The Four Faces: A Mystery

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER XIV

  IN THE MISTS

  At a quarter to one in the morning Cranmere's big, grey, low-built carslid noiselessly along Wigmore Street and drew up at the entrance to oneof the most imposing-looking houses in Cumberland Place.

  The imposing footman got down and rang the bell--he pressed the buttonfour times in succession, as "Lord Cranmere" had told him to do. Almostat once the door was opened, and from the car window we saw a tall manin knee-breeches silhouetted, while a little way behind him stoodanother man. "Lord Cranmere" stepped out of the car, and we followedhim--"Baron Poppenheimer" and "Sir Aubrey Belston." In point of fact,the real Sir Aubrey Belston was at that moment somewhere in the MalayStates, making a tour of the world.

  "Lord Cranmere" had told the chauffeur that he would not require himagain that night, and I had noticed the man touch his hat in the beliefthat this actually was his employer who addressed him, for the real Earlof Cranmere had lent us his car. I heard the car purr away in thedarkness, and an instant later the door of number 300 Cumberland Placeshut noiselessly behind us.

  The footman in knee-breeches and powdered head, who had admitted us, ledus without a word across the large hall, turned into a long corridordimly-lit by tinted electric lamps, turned to the left, then to theright, then showed us into a small, comfortably-furnished room in whicha fire burned cheerily, while in a corner a column printing machineticked out its eternal news from the ends of the earth. We waitedseveral minutes. Then the door opened and Hugesson Gastrell entered.

  Like ourselves, he was in evening clothes. He advanced, shook handscordially with "Lord Cranmere," saying that he had received histelephone message.

  "These are my friends of whom I spoke," Cranmere said, "BaronPoppenheimer and Sir Aubrey Belston."

  "Delighted to meet you," Gastrell exclaimed. "Any friend of Cranmere'sis welcome here; one has, of course, to be careful whom one admits onthese occasions--isn't that so, Cranmere? Come upstairs and havesome supper."

  We followed him, ascending to the first floor. In a large,high-ceilinged, well-lit room an elaborate supper was spread. There wereseats for thirty or forty, but only ten or a dozen were occupied. Astrange atmosphere pervaded the place, an atmosphere of secrecy, ofmystery. As we entered, the people at supper, men and women, had glancedup at us furtively, then continued their conversation. They talked moreor less under their breath.

  Gastrell called for a bottle of "bubbly," and about half an hour laterwe rose. The room was by this time deserted. Following Gastrell along anarrow passage, we presently found ourselves in a room larger than theone we had just left. Here between forty and fifty men and women sat atseveral tables. At one _chemin-de-fer_ was in progress; at another_petits chevaux_; at a third the game which of late years has become sopopular in certain circles--"Sandown Park." On all the tables money washeaped up, and on all sides one heard the musical chink of gold and thecrackle of bank-notes. Nobody spoke much. Apparently all present weretoo deeply engrossed to waste time in conversation.

  As I glanced about me I noticed several people I knew intimately, andfour or five I knew only by sight, people well known in Society. I wason the point of bowing to one woman I knew, who, looking up, had caughtmy eye; just in time I remembered that she would not recognize me in mydisguise. Then a man nodded to me, and I nodded back. He looked rathersurprised at seeing me, I thought, and at once it flashed across me thatof course he was under the impression that I was Sir Aubrey Belston, andprobably he had heard that Sir Aubrey was travelling round the world.

  Gastrell, after a few minutes' conversation, found us places at a tablewhere "Sandown Park" was being played. As I seated myself I found,facing me, Jasmine Gastrell, and for some moments I felt uncomfortable.I could feel her gaze upon my face as she scrutinized me closely, buteven she did not penetrate my disguise.

  "Lord Cranmere" sat upon the opposite side of the table, "BaronPoppenheimer" on my side, two seats from me. On my right was one of theunintelligent-looking women I had met at Connie Stapleton's dinner partyat the Rook Hotel in Newbury; on my immediate left a man I did not know.Connie Stapleton I had looked about for, but she was nowhere visible.

  So this was one of the ways Gastrell amassed money--he ran agaming-house! I now began to see his object in cultivating theacquaintance of people of rank and wealth; for I had long ago noticedthat Jasmine and Hugesson Gastrell never missed an opportunity ofbecoming acquainted with men and women of position. Also I began tograsp Preston's line of action. Disguised as the Earl of Cranmere, whowas known to be extremely rich, he had cleverly ingratiated himself withthe Gastrells and led them on to think him rather a fool who couldeasily be gulled. Jack had more than once told me how artfully Prestonplayed his cards when on the track of people he suspected and wished toentrap, so that I could well imagine Preston's leading the Gastrells onto ensnare him--as they no doubt supposed they were doing. For that hewould not have been admitted to this gambling den--it evidently becameone at night--unless the Gastrells had believed they could trust himand his friends implicitly, I felt certain.

  My friends tell me that I am a rather good actor, and Preston's coachingin Sir Aubrey Belston's mannerisms and ways of talking had given me ameasure of self-confidence. When, therefore--I had played for a quarterof an hour and won a good deal--Jasmine Gastrell suddenly addressed me,I did not feel disconcerted.

  "I mean to follow your lead," she said. "You are so extraordinarilylucky. How is it you manage to win every time?"

  "Not every time," I corrected. "It's quite easy if you set about it inthe right way."

