The Lion's Mouse

by C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

  VIII

  BEVERLEY TALKS

  Clo remembered Beverley's instructions, and went straight to her ownroom, but the threat of the ferret-man rang in her ears. "Tell your ladyfriend a life will pay for this. She's got till ten o'clock to-night,and not a minute more."

  It was now after five, and Sister Lake was firmly bent upon undressingher charge. Clo had to let herself be tucked into bed. Meekly also shereceived the order to lie quite still and rest till dinner time.

  Rest! As though she could rest, not knowing what ought to be done nextto help the Angel! A passive plan occurred to Clo, which could do noharm, and her quick wit suggested how best to carry it out.

  "I'll be as good as gold," she promised, "if you'll forgive me, Sister,and do me a favour. I feel sick because I spoilt your afternoon! Youstayed in, waiting for me to come back, instead of taking your walk.Will you go out now, instead? I'll rest better if you will. Do, please!"

  All Clo's Irish powers of persuasion were needed to coax Sister intoconsenting. Eventually she relented. Clo could have sung for joy asSister Lake bade her "good-bye for an hour." As the door of the roomclosed, the girl began counting the seconds which must pass before theouter door shut.

  "Sixty-two--sixty-three--she ought to be gone!" Clo was whispering, whenher heart sank. The room door opened. She feared that Sister Lake hadchanged her mind; but it was the Angel who came in.

  "I was racking my brain how to get rid of Sister when I saw her go out,"Beverley said. "I'm sure you managed it. I've been desperate. You can'tthink what things have happened! Tell me, did all go well?"

  The blow must be struck. In a few words Clo described the scene at theWestmorland; told how the ferret-man had kept her waiting; how he hadsaid that the envelope looked all right, but had insisted upon openingit; how he had flown into a rage at finding only folded sheets of blankpaper.

  "Blank paper!" Beverley gasped. "But that's impossible! I know what wasin the envelope. There were letters. The man must have tricked you."

  Clo shook her head.

  "I was watching him. He had no time, or chance, to play a trick. Theblank paper was there, and nothing else. It was writing paper, quite alot of sheets that seemed to have been taken from some train, 'Santa FeLimited,' or a name like that."

  Beverley gave a cry, as if she had been struck over the heart.

  "Let me think," she groaned. "How can that have been? Writing papertaken from the train?"

  Suddenly she turned, and came back to the bed, putting out her hands ina groping way to Clo. The girl caught and held them tightly. They werevery cold.

  "Angel! is there nothing I can do?" she whispered.

  Beverley sank on the bed once more.

  "My head feels as if I'd been given ether," she said. "I can't thinkthings out clearly. That isn't like me! A terrible day! One shock afteranother. If I talk to you, will you swear by all that's sacred never togive away one word?"

  "I swear by my love for you. That's the most sacred thing I have, exceptmy locket with mother's picture," the girl answered.

  "You see," Beverley went on, "I've no one else but you, Clo. If I toldmy husband anything, I should have to tell all. I daren't do that. Notbecause I couldn't trust him. But I've taken an oath ten times moresolemn than the one you took just now, to keep a secret that isn't onlymine. Another's life depends on the secret being kept. To save that lifeI was forced to do what I hate to think of. And it's no concern ofyours, but it would be Roger's if he had the faintest inkling! Now, I'mgoing to tell you one or two things, and you must use your brains toexplain the mystery. You're clever, and true as steel. You've provedthat! Suppose a case; suppose you'd undertaken a dangerous mission. Youhave in your charge some documents which could make or break a man. Youknow you'll be followed. You nearly miss your train, but you jump onboard at the last minute. You see a man--not the one you expect, butanother just as much to be feared--more, perhaps, because he's a greatdeal cleverer, if not so violent. You think you're lost, but you find afriend, a man who helps you. You give him the envelope that has thepapers in it--a sealed envelope. You've seen it, Clo! He keeps itthrough the journey. At a stopping place on the way he offers to hand itback to you, but you refuse. You feel that the thing is safer with him.Later, in New York, he returns the envelope intact, the seals unbroken.This friend who comes to the rescue is the soul of honour. Never sincethat moment has the envelope been out of your own keeping. Yet it isopened to-day for the first time, and the papers that were in it aregone, changed for stationery of that train, the 'Santa Fe Limited.' Howcan this have been done? Who did it?"

  "The other man must have done it, the one who followed you on to thetrain."

  "But he was never near Rog ... never near the man who ... oh, I might aswell tell you right out that it was Roger who kept the envelope for me.I'll tell you the name of the other man, too. It's sure to slip out! Hisname is Justin O'Reilly."

  "O'Reilly?" Clo echoed. "How dare the brute have a name like mine?"

  "Why, so it is like," said Beverley. "But there's an 'O,' and he spellsit differently."

  "Beast! He'd better, or I'd have to change," snapped Clo. "Well,whatever his name is, I believe he must have stolen your papers. Can yougo back, and live over again every step of the way?"

  Beverley shut her eyes, and began to think aloud. "The morning after westarted Roger mentioned meeting an acquaintance ... a man namedO'Reilly. He didn't dream the name meant anything to me. They exchangedonly a few words when Roger passed O'Reilly's table at breakfast time.Nothing could have happened then, I know. Afterward, I never heard oftheir meeting again through the whole journey. I should have heard, ifthey had, I think. Roger was with me a good deal. At Chicago.--Let mesee!...

