The Slave of Silence

by Fred M. White

  CHAPTER XVI

  Cool and collected as he usually was, even Field was excited now. Hecrept as near to the drawing room door as he dared, and peeped into thering of light, eagerly. He popped back hurriedly as the man calledReggie and the Rajah came into the hall and proceeded to enter a roomopposite, under the direction of the little cripple. Richford seemed tobe vague and irritated.

  "What the deuce is the good of all this mystery?" he asked. "Why don'tyou come to the point, Sartoris? But no, you must always be soinfernally close, just as if you were the only one of us who rejoices inthe possession of brains."

  "Well, so I am," Sartoris said, without the least display of temper."You don't delude yourself that you are a person of intellect, surely?Cunning you have of a low order, the mean, vulgar cunning that enablespeople to make money in the city. But that is not intellect, my dearfriend--intellect is quite another matter. We very nearly landedourselves in a serious mess because I did not care to trust you too far.And when we were face to face with that mess, what good were you? Whatgood was anybody besides myself? Where was the brain that schemed outeverything and made success certain? True, I had allies upon whom Icould depend--Reggie and Cora, for example. But they could have donenothing without me. And now we have the thing in our hands again. Comealong, then."

  Richford subsided, muttering to himself. From the room opposite came thesound of somebody moving a heavy package of some kind, and presently theman called Reggie and the Rajah appeared shuffling a big case betweenthem. The box scraped over the polished parquet floor, leaving deepscratches as it went; amidst a strained, breathing silence it was pushedinto the dining-room. Sartoris watched these proceedings with a curiousgleam in his eyes.

  "So far, so good," he said. "All we want now is Bentwood. He's verylate. Go out and see if you can make anything of him, Reggie. If thatfellow has dared to get drunk to-night, I'll give him a lesson that willlast him for the rest of his life."

  The little man's voice grew harsh and grating. Evidently he was a manthat it would be dangerous to trifle with. A curious silence fell overthe little group; the whole room grew so still that Field could hear hiscompanion breathing. They were perfectly safe up to now, but if anybodyhappened to go into the drawing-room for anything, and they werediscovered, each knew that his life was not worth a minute's purchase.Very steadily Sartoris steered his chair to the side of the big case onthe floor, and his hands began to fumble with the strings.

  The front door opened with a bang that startled everybody, for nerveswere strung up to high tension and the least noise came with a startlingforce. The door burst open, only to be as quietly closed, and a big man,with a red face and small red eyes, reeled across the hall and almostcollapsed in a heap on the floor.

  "Night," he said unsteadily, "night, all of you. You may say that I'vebeen drinking. Nothing of the kind. The man who says I've been drinkinglies. Experiment. Nothing in the world but a lot of experiments which abraver man than I would shrink from. Sartoris, if you say I am drunk,then I say that you are a liar."

  "I should be a liar if I agreed with you," Sartoris said. "The wholeplace reeks of drink."

  "So it does," the newcomer said with amiability. "Upon my word, youyourselves seem to be doing remarkably well while I've been working forthe good of the community. Give me a bottle of champagne, to begin with.Poor stuff, champagne, only fit for women. But then, there appears to benothing else--why----"

  The big red-faced man reached his hand out and Sartoris caught him asavage blow on the knuckles. The little man's face was livid with fury,his eyes flashed like electric points.

  "Pig, beast, drunken hound," he screamed. "Have you no sense of shame orduty? After to-night I will give you a lesson. After to-night you shallknow what it is to play with me."

  The man called Bentwood lapsed into sudden dignity.

  "Very well," he said. "Have it your own way. When you say that I amdrunk you outrage my feelings. You don't seem to understand that youcan't get on without me. If I like to snap my fingers in your face youare powerless. But I do nothing of the kind--such is not my nature. Giveme a glass of brandy and I shall be myself again."

  Just for a moment Sartoris seemed to be fighting down the rage thatconsumed him. It was evidently a big struggle, but the mastery came.

  "Very well," he said. "I'll do as you want. Wait a moment."

  The invalid carriage rolled rapidly across the room and down a longpassage to the back of the house. When Sartoris came back again he had aglass in his hand and a cup of black coffee balanced on the chair beforehim. Bentwood snatched eagerly at the glass and drained it at a gulp.Then he pressed his hand to his heart and staggered back.

  "My God, you have poisoned me," he gasped. "The pain! The pain! I can'tbreathe."

  "You'll be all right in a moment," Sartoris said. "I don't profess toyour wonderful medical knowledge, but some things I know, and one ofthem is how to treat a man in your condition. What you regard as poisonis a strong dose of sal-volatile--as strong a dose as I dare venture togive even to a powerful man like you. Now drink this coffee."

  There was a ring of command in the tone which was not to be disobeyed.As soon as Bentwood had regained his power of speech, he drank hiscoffee. After the harsh, astringent drug, the flavour was soothing andgratifying. In a marvellously short space of time the big man grew quietand a little ashamed of himself. His face was less red, he became morequiet and subdued in his manner.

