The Great Temptation (Thriller Novel). Richard Marsh
discharge that and get into a third; then, by the time you get to your own quarters, if anyone started on your track I should fancy you will have put them off it."
I did not know what to fancy. When I left him my head was in a whirl. I had heard and read about people getting on to other people's "track" and that sort of thing, but never had I dreamed of anyone ever wanting to get on mine. It seemed incredible! Nor was I in the habit of riding in taxicabs; a clerk in the dried fruit trade, who is in receipt of fifty shillings a week, has precious little to spend on cabs. When I reached the rank of which he had spoken and got into a taxi, I felt as if this were the beginning of still another adventure. I told the driver to take me to Queen Victoria Street, then felt in my pocket to make sure that I had the money to pay him.
I knew I had; Mr. Stewart had given me ten sovereigns and some silver for what he called preliminary expenses; still I liked to make sure that I had it. It seemed so amazing that I should have all that money to do with as I liked.
I got out at the corner of King Street, looked round to see if I was being followed, then, deciding in the negative, strolled into Cheapside. There I bought a paper and hailed another cab, reading my paper as I went along. It was an early edition of an evening journal; the chief item of news immediately caught my eye. It was sufficiently boldly displayed. The "headlines" filled nearly a quarter of a column. "Police Raid on Russian Nihilists. They receive Information that the Assassin of the Prefect of Police is in London. They Attempt to Capture Him. His Dramatic Escape."
It was only when I had read a large part of the article which followed that it began to dawn on me that I was the "assassin" who had effected a "dramatic escape." When I did realise that I almost collapsed in the cab. I appeared to have made rather a muddle of things; evidently the whole thing referred to the house at which I had received such outrageous treatment. What I had taken to be those desperadoes coming back again, or what might have been even worse, their more ruthless friends, were in fact the police making a "raid" upon the house in search of what I learned were "Russian Nihilists." When they opened the cellar door and I rushed out it seemed that they had jumped to the conclusion that I was the "assassin" they were in search of. That was why they had tried to stop me. They merely wanted to hale me to a police station and charge me with doing something I had never heard of. I had balked them of that pleasure by scrambling out of the window and getting into that waiting motor car.
Probably my proceedings had left them more than ever convinced that I was the miscreant they were in search of. Which was charming for me!
From one point of view the position might be regarded as amusing. It was not an aspect which would appeal to me. I did not know of what offence I had been guilty; I had a hazy notion that it was an offence to resist arrest, and I certainly had knocked a policeman over. Possibly one of those constables had had a good look at me, my description might be circulated; although my return to the garb of civilisation must have made a considerable difference in my appearance, I still might be recognised; if I were, heaven only knew what might happen. As I leaned back in that taxi-cab it struck me forcibly that the sooner I was out of England the better it might be. I have always had a horror of being mixed up with the police, no matter how. It comforted me to reflect that I should be out of England in less than four-and-twenty hours. "Assassin" indeed! I did not want to have such a word associated with the name of Hugh Beckwith, even if it were only for half an hour. At the best folks might regard it as a first-rate joke, and one of which I should never hear the last for the rest of my life.
I dismissed that second cab in Highbury, strolled again, and got into a third. In that I drove home. It is a long way from Highbury New Park to Fulham Palace Road. I do not pretend to be a hero; I am merely a clerk in the dried fruit trade, who only wishes to be allowed to make an honest livelihood in peace. By the time I had reached home I had worked myself into a state of nervous agitation which I am quite willing to admit was absurd. As we passed through Walham Green I saw on the pavement or thought I saw the sandy-haired villain who had robbed me of my clothes. I confess that I nearly fainted. I dared not look out of the window to make sure for fear he should see me. The thought that after all he might be tracking me was dreadful. When we got into Grove Gardens and stopped in front of Mrs. Fraser's, I stumbled out of the vehicle, over-paid the driver I do not know how much I did pay him, but I am sure it was too much, he was so civil dashed across to the front door, fumbled with my latch-key; before I could get it home the door was opened from within and I was in Catherine's arms.
CHAPTER IX
CATHERINE
Catherine is not as a rule demonstrative. Rather the other way. She is not seldom more frigid than I quite care for, but her treatment of me was warm enough then; almost too warm. She put her arms right round me and squeezed me tight she is a muscular young woman, Catherine is and exclaimed:
"Oh, Hugh, I thought you were dead. If you only knew what I have suffered because of you!"
Then she cried; which, in my then state, was to me the worst thing she could have done. I practically said as much.
"My dear Catherine,! soon shall be dead if you don't take care. I am in momentary danger of a nervous breakdown, and the slightest thing may bring it on."
I believe that something in my tone struck her as peculiar; she stopped crying on the instant. I will say this for Catherine, she has great self-control; she is always calm and collected, never seeming to lose her equilibrium. The prompt way in which her tears ceased to flow proved that she was mistress of herself even in that agitated moment. Relaxing what I should describe as her grip, she drew back half a step and looked at me. I saw that her eyes were dry. What she saw on my face I am not sure; I do know that she took me quickly by the arm and led me into the sitting-room.
"What is the matter, Hugh? What has happened?"
It was like her to jump into the middle of a subject without any sort of preface. She wastes no time in preliminaries, but gets where she wants in one. I did not give her a direct answer. I said to her:
"Look through the window, see if anyone is in the street, but don't let them see you."
Who should be in the street?" She has rather a disconcerting trick of asking what seem to me to be foolish questions. il And why should I be afraid of being seen? There is a milk cart on the other side of the road in front of Mrs. Cullen's, but there is nothing and no one else."
"Thank God! There's some brandy in my cupboard; I wish you'd give me half a wineglassful."
That time she said nothing. When she saw me sink on the armchair and gasp for breath she just did what I told her. As she was offering me the brandy her mother burst into the room.
"My dear boy, thank goodness you've returned! The sight of you is such a weight off my mind you can't think. What had become of you I could not imagine. I wanted Catherine to send for the police--"
"The idea, mother, of sending for the police! Be quiet, mother, Hugh isn't very well."
For a wonder Mrs. Fraser was quiet; her daughter has more influence over than I shall ever have. I believe she is afraid of Catherine she never will be afraid of me. Catherine went on:
"Drink this brandy, Hugh." I drank it with lamb-like docility. It took my breath away for a moment, but presently it began to do me good. My agitation lessened. She took the empty glass from me, knelt on the floor beside my chair, and put her hand upon my shoulder. "Now, dear, tell me all about it. Would you rather mother left the room?"
Mrs. Fraser remonstrated.
"Catherine, the idea! Why should I leave the room? Am I not as much interested in what has happened to Hugh as you can possibly be? What can he have to say to you which I ought not to hear?"
As it chanced I had something to say which it was necessary that she should hear.
"Catherine, before I speak of anything else I ought first of all to tell you that I am leaving for America to-night."
Mother and daughter