CHAPTER XXII
THE THIN-FACED STRANGER
I pretended not to notice him as I pushed past him and presentlyreturned with water. Lady Fitzgraham, Connie Stapleton, and severalothers also clamoured for water to moisten their parched lips, and whenI had attended to Dulcie I gave them some. For the next two hourseverything was confusion. All the passengers had been severely shaken,and some were seriously hurt, but fortunately not one had been killed.Our extraordinary escape I shall always attribute to the fact that wetravelled in a Pullman, a car that has most wonderful stability.
A large crowd had assembled at Gare St. Lazare to witness the arrival ofthe special with the passengers who had travelled in our ill-fatedtrain. Now that I had collected my scattered thoughts once more I wasresolved at the earliest possible moment to inform Lady Fitzgraham ofthe discovery I had made, for I had come to the firm conclusion thatsome, at any rate, of the jewellery that bag contained must be hers,some of the jewellery which had been stolen on board the boat.
Upon our arrival at the "Continental" I discovered that Gastrell andConnie Stapleton's friends numbered no less than twelve, withoutcounting Lady Fitzgraham or myself, so that in all we were sixteen. Ofthe people I had met before, whom I believed to be members of the gang,only Jasmine Gastrell was absent. What most puzzled me was what thereason could be they had all come to Paris. Did the London policesuspect them, and were they fleeing from justice in consequence? That, Idecided, seemed hardly likely. Could they be contemplating some _coup_on the Continent, or had they come over to prepare with greater securitysome fresh gigantic robbery in England? That seemed far more probable,and just then I remembered that in less than a fortnight thecoming-of-age festivities of Lord Cranmere's son would begin--Februarythe 28th. What complicated matters to some extent was that I had nomeans of ascertaining beyond doubt which members of this large partywere actually members of the gang I now knew to exist, and which, ifany, besides Dulcie, Lady Fitzgraham, and myself, also, I fancied, theman named Wollaston, were honest folk, some of them possibly dupes. LadyFitzgraham I knew well by name and repute, and there could be nopossibility of her being mixed up in criminal or even shadytransactions. That the robbery of her famous jewels, by whomsoever ithad been committed, had been premeditated and carefully planned, thereseemed hardly room to doubt.
Next day all the Paris newspapers contained reports of the suicide--asthey evidently all believed it to have been--and of the robbery on boardthe boat. The usual theories, many of them so far-fetched as to bealmost fantastic, were advanced, and all kinds of wild suggestions weremade to account for the dead man's having been disguised. Not untilthree days later was the sensational announcement made in the newspapersthat he had proved to be George Preston, the famous English detective,who had retired upon pension only the year before.
We had been four days in Paris, and nothing in the least suspicious hadoccurred. I had been unable to tell Lady Fitzgraham of my suspicionsregarding the whereabouts of her stolen jewels, for she had not dined atthe "Continental," nor had I seen her after our train had reached Paris,or even on the train after the accident. The hotel manager was under theimpression, I had discovered while conversing with him, that we had allmet by accident either in the train or on the boat, as the accommodationneeded had been telegraphed for from Dieppe. He also was quiteconvinced--this I gathered at the same time--that our party consisted ofpeople of considerable distinction, leaders of London Society, animpression no doubt strengthened by the almost reckless extravagance ofevery member of the party.
The robbery and the supposed suicide on board the boat were beginning tobe less talked about. It was the evening of our fourth day in Paris, andI had just finished dressing for dinner, when somebody knocked. I called"Come in," and a man entered. Without speaking he shut the door behindhim, turned the key in the lock, and came across to me.
He was tall and thin, a rather ascetic-looking individual of middle age,with small, intelligent eyes set far back in his head, bushy brows and aclean-shaven face--clearly an American. He stood looking at me for amoment or two, then said:
"Mr. Berrington, I think."
