CHAPTER THREE
_THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH_
"You?" cried Private Smith. "Ye Gods! And I haven't even a match left soI can see you before we go. I die in better company than I know." Trentcould hear that he raised himself slowly and painfully to his feet. Thenhe heard the soldier's heels click smartly together. "Ave Caesar--" hebegan. But the immortal speech of those gladiators being about to diewas not finished.
There broke on Trent's astonished gaze a flash of sunlight that made himblink painfully. And the terrifying noise of high explosive hurt hisears and that swift dreadful sucking of the air that followed suchexplosions was about him again in its intensity. He had been dug out ofhis tomb for what?
The doctors thought him a very bad case. Of course he was delirious. Hestuck to a ridiculous story that he was imprisoned in a tomb with oneWilliam Smith, a private in the 78th Battalion of the City of LondonRegiment and that H. E. had mysteriously disinterred him. H. E. didperform marvels that were seemingly against known natural laws butPrivate Trent was obviously suffering from shell shock.
When he was better and had been removed to a hospital far from the areaof fighting he still kept to his story. One of the doctors who liked himexplained that the delusion must be banished. He spoke veryconvincingly. He explained by latest methods that the unreal becomesreal unless the patient gets a grip on himself. He said that Trent waslikely to go through life trying to find a non-existent friend andruining his prospects in the doing of it. "I'll admit," he said at theend of his harangue, "that you choose your friend's name well."
"Why do you say that?" Trent asked.
"Because the muster roll of the 78th shows no fewer than twenty-sevenWilliam Smiths and they're all of 'em dead. That battalion got into thethick of every scrap that started."
Trent said no more but made investigations on his own behalf.Unfortunately there was none to help him. The ambulance that picked himup was shelled and he had been taken from its bloody interior the onlyliving soul of the crew and passengers. None lived who could tell himwhat became of his companion, the man to whom he had revealed hisidentity, the man who possessed his secret to the full.
When he was discharged from the service and was convalescing inBournemouth he satisfied himself that the unknown Smith had died. Againluck was with Anthony Trent. The one man--with the exception of Suttonwhose lips he was sure were sealed--who could make a clear hundredthousand dollars reward for his capture was removed from the chance ofdoing it even as the knowledge was offered him. The words that he wouldhave spoken, "Hail Caesar, I, being about to die, salute thee!" had cometrue in that blinding flash that had brought Anthony Trent back to theworld.
But even with this last narrow escape to sober him Trent was not certainwhether the old excitement would call and send him out to pit himselfagainst society. He had no grievance against wealthy men as such. Whathe had wanted of theirs he had taken. He was now well enough off toindulge in the life, as a writer, he had wanted. He had taken his partin the great war as a patriot should and was returning to his nativeland decorated by two governments. Again and again as he sat at thebalcony of his room at the Royal Bath Hotel and looked over the bay tothe cliffs of Swanage he asked himself this question--was he throughwith the old life or not? He could not answer. But he noticed that whenhe boarded the giant Cunarder he looked about him with the old keenness,the professional scrutiny, the eagerness of other days.
He tipped the head steward heavily and then consulted the passenger listand elected to sit next to a Mrs. Colliver wife of a Troy millionaire.She was a dull lady and one who lived to eat, but he had heard herboasting to a friend on the boat train that her husband had purchased adiamond tiara in Bond Street which would eclipse anything Troy had tooffer. Mrs. Colliver dreaded to think of the duty that would have to bepaid especially as during the war less collars were used than in normaltimes.
It was with a feeling of content that Anthony Trent paced the deck asthe liner began her voyage home. Two years was a long time to be awayand he felt that a long lazy month in his Maine camp would be thenearest thing to the perfect state that he could dream of when he heard,distinctly, without a chance of being mistaken, the voice of PrivateWilliam Smith shouting a goodbye from the pier.
Trent had a curiously sensitive ear. He had never, for example, failedto recognize a voice even distorted over telephone wires. William Smithhad one of those distinctive voices of the same timbre and inflection ofthose of his caste but with a certain quality, that Trent could not nowstop to analyze, which stamped it as different.
All Trent's old caution returned to him. It was possible that the manwhom he had supposed dead had come to see the Cunarder off withoutknowing Anthony Trent was aboard. But the passenger lists could beinspected and even now the law might have been set in motion that wouldtake him handcuffed from the vessel at quarantine to be locked up in aprison. He was worth a hundred thousand dollars to any informant and hecould not doubt that the so-called Smith had gone wrong because of thelust for money to pay his extravagances. It was inevitably the reason inmen of the class of Smith and Despard.
He was obsessed with the determination to find out. He would track theman he had known as Smith and find out without letting him be any thewiser. A hundred ideas of disguise flashed across the quick-workingbrain. He tried to tell himself that it was likely that the voice mighthave proceeded from an utter stranger. But this was false comfort heknew. It was Smith of the 78th City of London regiment who was on thepier already growing inch by inch farther away.
The second officer tried to stop him and a passenger grasped him by thearm as he climbed the rails but they tried vainly. He dropped as lightlyas he could and picked himself up a little dazed and looked around. Hecould see a hundred faces peering down at him from the moving decksoverhead. He could see a crowd of people streaming down the pier to thecity. And among them was the man he sought.
"One moment, sir," said a policeman restraining him, "what's the meaningof this?"
