The Red Room

by William Le Queux

mean?

  "Didn't they give any reason why they wanted to see the cover?"

  "Said they'd heard about it--that was all," my manager replied. "Bothmen wanted to take all sorts of measurements, but I told them they'dbetter buy a set outright. I fancy it's some inventor's game. Somebodyhas got a scheme to improve on it, I expect, and bring it out as aBritish patent."

  But I kept my counsel and said nothing. I was already convinced thatbehind these three visits there was something unusual, and I determinedto endeavour to extract the truth from Kershaw Kirk.

  Little did I dream the reason why the Eckhardt tyre was being so closelyscrutinised by strangers. Little, likewise, did I dream of the curiousevents which were to follow, or the amazing whirl of adventure intowhich I was to be so suddenly launched.

  But I will set it all down just as it happened, and try to present youwith the complete and straightforward narrative--a narrative which willshow you what strange things can happen to a peaceful, steady-going,hard-working citizen in this Greater London of ours to-day.

  CHAPTER TWO.

  SOME STRANGE FACTS.

  Mr. Kirk opened his front door himself that evening, and conducted me toa cosy study at the end of the hall, where a fire burned brightly.

  In a black velvet lounge coat, a fancy vest, and bright,bead-embroidered slippers, he beamed a warm welcome upon me, and drew upa big saddle-bag arm-chair. From what I had seen of the house, I wassurprised at its taste and elegance. There was certainly no sign ofpoverty there. The study was furnished with solid comfort, and thevolumes that lined it were the books of a studious man.

  The cigar he offered me was an exquisite one, though he himselfpreferred his well-coloured meerschaum, which he filled from an oldGerman tobacco bowl. In one corner of the room stood his pet, a largegrey parrot in a cage, which he now and then addressed in the course ofhis conversation.

  One of his eccentricities was to think audibly and address his thoughtsto his queer companion, whose name was Joseph.

  We must have been chatting for fully half an hour when I mentioned tohim that two other persons had called that afternoon to inspect the newEckhardt tyre, whereupon he suddenly started forward in his chair andexclaimed:

  "One of the men wore a dark beard and was slightly bald, while the otherwas a fair man, much younger--eh?"

  I explained that my manager, Pelham, had seen them, whereupon hebreathed more freely; yet my announcement seemed to have created withinhim undue consternation and alarm.

  He pressed the tobacco very carefully and deliberately into his pipe,but made no further comment.

  At last, raising his head and looking straight across at me, he said:

  "I may as well explain, Mr. Holford, that I had an ulterior motive inasking you in this evening. The fact is, I am sorely in want of afriend--one in whom I can trust. I suppose," he added--"I suppose Iought to tell you something concerning myself. Well, I'm a man withmany acquaintances, but very few friends. My profession? Well, that issurely my own affair. It often takes me far afield, and sometimescauses me to keep queer company. The fact is," he said, after amoment's hesitation, "I'm a dealer in secrets."

  "A dealer in secrets!" I echoed. "I don't quite follow you."

  "The secrets sometimes confided to my keeping would, if I betrayed them,create a worldwide sensation," he said slowly, looking straight into thefire. "At times I am in possession of ugly facts concerning myfellow-men which would eclipse any of the scandals of the past twentyyears. And at this moment, as I tell you, I am in sad need of afriend."

  He was quick to notice the expression upon my face.

  "I want no financial aid," he hastened to assure me. "On the contrary,if at any time I can be of any little assistance to you, I generallyhave a few pounds lying idle."

  I thanked him, my curiosity growing greater. He was seated in a big,high-backed grandfather's chair, his head leaning against the paddedside, his gaze, a trifle melancholy, fixed upon the dancing flames. Athis back was an open roll-top writing-table, very tidy, with a cleanblotting-pad, and everything in its place, spick and span.