I started, for my make-up was perfect still, and I firmly believed thatnone had penetrated my disguise. Before I could answer, the strangercontinued:
"You have no need to be alarmed, Mr. Berrington; I am connected with theParis _Surete_, and George Preston was a colleague and an intimatefriend of mine. We had been in communication for some time before hisdeath, and I knew of his disguise; he had given me details of his lineof action in connection with the people you are with; for he knew thatin impersonating Alphonse Furneaux and associating himself so closelywith this group of criminals he ran a grave risk. Still," he went on,speaking smoothly and very rapidly, "I believe this tragedy would nothave occurred--for that he was murdered I feel certain, though I have noproof--had the real Furneaux not succeeded in making good his escapefrom the room where Preston had confined him in his own house, a roomwhere he had more than once kept men under lock and key when he wantedthem out of the way for a while."
As the stranger stopped speaking, he produced from his pocket a cardwith a portrait of himself upon it, and the autograph signature of thePrefect of Police.
"Well," I said, feeling considerably relieved, "what have you come tosee me about?"
"Your life is in danger," he answered bluntly, "in great danger.Alphonse Furneaux has penetrated your disguise, and I have every reasonto believe that he has betrayed your identity to the rest of the gang.If that is so, you can hardly escape their vengeance unless you leavehere at once, under my protection, and return to London. Even there youwill need to be extremely careful. Please prepare to come now. It mayalready be too late."
"I can't do that," I answered firmly, facing him. "Miss Challoner, thedaughter of Sir Roland Challoner, has unwittingly become mixed up withthese people; she suspects nothing, and as yet I have been unable towarn her of the grave risk she runs by remaining with them. It is solelyon her account that I am here. I must remain by her at all costs toprotect her--and to warn her as soon as possible."
"You can safely leave that to me, Mr. Berrington," the strangeranswered, with a keen glance. "If you stay here another night I won't beresponsible for your safety--indeed, I don't consider that I amresponsible for it now. Quick, please, pack your things."
"Impossible," I replied doggedly. "You don't understand the situation,Mr.--"
"Albeury--Victor Albeury."
"You don't understand the situation, Mr. Albeury--I am engaged to bemarried to Miss Challoner, and I can't at any cost desert her at such atime. She has struck up an extraordinary friendship with Mrs. Stapleton,who is staying in this hotel and is mixed up with the gang, and I wantto watch their movements while retaining my disguise."
"But of what use is your disguise," Albeury cut in quickly, "now that,as I told you, these scoundrels are aware of your identity, or will bevery soon? You have no idea, Mr. Berrington, of the class of criminalyou have to deal with. These men and women have so much money and are sopresentable and plausible, also so extremely clever, that you would havethe greatest difficulty in inducing any ordinary people to believe theyare not rich folk of good social standing, let alone that they arecriminals. If you insist upon remaining here it will be nothing lessthan madness."
"And yet I insist," I said.
The stranger shrugged his shoulders. Then he sat down, asked if he mightlight a cigarette, and for a minute or so remained wrapped in thought.
"Supposing that I could induce Miss Challoner to come away," he saidsuddenly, "would you come then?"
"Of course I should," I answered. "I have told you it is only becauseshe is here that I remain here."
Albeury rose abruptly, and tossed his half-smoked cigarette into thegrate.
"Wait here until I return," he said.
He unlocked the door, and went out of the room. I heard his footstepsgrow fainter and fainter as he went along the corridor.
At the end of a quarter of
an hour, as he did not return, I went outinto the passage, locked the door of my room behind me, and walkedslowly in the direction Albeury had gone. I knew the number of Dulcie'sroom to be eighty-seven--it adjoined the bedroom occupied by ConnieStapleton, which opened into a private sitting-room; this I hadascertained from one of the hotel porters. As I reached the door of thesitting-room I heard voices--a man's voice, and the voices of two women.The man was Albeury. The women, who both spoke at once, were certainlyConnie Stapleton and Dulcie. They were in the room, and by their tones Ijudged them to be wrangling with Albeury. I knocked boldly.