"Just come ashore," Trent smiled. The policeman loomed over him huge,stolid, ominous. The man looked from Trent in evening dress and withouthat or overcoat, to the shadowy ship now on her thousand league voyageand he shook his head. It was an irregular procedure, he told himselfand as such open to grave suspicion. But he was courteous. Trent was agentleman and no look of fear came to his face when the officer spoke.The man remained close to Trent when he approached the few groups ofpeople still on the pier. To every man in the groups the strangercontrived to ask a question. Of one he asked the time, of another thebest hotel in Liverpool.
"It may seem very strange," said Trent pleasantly to the perplexedpoliceman, "but I did an unaccountable thing. I thought I saw a man whowas in the trenches with me in France during the war and saved my lifeand I sprang over the side to find him and now he's gone."
The policeman waved a white gloved hand to the people who had alreadyleft the landing stage.
"Your friend may be there, sir," he said.
"You don't want to detain me, then?" Trent cried.
"It's dark, sir," said the policeman, "and I could hardly be expected toremember which way you went."
At the end of the short pier was a taxicab stand and a space whereprivate machines might park. Anthony Trent arrived in time to see a hugelimousine driven by a liveried chauffeur with a footman by his sidebegin to climb the step grade to the street. As it passed him he couldswear he heard Smith's voice from within, saying, "It's the most rottenluck that I should be a younger son and not get the chances Geoffreydoes."
Trent could not see the number plate of the big machine. He could noteonly a coat of arms on the door surmounted by a coronet. He had no timeto ask if any of the dock laborers knew the occupants. He sprang intothe sole taxi that occupied the stand and commanded the driver toovertake the larger car. So eager was the man to earn the double farethat he was halted by a policeman outside the Atlantic RiversideStation. The time taken up by explanations permitted the coronettedlimousine to escape.
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In so big a city as Liverpool a car could be lost easily but thesanguine taxi driver, certain at least of getting his fare, persisted indriving all over the city and its suburbs until he landed his passengertired and disappointed at the Midland Hotel.
On the whole Anthony Trent had rarely spent such unprofitable hours. Hehad paid a premium for his state room on a fast boat and was nowstranded in a strange city without baggage. And of course he wasworried. He had believed himself alone to have been rescued when thehigh explosive had taken the roof from his tomb. Now it seemed probablethat the British soldier, Smith, had also made his escape.
Although it was quite possible Trent was following a stranger whosevoice was like that of Private Smith, he had yet to find that strangerand make sure of it. Trent was not one to run away from danger.
As he sat in the easy chair before the window he told himself again andagain that it was probable the voice he identified with the unknownSmith was like that of a thousand other men of his class. He had actedstupidly in jumping from a ship's rails and risking his limbs. And howmuch more unwisely had he acted in that black silence when he was led tocast aside his habitual silence and talk freely to a stranger. In effecthe had put himself in the keeping of another man without receiving anyconfidence in return. He blamed the wound, the shock and a thousandphysical causes for it but the fact was not to be banished by that.Smith knew Anthony Trent as a master criminal while Anthony Trent onlyknew that Smith has enlisted under another name because he had disgracedhis own. It might easily be that this unknown Smith was like a hundredother "gentlemen rankers" who could only be accused of idleness andinstability. But Anthony Trent stirred uneasily when he recalled theeagerness with which Smith spoke of some of those crimes Anthony Trenthad committed. Smith knew about them, admired the man who planned them.Trent on thinking it over for the hundredth time believed Smith wasindeed a crook and as such dangerous to him.
Few men believe in intuition, guess work or "hunches" as do those whowork outside the law. Again and again Anthony Trent had found his"hunches" were correct. Once or twice he had saved himself by implicitlyacting on them in apparent defiance of reason. At the end of many hoursduring which he tried to tell himself he was mistaken and this voiceowned by someone else, he gave it up. He knew it was Smith.
To find out by what name the Smith of the dug-out went by in his owncountry must be the first step. The second would be to shadow him,observe his way of life and go through his papers. So far all he had togo upon was a quick glance at an automobile of unknown make upon whosepanels a coat of arms was emblazoned surmounted by a crown. Had hepossessed a knowledge of heraldry he could have told at a glance whetherthe coronet was that of a baron, viscount, earl, marquis or duke and sonarrowed down the search. And had he observed the coat of arms and mottohe could have made certain, for all armorial bearings are taxable andregistered.
To try to comb the counties of Lancashire and Cheshire for the occupantsof an unknown car would take time and might lead to police interest inhis activities.
Before he retired to his bed a courteous agent of the Cunard Company hadcalled upon him to inquire at what he was dissatisfied that he left theship so suddenly. To this agent he told the same story--the trueone--that he had told the policeman.
The purser was able to inform the group in the smoking room ere itretired.
"I don't believe that for a moment," Colliver declared.
"Why not?" asked the Harvard professor, "don't you know that truth inthe mouth of an habitual liar is often a potent and confounding weapon?"
"Maybe," Colliver said dryly, "but I'm an honest man and I'd like toknow why you think that man Trent was an habitual liar."
"I don't know," the professor answered amiably. "I always think in termsof crime on board ship."
"There's no need to on this ship," the purser said testily.
"I hope not," said the professor, "but coming back from the far Eastlast year on another line I made friends with a man much of the build ofMr. Colliver here. I did not like him very much. He had only prejudicesand no opinions. A typical successful man of business I presume."
"Thank you," said Mr. Colliver finding one of his own neck adornmentsgrowing tight.
"He was murdered," the theologian went on, "because he carried somediamonds for his wife in a pocket. Some thieves found it out."
"What thieves?" Colliver demanded.
"It is one of the undiscovered murders on the high seas," the professorsaid placidly.
