William Le Queux

“ While Sheila looked over her music, in response to Austin’s request to sing another song while awaiting the return of her father, their hands touched. He grasped hers and gazed straight into her face.
In those hazel eyes he saw that love-look—that one expression which no woman can ever disguise, or make pretence; that look which most men know. It is seldom in their lives they see it, and when once it is observed it is never forgotten, even though the man may live to be a grandfather. ”

“ The great detective shook his head.
“But we thought of it, Mr Wingate. My friend here has had every hospital in the radius rung up. No solution there.”
There was silence for a long time. It seemed that the last hope had vanished. Smeaton stood for a long time lost in thought. Then he roused himself from his reverie.
“It’s no use blinking the fact that we are confronted with a more than usually difficult case,” he said, at length. “Still, it is our business to solve problems, and we shall put our keenest wits to work. I wish it were possible, for Miss Monkton’s sake, to keep it from the Press.” ”

“ Johnson pursued his advantage. “After the lapse of twelve months, by which time he had probably found his feet again, he would recognise it, to use a phrase we both know well, sir, as ‘a fair cop.’ He had defied the law; the law had got the better of him. He would take off his hat, and say to the law: ‘I give you best. You are the better man, and you won.’”
Smeaton regarded his subordinate with genuine admiration.
“I am not too old to learn, Johnson; you have taught me something to-night.” ”

“ That morning, as he turned from Charing Cross towards Pall Mall, he was in a pensive mood. True, that little knot of people had spontaneously expressed their approval, and perhaps he was secretly gratified. Whatever popular men may say to the contrary, it is always the small appreciations that please. Reginald Monkton was far more gratified by a schoolgirl asking for his autograph in her well-thumbed album, than by the roars of applause that greeted his open and fearless speeches in the huge halls of Manchester, Birmingham, or Glasgow. ”

“ She was either perfectly straightforward, or as cool a hand as he had ever met.
“You are interested in Mr Stent? How strange! Gentlemen of your profession do not generally interest themselves in other persons without some strong motive, I presume?”
“The motive is a pretty strong one. At present, other interests require that I do not divulge it,” replied Smeaton gravely. He was pleased with one thing, he had already got the name of the man; he preferred not to confess that he did not know it. And her frank allusion to him as Mr Stent seemed to show that she had nothing to hide. ”

“ That is sound and useful knowledge.”
“I am glad you think so,” said Smeaton sarcastically.
“In a case like this, however, you want another sort of knowledge altogether,” pursued Mr Boyle, callously indifferent to the detective’s sarcasm. “You want a man who has mixed in the big world from his boyhood, who knows all the ins and outs, all the intrigue of social life, all the gossip, all the scandal that has been going round the clubs and drawing-rooms for the last forty years.”
“In other words, men like yourself—eh? We have plenty such in our pay.” ”

“ Varney’s discovery, of which he was not a little proud, was duly reported to Sheila by the young man himself, who called upon her as soon as he had left Smeaton.
She could not but admire his energy and determination, and she told him so, in no measured terms. But when he had gone, she could not help thinking how futile it all seemed.
“They all find a little something, and then they seem to come up against a dead end,” she said to Wingate, when he paid her his usual daily visit. “Weeks have gone by, and the mystery is as deep as ever. How can it be otherwise? What have they got to go upon?” ”

“ Smeaton, he knew, was still searching for Stent, and he, the amateur, had forestalled him. Was he right, after all, in his surmise that by some curious lapse the man of wider experience had left Farloe out of his calculations, and the man Stent was identical with the man Strange?
His survey finished, he mounted his machine, and rode along, thinking out his plans.
“Find a nice comfortable inn somewhere near, but not too close, pose as an artist out for a brief holiday, and find out all there is to be found about the mysterious Mr Strange,” was the result of his meditations. ”

“ The sender of that message did not know of the relations between them. Austin was a part of her life, her second self. How could she keep such an important thing from him, from the lover who had encompassed her with such tender devotion through this terrible time?
“Dear, kind Austin,” she murmured, as she thought of the readiness with which he had acceded to her request. “He never fails me in the slightest thing. No girl could ever have a truer lover.” ”