  "I'm calling it back to my mind. Roger helped me out of the train.O'Reilly was out already. He stood on the platform, looking forsomeone--or so it seemed. We went quite close to him, but not closeenough for even the smartest pickpocket in America to steal the envelopefrom Roger."

  "Where was the envelope then?" the girl wanted to know.

  "In an inside breast pocket of Roger's coat; not an overcoat. It wasSeptember. The weather was hot."

  "Wouldn't it be easy for any one looking for the envelope to see thatMr. Sands had something thick and long in an inside breast pocket, andsuspect what it was?"

  "Any one might suspect. No one could be sure. It would have shown moreplainly if Roger had worn his coat buttoned. He didn't, on purpose."

  "Still, his coat not being buttoned would make it easier to steal theenvelope, if somebody very clever got a chance to try."

  "Perhaps. But O'Reilly could never have done such a thing. It would takea trained thief."

  "Can people send off telegrams from those Limited trains?" Clo took upher catechism again.

  "Yes, of course they can."

  "Would there have been time for this O'Reilly chap to wire Chicago,after he followed you on board the train, and have a man meet him?"

  "Yes, plenty of time."

  "Well, what if he wired to some detective people, and told them to sendhim the 'smartest pickpocket in America'?"

  "But ... the police couldn't ... wouldn't ... do such a thing!"

  "I don't mean the real police," Clo explained. "Haven't you often readbooks about private detectives? I have. They might get reformed thievesto work for them. Can you remember what O'Reilly did next, after youboth passed him on the platform?"

  "No. I didn't look back."

  "You don't know, then, whether the person he seemed to expect everturned up?"

  Beverley shook her head. "Roger and I went straight ahead to a newsstandwhere _I_ expected to meet a person. Two or three minutes after wepassed O'Reilly we were mixed up in a big crowd, almost fighting our waythrough...."

  "Oh, a big crowd!" Clo broke in. "A chance for that pickpocket. Supposehe came the minute you had turned your backs on O'Reilly, and he senthis trained thief after you, hot foot, to get that envelope?"

  "Ah, but you've forgotten someth
ing!" cried Beverley. "A thief might getthe envelope: I'll admit that. But how could he have another one exactlylike it, with the same seals, the same monogram, to put into Roger'spocket, when he took the original?"

  "He could only have it if O'Reilly could have given it to him. Could hehave done that?"

  Suddenly Beverley began to see. A vivid idea sprang into her head, andwas imaged in her eyes.

  "You've thought of something!" Clo exclaimed. "You see how O'Reillymight have got the seal with the monogram, and the gold wax, and anenvelope like the one you had?"

  "Oh, yes. I do see!" Beverley groaned. "He could have brought the thingsfrom--from.... But never mind. That part's nothing to you."

  "I want only to know the part you want me to know," said Clo.

  "It isn't a question of what I want. It's a question of my sacred oath,"Beverley answered. "There was a house where I had been, to get theenvelope. O'Reilly was there, too. Someone ... no matter who! ... couldhave given him all the things, so he could change envelopes if he gotthe chance. Oh, child, I keep stumbling on to a path where I dare notstep."

  "We'll go back to the train," said Clo. "If O'Reilly had the gold waxand the seal, and the right kind of envelope, he could have made hisplan, and sent his telegram, and had everything ready for the rightminute ... in the Chicago station."

  "Ye--es, he could. But it's almost impossible!"

  "It's more possible than Mr. Sands' changing the envelopes, isn't it?"

  "That is the one impossible thing. The worst remains. I have lost thepapers! Whether O'Reilly has them or someone else, I can't get themback. Without them, I'm ruined!"

  "You shan't be!" Clo cried, twining her thin arms round her idol'swaist. "You must be saved somehow. We've got till ten o'clock to think."

  "If I were the only one, it wouldn't matter so much," Beverley said."But there's somebody who can be tortured as well as killed, if I haveno bribe to offer. Those papers gave me all the power I had."

  "Wouldn't money...." Clo began, but Beverley cut her short.

  "No money I could get would be of any use," she said. "A million mightbe!"

  "See O'Reilly and make him give up the papers!" cried Clo. "Oh, but ishe in New York?"

  "He doesn't live in New York, but he's here now. I know, because thatman you saw, Peterson, told me. It was part of a threat he held over myhead that O'Reilly and some people connected with him should be in townjust now. I know the hotel he's staying in, the Dietz. But even ifO'Reilly would come, how could I see him without Roger knowing? Itwouldn't be possible!"

  "I'll somehow make O'Reilly come," the girl promised. "I don't know how,yet, but I know I will, if you can get Mr. Sands out of the house."

  Beverley shuddered. "How horrid that sounds ... as if I were plottingagainst him, the way women do who deceive their husbands."

  "Well, anyhow, if O'Reilly took the papers, would he still have them, doyou think?" asked Clo, with the sudden eagerness of one who catches indesperation at a new idea.

  "It's just possible. I can see a reason why he might have been asked tokeep them," Beverley answered.

  "If that's so, would he put them in a bank, or a safe somewhere, orwould he bring them to New York?"

  "There might be a special motive for him to bring them to New York ... Ithink there would be a motive."

  "Well, it seems to me, the sort of man I imagined he is, would be toosmart to have such things on him if he came to your house, and didn'tmean to give 'em back to you. It would be tempting Providence, so tospeak!"

  "If I were the kind of woman he thinks I am, he'd not expect me to stopshort of murder to get those papers," and Beverley laughed a bitterlittle laugh.

  "Good! If he comes to you and leaves the papers at his hotel, a certainthing will happen, but it's safer for you not to know--till afterward."