"Mighty awkward for you," Colliver said, still angry.
"Fortunately I had an alibi," said the other, "I was violently ill of_mal de mer_."
"Mighty convenient," Colliver commented.
Later he asked the purser's private opinion of the professor. MyersIrving joined with Colliver in resenting the professor's attack onbusiness men.
"Ordinarily," Colliver said, "I don't like advertising men, but you'redifferent. They're like vultures after my account as a rule."
"You'd have to force your account on me," said Myers Irving seriously."I'm not an ordinary business or advertising man. Primarily I'm abusiness builder. I leave nothing to underlings. I direct everythingpersonally. I take few accounts. If my clients don't make good on theirend of it I give them up. I make money for my clients. I have no otherambition. I believe in advertising. It might be that fellow Trent jumpedashore for some publicity stunt. Supposing he said he did it because heforgot to order some special dish at the Adelphi or Midland? Such a dishwould get more publicity than you could shake a stick at. But I'm nothere to talk shop."
Colliver watched the trim advertising man saunter off.
"A bright boy," commented the Troy magnate, "maybe he'll be surprisedbefore this trip is over. Maybe he'll have to talk shop."
Captain Sutton listened to the purser's explanation as though they wereentirely reasonable. But all the time he said to himself, "why need hehave been afraid of me?"
* * * * *
Anthony Trent bought himself a suit of clothes in the city and set outfor London on the ten o'clock train. An Army List showed him the namesof the officers of the City of London Regiment. He decided to call uponthe adjutant, a Captain Edgell. It took him little time to find out thatEdgell had resumed his former occupation of stock broker and was livingwith his family at Banstead in Surrey.
Edgell was a golfer of distinction and before the war had been a scratchman at the club on the Downs. Five years absence had sent his handicapup a bit but he was engaged in pulling it down when a golfing strangerfrom the United States giving the name of Trent who had the club'sprivileges for the day asked him if he could introduce him to a memberfor a round of golf. It so happened that most of the men waiting to playwere ruddy faced gentlemen with handicaps of from twelve up totwenty-four. They did not excite Edgell.
"Glad to," he said heartily. He had been brigaded with Americans andliked them. "Do you play a strong game?"
"I have a two handicap at Wykasol," Trent said.
"Good business," cried Edgell, "we'll play together."
They played. They became intimate during the game and Edgell learnedwith regret that Trent was not one of the many American business menengaged in their work in London. Trent beat the stockbroker on thetwenty-third hole.
"If I could only putt like that," said Edgell, "I'd have a chance forthe open championship."
"I wish I could drive a ball the length you do," Trent said not to beoutdone.
"Of course you'll have dinner with us," the stockbroker said. "We don'tdress for it any more since the war so you've no excuse. I learned tomake cocktails from some of your fellows in France so you ought to feelat home."
"As home used to be," Trent corrected. "I'd love to come if I'm notputting you out."
Edgell's home was a half-timbered house standing in an acre of lawn andflower garden. It was thoroughly comfortable. There seemed to be anumber of children but they did not obtrude. Trent could see themplaying in different parts of the
garden, the little ones with theirnurse and the elder playing clock golf on a perfect green in front ofthe house. Always the quiet secure atmosphere of a home such as thisbrought to Anthony Trent a vision of what he had lost or rather of whathe could never obtain.
Little six-year old Marjorie Edgell liked Trent on sight and liking himannounced it openly. She told him what a great man her father was andhow he had medals and things. Finally she asked the visitor whether hewould not like to have medals. It was the opportunity for which Trenthad been looking. Ordinarily averse to talking of himself, he wanted toget on to the subject of the war with the late adjutant of theseventy-eighth.
"I have," he told little Marjorie.
"Daddy," she shrieked in excitement, "Mr. Trent has medals too."
"So you were in the big thing?" Edgell asked. "Honestly wouldn't yourather play golf? I can get all the excitement I want on the StockExchange to last me the rest of my life. I enlisted in a city regimentas a private and I left it as adjutant after four years and I'm all forthe piping ways of peace. My battalion was the 78th and we always hadthe luck with us. Whenever we got anywhere something started."
"The seventy-eighth battalion," Trent commented, "I had a pal in yourbattalion, a pal who saved my life. I'm going to look him up next week.Curious that I should be talking to his adjutant. William Smith was hisname. I wonder if you knew him?"
"I wonder if you know how many William Smiths and John Smiths are lyingin France and Flanders with little wooden crosses over them?"
"This one came through all right," Trent said.
"At least ten William Smiths came through," Edgell asserted. "I think Iremember them all. Which was your man? Describe him."
Trent lighted his cigarette very deliberately. To be asked to describe aman he had claimed as a pal and yet had never seen face to face was noteasy.
"I think you would recognize my William Smith," Trent answered, "if Itold you he was not really William Smith at all but a man who hadassumed that name as a disguise."
"I understand," Edgell exclaimed, "a slight blond man very erect andrather supercilious with what the other men called a lah-de-dah voice. Iremember him well. I had him up before me for punishment many times.Little infractions of discipline which he constantly committed. Used torile me by his superior airs. Quite a mysterious person. Saved your lifedid he? Well, he had all the pluck a man need have."
"I want to thank him for it," Trent said, "but I've only known him asWilliam Smith. The War Office people tell me he was demobilized threemonths back and they have no address. If you'll tell me, in confidence,his real name I can find him out."