  "To be quite frank with you, Mr. Holford," he said, "I may as well tellyou that an incident has occurred which has rendered it necessary that Ishould come to you, a comparative stranger, for friendship andassistance. Ah," he added, with a sharp and curious glance at me, "Isee that you don't trust me! You should never judge a man by hisclothes."

  "I never do," I protested. "But you haven't explained the reason whyyou are so anxious for my friendship!"

  For a few minutes he was silent. Then, of a sudden, he turned to thebig grey parrot and asked in a shrill, squeaky tone, almost a croak:"Shall I tell him, Joseph? Shall I tell him?"

  "Good night!" answered the loquacious bird. "Good night! Good night!Josef!"

  "Well," my host said slowly, knocking the ashes from his pipe into thefender, "it is a matter, a serious and very curious affair, of which asyet the public have no knowledge. Some things are not allowed to leakout to the papers. This is one of them. I wonder," he went onthoughtfully, after a pause--"I wonder if I told you whether you wouldkeep the secret?"

  "Certainly," I said, full of curiosity, for I could not see Kirk'smotive in asking my assistance, and my natural caution now asserteditself.

  "By the way," he echoed suddenly, "do you know any other languagebesides English?"

  "I know French fairly well," I replied, "and a smattering of Italian."

  "Nothing else? German, for instance?"

  I replied in the negative.

  He rose, and relit his pipe with a spill. Then he chatted for someminutes with Joseph, all the time, it seemed, reflecting upon what heshould say to me. At last, reseating himself in his old-fashionedchair, he again looked me straight in the face and said:

  "You have given me your promise of silence, Mr. Holford. I accept itfrom one whom I have watched closely for a long time, and whom I know tobe a gentleman. Now I am going to tell you something which willprobably alarm you. A crime, a very serious crime, has been committedin London during the past forty-eight hours, and I, Kershaw Kirk, amimplicated in it--or, rather, suspected of it!"

  I sat staring at the man before me, too surprised to reply. He hadalways been an enigma, and the mystery about him was increasing.

  "Tell me more," I urged at last, looking into the face of the suspectedcriminal. "Who is the victim?"

  "At present I am keeping the affair a strict secret," he said. "Thereare reasons, very potent reasons, why the public should not know of thetragedy. Nowadays publicity is the curse of life. At last the HomeOffice have recognised this. I told you that I am a holder of secrets.Well, besides myself, not more than three persons are aware of theastounding affair."

  "And you are suspected as the assassin?" I remarked.

  "Unfortunately, I shall be," was his reply, and I saw that hiscountenance fell; "I foresee it. That is why I require your aid--theaid of a man who is honest, and who is a gentleman as well."

  And he broke off again to chatter to Joseph, who was keeping up acontinual screeching.

  "I am anxious to hear details of the affair," I said eagerly.

  "I wish I could tell you the details," he answered, with a bitter smile;"but I am not aware of them myself. The affair is a mystery--one ofwhich even the police must be kept in ignorance."

  "Haven't the police been informed?"

  "No," was his prompt reply. "In certain cases information to the policemeans publicity. In this case, as I've already told you, there must beno publicity. Therefore, though a crime has been committed, it is beingkept from the police, who, not knowing the facts, must only bungle theinquiries, and whose limited scope of inquiry would only result infailure."

  "You interest me, Mr. Kirk. Relate the known facts to me," I said."Why, pray, will you be suspected of being a murderer?"

  "Well," he said, with a long-drawn sigh, "because--well, because I hadeverything to gain by the death of the murdered person. He h
ad filchedfrom me a very valuable secret."

  "Then the murdered person was not your friend?"

  "No; my enemy," he replied. "You, Mr. Holford, as an Englishman, willno doubt think it impossible that I may be arrested, tried in secret,and sent to penal servitude for life for a crime of which I am innocent.You believe that every man in this isle of unrest of ours must have afair trial by judge and jury. Yet I tell you that there are exceptions.There are certain men in England who would never be brought before acriminal court. I am one of them."

  At first I was inclined to regard Kirk as a madman, yet on looking intohis face I saw an expression of