Summoned to enter by Connie Stapleton, I walked straight in and facedthem. At once the wrangling ceased.
There was a look in Connie Stapleton's eyes that I had never seen therebefore. Hitherto I had seen only her attractive side. When I hadconversed with her she had always seemed most charming--intelligent,witty, amusing. Now her eyes had in them a cold, steely glitter.
"What do you want, Michael Berrington?" she asked icily. "Don't youthink it's time you took off that disguise?"
The sound of a little gasp diverted my attention. I turned, and my gazemet Dulcie's. Her expression betrayed fear.
"Yes, I am Michael Berrington," I said quietly, speaking now in mynatural voice, and looking Connie Stapleton full in the eyes. "As youhave discovered my identity you probably know why I am disguised--justas you most likely know why George Preston was disguised when you, orsome of your gang, strangled him on board the boat."
Connie Stapleton's eyes seemed gradually to resemble a snake's. Her lipswere tightly closed. Her face was livid. For some moments she stoodthere, glaring at me. Then she spoke again:
"This man," she said, indicating Albeury, "has been speaking of you. Hetells me that he has advised you to return to England, and I have toldhim it is now too late. You won't see England again, Mr. Berrington--Itell you that quite openly, before this police officer, whom I haveknown for many years. I do so with impunity because he knows that if hebetrays me I can reveal something I know about him--and should do soat once."
I was about to speak, when my gaze again met Dulcie's. She had turnedsuddenly pale. Now she glanced apprehensively first at her friend, thenat me, and then at the American detective Albeury. Deep perplexity aswell as fear was in her eyes.
"Do tell me what it all means," she implored, looking up at me; for thefirst time for many days she seemed to need my help. "So many thingshave puzzled me during the past days--I have seen so much and heard somuch that I can't understand." She turned to Mrs. Stapleton. "Connie,"she cried out impetuously, "why have you suddenly changed? Why have youturned against me? What have I done or said that has given you offence?"
Before Mrs. Stapleton had time to answer, I spoke:
"Dulcie," I exclaimed, "I will say now what I have wanted for days totell you, though I have not had a chance of doing so, and I knew that ifI wrote a letter you would show it to this woman, who would invent someplausible story to make you disbelieve me. Now listen. This woman is notwhat you believe her to be. In her presence I tell you that she is anadventuress of an odious description, and that, in becoming friendlywith you, also in becoming engaged to your father, she has acted fromthe basest motives. Dulcie, you must leave her at once, and comeaway with me."
I saw an extraordinary look of repugnance creep into Dulcie's eyes asshe cast a half-frightened glance at Connie Stapleton, seated staring ather with an unconcealed sneer.
"Connie," she said bitterly, "oh, Connie, don't look at me like that!"
The woman laughed.
"Can't you see I have no further use for you, you little fool?" sheretorted harshly. "Go with him--go with your lover, return to yourdoddering old father--if you can get to him--who had the amazingeffrontery to ask me to become his wife--I, who am young enough to behis granddaughter!"
At that instant I caught the sound of a door being closed carefully.Something prompted me to step out into the passage, and I came face toface with Gastrell, who had evidently just left Connie Stapleton's otherroom and so must have overheard our conversation, also whateverconversation with Albeury she might have had before I entered. For somemoments we stood looking at each other without speaking. He appeared tobe calm and wholly unconcerned.
"Do you want me for anything?" he asked suddenly.
"No," I answered. "I have been to see Mrs. Stapleton."
"That's rather obvious, as you have this instant left her room. Is thereanything she can do for you?"
"Do for me?"
"Yes."
He came slowly up to me; then, speaking into my face, he said in a hardundertone:
"You have tried to spy upon us--and failed. Your companion, GeorgePreston, spied upon us--he is dead. By this time to-morrow--"
Without another word he went past me down the corridor. He turned thecorner at the end, and a moment later I heard the iron gates of the liftshut with a clatter, and the lift descending.