"But my dear chap," said Captain Edgell, "I don't know it. None of usknew it. My sergeant-major swore he'd been a regular and an officer butthat's mere conjecture. He _was_ a regular now I come to think of it andsent to us when his own regiment was wiped out in the Autumn of 1914."
"Who would be able to tell me?" Trent asked eagerly.
"The colonel knew," Edgell declared, "I sent him up to the old man forpunishment once. The colonel looked at him as if he could not believehis eyes. 'You are down here as William Smith,' he said."
"'That is my name, sir,' said Smith."
"Then the colonel knew him?" Trent asked.
"Undoubtedly. I was told to leave them alone. I should like to haveasked Colonel Langley but he is one of those men it's hard to approach.Doesn't mean to be standoffish but gives that impression. One of thosevery tall men who seem to be looking through you and taking no interestwhatsoever in the proceeding."
"I want to find out," Trent said, "could you give me a letter ofintroduction?"
"Glad to," Edgell replied, "but he's like that native song bird ofyours, the clam. He is a silent fighter. The men respected him and wentto their deaths for him but they would have felt it disrespectful tolove him. He lives at a place called Dereham Old Hall in Norfolk. Agreat county swell with magnificent shooting. One of those placesroyalty stays every year for a week at the partridges. Always thoughtit a funny thing he was given the command of a lot of cockneysconsidering he was Sandhurst and Tenth Hussars till he married andchucked the service, but he made good as you fellows say."
While Captain Edgell was writing the letter Trent had leisure to reflectthat the identity of Private William Smith might remain permanentlyveiled in obscurity if Colonel Langley refused to talk. If the colonelwas not to be lured to disclose what Trent needed to know, the Americanwould be left in a very unpleasant position. Until he knew whether his"hunch" was right or wrong he could never again sleep in peace with thename Anthony Trent as his own. He was in danger every minute. Smithmight have tracked him to the liner to have him arrested in America.That he had left the boat might easily be known. Therefore in order towin twenty thousand sovereigns English money, or a half million francsin the coinage of the country where the two had spent weary months,Smith had only to start the hue and cry in England. The ports would bewatched. In the end they would get him.
There was no escape over the borders to Mexico or dash to safety overthe Canadian frontier as he had planned to do under similar conditionsof peril in his own country. Here on an island they had got him. He wasweaving evidence that could be used against him by making this displayof interest in Private Smith. Captain Edgell could give testimony thatwould not help his case.
"Here you are," said Edgell genially, "I've taken the liberty of callingyou an old golfing pal. I've done all I could but Colonel Langley is noteasy of approach. I'm not at all hopeful."
"It isn't really serious," Trent explained after thanking him, "but I'dlike to see him again. He did undoubtedly save my life and carried meinto safety. Quite a physical feat for one of his weight. What do yousuppose he weighs?"
"About ten stone seven," the other answered.
That was one hundred and forty-seven pounds. Trent was graduallybuilding up a portrait of the man he feared.
"And about five feet seven in height?" he hinted.
"That's the man," Edgell asserted. "Quite a good looking chap, too, ifyou care for the type. Rather too effeminate for me although, God knows,he is a man."
It was not easy to see Colonel Langley, D.S.O. Trent knew that countymagnates such as he was did not see everyone who desired an interview.He stayed at a good hotel in Norwich and enclosed Captain Edgell'sletter in one of his own.
The answer came back in the third person. It was favorable andpunctiliously polite. Colonel Langley would be happy to see Mr. AnthonyTrent at eleven o'clock on a certain morning. Dereham Old Hall was adozen miles from Norwich, city of gardens, city of Norman cathedrals andmany quaintly named parish churches. Trent hired a motor car and drovethrough the leafy Norfolk lanes.
Colonel Langley's residence was the work of Inigo Jones and a perfectexample of the Renaissance style. It stood at least a mile from the highroad. The lodge keeper telephoned to the house and Trent's driver waspermitted to drive through the deer park and pull up before the greatfront doors.
The room in which Anthony Trent waited for the colonel was evidently asort of smoking room. Trophies of the chase adorned the walls. It wasevident Langley was a hunter of great game and had shot in all parts ofthe globe from Alaska to Africa.
He was a man of six feet four in height, grizzled and wore a smallclipped military moustache. It was not a hard face, Trent noted, butthat of a man who had always been removed from pursuits or people whowearied him. There was a sense of power in the face and that inevitablekeenness of eye which a man who commanded a regiment could not fail tohave acquired.
He bowed his visitor to a seat. He did not offer to shake hands.
"You have come," he said politely, "from my former adjutant to ask aquestion concerning the regiment which he writes he could not tell you.I can think of nothing to which this would apply. He had every thread ofthe business in his hands."
"Captain Edgell could not tell me the real name of one of his men whoenlisted under the name of William Smith."
There was no change of expression on the rather
cold face of the lord ofbroad acres.
"And what made Captain Edgell assume I could help you, sir?"
"I don't know all the particulars but he was certain you knew his realidentity."
"If I do," Colonel Langley returned, "I shall keep that knowledge tomyself. I regret that you have had this trouble for nothing."
"William Smith," Trent told the other, "saved my life. I want to thankhim for it. Is there anything odd in that? You alone can help me so Icome to you. I want to help William Smith. I have money which I shouldnot have been able to enjoy but for him."
"You imagine, then, that William Smith is penniless, is that it?"
"He told me he was," Trent answered promptly. "I can offer him anopportunity to make good money in New York."
He looked at Colonel Langley as he said it. If Smith was indeed of agreat family the idea of being offered money and a job must amuse theone who knew his real name and estate. Sure enough a flicker of a smilepassed over the landowner's face.
