The Crimson Blind
Page 3
CHAPTER III
THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS
David was silent for some little time. The strangeness of the situationhad shut down on him again, and he was thinking of nothing else for themoment. In the dead stillness of the place he could hear the quickbreathing of his companion; the rustle of her dress seemed near to himand then to be very far off. Nor did the pitchy darkness yield a jot tohis now accustomed eyes. He held a hand close to his eyes, but he couldsee nothing.
"Well?" the sweet voice in the darkness said, impatiently. "Well?"
"Believe me, I will give you all the assistance possible. If you wouldonly turn up the light--"
"Oh, I dare not. I have given my word of honour not to violate the sealof secrecy. You may say that we have been absurdly cautious in thismatter, but you would not think so if you knew everything. Even now thewretch who holds me in his power may have guessed my strategy and belaughing at me. Some day, perhaps--"
The speaker stopped, with something like a sob in her throat.
"We are wasting precious time," she went on, more calmly. "I had bettertell you my history. In _your_ story a woman commits a crime: she isguilty of a serious breach of trust to save the life of a man she loves.By doing so she places the future and the happiness of many people in thehands of an abandoned scoundrel. If she can only manage to regain thething she has parted from the situation is saved. Is not that so?"
"So far you have stated the case correctly," David murmured.
"As I said before, I am in practically similar case. Only, in mysituation, I hastened everything and risked the happiness of many peoplefor the sake of a little child."
"Ah!" David cried. "Your own child? No! The child of one very near anddear to you, then. From the mere novelist point of view, that is a farmore artistic idea than mine. I see that I shall have to amend my storybefore it is published."
A rippling little laugh came like the song of a bird in the darkness.
"Dear Mr. Steel," the voice said, "I implore you to do nothing of thekind. You are a man of fertile imagination--a plot more or less makesno difference to you. If you publish that story you go far on the wayto ruin me."
"I am afraid that I am in the dark in more senses than one," Davidmurmured.
"Then let me enlighten you. Daily your books are more widely read. Myenemy is a great novel reader. You publish that story, and what results?You not only tell that enemy my story, but you show him my way out of thedifficulty, and show him how he can checkmate my every move. Perhaps,after I have escaped from the net--"
"You are right," Steel said, promptly. "From a professional point of viewthe story is abandoned. And now you want me to show you a rational andlogical, a _human_ way out."
"If you can do so you have my everlasting gratitude."
"Then you must tell me in detail what it is you want to recover. Myheroine parts with a document which the villain knows to be a forgery.Money cannot buy it back because the villain can make as much money as helikes by retaining it. He does as he likes with the family property; hekeeps my heroine's husband out of England by dangling the forgery and itsconsequences over his head. What is to be done? How is the ruffian to bebullied into a false sense of security by the one man who desires tothrow dust in his eyes?"
"Ah," the voice cried, "ah, if you could only tell me that! Let _my_ruffian only imagine that I am dead; let him have proofs of it, and thething is done. I could reach him _then_; I could tear from him the letterthat--but I need not go into details. But he is cunning as the serpent.Nothing but the most convincing proofs would satisfy him."
"A certificate of death signed by a physician beyond reproach?"
"Yes, that would do. But you couldn't get a medical man like that tocommit felony."
"No, but we could trick him into it," Steel exclaimed. "In my story afraud is perpetrated to blind the villain and to deprive him of hisweapons. It is a case of the end justifying the means. But it is onething, my dear lady, to commit fraud actually and to perpetrate it in anovel. In the latter case you can defy the police, but unfortunately youand I are dealing with real life. If I am to help you I must be a partyto a felony."
"But you will! You are not going to draw back now? Mr. Steel, I havesaved your home. You are a happy man compared to what you were two hoursago. If the risk is great you have brains and imagination to get out ofdanger. Show me how to do it, and the rest shall be mine. You have neverseen me, you know nothing, not even the name of the person who called youover the telephone. You have only to keep your own counsel, and if I wadein blood to my end you are safe. Tell me how I can die, disappear,leaving that one man to believe I am no more. And don't make it tooingenious. Don't forget that you promised to tell me a rational way outof the difficulty. How can it be done?"