Just then it was that Dulcie rushed out into the corridor. Catchingsight of me, she sprang forward and clung to me, trembling.
"Oh, Mike! Mike!" she cried piteously, "I am so terrified. I have justheard such dreadful things--Mike, your life is in danger--you must getaway from here at once!"
"That's what I am going to do," I said, with an assumption of calmness Iwas far from feeling. "And you must come with me, my darling. What aboutyour clothes and things? Can you get them packed quickly?"
Still clinging to me, she hesitated.
"I--I am afraid to go back into that room," she exclaimed at last."Connie has suddenly turned upon me--I believe she can't bear meany more."
"I'm glad to hear that," I answered, intensely relieved at last. Ah, ifonly the woman had "turned upon" her long before, I thought, how muchbetter it would have been for Dulcie.
"But surely," I said, "you can go into your own room to pack yourthings."
This proposition evidently troubled her.
"No," she said after an instant's pause. "Doris Lorrimer is in my room."
"And what if she is? She can't prevent your packing your own things?"
"She can, and she will. Oh, Mike," she continued bitterly, "you don'tknow--you can't understand. Doris Lorrimer is under Connie's control,just as I have been. Connie seems to have some extraordinary power overher. She does everything Connie tells her to, and Connie has told hernot to let me go--to retain my belongings if I attempt to leave."
"But a moment ago Mrs. Stapleton told you to go--she said she had donewith you; I heard her myself."
"She doesn't mean it. I am terrified of her now, Mike; I want to getaway from her, but I daren't. If I go, something awful will happen tome--I know it will!"
Though I had long suspected it, only now did I realize the fearful holdthat this woman had obtained over Dulcie, who seemed hardly able anylonger to exercise her will. This, I knew, must in a measure be theresult of the woman's having hypnotized her. My mind was made up ina moment.
"Dulcie," I exclaimed firmly, "you are coming with me to-night--youunderstand? To-night--whether you take your things or not is not ofconsequence. I'll see to everything. Don't return to your room. Don'tsee Mrs. Stapleton again. Come with me--now."
Albeury appeared in the passage. Seeing us, he approached.
"Go at once, Mr. Berrington," he said in a tone of authority. "It iseven more serious than I thought. You haven't a moment to lose."
"I am taking Miss Challoner with me," I replied. "I refuse to leave herhere."
He glanced at each of us in turn.
"Must you?" he said. "Why not leave Miss Challoner to me? I will answerfor her safety. I am too well known in Paris even for reckless peoplesuch as we have to deal with now to attempt to oppose me or to do _me_an injury."
"Either Miss Challoner comes with me, or I remain," I repliedstubbornly. Something seemed suddenly to have set me on my mettle. "Buthow is it, Mr. Albeury," I added quickly, "that if these people know youare connected with the police, and you know as much about them as youappear to d
o, you can't at once have them arrested?"
"We require circumstantial evidence," he answered, "definite evidence ofsome kind, which at present we haven't got. In cases such as this wecan't arrest on suspicion. Much of my information about these peoplecomes from George Preston. People of this description are extremelydifficult to arrest, because, in spite of what is practically knownabout them, nothing against them can be proved. That is where theircleverness comes in--no matter what they do, they keep out of reach ofthe law. But come, Mr. Berrington, I must get you away at once--no,don't return to your room," as I was moving in that direction, "Comedownstairs at once, and bring Miss Challoner with you--we won't go bythe lift, if you don't mind."
Dulcie had an evening wrap over her arm. Taking it from her, I wrappedit about her shoulders, then slipped on the thin overcoat I had with me.
Quickly we followed Albeury to the end of the corridor. We were about todescend the stairs, when an unexpected sight arrested our attention.
The Four Faces: A Mystery Page 22