"I am happy to inform you," he said, "that Mr. Smith is living at homewith his family financially secure enough not to need your aid."
"That," said Trent deliberately, "is more than you can say."
"I am not in the habit of hearing my word doubted," the older man saidacidly.
"I am not doubting it," Trent said suavely, "I mean merely to remindyou that he may need my aid although it may not be monetary aid. Youwill remember that there have been passages in Mr. Smith's life whichhave not been entirely creditable."
"Are you claiming to be friend or accomplice?" Langley snapped.
"Let us say friend and confidant," Trent smiled. "Perhaps he madecertain confessions to me--"
"To you also?" Langley cried.
In that moment he had said too much. During that hour when Edgell leftthe private alone with his commanding officer the officer had obtainedhis confidence and very likely a confession. He saw the soldier throw aquick glance at one of those old safes which disguised themselves asnecessary articles of furniture. Trent's eyes dwelt on it no longer thanthe owner's did, but he saw enough. Colonel Langley had told him plainlythat the confession was locked in the safe which looked like a black oaksideboard on which decanters and a humidor were arranged.
"To me also," Trent repeated, "and it is because of it that I knew hedid what he did for the reason he needed more money than a younger soncould expect. Colonel Langley, I only want his real name. I want to helphim. That's why I spoke of offering him money."
"You will be glad to know," the colonel answered, "that Mr. Smith is atpresent in no need of money."
"You mean," Trent said sharply, "that you will not give me his real nameand address?"
"I cannot tell you," Colonel Langley answered. "If you like I will writeand say you have called and give him the opportunity to do as hepleases."
Trent reflected for a moment. If Smith were not already aware of hispresence in England it would be very unwise to advertise it. He wasbeginning to see he had been less than cautious in calling upon Edgelland Colonel Langley under his own name.
"I need not trouble you to do that," he said, "if you wish to concealhis name it is no doubt your privilege and he will do well enoughwithout my thanks."
* * * * *
He made his chauffeur drive home at a temperate speed. The man knew allabout the Langleys and was glad to tell the affable stranger. As theypassed through the gates several carriages laden with men and somestation carts filled with baggage passed into the gravelled drive.
"Gentlemen come for the shooting," the chauffeur volunteered. "Tomorrowis September the first when partridge shooting commences. The colonel isa great shot and the King comes here often and the German Emperor hasshot over those turnips in the old days. This is supposed to be the bestpartridge shoot in the kingdom and the birds are fine and strong thisyear--not too much rain in the Spring."
"I suppose there'll be a regular banquet tonight," said Trent.
"Tomorrow night's the night," said the chauffeur grinning, "tonightthey all go to bed early so as to be up to an early breakfast and havetheir shooting eyes. The colonel's terrible man if any of the guns onlywound their birds. They've got to shoot well tomorrow if they want tocome here again. I know because my uncle is one of the keepers."
The man was surprised at the tip his American passenger handed him whenthey reached the Maids' Head Hotel, and charmed with his affability. Hetold his fellows that Trent was a real gentleman. He did not know thathis unsolicited confidence had given the American a hint upon which hewould be quick to act.
As Trent had been driven along the Dereham Road approach to Norwich hehad seen a little cycle shop where gasoline was sold and repairs made.The war had sent English people of moderate circumstances back to thebicycle again and only the wealthy could keep cars or buy petrol atseventy-five cents a gallon. In his drive he had seen several people ofseemingly good position pedalling cheerfully through the lanes. Thechauffeur had touched his hat to one and spoken of him as rector of anearby parish. Cycles were to be hired everywhere and the prevailingrate seemed to be sixpence an hour or three and six for the day.
After dinner Anthony Trent found his way back to the little shop in theDereham Road. "The Wensum Garage" it proudly called itself. Here he saidhe wished to hire a bicycle for a day. As dusk fell he was pedallingalong to Dereham Old Hall. Few people were about and those he passedevinced no curiosity. Avoiding the main road which passed in front ofthe lodge and gates by which he had entered, he hid his wheel betweentwo hay stacks which almost touched. Then he made his way through thekitchen gardens to the rear of the house. It was now ten o'clock and theservants' part of the big house seemed deserted. Already the lights inthe upper stories were evidence that some guests were retiring to restwell before the "glorious first."
From the shelter of the rose garden he could see a half score of men andwomen on the great terrace in front of the splendid house. He could seethat they were all in evening dress. In a mosquitoless country thishabit of walking up and down the long stone terraces was a commonpractice after dinner. Trent came so near to the guests that he couldhear them talking. The conversation was mainly about to-morrow'sprospects. He learned there was little disease among the birds, thatthey were phenomenally strong on the wing and hadn't been shot over toany extent since 1914. Some guests deplored the fact that dancing wastaboo on this night of nights but it was the Langley tradition and theymust bend to it.
"Think of it," he heard a woman say, laughing, "lights out at twelve!How primitive and delightful." She yawned a little. "I'm looking forwardto it; we all stay up too late."
"Good night, Duchess," he heard the man say. "Sleep well and pray I maybe in form."
"Duchess!" In the old days Anthony Trent would have thrilled at thetitle for it meant invariably jewels of price and the gathering of thevery rich. But he was waiting outside the masterpiece of Inigo Jones notfor any of those precious glittering stones for which he had sacrificedall his prospects of fame and honor but for the documents which hebelieved were hidden in the iron box, that ridiculous "pete" coveredwith black English oak. It was another of the "hunches" which had cometo him. He had never been more excited about any of the many jobs he hadundertaken.
