The Hunchback of Westminster

by William Le Queux

do a certain thing, which he subsequently declined to dofor you, he would regret his action before four and twenty hours hadpassed."

  "Quite so. Quite so. All the same, that was but a figure of speech.Myself, I had no idea of violence or revenge. My sole impression was ofhis gross injustice to yourself, which I felt Time himself would mostquickly avenge.

  "Still," he went on, and now his tones were particularly grave, "don'tlet us go on debating this business further. It is very awful--it isdreadfully tragic--and it seems to strike right at the heart of thefamily life of us both. Let us leave it where it stands. I am suremyself a crime like that, in the heart of London, can't remain hiddenfor many days, particularly with such assistance as you will be able togive the police when you have a few moments to spare to write or to wireto the headquarters staff at Scotland Yard. Therefore don't pursue thematter with me any longer. Realise that you, and I too, are engaged ona business of gigantic international importance. Aren't you curious tohear what I have arranged since I sent you that telegram informing youmy father, as I suppose I must now call the hunchback when I speak ofhim to you, had picked up with this flying machine inventor, Sparhawk,and had actually determined to go on a journey through the air with himto-morrow in a brand new flying machine?"

  "I am very curious," I admitted. "I had no idea old Peter had suchadventurous tastes."

  "Nor have any of his friends. Yet such is the fact. He has really twonatures--the student's and the explorer's,--always at work within him;and I never knew him have a big job on, like the deciphering of thosethree manuscripts relating to the Lake of Sacred Treasure, that he hasnot eased the strain on his brain, caused by the hours of closeattention which the work demands, by going on some wild excursion ofthis sort. Curiously enough, too, he has always believed in flyingmachines. It has been one of the dreams of his life to patent one whichhe could present to Spain for use in warfare. Indeed, all the timeSantos-Dumont was making those daring ascents of his in Paris he hauntedthe French capital in the hope he might pick up some tips for his ownmodels, which he keeps in a disused stable near the Crystal Palace, andwhich he works on every Sunday after he has heard Mass in thatimpressive-looking church in Spanish Place."

  "But how about his studies?" I asked.

  "Oh, he doesn't find Shrewsbury hotel life agree with him. He andSparhawk are only waiting here until the fete to-morrow, and thenthey'll career off; and wherever they drop, even if it is only in avillage seven miles away, they will not trouble to come back here.They've quite resolved to cut off to some other part of England, butwhere, I can't for the life of me find out. Still, I think I have donevery well to book up the only two seats they offered for sale to thepublic, don't you? We shall have to be careful, of course, or they willsee through our disguises. At all events, they'll find it hard to shakeus off--"

  "Unless the apparatus goes wrong and drops us to earth."

  "Well, we must take all those risks, mustn't we? And, by Jove, talkingof angels, here we can see two of them--at least, there are CaptainSparhawk and the worthy hunchback walking off together up the streetyonder. Let's follow them. By the way in which they've put their headstogether they're up to no good I am certain. Just before you came Ipeered through the keyhole of my father's room, and I saw him hard atwork on the manuscripts. Now, what on earth can have happened to havemade him give it up so suddenly and dress himself up as though he weregoing for a long journey?"

  "He may have discovered something startling and strange," I answered, agreat fear now in my heart. "Those documents may have yielded up theirsecret to him. See! he's going in the direction of the railway station.He may be going back to town."

  "Or to the shed where Sparhawk keeps his flying machine. It lies inthis direction--in a street parallel with the railway station. Luckily,we have not far to go before we shall see what they are up to.Personally, I don't like the look of things at all." And we both of usquickened our pace.

  Outside a fence that skirted a long and rambling garden they were joinedby a third companion--a girl attired in a bright summer costume, whochatted with them gaily as they marched steadily forward.

  "Who can that be?" cried Casteno, much puzzled. "I did not know myfather had any woman friends."

  "Well, let's slip to the other side of the street," I suggested. "Thenwe can catch a glimpse of her face. The figure certainly seems veryfamiliar to me, although my short sight often plays me the strangest ofpranks."

