. The white linen collar, notwithstanding its frayed edges, was spotlessly clean. The black bow was carefully tied to conceal its worn parts. Her gloves had been stitched a good many times. Her gown, although it was tidy, was old-fashioned and had distinctly seen its best days. He suddenly recognized the effort – the almost despairing effort – which her toilette had cost her.
“I don’t think that men notice these things,” he said simply. “To me you look just as you should look – and I wouldn’t change places with any other man in the room for a great deal.”
Her eyes were soft – perilously soft – as she looked at him with uplifted eyebrows and a faint smile struggling at the corners of her lips. A wave of tenderness crept into his heart. What a brave little child she was!
“You will quite spoil me if you make such nice speeches,” she murmured.
“Anyhow,” he went on, speaking with decision, “so long as you feel like that, you are going to have a new gown – or two – and a new hat, and you are going to have them at once. They are going to be bought with your brother’s money, mind. Shall I come shopping with you?”
She shook her head.
“Mind, it is partly for your sake that I give in,” she said. “It would be lovely to have you come, but you would spend far too much money. You really mean it all?”
“Absolutely,” he answered. “I insist upon it.”
She leaned towards him with dancing eyes. After all, she was very much of a child. The prospect of a new gown, now that she permitted herself to think of it, was enthralling.
“I might get a coat and skirt,” she remarked thoughtfully, “and a simple white dress. A black hat would do for both of them, then.”
“Don’t you study your brother too much,” Laverick declared. “His stock is going up all the time.”
“Tell me your favorite color,” she begged confidentially.
“I can’t conceive your looking nicer than you do in black,” he replied.
She made a wry face.
“I suppose it must be black,” she murmured doubtfully. “It is much more economical than anything – “
She broke off to bow to a stout, red-faced man who, after a rude stare, had greeted her with a patronizing nod. Laverick frowned.
“Who is that fellow?” he asked.
“Mr. Heepman, our stage-manager,” Zoe answered, a little timidly.
“Is there any particular reason why he should behave like a boor?” Laverick continued, raising his voice a little.
She caught at his arm in terror. The man was sitting at the next table.
“Don’t, please!” she implored. “He might hear you. He is just behind there.”
Laverick half turned in his chair. She guessed what he was about to say, and went on rapidly.
“He has been so foolish,” she whispered. “He has asked me so often to go out with him. And he could get me sent away, if he wanted, any time. He almost threatened it, the last time I refused. Now that he has seen me with you, he will be worse than ever.”
Laverick’s face darkened, and there was a peculiar flash in his eyes. The man was certainly looking at them in a rude manner.
“There are so many of the girls who would only be too pleased to go with him,” Zoe continued, in a terrified undertone. “I can’t think why he bothers me.”
“I can,” Laverick muttered. “Let’s forget about the brute.”
But the dinner was already spoiled for Zoe, so Laverick paid the bill a few minutes later, and walked across to the stage-door of the theatre with her. Her little hand, when she gave it to him at parting, was quite cold.
“I’m as nervous as I can be,” she confessed. “Mr. Heepman will be watching all the night for something to find fault with me about.”
“Don’t you let him bully you,” Laverick begged.
“I won’t,” she promised. “Good-bye! Thanks so much for my dinner.”
She turned away with a brave attempt at a smile, but it was only an attempt. Laverick walked on to his club. There was no one in the dining-room whom he knew, and the card-room was empty. He played one game of billiards, but he played badly. He was upset. His nerves were wrong he told himself, and little wonder. There seemed to be no chance of a rubber at bridge, so he sallied out again and walked aimlessly towards Covent Garden. Outside the Opera House he hesitated and finally entered, yielding to an impulse the nature of which he scarcely recognized. While he was inquiring about a stall, a small printed notice was thrust into his hand. He read it with a slight start.
We regret to announce that owing to indisposition Mademoiselle Idiale will not be able to appear this evening. The part of Delilah will be taken by Mademoiselle Blanche Temoigne, late of the Royal Opera House, St. Petersburg.
Ten minutes later, Laverick rang the bell of her flat in Dover Street. A strange man-servant answered him.
“I came to inquire after Mademoiselle Idiale,” Laverick said.
The man held out a tray on which was already a small heap of cards. Laverick, however, retained his.
“I should be glad if you would take mine in to her,” he said. “I think it is just likely that she may see me for a moment.”
The servant’s attitude was one of civil but unconcealed hostility. He would have closed the door had not Laverick already passed over the threshold.
“Madame is not well enough to receive visitors, sir,” the man declared. “She shall have your card as soon as possible.”
“I should like her to have it now,” Laverick persisted, drawing a five-pound note from his pocket.
The man looked at the note longingly.
“It would be only waste of time, sir,” he declared. “Mademoiselle is confined to her bedroom and my orders are absolute.”
“You are not the man who was here earlier in the day,” Laverick remarked. “I wonder,” he continued, with a sudden inspiration, “whether you are not Mr. Bellamy’s servant?”
“That is so, sir. Mr. Bellamy has sent me here to see that no one has access to Mademoiselle Idiale.”
“Then there is no harm whatever in taking in my card,” Laverick declared convincingly. “You can put that note in your pocket. I am perfectly certain that Mademoiselle Idiale will see me, and that your master would wish her to do so.”
“I will take the risk, sir,” the man decided, “but the orders I have received were stringent.”
