Part 24 (1/2)
”If you continue in this strain much longer,” I said, ”I'll endeavour to stop your tongue, whatever it may cost me. Now, either let me out, or get out of the room yourself. I want to see no more of you while I am in this house.”
He blew a cloud of smoke, and then said nonchalantly--
”You had better occupy yourself thanking your stars that you are let off so easily. At one time I was tempted to have you put out of the way altogether. I am not quite certain it wouldn't be safer, even now. It could be done so easily, and no one would be any the wiser. I know two men now in Paris who would gladly run the risk for the sake of the ill-will they bear you. I must think it over.”
”Then think it over on the other side of that door,” I said angrily.
”Play the same traitorous trick on me as you did on Kit.w.a.ter and Codd if you like, but you shall not stay in the same room with me now.”
My reference to Kit.w.a.ter and Codd must have touched him on a raw spot, for he winced, and then tried to bluff it off.
”I rather fancy Messrs. Kit.w.a.ter and Codd will just have such kindly things to say concerning you in the future as they do about me now,” he said, as he moved towards the door. ”And now I will wish you good-bye.
As I leave Paris almost immediately, I don't suppose I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again. For your own sake I should advise you to be quiet. I might tell you once and for all that you can't get out. The door is a stout one, and the windows are exceptionally well barred. The men to whom I have a.s.signed the duty of looking after you are in their way honest, though a little rough. Moreover, they are aware that their own safety depends to a very great extent upon your not getting out.
Believe me, if you do not know already, that there is nothing like fear for making a good watch-dog. Farewell, friend Fairfax! You have been instrumental in sending a good many men into durance vile; you can tell me later how you like being there yourself.”
With that he went out, shutting the door behind him. I heard the key turn in the lock, and a bolt shot at top and bottom. I thereupon went to the window and examined it, only to discover that it was made secure on the outside by large iron bars. So far as I could see, there was no other way of escape from the room.
Though I laid down on the bed I did not sleep; my thoughts would not permit of that. The face of the woman who had trusted me so profoundly was before me continually, gazing at me with sweet reproachful eyes. Oh!
what a fool I had been to accept that rascal's invitation! The more I thought of it, the angrier I became with myself. Now, goodness only knew how long I should be confined in this wretched place, and what would happen during my absence from the world!
At last the dawn broke, and with it, a weird sickly light penetrated the room. I sprang from my bed and approached the window, only to find that it overlooked a small courtyard, the latter being stoneflagged and surrounded by high walls. I could see that, even if I were able to squeeze my way out between the bars, I should be powerless to scale the walls. At a rough guess these were at least twelve feet high, and without a foothold of any sort or description. This being so I was completely at the mercy of the men in the house. Indeed, a rat caught in a trap, was never more firmly laid by the heels than I. At about half-past seven o'clock a small trap-door, which I had not noticed near the ground and the main door, was opened, and a grimy hand made its way in and placed upon the floor a cup of coffee and a roll. Then it was closed once more and made secure. I drank the coffee and munched the roll, and, if the truth must be confessed, poor as they were felt the better for both.
At mid-day a bowl of miserable soup was handed in; darkness, however, had fallen some considerable time before I could detect any sound in the hall outside that might be taken to mean the coming of my evening meal.
At last there was a clatter of feet, the bolts shot back, the key turned in the lock, and the door opened. A man carrying a lantern entered, followed by two others, and as the light fell upon his face, I uttered a cry of astonishment, for he was none other than my old friend Leglosse, while behind him was the infallible Lepallard.
”Well, thank goodness we have found you at last,” cried Leglosse. ”We have had such a hunt for you as man never dreamed of. I called at your apartments late last night, hoping to see you, on important business, but you had not returned from a dinner to which you had been invited. I called again this morning and was informed by the _concierge_ that they had, up to that moment, seen nothing of you. When the good Lepallard informed me that you had left the restaurant in a cab with Monsieur Hayle, and that the latter had returned to his apartments this morning in a great hurry, only to leave them a short time after with his luggage, for the railway station, I began to grow uneasy. You have no idea what a day I have had looking for you, but it has been well spent, since we have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
”I shall be grateful to you all my life for the service you have rendered me,” I replied. ”But how did you manage to gain admittance to this house?”
”It was quite easy; the birds had flown,” he answered. ”Has the suspicion not struck you that they were going to clear out and leave you here to starve?”
”The brutes,” I answered. ”But I'll be even with their leader yet. And now let us get away from here as quickly as possible. Have you any idea where our man has gone?”
”To Naples,” Lepallard replied. ”I disguised myself as a pompous old bourgeois, and I was behind him when he asked for his ticket and distinctly heard what he said.”
”Then I shall go after him at once,” I replied. ”He will in all probability be off his guard. He will imagine me to be still locked up in this room, you see.”
”And I shall accompany you, if you will permit me,” said Leglosse.
”But why?” I asked in surprise. ”What have you got to do with him? You have no case against him, and you cannot spare the time to do it simply out of kindness to me.”
”It's not kindness, it's business, my friend,” he replied. ”You may not believe it, but I have a warrant for your man's arrest.”
”On what charge?”
”On a charge of being concerned in a big embezzlement in Cochin China,”
he answered. ”We laid the other two men by the heels at the time, but the Englishman, who was the prime mover in it, we have never been able to lay our hands upon. I felt certain that day when I met him in Amsterdam, that I had seen him somewhere before. Ever since then I have been puzzling my brains to discover where it was, and why it was so familiar to me. A photograph was eventually sent us of the Englishman by the colonial authorities, but in that photograph he, the person I suspect, wears a beard and a heavy moustache. It is the same man, however, and the description, even to the mark upon the face, exactly tallies with Hayle. Now I think I can help you to obtain a rather unique revenge upon the man, that is to say, if you want it. From what you have so far told me, I understand that you have no evidence against him strong enough to justify the issue of a warrant. Well, I have that evidence, and between us you may be sure we'll bring him back to Paris.”
This was delightful hearing after all we had been through lately; at any rate I greeted the prospect of Leglosse's co-operation with acclamation.