Hushed Up! A Mystery of London

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DESCRIBES AN UNWELCOME VISIT

  Pennington's sudden fear held me in blank surprise.

  Ere I could reply to him he had slipped through the door which ledinto my bedroom, closing it after him, just as Delanne's stout figureand broad, good-humoured face appeared in the doorway.

  "Ah!" he exclaimed, "Meester Biddulph!" and he bowed politely over myhand.

  Then, turning to Sylvia, who stood pale and rigid, he put forth hishand, and also bowed low over hers, saying in English: "Myrespects--and heartiest congratulations to madame."

  His quick eyes wandered around the room, then he added--

  "Meester Pennington is here; where is he? I am here to speak withhim."

  "Pennington was here," I replied, "but he has gone."

  "Then he only went out this moment! I must see him. He is in thehotel!" my visitor exclaimed quickly.

  "I suppose he is," I replied rather faintly; "we had better ask thewaiter. He is not stopping here. He merely came to-night to dine withus."

  "Of course," said Delanne. "He arrived by the 2.37 train fromBruxelles, went to the Hotel Dominici, near the Place Vendome, sentyou a _petit-bleu_, and arrived here at 6.30. I am here because I wishto see him most particularly. I was in Orleans when the news of myfriend's arrival in Paris was telephoned to me--I have only justarrived."

  I opened the door leading to my bedroom, and called my father-in-law,but there was no response. In an instant Delanne dashed past me, andin a few seconds had searched the suite.

  "Ah, of course!" he cried, noticing that the door of my wife's roomled back to the main corridor; "my friend has avoided me. He haspassed out by this way. Still, he must be in the hotel."

  He hurried back to the salon, and, opening the shutters, took off hishat.

  Was it some signal to the watchers outside? Ere I could reach hisside, however, he had replaced his hat, and was re-entering the room.

  "Phew! this place is stifling hot, my dear friend," he said. "I wonderyou do not have the windows open for a little!"

  Sylvia had stood by in silence. I saw by her face that the Frenchman'ssudden appearance had caused her the greatest alarm and dismay. IfDelanne was her father's friend, why did the latter flee in such fear?Why had he implored me to save him? From what?

  The Frenchman seemed highly disappointed, for finding the waiter inthe corridor he asked him in French which way the Englishman had fled.

  The waiter, however, declared that he had seen nobody in the corridor,a reply which sorely puzzled Delanne.

  "Where is he?" he demanded of Sylvia.

  "I have no idea," was her faltering reply. "He simply went into thenext room a few moments ago."

  "And slipped out in an endeavour to make his exit, eh?" asked the man,with a short, harsh laugh. "I quite expected as much. That is why Iintended to have a straight business talk with him."

  "He is in no mood to talk business just now," said my wife, andthen--and only then--did I recollect that this man was the associateof the assassin Reckitt.

  This fact alone aroused my antagonism towards him. Surely I was gladthat Pennington had got away if, as it seemed, he did not wish to meethis unwelcome visitor.

  "He _shall_ talk business!" cried the Frenchman, "and very seriousbusiness!"

  Then turning, he hurried along the corridor in the direction of themain staircase and disappeared.

  "What does all this mean?" I asked Sylvia, who still stood there paleand panting.

  "I--I don't know, Owen," she gasped. Then, rushing across to thewindow, she looked out.

  "That man has gone!" she cried. "I--I knew he was watching, but had noidea of the reason."

  "He was evidently watching for your father," I said.

  "He was watching us--you and I--not him."

  We heard two men pass the door quickly. One of them exclaimed inFrench--

  "See! The window at the end! It would be easy to get from there to theroof of the next house."

  "Yes!" cried his companion. "He has evidently gone that way. We mustfollow."

  "Hark!" I said. "Listen to what they are saying! Delanne is followingyour father!"

  "He is his worst enemy," she said simply. "Do you not remember that hewas watching him in Manchester?"

  The fact that he was an associate of Reckitt puzzled me. I felt highlyresentful that the fellow should have thus intruded upon my privacyand broken up my very pleasant evening. He had intruded himself uponme once before, causing me both annoyance and chagrin. I looked forthinto the corridor, and there saw the figures of two men in the act ofgetting through the window at the end, while a waiter and a_femme-de-chambre_ stood looking on in surprise.

  "Who is that man?" I asked of Sylvia, as I turned back into our salon.

  "His real name is Guertin," she replied.

  "He told me that he knew you."