He disappeared and was gone for several moments. When he came back he was accompanied by a pale-faced woman dressed in black, obviously a maid.
“Monsieur Laverick,” she said, “Mademoiselle Idiale will receive you. If you will come this way?”
She opened the door of the little reception-room, and Laverick followed her. The man returned to his place in the hall.
“Madame will be here in a moment,” the maid said. “She will be glad to see you, but she has been very badly frightened.”
Laverick bowed sympathetically. The woman herself was gray-faced, terror-stricken.
“It is Monsieur Lassen, the manager of Madame, who has caused a great deal of trouble here,” she said. “Madame never trusted him and now we have discovered that he is a spy.”
The woman seemed to fade away. The door of the inner room was opened and Louise came out. She was still exceedingly pale, and there were dark rims under her eyes. She came across the room with outstretched hands. There was no doubt whatever as to her pleasure.
“You have seen Mr. Bellamy?” she asked.
Laverick shook his head.
“No, I have seen nothing of Bellamy to-day. I came to call upon you this afternoon.”
She wrung her hands.
“You understand, of course!” she exclaimed. “I did not trust Lassen, but I never imagined anything like this. He is an Austrian. Only a few hours ago I learned that he is one of their most heavily paid spies. Streuss got hold of him. But there, I forgot – you do not understand this. It is enough that he laid a plot to get that document from you. Where is it, Mr. Laverick? You have brought it now?”
“Why, no,” Laverick answered, “I have not.”
Her eyes were round with terror. She held out her hands as though to keep away some tormenting thought.
“Where is it?” she cried. “You have not parted with it?
“I have not,” Laverick replied gravely. “It is in the safe deposit of a hotel to which I have moved.”
She closed her eyes and drew a long breath of relief.
“You are not well,” Laverick said. “Let me help you to a chair.”
She sat down wearily.
“Why have you moved to a hotel?” she asked.
“To tell you the truth,” Laverick answered, “I seem to have wandered into a sort of modern Arabian Nights. Three times to-day attempts have been made to get that document from me by force. I have been followed whereever I went. I felt that it was not safe in my chambers, so I moved to a hotel and deposited it in their strong-room. I have come to the conclusion that the best thing I can do is to open it to-morrow morning, and decide for myself as to its destination.”
Louise sat quite still for several moments. Then she opened her eyes.
“What you say is an immense relief to me, Mr. Laverick,” she declared. “I perceive now that we have made a mistake. We should have told you the whole truth from the first. This afternoon when Mr. Bellamy left me, it was to come to you and tell you everything.”
Laverick listened gravely.
“Really,” he said, “it seems to me the wisest course. I haven’t the least desire to keep the document. I cannot think why Bellamy did not treat me with confidence from the first – “
He stopped short. Suddenly he understood. Something in Louise’s face gave him the hint.
“Of course!” he murmured to himself.
“Mr. Laverick,” Louise said quietly, “in this matter I am no man’s judge, yet, as you and I know well, that paper could have come into your hands in one way, and one way only. There may be some explanation. If so, it is for you to offer it or not, as you think best. Mr. Bellamy and I are allies in this matter. It is not our business to interfere with the course of justice. You will run no risk in parting with that paper.
“Where can I see Bellamy?” Laverick Inquired, rising and taking up his hat.
“He would go straight to your rooms,” she answered. “Did you leave word there where you had gone?”
“Purposely I did not,” Laverick replied. “I had better try and find him, perhaps.”
“It is not necessary,” she announced. “No wonder that you feel yourself to have wandered into the Arabian Nights, Mr. Laverick. There are two sets of spies who follow you everywhere – two sets that I know of. There may be another.”
“You think that Bellamy will find me?” he asked.
“I am sure of it.”
“Then I’ll go back to the hotel and wait.”
She hurried him away, but at the door she detained him for a moment.
“Mr. Laverick,” she said, looking at him earnestly, “somehow or other I cannot help believing that you are an honest man.
Laverick sighed. He opened his lips but closed them again.
“You are very kind, Mademoiselle,” he declared simply.
Laverick, as he entered the reception hall at the Milan Hotel, noticed a man leaning over the cashier’s desk talking confidentially to the clerk in charge. The latter recognized Laverick with obvious relief, and at once directed his questioner’s attention to him. Kahn turned swiftly around and without a moment’s hesitation came smiling towards Laverick with the apparent intention of accosting him. He was correctly garbed, tall and fair, with every appearance of being a man of breeding. He glanced at Laverick carelessly as he passed, but, as though changing his original purpose, made no attempt to address him. The cashier, who had been watching, gave vent to a little exclamation of surprise and sprang over the counter. He approached Laverick hastily.
“Do you know that gentleman just going out, sir?” he asked.
“I never saw him before in my life,” Laverick answered. “Why?”
“Is this your handwriting, sir?” the man inquired, touching with his forefinger the half sheet of note-paper which he had been carrying.
Laverick read quickly, –
To the Cashier at the Milan Hotel, – Deliver to bearer document deposited with you. STEPHEN LAVERICK.
“It is not,” he declared promptly. “It is an impudent forgery. Good God! You don’t mean to say that you parted with my property to – “
The cashier stopped his breathless question.
“I haven’t parted with anything, sir,” he said. “I was just wondering what to do when you came in. I’d no reason to believe that the signature was a forgery, but I didn’t like the look of it, somehow. We’d better be after him. Come along, sir.”