As he sat among the roses waiting for time to pass he reflected that thefew failures that had been his had not been attended by any danger. Hehad lost the pearls that were wont to encircle the throat of a greatopera singer because her maid had chosen an awkward hour to prosecuteher amour with a chauffeur. The diamonds of the Mexican millionaire'slady were lost to him because the house took fire while he was examiningthe combination of the safe. But they would wait. He would yet have themboth. The booty for which he had come tonight was more precious thananything he had ever tried for. It was probably the key to safety thathe sought. Trent did not doubt that there was a document in the safewhich would enable him to hold something over the head of PrivateWilliam Smith.
He waited until twelve had struck fro
m the stable clock and the terracehad been deserted a half-hour. To open the doors leading from theterrace was simple. Anthony Trent always carried with him on businessbent two strips of tool steel with a key-blade at each end. With thesetwo "T" and "V" patterns he could open the world's locks. A nine inchjimmy was easy to secrete. This was of the highest quality of steel andlooked to the uninitiated very much like a chisel. But it differed froma chisel by having at its other end two brass plates set at right anglesto one another. These could be adjusted to what angles were needed byturning countersunk screw bolts. It was the ideal tool for yale springlocks.
He did not need it here. The doors opened at will with the "V" patternskeleton key. Great oriental rugs deadened sound and the boards of thehouse were old, seasoned and silent. He found his way to the room inwhich the colonel had received him with little difficulty. First of allhe opened the window and saw that he could spring clear out of it at abound and land in a bed of flowers only three feet below. Then he cameto the antiquated safe. The combinations were ridiculously easy. Histrained ear caught the faint sounds as he turned the lever easily. Thesetold him exactly the secret of the combination. It was not two minuteswork to open the doors. An inner sheeting of steel confronted him butwas opened by his jimmy. It was not safe to turn on the electric lights.In so big an establishment with so many outdoor servants there might bemany to remark an unexpected illumination. His little torch showed himall he wanted to know.
Colonel Langley had the soldiers' neatness. There were few valuables inthe safe. They would be presumably in his banker's strong boxes. Therewere packets of letters tied up and one long envelope. On it wasinscribed, "Not to be Opened. In case of my death this must be destroyedby my heir, Reginald Langley." On the envelope was the date, July 27,1918, and the single word, "Ladigny."
Ladigny was a little village in France forever memorable by the heroicstand of the City of London regiment when it lost so terribly andrefused to retreat. Trent opened the envelope in such a way that notrace of the operation was seen. Then for ten minutes he read steadily.Almost a half hour was expended in copying part of it in a note book.Then the envelope was resealed and the safe closed. As he had worngloves there was no fear of incriminating finger prints. He did notthink anyone would notice that a jimmy had been used. Then he closed thesafe and its outer doors of black oak.
He permitted himself the luxury of a cigarette. He had done a goodnight's work. If Private William Smith had sufficient evidence to placeAnthony Trent behind the bars the master criminal had sufficient certainknowledge now to shut the mouth of the man he was tracking. Who wouldhave thought a man reared in such a family would have fallen so low! Itis a human failure to make comparisons whereby others invariably shinewith a very weak light, but Anthony Trent was saying no more than thetruth when he told himself that with Smith's opportunities he wouldnever have taken to his present calling.
With Smith's opportunities he would be sitting in a big room like thisand sitting in it without fear of interruption. The strain of the lastfew days had not been agreeable and this strain must grow in intensityas he grew older. It was always in such peaceful surroundings as thesethat Trent felt the bitterness of crime even when successful.
He stopped suddenly short in his musing and crushed the bright tip ofhis cigarette into blackness beneath his foot. Someone was fumbling withthe doorhandle, very quietly as though anxious not to disturb him. Hecursed the carelessness that had allowed him to leave it unlocked. Hehad not behaved in a professional way at all. Very cautiously he rose tohis feet, meaning to leave by the open window when the door opened.Trent sank back into the shadow of the big chair. To make a dash for thewindow would mean certain detection. To stay motionless might mean hecould escape later. Similar immobility had saved him ere this.
The intruder closed the door and his sharp ears told him it was locked.Then a soft-treading form moved slowly through the dim light and closedthe window, shut off his avenue of escape, and pulled across it twocurtains which shut out all light. There were two other high windows inthe room and across each one was pulled the light-excluding curtains.Then there was a click and the room sprang into brilliance.
Anthony Trent saw the intruder at the same moment the intruder staredinto his face.
It was a girl in evening dress, a beautiful girl with chestnut hair anda delicious profile. She wore an elaborate evening gown of a delicateblue and carried in her hand a fan made of a single long ostrich plume.Her hair was elaborately coiffured. She was, in fine, a woman of the_beau monde_, a fitting guest in such a house as this. But what was shedoing in this room at one o'clock at night when the rest of thehousehold had long been abed?
The girl saw a slender but strongly built man of something over thirtywith a pale, clean-shaven face, shrewd almost hard eyes and a masterfulnose. He looked like a rising English barrister certain at some time tobe a judge or at the least a King's Counsel. He was dressed in a wellcut suit of dark blue with a pin stripe. He wore brown shoes and silksocks. She noted he had long slender hands perfectly kept.
He rose to his feet and smiled at her a little quizzically.
"Really," he said, "you almost frightened me. I was sitting in the darkmaking plans for the glorious 'first,' which has been here almost anhour, when I heard you trying to open the door."