"In my pocket I have a cutting from the _Times_, which contains achapter from the history of a medical student who is alone in London. Itclosely resembles my plot. He says he has no friends, and he deems itprudent for reasons we need not discuss to let the world assume that heis dead. The rest is tolerably easy. He disguises himself and goes to adoctor of repute, whom he asks to come and see his brother--_i.e.,_himself--who is dangerously ill. The doctor goes later in the day andfinds his patient in bed with severe internal inflammation. This isbrought about by a free use of albumen. I don't know what amount ofalbumen one would take without extreme risk, but you could pump thatinformation out of any doctor. Well, our medical man calls again and yetagain, and finds his patient sinking. The next day the patient,disguised, calls upon his doctor with the information that his 'brother'is dead. The doctor is not in the least surprised, and without going toview the body gives a certificate of death. Now, I admit that all thissounds cheap and theatrical, but you can't get over facts. The thingactually happened a little time ago in London, and there is no reasonwhy it shouldn't happen again."
"You suggest that I should do this thing?" the voice asked.
"Pardon me, I did nothing of the kind," Steel replied "You asked me toshow you how my heroine gets herself out of a terrible position, and I amdoing it. You are not without friends. The way I was called up tonightand the way I was brought here prove that. With the aid of your friendsthe thing is possible to you. You have only to find a lodging wherepeople are not too observant and a doctor who is too busy, or toocareless, to look after dead patients, and the thing is done. If youdesire to be looked upon as dead--especially by a powerful enemy--Icannot recommend a more natural, rational way than this. As to thedetails, they may be safely left to you. The clever manner in which youhave kept up the mystery to-night convinces me that I have nothing toteach you in this direction. And if there is anything more I can do--"
"A thousand, thousand thanks," the voice cried, passionately. "To belooked upon as 'dead,' to be near to the rascal who smiles to think thatI am in my grave.... And everything so dull and prosaic on the surface!Yes, I have friends who will aid me in the business. Some day I may beable to thank you face to face, to tell you how I managed to see yourplot. May I?"
The question came quite eagerly, almost imploringly. In the darknessSteel felt a hand trembling on his breast, a cool, slim hand, with manyrings on the fingers. Steel took the hand and carried it to his lips.
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," he said. "And may you besuccessful. Good-night."
"Good-night, and God bless you for a real gentleman and a true friend. Iwill go out of the room first and put the lights up afterwards. You willwalk away and close the door behind you. The newspaper cutting! Thanks.And once more good-night, but let us hope not good-bye."
She was gone. Steel could hear the distant dying swish of silk, therustling of the portiere, and then, with a flick, the lights came upagain. Half-blinded by the sudden illumination Steel fumbled his way tothe door and into the street. As he did so Hove Town Hall clock chimedtwo. With a cigarette between his teeth David made his way home.
He could not think it all out yet; he would wait until he was in his owncomfortable chair under the r
oses and palms leading from his study. Afine night of adventure, truly, and a paying one. He pressed the preciouspacket of notes to his side and his soul expanded.
He was home at last. But surely he had closed the door before he started?He remembered distinctly trying the latch. And here the latch was backand the door open. The quick snap of the electric light declared nobodyin the dining-room. Beyond, the study was in darkness. Nobody there,but--stop!
A stain on the carpet; another by the conservatory door. Pots of flowersscattered about, and a huddled mass like a litter of empty sacks in onecorner. Then the huddled mass resolved itself into the figure of a manwith a white face smeared with blood. Dead! Oh, yes, dead enough.
Steel flew to the telephone and rang furiously.
"Give me 52, Police Station," he cried. "Are you there? Send somebody atonce up here--15, Downend Terrace. There has been murder done here. ForHeaven's sake come quickly."
Steel dropped the receiver and stared with strained eyes at the dreadfulsight before him.