“ When Lady Gladys had left, Sheila puzzled over it all by herself, with no better result. Then, at last, weary of thinking, she telephoned to Wingate.
Austin, who was in his office, agreed that the thing was very mysterious, and that he was as much mystified as she was. He ended the brief conversation by advising her to go to Smeaton.
“Our brains are no good at this sort of thing,” he said candidly. “The atmosphere of mystery seems to suit them at Scotland Yard—they breathe it every day.” ”

“ He revelled in it all so much that it was eleven o’clock before Wingate could get him away. And then he had not exhausted his capacity for enjoyment.
“Let us make a night of it,” he cried cheerfully. “You don’t know what a delight it is to mix for a few hours with a man of my own world, like yourself. We had an excellent dinner, but I am sure we could do a little supper together.”
Wingate would have preferred to decline, but, if he did so, Boyle might be offended. And it was, above all things, necessary to keep him in good humour.
“Good man,” cried Mr Boyle, with one of his sweeping gestures. ”

“ He spoke with his accustomed deliberation, his usual deference.
“The mystery, if it ever is solved, sir, will be solved at Forest View. Keep a watch on that house, day and night.” He emphasised the last word, and looked squarely at his chief.
Smeaton gave a sudden start. “You know Varney is watching it.”
“A clever fellow, sir; relies upon intuition largely and has little patience with our slower methods. He watches it by day—well, no doubt—but he doesn’t watch it by night. Many strange things happen when the sun has gone down.” ”

“ Meanwhile Sheila had rushed into the dining-room to obtain a glass of water, hoping to revive her father. Old Grant, faithful servant that he was, had thrown himself upon his knees by the couch whereon his master had been placed.
He peered into his pale face, which was turned away from the silk-shaded electric light, and then suddenly gasped to Wingate: “Why! It isn’t Mr Reginald at all, sir! He’s wearing his clothes, his watch and chain—and everything! But he’s a stranger—it isn’t Mr Reginald! Look for yourself!” ”

“ Wingate was fain to admit the force of the argument.
“One can never be sure of any man, even if you have known him all your life,” he added, as they shook hands. “Nobody knows that better than our profession. But I would stake my existence that there were no skeletons in Monkton’s cupboard. The man was as straight as a die, and he was passionately attached to his beautiful wife. Well, Mr Wingate, give my best regards to dear Miss Sheila. ”

“ Smeaton arrived next morning, hoping that at last he might discover a substantial clue. He read the brief note carefully and deliberately.
“Is it important, do you think?” inquired Sheila eagerly.
“In my opinion it is of very considerable importance. Miss Monkton,” he replied. “I think it will help us.”
“It certainly proves that he had a secret enemy,” interjected Wingate, “and one who would hesitate at nothing that would secure him revenge.”
“I quite agree, sir. The letter breathes the most intense hatred in every line. The motive of that hatred we have got to discover.” ”

“ There seemed an extra gleam of shrewdness in the solicitor’s eyes as he answered:
“In such circumstances as you suggest it is by no means easy to predict what course a man would take. If Monkton had got into some entanglement that, to put it bluntly—although, mind you, I don’t believe such a thing occurred—reflected some doubt either on his character or on his intelligence, it is just as likely as not that his old friend would be the last person to whom he would care to expose himself. He would be equally likely to go to a stranger.” ”

“ And yet this was the man who, according to the dead man, Giovanni Roselli, had been the perpetrator of a great wrong to some person or persons unknown. Well, Smeaton had too vast an experience to trust overmuch to outside appearances. Still, he had never seen anybody who looked less like a rogue than Mr James Whyman, as he stood smiling at him with the most cordial expression in his clear blue eyes. ”

“ For a moment the glances of Wingate and Mrs Saxton met, and they read each other’s thoughts. Monkton must let Lord Wrenwyck go unpunished; it would be political death to him to have that old folly brought into public gaze.
He interposed hastily. “Dearest Sheila, your father is right. I understand his reasons perfectly. He is not an ordinary man. If he is to keep his position, he must forgo the revenge to which he is so justly entitled.” ”