  "I am truly sorry, Sartoris," he said. "I'm afraid I was very drunk andrude just now. But I was not entirely to blame. Would any man beentirely to blame who had led a life like mine! The things that I haveseen, the things that I should like to find out! Then the madness comeson me and I must drink or destroy myself. I fought for the possession ofmyself to-day until I was a mere nervous rag of a man, if I had foughtmuch longer I should have blown my brains out. And what would you havedone then?"

  The man's tone was eager, almost passionate. Sartoris bent his head downso that the expression of his face could not be seen by anyone.

  "Say no more about it," he said. "You are quite sober now, which is theimportant part of the case. I will discuss the other matter with you ona future occasion."

  The speaker's tones were smooth enough, but his eyes gleamed like coalsof fire. He was bending again and fumbling with the straps of the greatpacking case. Field, watching everything intently, asked Berrington whathe thought of it all.

  "I hardly know what to think," the latter whispered. "This has been anight of surprises--therefore you will be prepared to hear that I knowthe man Bentwood well."

  "You mean that you knew him in India?" Field asked.

  "Yes, years ago. He was an army surgeon, and quite the cleverest man athis profession that I ever had the privilege to meet. He might have madea large fortune in England, but he got into some trouble and had toleave the country. It was much the same in India. Bentwood had apositive genius for the occult and underground. After a time very fewwhite people cared to associate with him and he became the companion ofthe dervishes and the mullahs and all that class, whose secrets helearned. I believe he is the only European who ever went through theprocess of being buried alive. That secret was never betrayed before,and yet yonder fellow got to the bottom of it. Also he learned all thesecret poisons that they use out yonder, and we were pretty sure that hewas mixed up in the great scandal that followed the sad death of theRajah of Abgalli. You recollect that?"

  Field nodded. He had a fine memory for all stories of that kind.

  "We always said that Bentwood was the actual culprit, and that heexperimented with certain poisons that produced quite new results. Somesaid that the Rajah committed suicide. Perhaps the poison administeredto him took that form. Anyway, Bentwood disappeared, and it wasgenerally understood that he met his death by falling out of a boat whenshooting sea fowl. That was the story that one of his servants broughtback, but we could never ascertain how far that fellow was in hismaster's pay. Anyway, a year later one of our men came back f
rom hislong leave, saying that he had seen Bentwood at Monte Carlo, and that heappeared to be bursting with money. Another of ours was reported to haveseen him after that, almost in rags, in London. Anyway, he is anamazingly clever man, and perhaps one of the greatest scamps that everlived. Still, if we get any luck to-night, he will almost have shot hisbolt."

  "I think you may safely reckon upon that," Field said drily. "It'sexceedingly lucky for me that I ran up against you in this way, Colonel.But for that accident I should have been utterly at fault. Anyway, Ishould not be here at this moment."

  There was no chance for further talk, for by this time Sartoris hadreleased the straps of the packing case and raised the lid. The othersstood around him, looking white and anxious, with the exception ofBentwood, who was smoking a cigarette quite carelessly. With animpatient gesture, Sartoris pointed to the case by his side.

  "Now, then," he said curtly, "are you people going to keep me waitingall night? Do you think that a cripple like me can do everything? Give ahand here, you men, whilst one of the others clears the table. Pull thecloth off."

  There was a clatter of china and glass and a clink of bottles, at thesound of which Bentwood looked around with a sudden spasmodic grin onhis face. But Sartoris scowled at him furiously, and he turned hiswatery gaze in another direction. The table was clear now, and theRajah, with the help of the man called Reggie, and Richford, raised someinanimate object from the trunk. It was limp and heavy, it was swathedin sheets, like a lay figure or a mummy. As the strange thing was openedout it took the outlines of a human body, a dread object, full of thesuggestion of crime and murder and violence. Berrington breathed hard ashe watched.

  "If we only dared to do something," he muttered. "I suppose it is easyto guess what they have there?"

  "Easy enough, indeed, sir," Field said between his teeth. "It's the bodyof Sir Charles Darryll. There is a deeper mystery here than we are asyet aware of. They are laying the body out on that table as if for someoperation. I don't know what to think; I----"

  "Shut that door," Sartoris commanded in a hard high voice. "There is adeuce of a draught coming in from somewhere. You don't want that, eh,Bentwood!"

  Bentwood muttered that it was the last thing he did desire. The doorclosed with a bang, there was a long silence, broken at last by a feeblecry of pain, a cry something like that of a child who suffers under somedrug. Berrington leaped to his feet. As he would have crossed the hall afigure came along--the figure of a woman in a grey dress. It was thegrey lady that Beatrice had seen on that fateful evening, the woman whohad sat by the side of Mark Ventmore in the Paris theatre. She wrung herhands in silent grief.

  "Oh, if only there was somebody to help me," she said. "If God wouldonly give to me and send to me a friend at this moment, I wouldpray----"

  Berrington stepped out into the light of the hall.

  "Your prayer has been answered," he said quietly. "I am here to helpyou, Mary."