companion; and we were just congratulating ourselves that we had gotthe carriage to ourselves as the guard's whistle sounded, and hadslipped out of Southampton with great discretion, when a most unexpectedthing happened.
The carriage door opened suddenly, and in there stepped thatevil-looking woman in black I had noted on the dock side.
The next instant the train rumbled off.
"Confound it," I said to Miss Velasquon, "I never bargained for this. Ithink we had better change at the next station."
Evidently the stranger heard my whisper, for she looked up.
"You may change, sir," she said icily, "and I advise you to do so, butyour companion won't." And her hands came together with a vicious snap.
"How--what the dickens do you mean?" I blurted out, and my eyes flashedfire.
"This," the woman answered: "Miss Camille Velasquon, as it happens, isin my, not your, charge. Unfortunately, she is an escaped criminallunatic, and it is my business, with the aid of some friends in theadjacent compartment, to convey her at once to Broadmoor Asylum."
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
WHAT HAPPENED TO US.
For a moment I own that I was dismayed by this evil-looking woman's lineof attack. If there be one act of grave injustice in England easier tomanage than another it is this: to trump up some false charge of lunacyagainst a sane but unconscious person. If, in addition, you can assertthat the alleged maniac is one fleeing from justice, or, worse still,consigned to some living tomb of convicted criminals like Broadmoor, youare pretty sure to get public sympathy and support on your side, for thevast majority of persons fear the insane with a wild, unreasoning kindof panic, and are only too glad to interpose the burly forms of keepersand doctors between themselves and the objects they dread.
Doubtless this wretched creature knew this, for her tones were those ofan absolute mistress of herself and of that most perplexing situation.Her attitude, too, suggested a consciousness of triumph, for she justlooked at Camille Velasquon with a look of gravity and warning that shemust be careful if she wished to have any peace or kindness hereafter,whereas for me she had nothing but hot scorn or an icy contempt.
"Did you say you had other keepers with you?" I queried at length, moreanxious to gain time before I showed my real hand than to elicitinformation.
"Yes; I did. There are two assistant warders. I am the principal."
"Women, I suppose?"
"Both women!"
"Both women! Where do they come from?"
"From Broadmoor, like myself." And she turned her head in the directionof the carriage window, as though she were tired of the conversation anddesired me for the rest of the time to mind my own business.
Camille Velasquon now plucked me nervously by the arm. "This woman'sstory is a tissue of lies," she whispered. "I am no criminal and nolunatic. Why, I never set foot in England till I got off the ship on toSouthampton Dock with you a few minutes ago!"
"Of course you didn't," I replied in a low tone, which, luckily, therattle of the wheels prevented that grim-looking figure in the cornermaking the true sense. "Don't you see that this is the plot Don JoseCasteno warned you against? Indeed, this is why I came down to meetyou, to protect you. The trouble is, I don't know who has put her up tothis crowning piece of impudence. If it is just some obscure enemy ofCasteno or of the Order of St Bruno it's all right, I'll rescue you;but if it has some diplomatic importance, and behind this creaturestands some great personage who is playing some game of Europeanimportance, it won't be so easy as it might seem. Money may have beenspent like water, and, at a pinch, they may prove to be really warderssent from Broadmoor with false instructions about you, and a falsescent."
"But you will save me, won't you?" pleaded the girl, her eyes lustrouswith tears. "Don't leave me near that dreadful creature. We women canread women much more rapidly than men can, even the cleverest; and I amsure she has never occupied any official position at an asylum--shelooks more like a murderess herself!"
"Well, I will certainly do my best," I replied soothingly, turning againand facing Miss Velasquon. England is a queer place, and it is veryeasy to get a crowd together and to weep to them and to stuff them witha lot of lies. Many wicked people get the better of the innocent bycheap and foolish tricks like those.
I stood up and piloted myself to a position opposite to the stranger."As you can see," I began quietly but firmly, moving my head in thedirection of my companion, "Miss Velasquon and I are together. Yourinformation has distressed me very much. I was under the impressionthat my friend was quite a different personage to the one you make out.All the same, I don't want to do anything that might seem to youunnecessarily hostile. You say you have two other warders with you. Doyou mind, now that the train is stopping, inviting them to come intothis carriage?"
For the first time the woman's eyes fell. She could not divine what Iwas up to. Somehow she felt herself being pushed into a position, butshe could not foresee where it would terminate.
"I don't see the need," she blurted out at length.
"But the authorities at Broadmoor did. That is why they sent them withyou, you know. Believe me, you will incur a very grave responsibilityif you don't let them do their duty now that I have pointed out howextremely important it is that they should. Suppose Miss Velasquon grewdangerous, for instance, and sprang out of the carriage window on to themetals before you could lift a hand to stop her, what would the railwaypeople say, the asylum authorities, the police, the coroner? Why, Ishould hurry forward to give evidence against you, madam, and you wouldbe convicted of nothing less than manslaughter by neglect." And to addirritation to my words I broke into a low mocking laugh, while poorCamille Velasquon, who knew I was up to some trick, but couldn't seewhat it was, gave way to a fit of tears.
"Yours is a pretty picture," the woman snapped, and now she looked moreevil than ever, "but it's too melodramatic for my taste. Just get outof this carriage yourself, then I can manage the patient all right. Ifanything happens it will be your fault, not mine."
"I am not so sure about that," I retorted blithely. "But am I tounderstand you decline my suggestion? If so, I can only say you havetold me an untruth for some purpose of your own, which it will be myduty to ferret out. I can tell you openly that you have no warders withyou."
"I have."
"Produce them."
"I can."
"Produce them," I replied, and I made a movement as though I wouldsignal to some porters who were standing near and would call upon themto judge between me and herself.
The ruse succeeded. With a muttered curse the woman placed a smallsilver whistle to her lips and blew thereon a curious signal, ratherlow, but very penetrating and distinctive. The next moment she wasanswered. Two women in the uniform of hospital nurses appeared suddenlyat the window, and, obeying a sign from their superior, they sprang intothe carriage and took seats, one on one side of, and the other oppositeto, Camille Velasquon, who, now fearing that I had muddled everything,began to cry in sober earnest.
Undaunted, I held on to the course I had marked out for myself when Istarted. Turning to the woman, as the train once again steamed off, Isaid with ironical politeness: "I must really apologise for thescepticism with which I treated you. I see, now, that you have twoassistants from Broadmoor, but why don't they wear Broadmoor uniforms?"
"They do," she cried, and then she stopped and bit her lip. All at onceshe realised she had fallen into the pit I had dug so carelessly infront of her.
"Oh no, indeed, they do not," I answered sweetly. "The uniforms whichthese women have on are only worn by nurses at Guy's Hospital. The factis, I have been often to Broadmoor myself, and I know the nurses therewear a totally different garb." And I shot a glance out of the cornerof my eyes at the pseudo-nurses themselves. One had flushed crimson,the other had gone deathly white, and was playing nervously with herpocket-handkerchief. They were impostors, I am certain.
The woman in black, however, rose with magnificent impu
dence to theoccasion. "You, sir," she said, "have been good enough to brand me withfalsehood, and I have borne it without a murmur, striving only to proveto you, in the discharge of my duty, that I spoke fairly and truthfully.Now, however, you go too far when you attack my assistants. I repeatthey are dressed properly, and I say that your statement that you havebeen often in our asylum, is so much fudge. Only doctors and police andinspectors from the Home Office go there as a regular rule."
I waited for a moment before I answered, like a clever actor pausesbefore he puts in his most effective point.
"You are impetuous, madam," I said, taking out my snuff-box with studieddeliberation and
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