The Crimson Blind. Fred M. White
the sweep of the red circle.
“Hold him, Dan,” she whispered. “Watch, Prance; watch, boy.”
There was a low growl as the hounds found the scent and dashed forward. Henson came up all standing and sweating in every pore. It was not the first time he had been held up by the dogs, and he knew by hard experience what to expect if he made a bolt for it.
Two grim muzzles were pressed against his trembling knees; he saw four rows of ivory flashing in the dim light. Then the dogs crouched at his feet, watching him with eyes as red and lurid as the point of his own cigar. Had he attempted to move, had he tried coercion, they would have fallen upon him and torn him in pieces.
“Confusion to the creatures!” he cried, passionately. “I’ll get a revolver; I’ll buy some prussic acid and poison the lot. And here I’ll have to stay till Williams locks up the stables. Wouldn’t that little Jezebel laugh at me if she could see me now? She would enjoy it better than singing songs in the drawing-room to our sainted Margaret. Steady, you brutes! I didn’t move.”
He stood there rigidly, almost afraid to take the cigar from his lips, whilst Enid sped without further need for caution down the drive. The lodge-gates were closed and the deaf porter’s house in darkness, so that Enid could unlock the wicket without fear of detection. She rattled the key on the bars and a figure slipped out of the darkness.
“Good heavens, Ruth, is it really you?” Enid cried.
“Really me, Enid. I came over on my bicycle. I am supposed to be round at some friend’s house in Brunswick Square, and one of the servants is sitting up for me. Is Reginald safe? He hasn’t yet discovered the secret of the tradesman’s book?”
“That’s all right, dear. But why are you here? Has something dreadful happened?”
“Well, I will try to tell you so in as few words as possible. I never felt so ashamed of anything in my life.”
“Don’t tell me that our scheme has failed!” “Perhaps I need not go so far as that. The first part of it came off all right, and then a very dreadful thing happened. We have got Mr. David Steel into frightful trouble. He is going to be charged with attempted murder and robbery.”
“Ruth! But tell me. I am quite in the dark.”
“It was the night when—well, you know the night. It was after Mr. Steel returned home from his visit to 219, Brunswick Square—”
“You mean 218, Ruth.”
“It doesn’t matter, because he knows pretty well all about it by this time. It would have been far better for us if we hadn’t been quite so clever. It would have been far wiser to have taken Mr. Steel entirely into our confidence. Oh, oh, Enid, if we had only left out that little sentiment over the cigar-case! Then we should have been all right.”
“Dearest girl, my time is limited. I’ve got Reginald held up for the time, but at any moment he may escape from his bondage. What about the cigar-case?”
“Well, Mr. Steel took it home with him. And when he got home he found a man nearly murdered lying in his conservatory. That man was conveyed to the Sussex County Hospital, where he still lies in an unconscious state. On the body was found a receipt for a gun-metal cigar-case set with diamonds.”
“Good gracious, Ruth, you don’t mean to say—”
“Oh, I do. I can’t quite make out how it happened, but that same case that we—that Mr. Steel has—has been positively identified as one purchased from Walen by the injured man. There is no question about it. And they have found out about Mr. Steel being short of money, and the £1,000, and everything.”
“But we know that that cigar-case from Lockhart’s in North Street was positively—”
“Yes, yes. But what has become of that? And in what strange way was the change made? I tell you that the whole thing frightens me. We thought that we had hit upon a scheme to solve the problem, and keep our friends out of danger. There was the American at Genoa who volunteered to assist us. A week later he was found dead in his bed. Then there was Christiana’s friend, who disappeared entirely. And now we try further assistance in the case of Mr. Steel, and he stands face to face with a terrible charge. And he has found us out.”
“He has found us out? What do you mean?”
“Well, he called to see me. He called at 219, of course. And directly I heard his name I was so startled that I am afraid I betrayed myself. Such a nice, kind, handsome man, Enid; so manly and good over it all. Of course he declared that he had been at 219 before, and I could only declare that he had done nothing of the kind. Never, never have I felt so ashamed of myself in my life before.”
“It seems a pity,” Enid said, thoughtfully. “You said nothing about 218?”
“My dear, he found it out. At least, Hatherly Bell did for him. Hatherly Bell happened to be staying down with us, and Hatherly Bell, who knows Mr. Steel, promptly solved, or half solved, that side of the problem. And Hatherly Bell is coming here to-night to see Aunt Margaret. He—”
“Here!” Enid cried. “To see Aunt Margaret? Then he found out about you. At all hazards Mr. Bell must not come here—he must not. I would rather let everything go than that. I would rather see auntie dead and Reginald Henson master here. You must—”
In the distance came the rattle of harness bells and the trot of a horse.
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Ruth Gates said, sadly. “I am afraid that they are here already. Oh, if we had only left out that wretched cigar-case!”
XI. AFTER REMBRANDT
“Before we go any farther,” Bell said, after a long pause, “I should like to search the house from top to bottom. I’ve got a pretty sound theory in my head, but I don’t like to leave anything to chance. We shall be pretty certain to find something.”
“I am entirely in your hands,” David said, wearily. “So far as I am capable of thinking out anything, it seems to me that we have to find the woman.”
“Cherchez la femme is a fairly sound premise in a case like this, but when we have found the woman we shall have to find the man who is at the bottom of the plot. I mean the man who is not only thwarting the woman, but giving you a pretty severe lesson as to the advisability of minding your own business for the future.”
“Then you don’t think I am being made the victim of a vile conspiracy?”
“Not by the woman, certainly. You are the victim of some fiendish counterplot by the man, who has not quite mastered what the woman is driving at. By placing you in dire peril he compels the woman to speak to save you, and thus to expose her hand.”
“Then in that case I propose to sit tight,” David said, grimly. “I am bound to be prosecuted for robbery and attempted murder in due course. If my man dies I am in a tight place.”
“And if he recovers your antagonist may be in a tighter,” Bell chuckled. “And if the man gets well and that brain injury proves permanent—I mean if the man is rendered imbecile—why, we are only at the very threshold of the mystery. It seems a callous thing to say, but this is the prettiest problem I have had under my hands.”
“Make the most of it,” David said, sardonically. “I daresay I should see the matter in a more rational light if I were not so directly concerned. But, if we are going to make a search of the premises, the sooner we start the better.”
Upstairs there was nothing beyond certain lumber. There were dust and dirt everywhere, save in the hall and front dining-room, which, as Bell sapiently pointed out, had obviously been cleared to make ready for Steel’s strange reception. Down in the housekeeper’s room was a large collection of dusty furniture,