They hurried outside. The man was nowhere in sight. The cashier summoned the head porter.
“A gentleman has just come out,” he exclaimed, – “tall and fair, very carefully dressed, with a single eyeglass! Which way did he go?”
“He’s just driven off in a big Daimler car, sir,” the porter answered. “I noticed him particularly. He spoke to the chauffeur in Austrian.”
Laverick looked out into the Strand.
“Can’t we stop him?” he asked rapidly.
The porter smiled as he shook his head.
“Not the ghost of a chance, sir. He shot round the corner there as though he were in a desperate hurry, and went the wrong side of the island. I heard the police calling to him. I hope there’s nothing wrong, Mr. Dean?”
The cashier hesitated and glanced at Laverick.
“Nothing much,” Laverick answered. “We should have liked to have asked him a question – that is all.”
Bellamy came out from the hotel and paused to light a cigarette.
“How are you, Laverick?” he said quietly. “Nothing the matter, I hope?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Laverick replied.
The cashier returned to his duties. The two men were alone. Bellamy, most carefully dressed, with his silver-headed cane under his arm, and his silk hat at precisely the correct angle, seemed very far removed from the work of intrigue into which Laverick felt himself to have blundered. He looked down for a moment at the tips of his patent shoes and up again at the sky, as though anxious about the weather.
“What about a drink, Laverick?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Delighted!” Laverick assented.
CHAPTER XXXI
MISS LENEVEU ‘S MESSAGE
The two men stepped back into the hotel. The cashier had returned to his desk, and the incident which had just transpired seemed to have passed unnoticed. Nevertheless, Laverick felt that the studied indifference of his companion’s manner had its significance, and he endeavored to imitate it.
“Shall we go through into the bar?” he asked. “There’s very seldom any one there at this time.”
“Anywhere you say, Bellamy answered. “It’s years since we had a drink together.”
They passed into the inner room and, finding it empty, drew two chairs into the further corner. Bellamy summoned the waiter.
“Two whiskies and sodas quick, Tim,” he ordered. “Now, Laverick, listen to me,” he added, as the waiter turned away. “We are alone for the moment but it won’t be for long. You know very well that it wasn’t to renew our schoolboy acquaintance that I’ve asked you to come in here with me.”
Laverick drew a little breath.
“Please go on,” he said. “I am as anxious as you can be to grasp this affair properly.”
“When we left school,” Bellamy remarked, “you were destined for the Stock Exchange. I went first to Magdalen. Did you ever hear what became of me afterwards?”
“I always understood,” Laverick answered, “that you went into one of the Government offices.”
“Quite right,” Bellamy assented. “I did. At this moment I have the honor to serve His Majesty.”
“Two thousand a year and two hours work a day,” Laverick laughed. “I know the sort of thing.”
“You evidently don’t,” Bellamy answered. “I often work twenty hours a day, I don’t get half two thousand a year, and most of the time I carry my life in my hands. When I am working – and I am working now – I am never sure of the morrow.”
Laverick looked at him incredulously.
“You’re not joking, Bellamy?” he asked.
“Not by any manner of means. I have the honor to be a humble member of His Majesty’s Secret Service.”
Laverick glanced at his companion wonderingly.
“I really didn’t know,” he said, “that such a service had any actual existence except in novels.”
“I am a proof to the contrary,” Bellamy declared grimly. “Abroad, I run always the risk of being dubbed a spy and treated like one. At home, I am simply the head of the A2 Branch of the Secret Service. Here come our drinks.”
Laverick raised his whiskey and soda to his lips mechanically.
“Here’s luck!” he exclaimed. “Now go on, Bellamy,” he continued. “The waiter can’t overhear.”
Bellamy smiled.
“Tim is one of the few persons in the place,” he said, “whom one can trust. As a matter of fact, he has been very useful to me more than once. Now listen to me attentively, Laverick. I am going to speak to you as one man to another.”
Laverick nodded.
“I am ready,” he said.
“Last Monday,” Bellamy went on, leaning forward and speaking in a soft but very distinct undertone, “a man was murdered late at night in the heart of the city – within one hundred yards of the Stock Exchange. The papers called it a mysterious murder. No one knows who the man was, or who committed the crime, or why. You and I, Laverick, both know a little more than the rest of the world.”
“Well?”
“The murder,” Bellamy continued, with a strange light in his eyes, “was accomplished only a stone’s throw from your office.”
Laverick lit a cigarette and threw the match away.
“Horrible affair it was,” he remarked.
Bellamy glanced toward the door, – a man had looked in and departed.
“Enough of this fencing, Laverick,” he said. “A theft was committed from the person of that murdered man, of which the general public knows nothing. A pocketbook was stolen from him containing twenty thousand pounds and a sealed document. As to who murdered the man, I want you to understand that that is not my affair. As to what has become of that twenty thousand pounds, I have not the slightest curiosity. I want the document.”
“What claim have you to it?” Laverick asked quickly.
“I might retort, but I will not,” Bellamy replied. “Time is too short. I will answer you by explaining who the man was and what that document consists of. The man’s name was Von Behrling, and he was a trusted agent of the Austrian Secret Service. The document of which he was robbed contains a verbatim report of the conference which recently took place at Vienna between the Emperor of Germany, the Emperor of Austria, and the Czar of Russia. It contains the details of a plot against this country and the undertakings entered into by those several Powers. I want that document, Laverick. Have I established my claim?”
