Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives
Page 25
CHAPTER XXIV.
VERNET ON THE TRAIL.
The discovery made by Van Vernet, on the day of his visit to theWarburton mansion, aroused him to wonderful activity, and made him morethan ever eager to ferret out the hiding-place of Papa Francoise, who,he felt assured, could throw much light upon the mystery surrounding themidnight murder.
He set a constant watch upon the deserted Francoise house, and kept thedwelling of the Warburtons under surveillance, while he, in person,gravitated between these two points of interest, during the time when hewas not employed in collecting items of information concerning theWarburton family. Little by little he gathered his bits of familyhistory, and was now familiar with many facts concerning the invalidmaster of the house and his second marriage, and the travelled andaristocratic brother, who, so rumor said, was proud as a crown-prince,and blameless as Sir Galahad.
"These immaculate fellows are not to my taste," muttered Van Vernet, onthe morning following the day when Stanhope held his last interview withLeslie, as he took his station at a convenient point of observation,prepared to pass the forenoon in watching the Warburton mansion.
His first glance toward the massive street-door caused him to start andmutter an imprecation. The bell was muffled, and the door-plate hiddenbeneath heavy folds of crape.
Archibald Warburton was dead. The hand that stole his little one hadstruck his death-blow, as surely as if by a dagger thrust. His feebleframe, unable to endure those long days of suspense, had given his soulback to its origin, his body back to nature.
Within was a household doubly stricken; without, a two-fold dangermenaced.
"So," muttered Van Vernet, as he gazed upon this insignia of death; "somy patron is dead; that stately, haughty aristocrat has lost allinterest in his wife's secrets. Well, so have I--but I have transferredmy interest to his brother, Alan Warburton. Death caused by shockfollowing loss of his little daughter, no doubt. That tall, straightseigneur looked like a man able to outlive a shock, too."
He was not at all ruffled by the sudden taking-off of the man hesupposed to be his patron. He had not made a single step toward theclearing-up of the mystery surrounding the goings and comings of Mrs.Archibald Warburton. His discovery of Stanhope at the masked ball, andhis machinations consequent upon that discovery, together with thefiasco of the Raid and all its after-results, had made it impossiblethat he could interest himself in what he considered "merely a bit ofdomestic intrigue."
He was not sorry that Archibald Warburton was dead, and he resolved toprofit by that death.
Since the discovery of Alan Warburton's picture, Van Vernet's mind hadbeen drifting toward dangerous conclusions.
Suppose this wealthy aristocrat and the Sailor assassin should provethe same, what would follow? Might he not naturally conclude that asecret existed between Alan Warburton and the Francoises, and, if so,what was the nature of that secret? Why was Alan Warburton, if it werehe, absent from his house on a night of festivity, a night when heshould have been making merry with his brother's guests?
If he were in league with those outlaws of the slums, it was not forplunder; surely the Warburtons were rich enough. What, then, was thesecret which that stately mansion concealed?
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," quoted Vernet, grimly."That Sailor assassin first--the Warburton skeleton first. They arealmost under my hand, and once I grasp them, my clutch is upon theWarburton millions, too."
The morning was yet early, there was quiet in the street and Van Vernet,wearing for convenience sake the uniform of a policeman, paced slowlydown toward the house of mourning. As he neared the street-corner, twowomen, beggars evidently, came hurrying around the corner straighttoward him.
At sight of his uniform the larger and elder of the two, a stout womanwith a vicious face, a sharp eye, and head closely muffled in a raggedshawl, started slightly. Then with a furtive glance and a fawningobeisance, she hurried her companion past him, and down the street.
This companion, a younger woman, her face covered with bruises and redwith dissipation, walked with a painful limp, and the hesitating air ofthe blind, her eyes tightly shut and the lids quivering.
"Playing blind," muttered Vernet, as they hastened past him. "If I werethe regular officer here, I'd have them out of this; as it is--"
He gave a shrug of indifference and glanced back over his shoulder.
The two women had halted before the Warburton mansion, and the elder onewas looking up at the crape-adorned door.
Then she glanced backward toward the officer, who seemed busycontemplating the antics of a pair of restive horses that were comingdown the street. Seeing him thus employed, she darted down thebasement-stairs, dragging her stumbling companion after her.
Suddenly losing his interest in the prancing horses, Van Vernet turnedand hastily approached the mansion, screened from the view of the twowomen by the massive stone steps.
Even a beggar, of the ordinary type, respects the house of mourning. Andas he drew near them, Vernet mentally assured himself that these were noordinary mendicants.
They were standing close to the basement-entrance. And as he stealthilyapproached, he saw that the elder woman put into the hand of theservant, who had opened the door, a folded paper which she tookreluctantly, glanced down at, and with a sullen nod put into the pocketof her apron. Then, without a word to the two beggars, she closed andlocked the door, while they, seeming not in the least disconcerted,turned and moved leisurely up the basement-stairs.
They would have passed Vernet hurriedly, but he put out his hand andsaid:
"Look here, my good souls, don't you know that this is no place forbeggars? You can't be very old in the business or you'd never trouble ahouse where you see _that_ on the door." And pointing to the badge ofmourning, he concluded his oration: "Be off, now, and thank fortune thatI'm a good-natured fellow."
The woman muttered something after the usual mendicant fashion, andhastened away down the street.
At the same moment the prancing horses, held to a walk by the firm handof their stout driver, came opposite the mansion, and a face muffled infolds of crape looked out from the carriage.
But Van Vernet had now no eyes for the horses, the carriage, or itsoccupant.
Noting, with a hasty glance, the direction taken by the two women, hesprang down the basement-steps and rang the bell.
The servant who had opened to the women, again appeared at the door.
"What do _you_ want?" she asked, crossly; for being an honest servantshe had no fear of the blue coat and brass buttons of the law.
The bogus policeman touched his hat and greeted her with an affablesmile.
"I beg your pardon," he said; "I thought you might be annoyed by thosebeggars. I can remove them if you enter a complaint. I saw that theygave you some kind of a paper; a begging letter, probably. Just give itto me, and I will see that they don't intrude again upon people who arein trouble enough."
He extended his hand for the letter; but the servant drew back, andanswered hastily:
"Don't bother yourself. I've had my orders, and I guess when I don'twant beggars around, I know how to send them to the right-about."
And without waiting to note the effect of her speech, she shut the doorin his face, leaving him to retreat as the two beggars had done.
"Be off, now, and thank fortune that I am a good-naturedfellow."--page 181.]
Hastening up the steps he looked after the women, who were alreadynearly two blocks away. Then, with one backward glance, he started offin the same direction, keeping at a safe distance, but always in sightof them.
"So," he mused, as he walked along, "the Warburton servant has had herorders. That was precisely the information I wanted. These women werenot beggars, but messengers, and they brought no message of the ordinarykind."
Suddenly he uttered a sharp ejaculation, and quickened his pace.
"That old woman--why, she answers perfectly the description given ofMother Francoise! And if it _is_ Mother
Francoise, she has undoubtedlybrought a message to Alan Warburton. If it is that old woman, I willsoon know it, for I shall not take my two eyes off her until I havetracked her home."