Ashton-Kirk, Secret Agent

by John Thomas McIntyre

  CHAPTER XVIII

  GONE!

  The words of old Nanon, spoken only a few hours before, came back toAshton-Kirk.

  "It will be so much safer to have a man about the place, even though asick one," she had said. "Now that Drevenoff is gone for the night, weshould have been alone."

  The two shadows remained with heads held close together for some littletime. It was plain to be seen that the woman was doing the greater partof the talking; the man gestured now and then as though in protest.

  "She is urging him to something which he does not fancy," thought thesecret agent, his keen eyes not missing a movement. "And, as his denialsconstantly grow fainter, and her urging more insistent, I think she willfinally have her way."

  Fancifully the two silhouettes went through their parts within thelighted square as cast by the gaslight upon the lawn. The woman pleadedand demanded; the man resisted with wide gestures and violently shakenhead.

  But, as the secret agent had told himself, the woman proved herself thestronger in the end. Sharp, imperious, even threatening grew hermanner; and the man's protests died, his head ceased to shake, untilfinally his gestures were inquiring only, as of one who consents anddesires only to know the best way of going about the matter in hand.

  At this stage the shadow of the woman became still for the first timesince it had appeared. It were as though she were endeavoring to recallsomething, or devise a plan. Then with an impatient gesture she snatchedat a hand-bag which hung upon her arm and seemed about to open it. Butwith a contemptuous sweep of the hand the man waved it aside.

  Again the two began their mute debate. This time it was the man who tookthe initiative; she had failed when she came to the carrying out of whatshe desired; apparently she had no clear conception of the thing shewanted done, and he was reproaching her for it.

  But in the midst of this she stopped him. Her hand darted out, and fromthe wall she drew something, the shadow of which was so fine thatAshton-Kirk could not, at first, even guess as to its nature. But theway it swung out at her touch finally gave him a clue.

  "A folding gas fixture," said he, softly.

  Once more the girl took the aggressive; she gestured sharply andindicated frequently a point upon her left, some distance along thehall, and apparently a little above her head. The silhouette of the manremained motionless; what he heard was evidently bearing in upon him;his whole attitude seemed to say: "Here at last is something worthconsideration."

  Then there was a pause; the woman also became still; it were as thoughthe two were measuring each other's strength. At length the man steppedtoward the gas fixture, the woman drew back, and as she did so her handswent to her face as though she would shut out something repellent. Witha handkerchief, the man brushed away any possible dust from thegas-burner; then he reached toward where the valve should be, and thehalf twist of his hand indicated that he had turned on the gas.

  Then the man seemed to be gathering himself for an effort; he appliedhis lips to the burner and remained motionless and tense; suddenly thepicture upon the lawn dimmed and then vanished entirely.

  For an instant Ashton-Kirk remained looking out upon the now inky night;if one could have observed his face, a smile would have been seen; but asmile that would not have been an altogether pleasant one.

  "It is not the most comforting thing in the world," he mused, "to haveone person beckon another along a deserted hall in the small hours ofthe morning, have the couple pause almost outside one's door and thenconfer as to the most effective means of taking one's life. And that theone--a woman--should be so urgent in the matter is particularlydistressing." He turned from the window and faced toward the closed doorof his bedroom. "And a ready-witted young lady she is," he went on. "Howvery quick she was to note that the gas was burning in my room; and whatan instant and murderous idea at once took possession of her. To blowinto an open gas-burner means that every jet upon the same line of pipewill go out as soon as the injected air instead of the gas begins toflow through the burners. About now I shall find the light out in myroom and," here he opened the bedroom door, saw that it was in completedarkness and stood sniffing the air upon the threshold, "yes, the gas ispouring from the open burner. If I had been asleep----"

  The apartment was thick with the overpowering fumes; he softly raisedthe windows and closed the valve. It would have seemed natural for a manso circumstanced to have taken some steps to identify and apprehendthose who have made so murderous an attempt; but if this thoughtoccurred to Ashton-Kirk he made no attempt to carry it out. However,another idea occurred to him.

  "The old woman said that there were nothing but gaslights above thefirst floor. If another jet should be open in an occupied bedroom, thereis still danger of a life being taken."