“You have,” Laverick answered. “Why on earth Didn’t you come to me before? Don’t you believe that I should have listened to you as readily as to Mademoiselle Idiale?”
“I wish that I had come,” Bellamy admitted, “and yet, here is the truth, Laverick, because the truth is best. Twenty-two years lie between us and the time when we knew anything of one another. To me, therefore, you are a stranger. I had my spies following Von Behrling that night. I know that you took the pocket-book from his dead body. If you did not murder him yourself, the deed was done by an accomplice of yours. How was I to trust you? We are speaking naked words, my friend. We are dealing with naked truths. To me you were a murderer and a thief. A word from me and you would have realized the value of that document. I tell you frankly that Austria would give you almost any sum for it to-day.”
Laverick, strong man though he was, was conscious of a sudden weakness. He raised his hand to his forehead and drew it away – wet. He struggled desperately for self-control.
“Bellamy,” he said, “here’s truth for truth. I am not on my trial before you. Believe me, man, for God’s sake!”
“I’ll try,” Bellamy promised. “Go on.”
“That night I stayed at my office late because I saw ruin before me on the morrow. I left it meaning to go straight home. I lit a cigarette near that entry, and by the light of a match, as I was throwing it away, I saw the murdered man. I think for a time I was paralyzed. The pocket-book was half dragged out from his pocket. Why I looked inside it I don’t know. I had some sort of wild idea that I must find out who he was. Mind you, though, I should have given the alarm at once, but there wasn’t a soul in the street. There was a man lurking in the entry and I chased him, unsuccessfully. When I came back, the body was still there and the street empty. I looked inside that pocket-book, which would have been in the possession of his murderer but for my unexpected appearance. I saw the notes there. Once more I went out into the street. I gave no alarm, – I am not attempting to explain why. I was like a man made suddenly mad. I went back to my office and shut myself in.”
Bellamy pointed to the glasses silently. The waiter came forward and refilled them.
“Bellamy,” Laverick continued, “your career and mine lie far apart, and yet, at their backbone, as there is at the backbone of every man’s life, there must be something of the same sort of ambition. My grandfather lived and died a member of the Stock Exchange, honored and well thought of. My father followed in his footsteps. I, too, was there. Without becoming wealthy, the name I bear has become known and respected. Failure, whatever one may say, means a broken life and a broken honor. I sat in my office and I knew that the use of those notes for a few days might save me from disgrace, might keep the name, which my father and grandfather had guarded so jealously, free from shame. I would have paid any price for the use of them. I would have paid with my life, if that had been possible. Think of the risk I ran – the danger I am now in. I deposited those notes on the morrow as security at my bank, and I met all my engagements. The crisis is over! Those notes are in a safe deposit vault in Chancery Lane! I only wish to Heaven that I could find the owner!”
“And the document?” Bellamy asked. “The document?”
“It is in the hotel safe,” Laverick answered.
Bellamy drew a long sigh of relief. Then he emptied his tumbler and lit a cigarette.
“Laverick,” he declared, “I believe you.”
“Thank God!” Laverick muttered.
“I am no crime investigator,” Bellamy went on thoughtfully. “As to who killed Von Behrling, or why, I cannot now form the slightest idea. That twenty thousand pounds, Laverick, is Secret Service money, paid by me to Von Behrling only half-an-hour before he was murdered, in a small restaurant there, for what I supposed to be the document. He deceived me by making up a false packet. The real one he kept. He deserved to die, and I am glad he is dead.”
Laverick’s face was suddenly hopeful.
“Then you can take these notes!” he exclaimed.
Bellamy nodded.
“In a few days,” he said, “I shall take you with me to a friend of mine – a Cabinet Minister. You shall tell him the story exactly as you’ve told it to me, and restore the money.”
Laverick laughed like a child.
“Don’t think I’m mad,” he apologized, “but I am not a person like you, Bellamy, – used to adventures and this sort of wild happenings. I’m a steady-going, matter-of-fact Englishman, and this thing has been like a hateful nightmare to me. I can’t believe that I’m going to get rid of it.”
Bellamy smiled.
“It’s a great adventure,” he declared, “to come to any one like you. To tell you the truth, I can’t imagine how you had the pluck – don’t misunderstand me, I mean the moral pluck – to run such a risk. Why, at the moment you used those notes,” Bellamy continued, “the odds must have been about twenty to one against your not being found out.”
“One doesn’t stop to count the odds,” Laverick said grimly. “I saw a chance of salvation and I went for it. And now about this letter.”
Bellamy rose to his feet.
“On the King’s service!” he whispered softly.
They walked once more to the cashier’s desk. A stranger greeted them. Laverick produced his receipt.
“I should like the packet I deposited here this evening,” he said. “I am sorry to trouble you, but I find that I require it unexpectedly.”
The clerk glanced at the receipt and up at the clock. “I am afraid, sir,” he answered, “that we cannot get at it before the morning.”
“Why not?” Laverick demanded, frowning.
“Mr. Dean has just gone home,” the man declared, “and he is the only one who knows the combination on the ‘L’ safe. You see, sir,” he continued, “we keep this particular safe for documents, and we did not expect that anything would be required from it to-night.”
Bellamy drew Laverick away.
