CHAPTER XXVI
Madame Tussaud's had hitherto held pleasant memories for Mrs. Bunting.In the days when she and Bunting were courting they often spent therepart of their afternoon-out.
The butler had an acquaintance, a man named Hopkins, who was one ofthe waxworks staff, and this man had sometimes given him passes for"self and lady." But this was the first time Mrs. Bunting had beeninside the place since she had come to live almost next door, as itwere, to the big building.
They walked in silence to the familiar entrance, and then, afterthe ill-assorted trio had gone up the great staircase and into thefirst gallery, Mr. Sleuth suddenly stopped short. The presence ofthose curious, still, waxen figures which suggest so strangely deathin life, seemed to surprise and affright him.
Daisy took quick advantage of the lodger's hesitation and unease.
"Oh, Ellen," she cried, "do let us begin by going into the Chamberof Horrors! I've never been in there. Old Aunt made father promisehe wouldn't take me the only time I've ever been here. But now thatI'm eighteen I can do just as I like; besides, Old Aunt will neverknow."
Mr. Sleuth looked down at her, and a smile passed for a moment overhis worn, gaunt face.
"Yes," he said, "let us go into the Chamber of Horrors; that's agood idea, Miss Bunting. I've always wanted to see the Chamber ofHorrors."
They turned into the great room in which the Napoleonic relics werethen kept, and which led into the curious, vault-like chamber wherewaxen effigies of dead criminals stand grouped in wooden docks.
Mrs. Bunting was at once disturbed and relieved to see her husband'sold acquaintance, Mr. Hopkins, in charge of the turnstile admittingthe public to the Chamber of Horrors.
"Well, you are a stranger," the man observed genially. "I do believethat this is the very first time I've seen you in here, Mrs. Bunting,since you was married!"
"Yes," she said, "that is so. And this is my husband's daughter,Daisy; I expect you've heard of her, Mr. Hopkins. And this"--shehesitated a moment--"is our lodger, Mr. Sleuth."
But Mr. Sleuth frowned and shuffled away. Daisy, leaving herstepmother's side, joined him.
Two, as all the world knows, is company, three is none. Mrs.Bunting put down three sixpences.
"Wait a minute," said Hopkins; "you can't go into the Chamber ofHorrors just yet. But you won't have to wait more than four orfive minutes, Mrs. Bunting. It's this way, you see; our boss isin there, showing a party round." He lowered his voice. "It'sSir John Burney--I suppose you know who Sir John Burney is?"
"No," she answered indifferently, "I don't know that I ever heardof him."
She felt slightly--oh, very sightly--uneasy about Daisy. Shewould have liked her stepdaughter to keep well within sight andsound, but Mr. Sleuth was now taking the girl down to the otherend of the room.
"Well, I hope you never will know him--not in any personal sense,Mrs. Bunting." The man chuckled. "He's the Commissioner of Police--the new one--that's what Sir John Burney is. One of thegentlemen he's showing round our place is the Paris Police boss--whose job is on all fours, so to speak, with Sir John's. TheFrenchy has brought his daughter with him, and there are severalother ladies. Ladies always likes horrors, Mrs. Bunting; that'sour experience here. 'Oh, take me to the Chamber of Horrors'--that's what they say the minute they gets into this here building!"
Mrs. Bunting looked at him thoughtfully. It occurred to Mr. Hopkinsthat she was very wan and tired; she used to look better in the olddays, when she was still in service, before Bunting married her.
"Yes," she said; "that's just what my stepdaughter said just now.'Oh, take me to the Chamber of Horrors'--that's exactly what shedid say when we got upstairs."
******
A group of people, all talking and laughing together; were advancing,from within the wooden barrier, toward the turnstile.
Mrs. Bunting stared at them nervously. She wondered which of themwas the gentleman with whom Mr. Hopkins had hoped she would never bebrought into personal contact; she thought she could pick him outamong the others. He was a tall, powerful, handsome gentleman, witha military appearance.
Just now he was smiling down into the face of a young lady."Monsieur Barberoux is quite right," he was saying in a loud,cheerful voice, "our English law is too kind to the criminal,especially to the murderer. If we conducted our trials in theFrench fashion, the place we have just left would be very muchfuller than it is to-day. A man of whose guilt we are absolutelyassured is oftener than not acquitted, and then the public tauntus with 'another undiscovered crime!'"
"D'you mean, Sir John, that murderers sometimes escape scot-free?Take the man who has been committing all these awful murders thislast month? I suppose there's no doubt he'll be hanged--if he'sever caught, that is!"
Her girlish voice rang out, and Mrs. Bunting could hear every wordthat was said.
The whole party gathered round, listening eagerly. "Well, no."He spoke very deliberately. "I doubt if that particular murdererever will be hanged."
"You mean that you'll never catch him?" the girl spoke with a touchof airy impertinence in her clear voice.
"I think we shall end by catching him--because"--he waited a moment,then added in a lower voice--"now don't give me away to a newspaperfellow, Miss Rose--because now I think we do know who the murdererin question is--"
Several of those standing near by uttered expressions of surprise andincredulity.
"Then why don't you catch him?" cried the girl indignantly.
"I didn't say we knew where he was; I only said we knew who he was,or, rather, perhaps I ought to say that I personally have a verystrong suspicion of his identity."
Sir John's French colleague looked up quickly. "De Leipsic andLiverpool man?" he said interrogatively.
The other nodded. "Yes, I suppose you've had the case turned up?"