  With this in his mind he pulled on his coat and opened the hall door.There were no fumes in the hall, and this showed that the burners herehad been closed before the two had stolen away. He took out a match andwas feeling for the nearest of the hall jets when a sound from the lowerfloor reached him. It was a continued, grating sort of noise, as thougha cautious person were drawing a refractory bolt. He paused, his gropinghand still outstretched, and listened with attention. The subduedsqueaking ceased, there was a pause, then the street door opened andclosed. He took a step or two toward the main staircase, and again hehalted. Another sound came from below, the distinct, heavy sounds offalling objects striking the floor. Then came a shrill cry.

  Like a shadow he slipped along the intervening space, and down thestairs. The lower hall was also dark; but there was a light in thelibrary, and he gained the door at a bound.

  Old Nanon, dressed as he had seen her when she showed him to his room,stood in the center of the library. In her hand she held a large brasscandlestick; scattered upon the floor were a number of articles ofbric-a-brac which had apparently rested upon a shelf at one side.

  Slowly the woman turned her gaze from the candlestick to the secretagent; her face was rigid and a yellowish white; the gray eyes were hardas flint.

  "Ah, it is you," she said in a sort of subdued monotone. "I hadforgotten about you."

  "What has happened?" asked Ashton-Kirk.

  The eyes of the servant woman once more returned to the candlestick, butshe made no answer.

  "I heard some one cry out," said the secret agent, his glance goingabout the room in its searching way.

  Nanon nodded her head.

  "Yes," she returned, "you heard some one cry out. It was I."

  "What has occurred?"

  Once more the stern old eyes sought his face; and she said:

  "She has gone."

  "Who has gone?"

  "Miss Stella."

  Ashton-Kirk thought of the creaking bolt and the closing street door;and his voice was pitched sharply when he again asked the question:

  "What has occurred?"

  The old servant placed the brass candlestick upon one of the desks; sherubbed her hands secretively with a corner of her apron while she said:

  "I have told you what I fear; I have been as plain as one can be who hasno proof. And as the hours passed I have grown more and more suspicious.Not one movement did this girl make that my eyes were not on her; notone word did she speak that I was not seeking behind it for some hiddenmeaning.

  "To-night, as you know, she sent Drevenoff to the city. It was somethingof which I had heard nothing until the young man spoke. What was thisurgent thing that could not wait until morning? Why would not thetelephone or telegraph do as well as a messenger? I did not understandit. And then she did not care to have you stay here to-night; that wasvery plain--you must have noticed it."

  Ashton-Kirk nodded.

  "Go on," said he.

  "It does not need a great deal to make me suspicious," resumed the oldwoman; "and her manner to-night aroused me to wonder if there were notsomething afoot of which I knew nothing. So when I went to my room I putout the light, left the door ajar and sat listening. After a long time Iknew there was a light in the
hall below; I stole out and bent over therail and listened. There was whispering, but I could catch no words.Then I heard some one descending the lower staircase; and so I stoledown to the second floor. From the head of the stairs I watched oncemore; then I saw the light go up here in the library.

  "I had already started to descend when Miss Stella appeared in thelibrary doorway--and in her hand she held," the speaker pointed at thedesk, "that candlestick."

  Here the old woman paused; and the secret agent, watching her face, sawthe yellowish white change to gray.

  "Well?" said he.

  "She looked along the hall as if afraid of being seen," said the woman;"and all the time her fingers were picking--picking at something in thesocket of the candlestick. She was just turning back into the room whenshe drew something out, looked at it and hid it in her glove. Then thelight went out and I heard the bolt being drawn. I rushed down thestairs, but I was too late. The door opened and closed; I turned on thelights, but she was gone."

  For a moment Ashton-Kirk stood studying the woman's face; then hestepped quickly to the desk and took up the candlestick. Something inthe deep socket of this seemed to attract him and he turned on morelights. Under a cluster of incandescents he bent over the candlestickand examined it minutely; then the magnifying lens came into play as ithad upon the broken knob of the highboy. One glance through this and hesprang to the street door. The next instant a piercing whistle shatteredthe quiet of Fordham Road.