CHAPTER XIX
Something had been accomplished, at any rate. It was good to know thatBerrington was safe and as satisfied with his surroundings as it waspossible to be under the circumstances. Though he was a prisoner, heseemed to have been able to obtain important information which he hadmanaged to convey to the outside world without alarming his captors.
"It's not so bad altogether," Field said. "Though I am by no meanspleased with the gallant Colonel, who has only himself to blame for theposition in which he finds himself. You can all go back to the station,and I shall not want the telegraph gentleman, whose services have beenso valuable. Of course, you will say nothing of what you have seen,sir."
The little telegraph clerk gave the desired assurance and went his way.But Field did not turn his steps in the direction of London all at once.For a long time he stood looking thoughtfully at the house in AudleyPlace. He was just about to turn away finally when the light began toflash and flicker again. It went on a little time and finally ceased.
"Now, has he forgotten something?" Field asked himself. "I wonder if itis possible----"
Field crept quietly towards the house, across the lawn, and made his wayto the back by which he had entered the place on a previous occasion. Ashe expected, the glass removed by him had not been replaced, so that hewas free to enter if he pleased. It was a very risky proceeding underthe circumstances, but Field decided to try it. He would be much bettersatisfied to gain speech with Berrington, though the latter's escapemight have alarmed the criminals and sent them to cover again.
Field was inside the house again before he had made up his mind what todo. The place was very quiet, and it was evident that the servants hadnot returned. Perhaps there was nobody there besides Berrington, who wasa prisoner in one of the upper rooms. That being the case it was by nomeans impossible to gain speech with him. Very carefully Field creptalong the passages, listening with all his ears.
He had not gone far before he heard a sound as of somebody moving. Thatsomebody was coming in his direction was certain. Field began to blamehimself for his folly. If he fell into a trap now, everything would beruined. He turned down a side passage, without the remotest idea wherehe was going, and came at length to a lighted room, at the end of whichwas a conservatory full of flowers. The conservatory was open to theroom, so that the whole place was a veritable bower of blooms. On oneside was a large bank of azaleas, behind which Field proceeded to hidehimself. He had hardly done this when there was a kind of creakingsound, the door was pushed open, and Carl Sartoris entered in his chair.With great difficulty the cripple proceeded to crawl into a bigarm-chair, after which he took from his pocket a wig and a pair ofspectacles. He seemed to be expecting somebody. He gave a little cough,and immediately somebody in the hall began to talk.
"Mr. Sartoris is in the conservatory room, miss," a voice said, andField had no difficulty in recognising the voice of the doctor,Bentwood. "Will you come this way, please?"
Field congratulated himself upon the line that he had taken. From behindthe bank of flowers he could see pretty well himself, without beingdiscovered. A pretty girl, with wonderfully beautiful fair hair and darkvivacious eyes, came into the room. She was not in the least timid;there was an air of eager expectation about her.
"This is very good of you," she said. "I understand that you sent forme. If you are not in a proper state of health to talk to me I can callagain, Mr. Sartoris."
Just for the moment Sartoris made no reply. It seemed to Field that hewas not altogether free from physical pain. He shaded his spectacledeyes with a trembling hand, as if the light proved a little too strongfor him.
"It is not in the least inconvenient," he said. "I sent for you at thissomewhat late hour because I may have to leave England to-morrow. If Ido so it will be for some considerable time."
In his mind, Field differed. He had other views for the speaker. He waspuzzled, too, at all these quick changes, and because there were so manythreads in the plot.
"I can give you an hour," the girl said. "I _must_ be in London by teno'clock."
"Very well, I dare say we can manage it by that time. As I told you inmy letter, I am a very old friend of your father. We were in one or twoventures together, and some of them turned out to be very successfulindeed. Did he ever mention my name?"
"I cannot call it to mind," the girl said. "And yet it is not a commonname."
"It is not in the least common," Sartoris smiled. "Perhaps your fatherdid not speak of me because we were not quite friends towards the last.At one time I was to be your guardian if anything happened to yourfather. But we need not go into that, because it is not material to thecase at all." The girl nodded brightly, and her eyes expressedadmiration of the beauty of the surroundings.
"I believe my guardian was Sir Charles Darryll," she said.
"So I understand," Sartoris proceeded in the same grave way. "It was amost extraordinary selection for a man with a keen business head likeyour father."
"But you are greatly mistaken," the girl exclaimed. "My father was aperfect child in business matters. Even I was capable of advising himfor his good. I should say that there never lived a man who was soeasily befooled as my father."
"Is that so?" Sartoris blurted out. "I'm--I mean, of course, yes, as tomere money, but he was clever enough in some ways. Still, the factremains that he made Sir Charles Darryll your guardian. Did you evertrouble him at all?"
