The Yellow House; Master of Men

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XV

  THE LIKENESS OF PHILIP MALTABAR

  We stood looking at them in wonder. Her face had seemed suddenly tolight up in some mysterious way, so that for the moment one quiteforgot that she was plain at all.

  "It is really you!" she murmured. "How wonderful!" She held out bothher hands. Bruce Deville took them a little awkwardly. It was easy tosee that her joy at this meeting was not altogether reciprocated. Butshe seemed utterly unconscious of that. There was quite a becomingpink flush on her sallow cheeks, and her dark eyes were wonderfullysoft. Her lips were parted with a smile of welcome, and showed all herteeth--she had gleaming white teeth, beautifully shaped and regular.

  "To think that we should meet again like this," she continued, partingwith his great brown hand with some evident reluctance.

  "We were bound to meet again some day," he answered,deprecatingly. "After all, there is nothing very extraordinary aboutit. The world is a small place."

  "You never kept your promise," she reminded him, reproachfully. "Younever came near our hotel. I waited for you a week."

  "I could not; I was leaving Baeren that same afternoon."

  She turned to us at last.

  "This is the most delightful meeting in the world, so far as I amconcerned," she declared, still a little breathlessly. "Mr. Devilleonce saved my life."

  He made some sort of a protest, but she took no notice. She wasdetermined to tell her story.

  "I was traveling with a friend through the Italian lakes, and we wereout for a drive near Baeren. We were coming down a terrible hill, witha precipice on one side and the sheer mountain on the other. The roadwas only just wide enough for our carriage, and suddenly a great birdflew out from a hole in the mountain and startled our horses. Thedriver must have been half asleep, and when they plunged he lost hisbalance and was thrown off. The horses started galloping down thehill. It was almost like the side of a house, and just in front wasa sharp turn, with only a little frail palisading, and the precipicejust below. We must have gone straight over. He could not possiblyhave turned at the pace they were going. If they had the carriage musthave swung over. We were clinging to one another, and I am afraid wewere dreadful cowards. It was like certain and fearful death, and justthen Mr. Deville came round the corner. He seemed to see it all in amoment, and ran to meet us. Oh, it was horrible!" she cried, throwingher hands up with a little shiver. "I shall never forget it until Idie. Never!"

  She paused for a moment. Adelaide Fortress and I had been hangingover her every word. There was something very thrilling about theway she told her story. Mr. Deville alone seemed uninterested, and alittle impatient. He was turning over the pages of a magazine, with arestless frown upon his strong, dark face.

  "It seemed to me," she continued, lowering her shaking voice, "that hewas down under the horses, being dragged----"

  Bruce Deville closed the magazine he had been reading with a bang. Hehad evidently been a passive auditor as long as he was able to endureit. "Let me finish," he said, shortly. "I am blessed with strongarms, and I stopped the horses. It was not a particularly difficulttask. The ladies walked back to the hotel, and I went to look for thedriver, who had broken his leg."

  "And I have never seen him since!" she exclaimed, breathlessly.

  "Well, I couldn't help that," he continued. "I believe I promised tocome to the hotel and call upon you, but when I thought it over itreally didn't seem worth while. I was on my way to Geneva, walkingover the hills, and I was rather anxious to get there, and as Ifound some men to take the carriage and the driver back, I thought Imight as well continue my journey. I wanted to get to Geneva for myletters."

  She laughed quietly. Her eyes continually sought his, soft withadmiration and pleasure.

  "You are like all the men of your country, who are brave andnoble," she said. "You will do a great deed, but you do not liketo be thanked. Yet we waited there for days, hoping to see you. Ihave looked for you wherever I have been since then, and to thinkthat now--on this very saddest journey I have ever been forced totake--that I should call here, by accident, and the door should open,and you should walk in. Ah!"

  "It is quite a romance," Adelaide Fortress remarked, with a faintsmile upon her lips. "How grateful you must be that you came to see methis afternoon, Bruce! By the by, do you mind ringing the bell--unlessyou prefer stewed tea?"

  He got up and rang it with avidity.

  "I am glad you recognize the fact that we have come to tea," heremarked. "Miss Ffolliot and I met at the gate. You ought to give ussomething specially good for venturing out on such a day."

  "I will give you some Buszard's cake," she answered, laughing; "somekind friend sent it to me this morning. Only you mustn't eat it allup; it has to last me for a week."

  "How is your father, Miss Ffolliot?" the girl asked, turning to meabruptly.

  "I am sorry to say that he is very unwell," I answered, "and he isobliged to keep to his room. And I am afraid that he will not be ableto leave it for several days."

  She did not appear much concerned. I watched her closely, and withmuch relief.

  "I am sorry," she remarked, politely. "However, so far as I amconcerned, I suppose after all there would be very little object in myseeing him. I have been to most of the oldest residents round here,and they all seem certain that they have never heard of the nameMaltabar."

  I saw Bruce Deville start, and the hand which held his teacupshook. Adelaide Fortress and he exchanged swift glances. The girl,whose eyes were scarcely off him for a moment, noticed it too,although I doubt if she attached the same significance to it.

  "You do not know--you have not heard recently of any one of thatname?" she asked him. "Please tell me! I have a reason for being verymuch interested."

  He shook his head.