“After all,” he said, “perhaps to-morrow morning would be better. There’s no need to get shirty with these fellows. As a matter of fact, I don’t think that I should have dared to receive it without making some special preparations. I can get some plain clothes men here upon whom I can rely, at nine o’clock.”
They strolled back into the hall.
“Tell me,” Laverick asked, “do you know who the man was who forged my name to the order a few hours ago?”
Bellamy nodded.
“It was Adolf Kahn, an Austrian spy. I have been watching him for days. If they’d given him the paper I had four men at the door, but it would have been touch and go. He is a very prince of conspirators, that fellow. To tell you the truth, I think I might as well go home.”
Bellamy was drawing on his gloves when the hall-porter brought a note to Laverick.
“A messenger has just left this for you, sir,” he explained.
Laverick tore open the envelope. The contents consisted of a few words only, written on plain note-paper and in a handwriting which was strange to him.
“Ring up 1232 Gerrard.”
Laverick frowned, turned over the half sheet of paper and looked once more at the envelope. Then he passed it on to his companion.
“What do you make of that, Bellamy?” he asked.
Bellamy smiled as he perused and returned it.
“What could any one make of it?” he remarked, laconically. “Do you know the handwriting?”
“Never saw it before, to my knowledge,” Laverick answered. “What should you do about it?”
“I think,” Bellamy suggested, “that I should ring up number 1232 Gerrard.”
They crossed the hall and Laverick entered one of the telephone booths.
“1232 Gerrard,” he said.
The connection was made almost at once.
“Who are you?” Laverick asked.
“I am speaking for Miss Zoe Leneven,” was the reply. “Are you Mr. Laverick?”
“I am,” Laverick answered. “Is Miss Leneveu there? Can she speak to me herself?”
“She is not here,” the voice continued. “She was fetched away in a hurry from the theatre – we understood by her brother. She left two and sixpence with the doorkeeper here to ring you up and explain that she had been summoned to her brother’s rooms, 25, Jermyn Street, and would you kindly go on there.”
“Who are you?” Laverick demanded.
There was no reply. Laverick remained speechless, listening intently. He stood still with the receiver pressed to his ear. Was it his fancy, or was that really Zoe’s protesting voice which he heard in the background? It was a woman or a child who was speaking – he was almost sure that it was Zoe.
“Who are you?” he asked fiercely. “Miss Leneveu is there with you. Why does she not speak for herself?”
“Miss Leneveu is not here,” was the answer. “I have done what she desired. You can please yourself whether you go or not. The address is 25, Jermyn Street. Ring off.”
The connection was gone. Laverick laid down the receiver and stepped out of the booth.
“I must be off at once,” he said to Bellamy. “You’ll be round in the morning?”
Bellamy smiled.
“After all,” he remarked, “I have changed my plans. I shall not leave the hotel. I am going to telephone round to my man to bring me some clothes. By the bye, do you mind telling me whether this message which you have just received had anything to do with the little affair in which we are interested?”
“Not directly,” Laverick answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “The message was from a young lady. I have to go and meet her.”
“A young lady whom you can trust?” Bellamy inquired quietly.
“Implicitly,” Laverick assured him.
“She spoke herself?”
“No, she sent a message. Excuse me, Bellamy, won’t you, but I must really go.”
“By all means,” Bellamy answered.
They stood at the entrance to the hotel together while a taxicab was summoned. Laverick stepped quickly in.
“25, Jermyn Street,” he ordered.
Bellamy watched him drive off. Then he sighed.
“I think, my friend Laverick,” he said softly, “that you will need some one to look after you to-night.”
CHAPTER XXXII
MORRISON IS DESPERATE
Certainly it was a strange little gathering that waited in Morrison’s room for the coming of Laverick. There was Lassen -flushed, ugly, breathing heavily, and watching the door with fixed, beady eyes. There was Adolf Kahn, the man who had strolled out from the Milan Hotel as Laverick had entered it, leaving the forged order behind him. There was Streuss – stern, and desperate with anxiety. There was Morrison himself, in the clothes of a workman, worn to a shadow, with the furtive gleam of terrified guilt shining in his sunken eyes, and the slouched shoulders and broken mien of the habitual criminal. There was Zoe, around whom they were all standing, with anger burning in her cheeks and gleaming out of her passion-filled eyes. She, too, like the others, watched the door. So they waited.
Streuss, not for the first time, moved to the window and drawing aside the curtains looked down into the street.
“Will he come – this Englishman?” he muttered. “Has he courage?”
“More courage than you who keep a girl here against her will!” Zoe panted, looking at him defiantly. “More courage than my poor brother, who stands there like a coward!”
“Shut up, Zoe!” Morrison exclaimed harshly. “There is nothing for you to be furious about or frightened. No one wants to ill-treat you. These gentlemen all want to behave kindly to us. It is Laverick they want.”
“And you,” she cried, “are content to stand by and let him walk into a trap – you let them even use my name to bring him here! Arthur, be a man! Have nothing more to do with them. Help me to get away from this place. Call out. Do something instead of standing there and wasting the precious minutes.”
He came towards her – ugly and threatening.
“I’ll do something in a minute,” he declared savagely, – “something you won’t like, either. Keep your mouth shut, I tell you. It’s me or him, and, by Heavens, he deserves what he’ll get!”
Streuss turned away from the window and looked towards Zoe.
“Young lady,” he said quietly, “let me beg you not to distress yourself so. I sincerely trust that nothing unpleasant will happen. If it does, I promise you that we will arrange for your temporary absence. You shall not be disturbed in any way.”