There was no doubt in her mind but that he was one of the guests who hadarrived from London on the late train and had not changed to eveningdress. There was a train due at Thorpe station at half past ten and themotor trip would take forty minutes more.
"I had no idea anyone was here," she said truthfully, "or I shouldn'thave come. You see one can't sleep early even if one is sent to bed aswe all were tonight." She glanced at the clock. "I'm not shootingtomorrow but if you are why don't you turn in? You know Colonel Langleyis a fearful martinet where the shooting is concerned and insists thatevery bird is killed cleanly."
It was plain that she wished to get rid of him. Trent was franklypuzzled. The girl had shown no fear or nervousness. Ordinarily theconventions would have had their innings and she would have hesitated atthe possibility of being found alone with a good looking man at such anhour. She would have excused herself and left him in the belief that hewas a guest she would meet tomorrow at dinner and dance with after it.But she showed no such intention. He knew enough about women to see thatshe had no intention of waiting for the pleasure of a friendly chat. Shehad rather a haughty type of face and spoke with that quick imperiousmanner which he had observed in British women of rank or socialimportance.
"I have neuralgia," he said amiably, "and I prefer to sit here than goto bed. Perhaps you left something here? Can I help you to find it?"
"I came for a book. Colonel Langley was talking about some Africanhunting story your Mr. Roosevelt wrote."
So she knew him for an American. Well, she would find the American noteasily to be gulled. There came to him the memory of another night inFifth Avenue when a woman who seemed to be of fashion and position hadso completely fooled him and had been left in possession of a large sumof currency.
He moved toward a bookcase in which were a collection of books onfishing and shooting.
"'African Game Trails,'" he said, "here it is."
There was no doubt in his mind that the look she threw at him was notone of complete amiability. She wanted him to go. He asked himself why.It would have been easy for her to go and leave him, and the best wayout of the difficulty, unless she had come for one specific purpose. Ifshe had come for something concealed in the room and needed it badlyenough she would try and wait until he went. Trent was certain she hadno suspicion as to his own mission. In so big a house as Dereham OldHall fifty guests could be entertained easily and it was unlikely sheshould know even half of them. He had observed that it was not thefashion in England to introduce indiscriminately as in his own country.Guests were introduced to their immediate neighbors; but that appallingcustom whereby one unfortunate is expected to memorize the names of allpresent at a gulp was not popular. Be
cause she did not know him wouldnot lead to suspicion. He was in no danger. Even a servant coming inwould see in him only a friend of his employer.
"Thank you," she said, taking the book with an appearance of interest."Do you know I never thought to see Americans at Dereham Old Hall withthe single exception of Reginald's old friend Conington Warren. ColonelLangley is so conservative but the war has broadened everyone hasn't itand stupid national prejudices are breaking down."
"Conington Warren here?" he asked.
"He lives in England now," she told him, "his physicians warned him thatprohibition would kill him so they simply prescribed a country where hecould still take this cocktail. You know him of course?"
"A little," he said; she wondered why he smiled so curiously. Hewondered what this beautiful girl would say if she knew it was atConington Warren's mansion in Fifth avenue that he had started hiscareer as a criminal. So that great sportsman, owner of thoroughbredsand undeniable shot, was in this very house! After all it was not astrange coincidence. The well known Americans who love horse and houndwith the passion of the true sportsman are to be seen in the greathouses of England more readily than the mushroom financier.
"What other people are there here you know?" she demanded.
"I can't tell you till tomorrow," he returned, "I only said a word ortwo to the Duchess. She deplored having to go to bed so early and wasdisappointed at not being able to dance."
"She is one of my dearest friends," the girl answered.
"Which means you see her every fault," he laughed.
"Isn't your neuralgia better?" she asked after a pause.
Anthony Trent shook his head.
"I shan't sleep all night," he said despondently. "Going to bed wouldonly make it worse."
She was obviously put out at this statement.
"Then you'll stop here all night?"
"At all events until it gets light. It's only two o'clock now. If youare keen on big game hunting you won't sleep if you begin that book."
"You'll frighten the servants in the morning," she said later.
"I'll tip them into confidence," he assured her.
The girl was growing nervous. There were a hundred symptoms from thetapping of her little feet on the rug to the fidgeting with the book andthe meaningless play with her fan. She started when a distant dog bayedthe moon and dropped her book. It rolled under a table and Trent pickedit up. But when he handed it back to her there was an air of excitementabout him, an atmosphere of triumph which puzzled her.
"You look as though you enjoyed hunting for books under tables."
"I enjoy any hunting when I get a reward for my trouble."
"And what did you find?" she asked "a little mouse under the chair?"
"I found a key," he said.
"Someone must have dropped it," she said idly.
"Not a door key," he returned, "but the key to a mystery. Being a womanyou are interested in mysteries that have a beautiful society girl astheir heroine of course?"
"I really must disappoint you," she said rather coldly, "and I don'tquite understand why you are not quick to take the many hints I havedropped. Can't you see I want to sit here alone and think? Your own roomwill be just as comfortably furnished. In a sense this is a sort ofsecond home to me. Mrs. Langley and I are related and this room is anold and favorite haunt when I'm depressed. Is it asking very much thatyou leave me here alone?"
"Under ordinary conditions no," he said suavely.
"These are ordinary conditions," she persisted.
"I'm not sure," he retorted. "Tell me this if you dare. Why have you thecombination to a safe written on a little piece of mauve paper andconcealed in the book on your lap?"
She turned very pale and the look she gave him turned his suspicion intoa desire to protect her. The woman of the world air dropped from her andshe looked a frightened pathetic and extraordinarily lovely child.