  "Perhaps," she laughed, just a trifle uneasily, I thought. "I onlyknow that he is my father's enemy. He is evidently here to hunt himdown, and to denounce him."

  "As what?"

  But she only shrugged her shoulders. Next instant I saw that I hadacted wrongly in asking Sylvia to expose her own father, whatever hisfaults might have been.

  Again somebody rushed past the door and then back again to the head ofthe staircase. The whole of the quiet aristocratic hotel seemed tohave suddenly awakened from its lethargy. Indeed, a hue and cry seemedto have been started after the man who had until a few moments beforebeen my guest.

  What could this mean? Had it not been for the fact that Guertin--orDelanne, as he called himself--was a friend of the assassin Reckitt, Iwould have believed him to have been an agent of the _surete_.

  We heard shouting outside the window at the end of the corridor. Itseemed as though a fierce chase had begun after the fugitiveEnglishman, for yet another man, a thin, respectably-dressed mechanic,had run along and slipped out of the window with ease as thoughacquired by long practice.

  I, too, ran to the window and looked out. But all I could see in thenight was a bewildering waste of roofs and chimneys extending alongthe Rue de Rivoli towards the Louvre. I could only distinguish one ofthe pursuers outlined against the sky. Then I returned to where Sylviawas standing pale and breathless.

  Her face was haggard and drawn, and I knew of the great tension hernerves must be undergoing. Her father was certainly no coward. Fearingthat he could not escape by either the front or back door of thehotel his mind had been quickly made up, and he had made his exit bythat window, taking his chance to hide and avoid detection on thosemany roofs in the vicinity.

  The position was, to me, extremely puzzling. I could not well pressSylvia to tell me the truth concerning her father, for I had noticedthat she always had shielded him, as was natural for a daughter, afterall.

  Was he an associate of Reckitt and Forbes, as I had once suspected?Yet if he were, why should Delanne be his enemy, for he certainly wasReckitt's intimate friend.

  Sylvia was filled with suppressed excitement. She also ran along thecorridor and peered out of the window at the end. Then, apparentlysatisfied that her father had avoided meeting Delanne, she returnedand stood again silent, her eyes staring straight before her as thoughdreading each second to hear shouts of triumph at the fugitive'sdetection.

  I saw the manager and remonstrated with him. I was angry that myprivacy should thus be disturbed by outsiders.

  "Monsieur told the clerk that he was a friend," he replied politely."Therefore he gave permission for him to be shown upstairs. I had noidea of such a contretemps, or such a regrettable scene as this!"

  I saw he was full of regret, for the whole hotel seemed startled, andguests were asking each other what had occurred to create all thathubbub.

  For an hour we waited, but Delanne did not return. He and the othershad gone away over the roofs, on what seemed to be an entirelyfruitless errand.

  "Were they the police?" I heard a lady ask anxiously of a waiter.

  "No, madame, we think not. They a
re strangers--and entirely unknown."

  Sylvia also heard the man's reply, and exclaimed--

  "I hope my father has successfully escaped his enemies. It was,however, a very narrow shave. If they had seen him, they would haveshot him dead, and afterwards declared it to have been an accident!"

  "Surely not!" I cried. "That would have been murder."

  "Of course. But they are desperate, and they would have wriggled outof it somehow. That was why I feared for him. But, thank Heaven, he isevidently safe."

  And she turned from the window that looked forth into the Rue deRivoli, and then made an excuse to go to her room.

  I saw that she was greatly perturbed. Her heart beat quickly, and herface, once pale as death, was now flushed crimson.

  "How your father got away so rapidly was simply marvellous!" Ideclared. "Why, scarcely ten seconds elapsed from the time he closedthat door to Delanne's appearance on the threshold."

  "Yes. But he instantly realized his peril, and did not hesitate."

  "I am sorry, dearest, that this exciting incident should have soupset our evening," I said, kissing her upon the brow, for she nowdeclared herself much fatigued. "When you have gone to your room, Ishall go downstairs and learn what I can about the curious affair.Your father's enemies evidently knew of his arrival from Brussels, forDelanne admitted that word of it was telephoned to Orleans, and hecame to Paris at once."

  "Yes, he admitted that," she said hurriedly. "But do not let us speakof it. My father has got away in safety. For me that isall-sufficient. Good-night, Owen, dear." And she kissed me fondly.

  "Good-night, darling," I said, returning her sweet caress; and then,when she had passed from the room, I seized my hat and descended thebig flight of red-carpeted stairs, bent on obtaining some solution ofthe mystery of that most exciting and curious episode.