“And as regards your brother, have a care, young lady,” Lassen growled. “If any one’s in danger, it’s he. He’ll be lucky if he saves his own skin.”
The young man glowered at her.
“You hear that, you little fool!” he muttered. Keep still, can’t you?”
Her face was full of defiance. He came nearer to her and changed his tone.
“Zoe,” he whispered hoarsely, “don’t you understand ? If they can’t get what they want from Laverick, they’ll visit it upon me. They’re desperate, I tell you. They mean mischief all the time.”
“Yet you let him be brought here, your partner who looked after you when you were ill, and who helped you to get away!” she cried indignantly.
He laughed unpleasantly.
“When it comes to a matter of life or death, it’s every man for himself. Besides, if I’d known as much about Laverick as I know now, I’m not sure that I should have been so ready to go – not empty-handed, by any manner of means.”
“What have you done that you should be so much in the power of these people?” she demanded, fixing her dark eyes upon him searchingly.
The terror whitened his face once more. The perspiration stood out in beads upon his forehead.
“Don’t dare to ask me questions!” he exclaimed nervously. “I should like to know what Laverick is to you, eh, that you take so much interest in him? Listen here, my fine young lady. If I’ve been mug enough to do the dirty work, he hasn’t made any bones about taking advantage of it. He’s a nice sort of sportsman, I can tell you.”
The man at the window suddenly dropped the curtain and spoke across the room to them all.
“He is here,” he announced.
“Alone?” Lassen asked thickly.
“Alone,” Streuss echoed.
A little thrill seemed to pass through the room. Zoe made no attempt to cry out. Instead she leaned forward towards the door, as though listening. Her attitude seemed harmless enough. No one took any more notice of her. They all watched the entrance to the apartment. Zoe remembered the two flights of stairs. She was absorbed in a breathless calculation. Now – now he should be coming quite close. Her whole being was concentrated upon one effort of listening. At last she raised her head. The room resounded with her cries.
“Don’t come in! Don’t come in here!” she shrieked. “Mr. Laverick, do you hear? Go away! Don’t come in here alone!”
Her brother was the first to reach her, his hand fell upon her mouth brutally. Her little effort was naturally a failure – defeating, in fact, its own object. Laverick, hearing her cries, simply hastened his coming, threw open the door without waiting to knock, and stepped quickly across the threshold. He saw a man dressed in shabby workman’s clothes, unshaven, dishevelled, holding Zoe in a rough grasp, and with a single well-directed blow he sent him reeling across the room. Then something in the man’s cry, a momentary glimpse of his white face, revealed his identity.
“Morrison!” he cried. “Good God, it’s Morrison!”
Arthur Morrison was crouching in a corner of the room, his evil face turned upon his aggressor. Laverick took quick stock of his surroundings. There was the tall, fair young man -Adolf Kahn – whom he had seen at the Milan a few hours ago – the man who had unsuccessfully forged his name. There was Lassen, the man who, under pretence of being her manager, had been a spy upon Louise. There was Streuss, with blanched face and hard features, standing with his back to the door. There was Zoe, and, behind, her brother. She held out her hands timidly towards him, and her eyes were soft with pleading.
“I did not want you to come here, Mr. Laverick,” she cried softly. “I tried so hard to stop you. It was not I who sent that message.”
He took her cold little fingers and raised them to his lips.
“I know it, dear,” he murmured.
Then a movement in the room warned him, and he was suddenly on guard. Lassen was close to his side, some evil purpose plainly enough written in his pasty face and unwholesome eyes. Laverick gave him his left shoulder and sent him staggering across the floor. He was angry at having been outwitted and his eyes gleamed ominously.
“Well, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “you seem to have taken unusual pains to secure my presence here! Tell me now, what can I do for you?”
It was Streuss who became spokesman. He addressed Laverick with the consideration of one gentleman addressing another. His voice had many agreeable qualities. His demeanor was entirely amicable.
“Mr. Laverick,” he answered, “let us first apologize if we used a little subterfuge to procure for us the pleasure of your visit. We are men who are in earnest, and across whose path you have either wilfully or accidentally strayed. An understanding between us has become a necessity.”
“Go on,” Laverick interrupted. “Tell me exactly who you are and what you want.”
“As to who we are,” Streuss answered, “does that really matter? I repeat that we are men who are in earnest – let that be enough. As to what we want, it is a certain document to which we have every claim, and which has come into your possession – I flatter you somewhat, Mr. Laverick, if I say by chance.”
Laverick shrugged his shoulders.
“Let that go,” he said. “I know all about the document you refer to, and the notes. They were contained in a pocket-book which it is perfectly true has come into my possession. Prove your claim to both and you shall have them.”
Streuss smiled.
“You will admit that our claim, since we know of its existence,” he asked suavely, “is equal to yours?”
“Certainly,” Laverick answered, “but then I never had any idea of keeping either the document or the money. That your claim is better than mine is no guarantee that there is not some one else whose title is better still.”
Streuss frowned.
“Be reasonable, Mr. Laverick,” he begged. “We are men of peace – when peace is possible. The money of which you spoke you can consider as treasure trove, if you will, but it is our intention to possess ourselves of the document. It is for that reason that we are here in London. I, personally, am committed to the extent of my life and my honor to its recovery.”