“ Well-dressed loungers, women intent on shopping and bargains, a man dressed in working costume, walking with a slouching gait. These were all he saw.
He hailed a taxi, and shouted in a loud voice: “Broad Street Station.” He had to shout loudly, for the roar of the traffic was deafening.
The working-man with the slouching gait caught the words. A second taxi was just behind. He opened the door and jumped in, after having whispered in the ear of the driver, “Follow that fellow.”
At Broad Street Station Farloe alighted, needless to say the man who had pursued him close on his heels. ”

“ Why does a man in his position make an appointment with a person so evidently not of his own world, unless to discuss something of a secret and mysterious nature? Remember where they met, in a little hole-and-corner restaurant in Soho.”
“It has puzzled me, I admit,” replied Sheila. “It is strange, too, that he told me nothing of the appointment, for he used to inform me of his most trivial movements. ”

“ It was a picture of her greatest friend, a girl a year older than herself, the Lady Gladys Rainham, only daughter of the Earl of Marshlands.
Her father had been intimate with the Earl since boyhood, and the passing years had intensified their friendship, which had extended to their families. Until this great sorrow had fallen upon Sheila, hardly a day passed without the two girls getting a glimpse of each other.
The Rainhams were amongst the few friends who knew the true facts of Monkton’s disappearance. And, in almost morbid sensitiveness, Sheila had withdrawn a little from them. ”

“ Grant looked at Wingate, with a glance that implored him to use his influence. The faithful old man feared for her reason.
“Sheila, Grant is right,” said Austin gravely. “You must rest, even if you cannot sleep. You will need all your strength for to-morrow, perhaps for many days yet, before we get to the heart of this mystery. Let the servants go back to bed. Grant and I will wait through the night, in case good news may come to us.” ”

“ I thought he had disappeared for good.”
“I take it, from that remark, that he has had a somewhat chequered career?” queried Smeaton.
“Most chequered,” was Mr Chesterton’s reply. In a few brief sentences he gave the history of Caleb Boyle, so far as he had known it.
He was a man of good family, and possessed of some small fortune. These advantages were nullified by the possession of nearly every quality that made for failure in life. He was headstrong, prodigal, full of an overwhelming conceit in his own capacity. He dabbled a little in everything—and could do nothing well. ”

“ He only growled, and muttered something too low for Johnson to catch.
“My chief, Mr Smeaton, occupies a very special position,” resumed the imperturbable detective. “In virtue of that position, he becomes acquainted with many curious facts, some of them connected with persons in high positions. Some of these facts he has to make known, in accordance with his sense of public duty. There are others which never go beyond his own cognisance and that of a few of his trusted subordinates. I trust your lordship gathers my meaning, which I am trying to convey as pleasantly as possible.” ”

“ Not only were the police hot upon the trail which might lead them to the astounding truth concerning the death of the man who, dressed in the Colonial Minister’s clothes, had expired in the house in Chesterfield Street, but the facts were being rumoured that night in the world of politics, and to-morrow the chattering little world which revolves in the square mile around Piccadilly and calls itself Society, would also be agog with the sinister story. ”

“ The incongruity of the situation forced itself upon Varney immediately. “What in the world makes a man come to a house where he can understand nobody, and nobody can understand him,” he whispered down.
“The same thought occurred to me,” came the answering whisper. “Mr Strange explained it. He said that their parlourmaid understood Italian perfectly, having lived in Italy for some years. She had gone up to London early yesterday morning and would not be back till late to-morrow.” ”

“ He was not quite sure that he would have been ready with this glib explanation.
“I should love to go too,” said Sheila, looking wistfully at the ever-resourceful Smeaton, whom she now frankly accepted as the disposer of their destinies.
“Forgive me if I oppose you this once, my dear Miss Monkton,” he said in his kindest and most diplomatic manner. “Two are not always company in detective business, unless they’ve been trained to work together. Besides, I shall want Mr Wingate to keep in close touch with me on the ’phone, and he will have no time to look after a lady.” ”

“ But to those who, like Grant and Austin, knew Reginald Monkton intimately, there were striking points of difference at once apparent.
Wingate drew a deep sigh of relief.
“You are right. Grant, it is not your master! He looks ghastly, doesn’t he? The driver said that he was drunk, but I don’t believe it. The man, whoever he is, seems to me as if he were dying.”
At that moment, Sheila, her cheeks pale, her hand trembling so that she spilled the glass of water she was carrying, came into the sitting-room. ”