  We stepped quickly across the road, and with a few strategic movementsmaterially lessened the space between us and the trio in front.

  A moment later the girl turned her face in the direction of thehunchback, evidently to exchange some jest with him, for her featureswere wreathed in smiles.

  I stopped short in astonishment.

  It was no other than Doris Napier!

  Casteno recognised her almost at the same moment that I did. The effectupon him was just as great, for he, too, halted and gazed at me with anexpression of vague but sincere concern.

  "This is odd--very odd!" he muttered. "I had no idea that Miss Napierwas out of London. I wonder, now, how she came to have missed all newsof her father's death? Can she have mixed herself up in this manuscripthunt--under pressure from Lord Cyril Cuthbertson or the Earl ofFotheringay, for instance? I remember, now, that she was a greatpatriot at one time--used to speak for the Primrose League andorganisations like that. It would have been a masterly stroke on theirpart to get hold of her--to work on my father--for he has had always avery soft corner in his heart for her, and in the old days the colonelused to say there was nothing he would refuse her. What do you think,Glynn?" he added, turning suddenly to me. "Is it your idea that she hascome under some lofty notion that England's interests are in peril bothfrom the Jesuits and from Spain, and if she doesn't circumvent theseenemies the Lake of Sacred Treasure will be lost to this country forever?"

  But I refused to be drawn. Her appearance was sudden, too unexpected."I don't know," I answered. "I can't even guess. The thing may be aruse on the part of the wretch that killed her father. He may fear theeffect of her disclosures. I must wait; just now I cannot see."

  "At all events, I am sure the hunchback is no partisan to any move likethat last one you mention," returned Casteno stoutly, with somethingresembling offended family pride vibrating through his voice. "Indeed,I am certain that as yet he knows nothing, absolutely nothing, about thetragedy at Whitehall Court. He has been too busy trying to decipher themanuscripts to have had any time or strength to glance at the Saturdaynight or Sunday morning papers. As for Captain Sparhawk, like allenthusiastic inventors, he is a man of one idea. He can think ofnothing, talk of nothing, dream of nothing, read of nothing but theflying machine which he is going to try to-morrow in the Quarry at thegreat floral fete."

  With a nod that might mean anything or nothing I fell into step with mycompanion. By this time Doris, the hunchback, and the aeronaut had gotquite a considerable distance ahead. As a matter of fact, I was justthen struggling with a fierce desire to rush forward--to see Doris faceto face--to speak with her--to tell her all that had happened--to warnher of her dangers--to assure her and myself that nothing on earth couldpart us. Hence it was I could not carry on any conversation no matterhow important. I had first to conquer myself. Haste would ruin all.

  Unfortunately, we had not proceeded many yards before the worst we couldhave anticipated happened. All at once the three whom we were pursuingstopped at a gate which led, by way of a drive, up to a large,superior-looking house. A tall, interesting stranger with the clear-cutfeatures of a typical barrister, who has not been down long enough from'Varsity life to forget all the graces, stepped up to them, and then theentire party moved round and went into the house, the door of whichclosed behind them.

  "Confound it! we shall learn nothing like this," snapped Casteno, bitinghis lips in his annoyance. "I thought I knew my father's habits andmethods pretty well, but ever since I have been down here at Shrewsburyhe
has managed to throw me out of my reckoning continually. Now, whatare we to do, Glynn? Had we better grin and bear it, or ought we to tryif we can't find out for ourselves what is happening in this place?"

  I turned round stolidly and motioned to a boy who was passing, his eyesfixed in admiration on the uniform I was wearing--that of a sergeant inthe Royal Engineers. "Who lives in this house?" I asked, and asixpenny piece travelled from my palm to his.

  "Nobody--often," answered the lad, with a smile. "As a matter of fact,it belongs to the Earl of Fotheringay, like the most of the propertydoes hereabout. He came down here late last night. I know, because Iserve him with