A declaration of war, courteously veiled but decisive. Laverick looked around him a little defiantly, and shrugged his shoulders.
“You know very well that I do not carry it about with me,” he said. “The gentleman on my left,” he added, pointing to Kahn, “can tell you where it is kept.”
“Quite so,” Streuss admitted. “We are not doing you the injustice to suppose that you would be so foolhardy as to trust yourself anywhere with that document upon your person. It is in the safe at the Milan Hotel. I may add that probably, if it had not occurred to you to change your quarters, it would have been in our possession before now. We are hoping to persuade you to return to the hotel with one of our friends here, and procure it.”
“As it happens,” Laverick remarked, “that is impossible. The man who set the combination for that particular safe has gone off duty, and will not be back again at the hotel till to-morrow morning.”
“But he is to be found,” Streuss answered easily. “His present whereabouts and his address are known to us. He lives with his family at Harvard Court, Hampstead. We shall assist you in making it worth his while to return to the hotel or to give you the combination word for the safe.”
“You are rather great on detail!” Laverick exclaimed.
“It is our business. The question for you to decide, and to decide immediately, is whether you are ready to end this, in some respects, constrained situation, and give your word to place that document in our hands.”
“You are ready to accept my word, then?” Laverick asked.
“We have a certain hold upon you,” Streuss continued slowly. “Your partner Mr. Morrison’s position in connection with the murder in Crooked Friars’ Alley is, as you may have surmised, a somewhat unfortunate one. Your own I will not allude to. I will simply suggest that for both your sakes publicity – any measure of publicity, in fact, as regards this little affair – would not be desirable.”
Laverick hesitated. He understood all that was implied. Morrison’s eyes were fixed upon him – the eyes of a craven coward. He felt the intensity of the moment. Then Zoe turned suddenly towards him.
“You are not to give it up!” she cried, with trembling lips. “They cannot hurt you, and it is not true – about Arthur.”
Kahn, who was nearest, clapped his hand over her mouth and Laverick knocked him down. Instantly the pacific atmosphere of the room was changed. Lassen and Morrison closed swiftly upon Laverick from different sides. Streuss covered him with the shining barrel of a revolver.
“Mr. Laverick,” he said, “we are not here to be trifled with. Keep your sister quiet, Morrison, or, by God, you’ll swing!”
Laverick looked at the revolver – fascinated, for an instant, by its unexpected appearance. The face of the man who held it had changed. There was lightning playing about the room.
“It’s the dock for you both!” Streuss exclaimed fiercely, – “for you, Laverick, and you, Morrison, too, if you play with us any longer! One of you’s a murderer and the other receives the booty. Who are you to have scruples – criminals, both of you? Your place is in the dock, and you shall be there within twenty-four hours if there are any more evasions. Now, Laverick, will you fetch that document? It is your last chance.”
Upon the breathless silence that followed a quiet voice intervened – a voice calm and emotionless, tinged with a measure of polite inquiry. Yet its level utterance fell like a bomb among the little company. The curtain separating this from the inner room had been drawn a few feet back, and Bellamy was standing there, in black overcoat and white muffler, his silk hat on the back of his head, his left hand, carefully gloved, resting still upon the curtain which he had drawn aside.
“I hope I am not disturbing you at all?” he murmured softly.
For a moment the development of the situation remained uncertain. The gleaming barrel of Streuss’s revolver changed its destination. Bellamy glanced at it with the pleased curiosity of a child.
“I really ought not to have intruded,” he continued amiably. “I happened to hear the address my friend Laverick gave to the taxicab driver, and I was particularly anxious to have a word or two with him before I left for the Continent.”
Streuss was surely something of a charlatan! His revolver had disappeared. The smile upon his lips was both gracious and unembarrassed.
“One is always only too pleased to welcome Mr. Bellamy anywhere – anyhow,” he declared. “If apologies are needed at all,” he continued, “it is to our friend and host – Mr. Morrison here. Permit me – Mr. Arthur Morrison – the Honorable David Bellamy! These are Mr. Morrison’s rooms.”
Morrison could do no more than stare. Bellamy, on the contrary, with a little bow came further into the apartment, removing his hat from his head. Lassen glided round behind him, remaining between Bellamy and the heavy curtains. Adolf Kahn moved as though unconsciously in front of the door of the room in which they were.
Bellamy smiled courteously.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that I must not stay for more than a moment. I have a car full of friends below – we are on our way, in fact, to the Covent Garden Ball – and one or two of them, I fear,” he added indulgently, “have already reached that stage of exhilaration which such an entertainment in England seems to demand. They will certainly come and rout me out if I am here much longer. There!” he exclaimed, “you hear that?”
There was the sound of a motor horn from the street below. Streuss, with an oath trembling upon his lips, lifted the blind. There were two motor-cars waiting there – large cars with Limousine bodies, and apparently full of men. After all, it was to be expected. Bellamy was no fool!
“Since we are to lose you, then Mr. Laverick,” Streuss remarked with a gesture of farewell, “let us say good night. The little matter of business which we were discussing can be concluded with your partner.”
Laverick turned toward Zoe. Their eyes met and he read their message of terror.
“You are coming back to your own rooms, Miss Leneveu,” he said. “You must let me offer you my escort.”
She half rose, but in obedience to a gesture from Streuss Morrison moved near to them.
“If you leave me here, Laverick,” he muttered beneath his breath, – “if you leave me to these hounds, do you know what they will do? They will hand me over to the police – they have sworn it!”
