CHAPTER XX
The immaculately dressed young man in the office turned Field's cardover doubtfully. He had every desire to oblige, he said, but really thehouse was packed to its utmost capacity. Also the well-dressed young manhoped that there would be nothing to disturb the harmony of theproceedings.
"You may make your mind quite easy on that score," said Field with areassuring smile. "There will be no disturbance as far as I amconcerned. I want to identify somebody whom I believe is in the house,and when that is done my work is finished. Never mind about a seat--letme stand by the side of the stalls so that I can pass for an official."
There was no difficulty whatever about this, and therefore Field steppedinto the house as the curtain was going up on the last of the brillianttrifles of the evening. The house was packed to its utmost capacity withan audience that seemed decidedly to appreciate the bill of fare thathad been prepared for their delectation.
Field glanced round the house with his usual blank way that neverthelesstook in everything. Most of the people in the stalls were known by sightto him. In an upper box on the prompt side he saw the dark face andeager eyes of the Rajah of Ahbad. He seemed to be looking for somebody,for his glasses were constantly in use. There was a restless air, too,about the Rajah, that showed that he was not altogether at his ease.
"We live and learn," Field told himself. "I wonder what yonder wilyoriental would think if he knew all that I have discovered lately. Isuppose one of his favourite ballet girls is in the piece. Pretty piece,too, and pretty music."
Field laid himself out for enjoyment for the next quarter of an hour.The heroine of the piece in the form of Miss Adela Vane was late inappearing. The thing was dragging, too, or so it seemed to Field. All atonce there were voices at the back of the stage as if somebody wasquarrelling. Suddenly the bright tuneful chorus broke off altogether anda female voice screamed. A little puff of smoke came from the stage.
In the twinkling of an eye the whole house rose and shuddered. There wasa sharp crack-crackle, followed by smoke, and forked tongues of flamelicked the imitation forest, and with a swish all the chorus fled fromthe stage. Far away up in the gallery somebody was roaring "Fire!" Arush to the doors was already taking place.
From the stalls rose a tall man with a military air, who commandedeverybody to wait. There was no danger, he cried, if the audience onlykept their heads. On the stage a manager, with a white face and aperspiring forehead, announced the fact that the appliances for dealingwith the fire were of the finest possible description, and that therewas no danger at all.
But it was all too late. The panic had already gripped the audience, anda yelling, frightened crowd pressed to the exits. The smoke was gettingthicker and blacker; the flames were making the place unpleasantlywarm. Field could feel the heat on his face. He had been close to thestalls exit, and might have slipped away at once, but he had held hisground. It was he who stood with his back to the door now.
"I'll knock down the first man who tries to pass me," he cried. "Thereis plenty of time. For God's sake, control yourselves. Come quietly.Don't you know that the whole theatre can be emptied in three minutes ifpeople will only go quietly? Now come along and don't press." The stern,hard tones were not without their effect. Field looked so calm andcollected and confident himself, that the feeling spread quickly allover the stalls. The fireproof curtain had not been dropped for thesimple reason that it would not work, as is often the case withappliances of the kind. The stage was burning furiously.
But in the pit and dress circles and in the higher parts of the houseother cool and collected men had risen to the occasion. Women werecrying and sobbing, and more than one had fainted, but the mad panic wasover, and something like order had been restored. The stalls were movingquietly along now, and it was marvellous to see how quickly the placewas being deserted. In the vestibule a long queue of police had gatheredand stood to prevent people huddling together. In less time than ittakes to tell, everybody was outside. Like magic an engine had appeared,and men in helmets were jumping nimbly over the stalls laying their hosedown. As Field turned to go a little cry from the stage attracted hisattention.
A girl stood there, dressed as a Watteau shepherdess. She seemedabsolutely dazed and frightened, a pretty and pathetic little figure inher great golden wig.
"Go back," Field yelled. "You'll have that blazing scenery on top ofyou. Why don't you go back to the stage door?"
The actress turned at last and shook her head. Tears were rolling downher face.
"I can't," she said. "The fire is too great. I was in my dressing-room,and I did not know. Oh, why doesn't somebody save me?"
It was quite clear that the little girl was too dazed and frightened todo anything. Without any further loss of time Field jumped into theorchestra and scrambled onto the stage. The hot flames drove him backfor the moment; he could see already that the wig of the pretty littleshepherdess was being scorched by the hot fiery breath. He lifted thegirl in his arms and made a bold leap over the orchestra into thestalls. Then he carried her out into the street and called for a cab.The air of the night was not without effect on the frightened actress.
"Where shall I tell the man to drive?" Field asked.
"I shall remember presently," the girl said. "I am altogether dazed andstupid for the moment. I can see nothing but fire and smoke. Let methink. Oh, yes, it is coming back to me. Yes, Mrs. Marsh, 124, CopelandAvenue, Regent's Park. Oh, it is very good and kind of you. Will you letme tender my thanks when I am better?"
