The Red Symbol

by John Ironside

  CHAPTER VI

  "MURDER MOST FOUL"

  "I'm speaking from Charing Cross station; can you hear me?" the voicecontinued. "I've had a letter from my father; he's ill, and I must go tohim at once. I'm starting now, nine o'clock."

  I glanced at the clock, which showed a quarter to nine.

  "I'll be with you in five minutes--darling!" I responded, throwing inthe last word with immense audacity. "_Au revoir_; I've got to hustle!"

  I put up the receiver and dashed back into my bedroom, where my coldbath, fortunately, stood ready. Within five minutes I was running downthe stairs, as if a sheriff and posse were after me, while Mrs. Jenkinsleaned over the hand-rail and watched me, evidently under the impressionthat I was the victim of sudden dementia.

  There was not a cab to be seen, of course; there never is one inWestminster on a Sunday morning, and I raced the whole way to CharingCross on foot; tore into the station, and made for the platform whencethe continental mail started. An agitated official tried to stop me atthe barrier.

  "Too late, sir, train's off; here--stand away--stand away there!"

  He yelled after me as I pushed past him and scooted along the platform.I had no breath to spare for explanations, but I dodged the porters whostarted forward to intercept me, and got alongside the car, where I sawAnne leaning out of the window.

  "Where are you going?" I gasped, running alongside.

  "Berlin. Mary has the address!" Anne called. "Oh, Maurice, let go;you'll be killed!"

  A dozen hands grasped me and held me back by main force.

  "See you--Tuesday!" I cried, and she waved her hand as if sheunderstood.

  "It's--all right--you fellows--I wasn't trying--to board--the car--" Isaid in jerks, as I got my breath again, and I guess they grasped thesituation, for they grinned and cleared off, as Mary walked up to me.

  "Well, I must say you ran it pretty fine, Maurice," she remarkedaccusatively. "And, my! what a fright you look! Why, you haven't shavedthis morning; and your tie's all crooked!"

  I put my hand up to my chin.

  "I was only just awake when Anne rang me up," I explainedapologetically. "It's exactly fifteen and a half minutes since I got outof bed; and I ran the whole way!"

  "You look like it, you disreputable young man," she retorted laughing."Well, you'd better come right back to breakfast. You can use Jim'sshaving tackle to make yourself presentable."

  She marched me off to the waiting brougham, and gave me the facts ofAnne's hasty departure as we drove rapidly along the quiet,clean-washed, sunny streets.

  "The letter came last night, but of course Anne didn't get it till shecame in this morning, about three."

  "Did you sit up for her?"

  "Goodness, no! Didn't you see Jim lend her his latch-key? We knew itwould be a late affair,--that's why we didn't go,--and that some onewould see her safe home, even if you weren't there. The Amory's motoredher home in their car; they had to wait for the storm to clear. I hadbeen sleeping the sleep of the just for hours, and never even heard hercome in. She'll be dead tired, poor dear, having next to no sleep, andthen rushing off like this--"

  "What's wrong with Mr. Pendennis?" I interpolated. "Was the letter fromhim?"

  "Why, certainly; who should it be from? We didn't guess it wasimportant, or we'd have sent it round to her at Mrs. Sutherland's lastnight. He's been sick for some days, and Anne believes he's worse thanhe makes out. She only sent word to my room a little before eight; andthen she was all packed and ready to go. Wild horses wouldn't keep Annefrom her father if he wanted her! We're to send her trunks onto-morrow."

  While my cousin prattled on, I was recalling the events of a few hoursback. I must have been mistaken, after all! What a fool I had been! Whyhadn't I gone straight to Kensington after I left Lord Southbourne? Ishould have spared myself a good deal of misery. And yet--I thought ofAnne's face as I saw it just now, looking out of the window, pale andagitated, just as it had looked in the moonlight last night. No! I mightmentally call myself every kind of idiot, but my conviction remainedfixed; it was Anne whom I had seen. Suppose she had left Mrs.Sutherland's early, as I had decided she must have done, when I rackedmy brains in the night. It was close on one o'clock when I saw her onthe river; she might have landed lower down. I did not know--I do notknow even now--if there were any steps like those by Westminster Bridge,where a landing could be effected; but suppose there were, she would beable to get back to Cayleys by the time she had said. But why go on suchan expedition at all? Why? That was the maddening question to which Icould not even suggest an answer.