“Why did you come back?” Laverick asked quickly.
“They stopped me as I was boarding the steamer,” Morrison declared. “I tell you they have eyes everywhere. You cannot move without their knowledge. I had to come. Now that I am here they have told me plainly the price of my freedom. It is that document. Laverick, it is my life! You must give in – you must, indeed! Remember you’re in it, too.”
“Am I?” Laverick asked quietly.
“You fool, of course you are!” Morrison whispered hoarsely. “Didn’t you come into the entry and take the pocket-book? Heaven knows what possessed you to do it! Heaven knows how you found the pluck to use the money! But you did it, and you are a criminal – a criminal as I am. Don’t be a fool, Laverick. Make terms with these people. They want the document – the document – nothing but the document! They will let us keep the money.”
“And you?” Laverick asked, turning suddenly to Zoe. “What do you say about all this?”
She looked at him fearlessly.
“I trust you,” she said. “I trust you to do what is right.
CHAPTER XXXIII
LAVERICK S ARREST
“At last, David!”
Louise welcomed her visitor eagerly with outstretched hands, which Bellamy raised for a moment to his lips. Then she turned toward the third person, who had also risen at the opening of the door – a short, somewhat thick-set man, with swarthy complexion, close-cropped black hair, and upturned black moustache.
“You remember Prince Rosmaran ?” she said to Bellamy. “He left Servia only the day before yesterday. He has come to England on a special mission to the King.”
Bellamy shook hands.
“I think,” he remarked, “I had the honor of meeting you once before, Prince, at the opening of the Servian Parliament two years ago. It was just then, I believe, that you were elected to lead the patriotic party.”
Th e Prince bowed sadly.
“My leadership, I fear,” he declared, “has brought little good to my unhappy country.”
“It is a terrible crisis through which your nation is passing,” Bellamy reminded him sympathetically. “At the same time, we must not despair. Austria holds out her clenched hands, but as yet she has not dared to strike.”
The face of the Prince was dark with passion.
“As yet, no!” he answered. “But how long – how long, I wonder – before the blow falls? We in Servia have been blamed for arming ourselves, but I tell you that to-day the Austrian troops are being secretly concentrated on the frontier. Their arsenals are working night and day. Her soldiers are manoeuvering almost within sight of Belgrade. We have hoped against hope, yet in our hearts we know that our fate was sealed when the Czar of Russia left Vienna last week.”
“Nothing is certain,” Bellamy declared restlessly. “England has been ill-governed for a great many years, but we are not yet a negligible Power.”
Louise leaned a little towards him.
“David,” she whispered, “the compact!”
He answered her unspoken question.
“It is arranged,” he said, – “finished. To-morrow morning at nine o’clock I receive it.”
“You are sure?” she begged. “Why need there be any delay?”
“It is locked up in a powerful safe,” he explained, “and the clerk who has the combination will not be on duty again till nine. Laverick is there simply waiting for the hour. You were right, Louise, as usual. I should have trusted him from the first.”
The Prince had been listening to their conversation with undisguised interest.
“There is a rumor,” he said, “that some secret information concerning the compact of Vienna has found its way to this country.”
Bellamy smiled.
“Hence, I presume, your mission, Prince.”
“We three have no secrets from one another,” the Prince declared. “Our interests in this matter are absolutely identical. What you suggest, Mr. Bellamy, is the truth. There is a rumor that the Chancellor, in the first few moments of his illness, gave valuable information to some one who is likely to have communicated it to the Government here. To be forewarned is to be forearmed. That, I know, is one of your own mottoes. So I am here to know if there is anything to be learned.”
Bellamy nodded.
“Your arrival is not inopportune, Prince. When did you come?”
“I reached Charing Cross at midnight,” the Prince answered. “Our train was an hour late. I am presenting my credentials early this morning, and I am hoping for an interview during the afternoon.”
Bellamy considered for a moment.
“It is true!” he said. “Between us three there is indeed no need for secrecy. The information you speak of will be in our hands within a few hours. I have no doubt whatever but that your Minister will share in it.”
“You know of what it Consists?” the Prince inquired curiously.
“I think so,” Bellamy answered, glancing at the clock. “For my own part, although the information itself is invaluable, I see another and a profounder source of interest in that document. If, indeed, it is what we believe it to be, it amounts to a casus belli.”
“You mean that you would provoke war?” Prince Rosmaran asked.
Bellamy shrugged his shoulders.
“I,” said he, – “I am not even a politician. But, you know, the lookers-on see a good deal of the game, and in my opinion there is only one course open for this country, – to work upon Russia so that she withdraws from any compact she may have entered into with Austria and Germany, to accept Germany’s cooperation with Austria in the despoilment of your country as a casus belli, and to declare war at once while our fleet is invincible and our Colonies free from danger.”
The Prince nodded.
“It is good,” he admitted, “to hear man’s talk once more. Wherever one moves, people bow the head before the might of Germany and Austria. Let them alone but a little longer, and they will indeed rule Europe.”
Three o’clock struck. The Prince rose.
“I go,” he announced.
“And I,” Bellamy declared. “Come to my rooms at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, Prince, and you shall hear the news.
Bellamy lingered behind. For a moment he held Louise in his arms and gazed sorrowfully into her weary face.
“Is it worth while, I wonder?” he asked bitterly.