Then, speaking very quickly, as if he wished to dismiss the subjectfrom his own mind, and from that of his auditors, he went on:
"Four murders of the kind were committed eight years ago--two inLeipsic, the others, just afterwards, in Liverpool,--and there werecertain peculiarities connected with the crimes which made it clearthey were committed by the same hand. The perpetrator was caught,fortunately for us, red-handed, just as he was leaving the house ofhis last victim, for in Liverpool the murder was committed in ahouse. I myself saw the unhappy man--I say unhappy, for there isno doubt at all that he was mad"--he hesitated, and added in alower tone--"suffering from an acute form of religious mania.I myself saw him, as I say, at some length. But now comes the reallyinteresting point. I have just been informed that a month ago thiscriminal lunatic, as we must of course regard him, made his escapefrom the asylum where he was confined. He arranged the wholething with extraordinary cunning and intelligence, and we shouldprobably have caught him long ago, were it not that he managed, whenon his way out of the place, to annex a considerable sum of moneyin gold, with which the wages of the asylum staff were about to bepaid. It is owing to that fact that his escape was, very wrongly,concealed--"
He stopped abruptly, as if sorry he had said so much, and a momentlater the party were walking in Indian file through the turnstile,Sir John Burney leading the way.
Mrs. Bunting looked straight before her. She felt--so sheexpressed it to her husband later--as if she had been turned tostone.
Even had she wished to do so, she had neither the time nor the powerto warn her lodger of his danger, for Daisy and her companion werenow coming down the room, bearing straight for the Commissioner ofPolice. In another moment Mrs. Bunting's lodger and Sir John Burneywere face to face.
Mr. Sleuth swerved to one side; there came a terrible change overhis pale, narrow face; it became discomposed, livid with rage andterror.
But, to Mrs. Bunting's relief--yes, to her inexpressible relief--Sir John Burney and his friends swept on. They passed Mr. Sleuthand the girl by his side, unaware, or so it seemed to her, thatthere was anyone else in the room but themselves.
"Hurry up, Mrs. Bunting," said the
turnstile-keeper; "you and yourfriends will have the place all to yourselves for a bit." From anofficial he had become a man, and it was the man in Mr. Hopkins thatgallantly addressed pretty Daisy Bunting: "It seems strange that ayoung lady like you should want to go in and see all those 'orriblefrights," he said jestingly.
"Mrs. Bunting, may I trouble you to come over here for a moment?"
The words were hissed rather than spoken by Mr. Sleuth's lips.
His landlady took a doubtful step towards him.
"A last word with you, Mrs. Bunting." The lodger's face was stilldistorted with fear and passion. "Do not think to escape theconsequences of your hideous treachery. I trusted you, Mrs. Bunting,and you betrayed me! Put I am protected by a higher power, forI still have much to do." Then, his voice sinking to a whisper, hehissed out "Your end will be bitter as wormwood and sharp as atwo-edged sword. Your feet shall go down to death, and your stepstake hold on hell."
Even while Mr. Sleuth was muttering these strange, dreadful words,he was looking round, glancing this way and that, seeking a way ofescape.
At last his eyes became fixed on a small placard placed above acurtain. "Emergency Exit" was written there. Mrs. Bunting thoughthe was going to make a dash for the place; but Mr. Sleuth didsomething very different. Leaving his landlady's side, he walkedover to the turnstile, he fumbled in his pocket for a moment, andthen touched the man on the arm. "I feel ill," he said, speakingvery rapidly; "very ill indeed! It is the atmosphere of this place.I want you to let me out by the quickest way. It would be a pityfor me to faint here--especially with ladies about."
His left hand shot out and placed what he had been fumbling for inhis pocket on the other's bare palm. "I see there's an emergencyexit over there. Would it be possible for me to get out that way?"
"Well, yes, sir; I think so."
The man hesitated; he felt a slight, a very sight, feeling ofmisgiving. He looked at Daisy, flushed and smiling, happy andunconcerned, and then at Mrs. Bunting. She was very pale; butsurely her lodger's sudden seizure was enough to make her feelworried. Hopkins felt the half-sovereign pleasantly tickling hispalm. The Paris Prefect of Police had given him only half-a-crown--mean, shabby foreigner!
"Yes, sir; I can let you out that way," he said at last, "and p'rapswhen you're standing out in the air, on the iron balcony, you'll feelbetter. But then, you know, sir, you'll have to come round to thefront if you wants to come in again, for those emergency doors onlyopen outward."
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Sleuth hurriedly. "I quite understand! If Ifeel better I'll come in by the front way, and pay another shilling--that's only fair."
"You needn't do that if you'll just explain what happened here."
The man went and pulled the curtain aside, and put his shoulderagainst the door. It burst open, and the light, for a moment,blinded Mr. Sleuth.
He passed his hand over his eyes. "Thank you," he muttered, "thankyou. I shall get all right out there."
An iron stairway led down into a small stable yard, of which thedoor opened into a side street.
Mr. Sleuth looked round once more; he really did feel very ill--ill and dazed. How pleasant it would be to take a flying leap overthe balcony railing and find rest, eternal rest, below.
But no--he thrust the thought, the temptation, from him. Again aconvulsive look of rage came over his face. He had remembered hislandlady. How could the woman whom he had treated so generously havebetrayed him to his arch-enemy?--to the official, that is, who hadentered into a conspiracy years ago to have him confined--him, anabsolutely sane man with a great avenging work to do in the world--in a lunatic asylum.
He stepped out into the open air, and the curtain, falling-to behindhim, blotted out the tall, thin figure from the little group ofpeople who had watched him disappear.
Even Daisy felt a little scared. "He did look bad, didn't he, now?"she turned appealingly to Mr. Hopkins.
"Yes, that he did, poor gentleman--your lodger, too?" he lookedsympathetically at Mrs. Bunting.
She moistened her lips with her tongue. "Yes," she repeated dully,"my lodger."
The Lodger Page 26