  "If I have ever heard the name at all it must have been very longago," he said; "and certainly not in connection with this part of theworld."

  She sighed.

  "I suppose you do not know who I am, or why I am here," she said. "Myname I told you once, although I daresay you have forgotten it. It isBerdenstein. The man who was found dead, who was killed close to here,was my brother."

  He murmured a few words of sympathy, but he showed no surprise. Isuspected that he had known who she was and of her presence herebefore.

  "Of course I came here directly I heard of it," she continued,ignoring us altogether, and talking only to him. "It is a terribletrouble to me, and he was the only relative I had left in theworld. You cannot wonder, can you, that I want to find out all aboutit?"

  "That is a very hard task," he said. "It is a task best left, I think,in the hands of the proper authorities."

  "They do not know as much as I know," she answered. "He had an enemy."

  "The man Maltabar, of whom you spoke?"

  "Yes. It was for him I inquired at once. Yet I suppose I must concludethat he is not at any rate a resident around here. I thought that hemight have changed his name, and I have described him to a great manypeople. Nobody seems to recognize him."

  "Don't you think," Adelaide Fortress said, quietly, "that you havedone all that it is possible for any one to do? The police are doingtheir utmost to solve the mystery of your brother's death. If I wereyou I should leave it to them."

  She shook her head.

  "I am not satisfied to do nothing," she said. "You cannot imagine whatit feels like to lose some one very dear to you in such a terribleway. I think of it sometimes until I tremble with passion, and I thinkthat if I could meet the man who did it face to face, I would stab himto the heart myself, with my own hands. I am weak, but I feel that Icould do it. I cannot go away from here if I would. Something seems totell me that the key to the whole mystery lies here--just at hand. No,I cannot go away. I must watch and wait. It may come to me at anymoment."

  No one answered her. She was conscious of a certain antagonism toher, betrayed by our lack of response to that little outburst and ouraverted faces. She looked from one to the other of us, and
finally atBruce Deville.

  "At least, you must think that I am right," she cried,appealingly. "You are a man, and you would feel like that. I am sureof it. Isn't it natural that I should want justice? He was all I hadin the world."

  "He is dead," Bruce Deville said, gently. "Nothing can bring him backto life. Besides----"

  He hesitated. The girl leaned forward, listening intently.

  "Besides what?"

  "Hasn't it ever occurred to you," he said, slowly, "that if a manhated your brother so much as to follow him down here and kill him,that so great a hatred must have sprung from some great cause? I knownothing, of course, of your brother's life, or of the manner of hislife. But men do not strike one another without provocation. They donot kill one another without very great provocation."

  "I see what you mean," she said, slowly. "You mean that my brothermust first have been the sinner."

  "I am not taking that for granted," he said, hastily; "only one cannothelp thinking sometimes that it might have been so."

  "He was my brother," she said, simply. "He was all that I had in theworld. My desire for justice may be selfish. Yet I hate the man whokilled him, and I want to see him punished. I do not believe that anysin of his could ever have deserved so terrible a retribution."

  "Perhaps not," he said; "yet there is so little that you can do. Tosearch for any one by the name of Maltabar around here you have proveda hopeless task; and that is your only clue, is it not?"

  "I am sending," she said, "for a London detective. I shall remain hereuntil he arrives, at any rate."

  Again we looked at one another questioningly, and our silence was likea fresh note of antagonism to her avowed purpose. She could not failto notice it, and she commenced to talk of other things. I believe butfor Mr. Deville's presence she would have got up and left us. Openwar with us women could not have troubled her in the least. Already Icould tell that she had contracted a dislike to me. But for his sakeshe was evidently anxious--oppressively anxious--to keep friendly.

  She tried to draw him into more personal conversation with her, and heseemed quite ready to humor her. He changed his seat and sat down byher side. Adelaide Fortress and I talked listlessly of the Bishop'svisit and our intending removal from the neighborhood. We studiouslyavoided all mention of my last visit to her and its sensationalending. We talked as ordinary acquaintances might have talked, abouttrifles. Yet we were both of us equally conscious that to a certainextent it was a farce. Presently there was a brief silence. The girlwas talking to Mr. Deville, evidently of her brother.

  "He was so fond of collecting old furniture," she was saying. "So amI. He gave me a little cabinet, the image of this one, only mine wasin black oak."

  She bent over a little piece of furniture by her side, and looked atit with interest.

  "Mine was exactly this shape," she continued; "only it had a wonderfulsecret spring. You pressed it just here and the top flew up, and therewas space enough for a deed or a photograph."

  She touched a portion of the woodwork idly as she spoke, and there wasa sort of click. Then she sprang to her feet with a little tremulouscry.

  A portion of the back of the cabinet had rolled back at the touch ofher fingers. A cabinet photograph was disclosed in the niche. She wasbending over it with pale cheeks and bloodless lips.

  "What is it?" I cried, with a sudden pain at my heart. "What have youfound there?"

  She turned around and faced Adelaide Fortress. Her eyes were flashingfire.

  "You are all deceiving me," she cried, passionately. "I was beginningto suspect it. Now I know."

  "What do you mean?" I cried.

  She pointed to the photograph with trembling fingers.

  "You have all declared that the name of Maltabar is strange to you. Itis a lie! That is the likeness of the man I seek. It is the likenessof Philip Maltabar."