  "What was it you called to Anne about seeing her on Tuesday?" demandedMary, who fortunately did not notice my preoccupation.

  "I shall break my journey there."

  "Of course. I forgot you were off to-morrow. Where to?"

  "St. Petersburg."

  "My! You'll have a lively time there by all accounts. Here we are; Ihadn't time for breakfast, and I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

  As we crossed the hall I saw a woman's dark cloak, flung across an oaksettee. It struck me as being rather like that which Anne--if it wereAnne--had worn. Mary picked it up.

  "That oughtn't to be lying there. It's Mrs. Sutherland's. Anne borrowedit last night as her own was flimsy for a car. I must send it backto-day. Go right up to Jim's dressing-room, Maurice; you'll find all youwant there."

  She ran up the stairs before me, the cloak over her arm, little thinkinghow significant that cloak was to me.

  I cut myself rather badly while shaving, and I evinced a poor appetitefor breakfast. Jim and Mary, especially Jim, saw fit to rally me onthat, and on my solemn visage, which was not exactly beautified by thecut. I took myself off as soon after the meal as I decently could, onthe plea of getting through with my packing; though I promised to returnin the evening to say good-bye.

  I had remembered my appointment with the old Russian, and wasdesperately anxious not to be out if he should come.

  On one point I was determined. I would give no one, not even Mary, somuch as a hint of the mysteries that were half-maddening me; at leastuntil I had been able to seek an explanation of them from Anne herself.

  My man never turned up, nor had he been there while I was absent, as Ielicited by a casual inquiry of Jenkins as to whether any one hadcalled.

  I told him when I returned from the Cayleys that I was going away in themorning, and he came to lend a hand with the packing and clearing up.

  "No, sir, not a soul's been; the street door was shut all morning. I'drather be rung up a dozen times than have bad characters prowling abouton the staircase. There's a lot of wrong 'uns round about Westminster!Seems quieter than usual up here to-day, don't it, sir? With all theresidentials away, except you."

  "Why, is Cassavetti away, too?" I asked, looking up.

  "I think he must be, sir, for I haven't seen or heard anything of him.But I don't do for him as I do for you and the other gents. He does forhimself, and won't let me have a key, or the run of his rooms. Histenancy's up in a week or two, and a pretty state we shall find 'em in,I expect! We shan't miss him like we miss you, sir. Shall you be longaway this time?"

  "Can't say, Jenkins. It may be one month or six--or forever," I added,remembering Carson's fate.

  "Oh, don't say that, sir," remonstrated Jenkins.

  "I wonder if Mr. Cassavetti is out. I'd like to say good-bye to him," Iresumed presently. "Go up and ring, there's a good chap, Jenkins. And ifhe's there, you might ask him to come down."

  It struck me that I might at least ascertain from Cassavetti what heknew of Anne. Why hadn't I thought of that before?

  Jenkins departed on his errand, and half a minute later I heard a yellthat brought me to my feet with a bound.

  "Hello, what's up?" I called, and rushed up the stairs, to meet Jenkinsat the top, white and shaking.

  "Look there, sir," he stammered. "What is it? 'Twasn't there thismorning, when I turned the lights out, I'll swear!"

  He pointed to the door-sill, through w
hich was oozing a sluggish,sinister-looking stream of dark red fluid.

  "It's--it's blood!" he whispered.

  I had seen that at the first glance.

  "Shall I go for the police?"

  "No," I said sharply. "He may be only wounded."

  I went and hammered at the door, avoiding contact with that horriblelittle pool.

  "Cassavetti! Cassavetti! Are you within, man?" I shouted; but there wasno answer.

  "Stand aside. I'm going to break the lock," I cried.

  I flung myself, shoulder first, against the lock, and caught at thelintel to save myself from falling, as the lock gave and the door swunginwards,--to rebound from something that it struck against.

  I pushed it open again, entered sideways through the aperture, andbeckoned Jenkins to follow.

  Huddled up in a heap, almost behind the door, was the body of a man; theface with its staring eyes was upturned to the light.

  It was Cassavetti himself, dead; stabbed to the heart.