"What shall I do?" she cried helplessly. "You are a detective?"
"Not yet," he said smiling, "although later I intend to be. But I'm nothere even as a great amateur. Consider me merely a notoriously good shotsuffering equally from neuralgia and curiosity. You have the combinationof a safe concealed in this room and you want me to go to bed so thatyou may take out wads of bank notes and pay your bridge debts. Is thatright so far?"
"You are absolutely wrong," she cried with spirit. "I need no money andhave no debts. There are no jewels in the safe."
"Letters of course," he said easily.
She did not speak for a moment. He could see she was wondering what shedare tell him. She could not guess that he knew of the three packages ofletters each tied with green ribbon. It was, he supposed, the old storyof compromising letters. Innocent enough, but letters that would spellevil tidings to the jealous fiance. They might have been written toColonel Langley. Men of that heroic stamp often appealed to sentimentalschool girls and the colonel was undeniably handsome in his coldsuperior way. His heart ached for her. She was suffering. What hadseemed so easy was now become a task of the greatest difficulty.
"Yes," she said deliberately, "letters. Letters I must have."
"Do you suppose I can stand by and see my host robbed?"
"If you have any generosity about you you can in this instance. I onlywant to destroy one letter because if it should ever be discovered itwill hurt the man I love most in the world."
Anthony Trent groaned. He had guessed aright. There was some man of herown class and station who did not love her well enough to overlook somelittle silly affectionate note sent to the _beau sabreur_ Langleyperhaps a half dozen years before. It was a rotten thing to keep suchletters. He looked at the girl again and cursed his luck that she wasalready engaged. Then he sighed and remembered that even were she freeit could never be his lot to marry unless he confessed all. And he knewthat to a woman of the type he wanted to marry this confession wouldmean the end of confidence the beginning of despair.
"I shall not stop you," he said.
She looked at him eagerly.
"And you'll never tell?"
"Not if they put me through the third degree."
"But ... oughtn't you to tell?" she asked.
"Of course," he admitted, "but I won't. I can see you are wondering why.I'll tell you. I've been in just such a position--and I did what you aregoing to do."
Without another word she went swiftly to the concealed safe and began tomanipulate the lock. For five minutes she tried and then turned to himmiserably.
"It won't open," she wailed.
"I'll have a shot at it," he said gaily, and went down on his knees byher side. He soon found out why it remained immovable. It was an oldcombination. She did not understand his moves as he went through thesame procedure which had opened it before. She only saw that the doorsswung back. She did not see him pry the iron sheathing back with thejimmy. It was miraculously easy.
Then he crossed the room to his chair and lighted another cigarette."Help yourself," he cried and picked up the book which had held thecombination.
The girl's back was to him and he could not see what she was doing. Heheard the scratch of a match being lighted and saw her stooping over thestone fireplace. She was burning her past. Then he heard her sigh withrelief.
"I shall never forget what you have done for me," she said holding outher hand.
"It was little enough," he said earnestly.
"You don't know just how much it was," the girl returned, "or howgrateful I shall always be to you. If I hadn't got that letter! Ishouldn't have got it but for you. And to think that tomorrow we shallbe introduced as one stranger to another. I'm rather glad I don't knowyour name or you mine. It will be rather fun won't it, being introducedand pretending we've never met before. If you are not very careful theDuchess will suspect we share some dreadful secret."
"The Duchess is rather that way inclined, isn't she?" he said.
He held the hand she offered him almost uncomfortably long a time. Shewould look for him tomorrow in vain. He s
upposed she would begin byasking if there were any other Americans there except Conington Warren.After a time she would find he was not a guest of the Langleys. Shewould come at last to know what he was. And with this knowledge therewould come contempt and a deliberate wiping his image from her mind.Anthony Trent had no sentimental excuses to offer. He had chosen his ownline of country.
He looked at her again. It would be the last time. Perhaps there was adangerously magnetic quality about his glance for the girl dropped hereyes.
"Faustus," he said abruptly, "sold his soul for a future. I think I'd bewilling to barter mine for a past."
"_Au revoir_," she said softly.
When she had closed the door he walked across the room to shut the safe.What secrets of hers, he wondered, had been shut up there so long. Hefound himself in a new and strange frame of mind. Why should he bejealous of what she might have written in the letter that was now ashes?She had probably thought hero-worship was love. She had a splendid facehe told himself. High courage, loyalty and breeding were mirrored in it.He wondered what sort of a man it was who had won her.
He looked at the neatly-tied bundle of letters. It seemed as though theyhad hardly been touched. Suddenly he turned to the compartment where thelong letter had lain, the letter from which he had made so manyextracts, the letter it was imperative Colonel Langley should believe tobe intact.
It was gone. In the hearth there were still some burned pages. He couldrecognize the watermark.
Anthony Trent had amiably assisted an unknown girl to destroy a letterwhose safety meant a great deal to him. If Colonel Langley were todiscover the loss it would be easy enough to put the blame upon thebicycle-riding American who had pretended to be a friend of PrivateWilliam Smith.
As he thought it over Anthony Trent saw that the girl in blue had notlied to him, had not sought to entrap him by gaining his sympathy as the"Countess" had succeeded in doing before another open safe in New York.He had assumed one thing and she had meant another.
What was William Smith to this unknown beauty? Trent gritted his teeth.He was going to find out. At all events he now knew the real name of theprivate soldier who had shared the dug-out with him. The next thing wasto find out where he lived.
The Secret of the Silver Car Page 3