"I never so much as saw him, at least in a business sense."
"Ah," Sartoris cried. There was a deep ring in his voice. "Is thatreally a fact? You don't know then that certain papers and documentsbelonging to your father passed to Sir Charles? Your father told younothing of this?"
"Not a word, except in a joking way. He spoke of securities andmortgages and the like that were to be my fortune when he died. He toldme to ask Sir Charles about them."
"Did you take the trouble to do so?"
The girl thought a moment before she replied.
"Once," she said. "Once I did say something to Sir Charles. He told methat every paper in his possession had been deposited with his lawyers."
Once more Sartoris shaded his eyes with his hand. Field could see hisfingers shaking. In a hard voice Sartoris asked if the girl meant thefamily solicitor.
"No, I don't," she said without the slightest hesitation. "As a matterof fact the family solicitor would have nothing to do with SirCharles--he found him too expensive. It was some little man in one ofthe Inns, Gray's Inn or Clement's Inn, who kept his creditors at bay.But more than that I am afraid I cannot tell you."
Sartoris muttered something that might have been the strangling of anoath. Field began to understand. Papers, and probably valuable papers,belonging to Sir Charles were necessary; and the gang of thieves was ata loss what to do without them.
"I dare say I can find out," Sartoris said. "If I do, I fancy you willbenefit considerably. More than that I dare not venture for the present,my dear young lady, because so frequently these things turn out verydifferently. If you could think of the name of that solicitor----"
"Perhaps I might," the girl said. "I have a good memory, especially fortrifles. If I do recollect the name I will write you here. Do you knowyou remind me of a man I knew in India. He was much younger than you, ofcourse, and different in many ways. And yet every time I look at you andhear your voice I think of him."
"As a matter of fact I never was in India at all," Sartoris saidhastily. There was a nasty ring in his voice that caused the girl tolook up, whereon Sartoris laughed, seeing that he had made a mistake."Excuse me, but this neuralgia of mine is very troublesome to-night. AndI am afraid that I am detaining you."
The girl muttered something soothing and sympathetic; at the same timeshe rose and crossed to the bell. But Sartoris merely reached out a handand asked her to help him into his chair. He sank back into the wheeledcontrivance at length with a sigh that might have been pain.
"I'll go as far as the door with you," he said. "No, I can move myse
lfalong. And I hope that you will come here again; I'll let you know whenit is quite convenient. Don't forget that I may be the indirect means ofbringing you a fortune. I am a very old gentleman, my dear; won't yougive me a kiss? Are you very much offended?"
The girl laughed and blushed as she bent down and touched Sartoris'scheek with her lips. A moment later they were gone, and Field hademerged from his hiding-place. He had discovered all that he required,for the present, and he decided not to take any further risks. Theconfused pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together in hismind, but they were by no means complete yet. Without further adventurethe inspector crept back to the pantry and found himself at length inthe road. He looked at the upstairs window whence the flickering signalshad come, but it was all dark and still now, though it was not as yetlate.
"So far, so good," Field muttered to himself. "It strikes me that thatyoung lady is likely to be of service to me. I'll find out who she isand whence she comes. And now to go off to the Comedy and see if I canget in touch with the little actress who must play her part in moredramas than one. I wonder if I had better see her at the theatre orfollow her to her rooms. I'll be guided by circumstances."
It was not more than half-past ten when Field reached the theatre. Itwas a popular house for the moment, where the management was running akind of triple bill, consisting of one-act musical comedies, each ofwhich contained the particular star artist. Two of the shows werealready over, and the curtain was about to rise on the third, when Fieldreached the stage door. The inquiry for Miss Adela Vane was met by asurly request to know what was wanted. If the inquirer thought that hewas going into the theatre he was jolly well mistaken.
"So you just be off, or I'll call the police," the crusty doorkeepersaid. "One way or another, I'm pestered out of my life by you chaps. Oh,you can leave a message or a bouquet or something of that kind, but it'slong odds it's shoved into the dusthole."
Field smiled as he produced his card and handed it over. The effect ofthe little square of shining pasteboard was marked and instantaneous.The man behind the bar was at once cringing and ready to do anything.
"I'm sure I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but we are pestered out ofour lives from morning till night. I dare say I can get you a few wordswith Miss Vane, who does not come on the stage till the third piece. Andfrom the bottom of my heart, I hope that there is nothing wrong, for anicer young lady than Miss Vane----"
"There is nothing wrong at all," Field hastened to say. "On the wholeI've changed my mind. Don't say a word to Miss Vane about me, it mayalarm her. Give me a programme; I'll just slip into the house and seeMiss Vane from the stalls. Thank you."
Field made his way round to the front of the house, and presenting hiscard at the box office, desired to have a seat for half an hour or so.
The Slave of Silence Page 19