  "I wish I knew the right way," she answered, fixing her eyes on me inthe way I knew so well. "Won't you tell me how you do it?"

  "Different people must 'do it,' as you put it, in different ways," Isaid. "Forgive my asking, but are you superstitious?"

  She broke into rippling laughter.

  "Superstitious? I?" she exclaimed. "Oh, that's the last thing my enemieswould accuse me of being!"

  I paused, looking hard at her.

  "And yet," I said seriously, "judging by your eyes, I should say thatyou are remarkably psychic, and most people who are psychic aresuperstitious up to a point."

  I went on looking at her, staring right into her eyes, which she keptset on mine. She did not in the least suspect my identity--I was nowpositive of that. I had spoken all the time in an assumed voice.

  "Yes," I said at last, impressively.

  "Yes what?" she asked quickly; she was not smiling now. "Why do you say'yes' like that? What does it mean?"

  Apparently our conversation disturbed some of the players, so I said toher seriously, indicating an alcove at the end of the room:

  "Let us go over there. I should like to talk to you."

  She made no demur, and presently we sat together in the alcove, partlyconcealed by palms and other plants, a small table between us.

  "Now tell me how you win, and how I am to win," she exclaimed, as soonas we were seated. "I should dearly love to know."

  I reflected, as I sat looking at her, that she was a consummate actress.I could not doubt that she ran this establishment in connection withGastrell, yet here she was feigning deep anxiety to discover how shecould win.

  "I don't know your name," I said at last, ignoring her inquiry, "but youare one of the most amazing women, I would say one of the most amazinghuman beings, I have ever met."

  "How do you know that--I mean what makes you say it?" she asked quickly,evidently disconcerted at my solemnity and at the impressive wayI spoke.

  "Your aura betrays it," I answered in the same tone. "Every man andwoman is surrounded by an aura, but to less than one in ten thousand isthe human aura visible. It is visible to me. The human aura betrays, intoo many cases, what I would call its 'victim.' Your aura betrays you."

  I leaned forward across the table until my face was close to hers. Then,still looking straight into her eyes, I said, almost in a whisper:

  "Shall I tell you what I see? Shall I tell you what your life
has been?"

  She turned suddenly pale. Then, struggling to regain her composure, shesaid after a brief pause, but in a tone that lacked conviction:

  "I don't believe a word you say. Who are you? Whom have I the pleasureof speaking to?"

  "Sir Aubrey Belston," I answered at once. "You may have heard of me.Good God--the things I see!"

  I pretended to give a little shudder. My acting must have been good, foron the instant she turned almost livid. Again she made a terrific effortto overcome the terror that I could see now possessed her.

  "I _will_ tell you what I see!" I exclaimed, suddenly snatching thewrist of her hand which lay upon the table, and holding it tightly.Though almost completely concealed by the palms and plants, she stroveto shrink still further out of sight, as though the players, engrossedin their games, would have spared time to notice her.

  My eyes met hers yet again, but the expression in her eyes had nowcompletely changed. In place of the bold, impelling look I had alwaysseen there, was a fearful, hunted expression, as though she dreadedwhat I was going to say.

  "I see a room," I said in a low, intense tone, holding her wrist verytightly still. "It is not a large room. It is a first-floor room, for Isee the exterior of the house and the two windows of the room. I see theinterior again. Several people are there--I cannot see them all clearly,but two stand out distinctly. One is Gastrell, to whom I have thisevening been introduced; the other is you; ah, yes, I see you now moreclearly than before, and I see now another man--handsome, fair, abouttwenty-eight or thirty--I can see his aura too--his aura within youraura--he loves you desperately--and--ah, I see something lying on thefloor--a woman--she is dead--you--"

  Her thin wrist suddenly turned cold; her eyes were slowly closing. Justin time I sprang to my feet to save her from falling off her chair, forshe had fainted.

  None of the players were aware of what had happened; all were too deeplyengrossed. Without attempting to restore my companion toconsciousness--for, in the face of what I had now learned practicallybeyond doubt to be a fact, I had no wish to revive her--I left her lyingin her chair, stepped noiselessly along behind the mass of plants whichoccupied one side of the room, emerged further away, and presently tooka vacant seat at a _chemin-de-fer_ table.

  I glanced at my watch. It was nearly two o'clock. Thinking over what hadjust happened, and wondering what my next move had better be, and whatJack and Preston intended doing, I stared carelessly about the room.

  At all the tables play was still in progress. At some complete silenceprevailed. From others there arose at intervals a buzz of conversation.Behind some of the lucky players stood groups of interested watchers.About the sideboard were clustered men and women refreshing themselves,the majority smoking and laughing, though a few looked strangely solemn.Among the latter I suddenly noticed a face I had seen before. It was thedemure, dark little woman who at Connie Stapleton's dinner party had allthe evening seemed so subdued. She was dressed quietly now, just as shehad been then, and she looked even more out of place in this crowd ofmen and women gamblers, all of whom were exceedingly well-dressed, thanshe had looked at that dinner party. "There is only one person I shouldbe more surprised at seeing here," I said mentally, "and thatis Dulcie."

  The thought of her made me wonder what she would think if she could seeme at this moment, when suddenly my heart seemed to stop beating.

  Seated at the table nearest me but one, a table partly surrounded by agroup of excited onlookers, was Connie Stapleton. And close beside her,engrossed in the game, Dulcie Challoner herself!