"I have done nothing," Field said modestly. A sudden idea occurred tohim, accustomed as he was to think matters out quickly and in all kindsof startling surroundings. "If I may, I will call upon you to-morrowmorning. Good-night."
The cab was whirled away, and Field went thoughtfully down the Strand.It seemed to him that he had seen the pretty little actress before, butthen such queer sensations are frequent in times of danger andexcitement, Field reflected. At the same time he could not quite ridhimself of the idea that he had seen the girl before. He pondered overthe matter until another idea filled his mind.
"By Jove," he exclaimed, "I had quite forgotten the Colonel's message. Iwas to go to Edward Street near the Borough and wait to see what Ishould see. I'll just go and hang about there for half an hour or so onthe off chance, though I am as tired as a dog already. It seems to methat I can't do better than take a cab."
A cab accordingly whirled Inspector Field to the upper end of EdwardStreet, which is by no means a bad type of street for the Borough. Thehouses are of a respectable class for the most part, the class of housesthat let lodgings to medical students and the like. It is not the sortof thoroughfare that is generally given over to adventures, and Fieldloitered about there for a long time before his search was rewarded.
He was chatting to a policeman on the beat, seeing that he could notloaf there without arousing the suspicions of the intelligent officer onduty, without disclosing his identity, when a couple passed him. The manwore a long fawn overcoat and a silk hat; he was a well-dressed man, asField could see by his smartly cut trousers and patent leather boots. Hewas not alone, for he had a lady with him, a lady with a handsome wrap.There was a genuine West End air about these people that did not tallyat all with Edward Street, as Field did not fail to notice. People ofthat stamp generally had a cab when there was any outing to be done atthat time of night.
"Pull those people up and ask them some question," Field whispered tothe officer. "I want to get a good look at their faces."
The matter was managed quite easily, though the man in the fawn coat wasshort and inclined to be curt in his replies. But it sufficed for Field,who expressed no astonishment as he recognized the features of the mancalled "Reggie," and the woman called "Cora," whom he had seen the nightbefore at No. 100, Audley Place. In other words, he was once more hotupon the scent of Countess de la Moray and General Gastang.
"Very good, indeed, Watson," he said. "That's a bit of luck I hardlyexpected. I'll just follow
these people and make certain. Good night."
Field had not far to go, seeing that the man in the fawn coat produced alatchkey and let himself into a house a little farther down the road.The house was an ordinary looking one enough, with plain green venetianblinds and muslin curtains below. In the drawing-room window there was acard to the effect that lodgings were to be let there. It was prettylate still, but a light in the basement testified to the fact that thehousekeeper, or landlady, or whoever she was, had not yet gone to bed.
"It's late, but I'll try it," Field said to himself. "So here goes."
The inspector walked up the steps and rang the bell. After a little timea tall slatternly woman came to the door and looked sleepily out. Sheseemed by no means pleased to be disturbed, and the way she wiped hermouth with the back of her hand suggested the fact that she had beentaking some of a pleasing and not altogether unintoxicating fluid withher supper.
"And what may you want at this time of night?" she asked suspiciously.
"Lodgings," Field said promptly. "I've just come to London, and I findthe hotels so expensive. I'm prepared to pay an advance--a matter offive and twenty shillings a week or a little more, as it's only for soshort a time. You see I am at the hospital."
"Well, if you are at the hospital you'd better stay there," the womansaid with a laugh. "We don't let lodgings at this time of night, andbesides, I settled with a party to-day. I'm not going to stand gossipinghere all night. Be off with you."
The door closed, but not before Field had got a glimpse of the inside.The house was most beautifully furnished, as he could see. There was anatmosphere of hothouse flowers and fruit, and the like; a suggestion ofexquisite cigars. A man in evening dress, with a diamond flashing in hisshirt, crossed the hall; somebody was laughing in a well-bred voice. Allof this Field did not omit to note as the door closed on him.
"That card about lodgings is a blind," he said. "That place must bewatched. I'll get to bed, for I'm dead tired. In the morning I'll go andsee my actress friend. Probably she can tell me all about Miss AdelaVane."
It was a little after eleven the next day before Field found time tovisit the little actress. He had stupidly forgotten to ask her name, buthe seemed to be expected. He waited for some time in a small prettilyfurnished room till the lady of the last night's adventure came down.She arrived presently, bright and pretty and smiling, her handoutstretched--words of gratitude on her lips.
"But I shall never be able to thank you properly," she said. "The publiccame very near last night to losing their dear, dear Adela Vane."
"You are Adela Vane?" Field gasped. "Really you are Adela Vane?"
For Adela Vane was the girl who had been closeted the night before withCarl Sartoris!
The Slave of Silence Page 20
