The Stolen Statesman: Being the Story of a Hushed Up Mystery

by William Le Queux

their natural hesitation, and hastened to turn it inhis favour.

  "Let us make a bargain," he said, in a voice of real heartiness."Forget for the moment that I am a predatory journalist, on the prowlfor sensational news. Just consider me as a man who has a bent for thisparticular form of investigation, and takes a delight in it. Treat meas a friend, and I will prove myself worthy of your confidence, and helpyou as far as my brains and resources will permit."

  It was Sheila who spoke first, with her woman's impulse. "Austin," shesaid, "I think we may trust Mr Varney."

  The journalist bowed. "Many thanks. Miss Monkton," He smiled a littleas he added: "Ring up my old friend Smeaton, who, I know, has charge ofthe case, and get his permission if you like. You know, that was yourfirst thought--was it not?"

  Sheila blushed. "Yes, you are quite right, it was. How did you guess?"

  "Very easily. By putting myself in your place, and imagining how Ishould think and act under similar circumstances."

  Then Wingate followed his sweetheart's lead.

  "Well, Mr Varney, I agree with Miss Monkton. We accept you as an ally,without reference to Smeaton. What do you want us to do?"

  "I want you to tell me, as fully as you can, everything that hashappened, in the minutest detail, from the night of Mr Monkton'sstrange disappearance until the present moment."

  It was a long recital. Varney listened attentively and made notes fromtime to time, as some point struck him. But he did not make many. Heseemed to possess a marvellous and retentive memory.

  The narrative finished, Varney rose.

  "Thanks, I have got it all clear. Now, all this will want thinkingover, and it will take me some hours. As soon as I have establishedsomething to work upon I will communicate with you. We don't often seeyou at the Savage, Mr Wingate, or we might meet there."

  "I have not much leisure," was Wingate's reply, "and all I have at mydisposal is at Miss Monkton's service for the present."

  "I quite understand." He could not fail to read in the slight glow onSheila's cheek that the pair were lovers. "Well, good-night. Manythanks for the cordial reception you have given me. I shall do my best.I shall hope to earn the compliments of my old friend Smeaton onceagain."

  It was close upon ten o'clock when he left the house in ChesterfieldStreet. Though it was summer time, the night was a dark one. There wasno moon, and heavy clouds obscured the stars.

  A man stepped out from under the street lamp nearly opposite, and walkedquickly in the direction of Curzon Street. Varney had seen him manytimes in the House of Commons, and recognised him at once. It was JamesFarloe, the secretary.

  Varney followed him up Curzon Street, through the narrow passage thatruns past Lansdowne House. For a moment Farloe halted, as if undecidedwhich direction to take. Then, his mind made up, he turned northward,and made his way into Oxford Street.

  He walked along there for a little while, then crossed over to the northside, and, turning up one of the numerous side streets, took a deviousroute into Edgware Road.

  It immediately struck Varney that he was going to visit Mrs Saxton atHyde Park Mansions. In that case, he would have had his hunt fornothing. Smeaton had his men stationed there, and he was not wanted.

  However, he would make sure, before he gave up the chase, and he wasafterwards glad that he had not jumped too readily at conclusions.

  It soon became apparent that this was not Farloe's destination, for hepassed Chapel Street, and continued straight along the Edgware Road tillhe came to where it joins on to Maida Vale. Here he turned to theright, and was immediately in the St John's Wood district.

  Varney was now pretty certain in his own mind as to the secretary'sgoal, and a few moments more confirmed his conjectures. He halted at ahouse in the Boundary Road, and knocked gently at the door. It wasopened by a tall man, whom Varney at once recognised as Bolinski, fromthe description given of him by Wingate.

  He waited about for an hour, but Farloe did not come out. Theirs wasevidently a long conference. The secretary was apparently the channelof communication between the Russian and Mrs Saxton. This accountedfor the sudden cessation of telegrams. The astute lady had found outshe was being watched.

  Varney walked back to Baker Street Station, where he took a ticket forCharing Cross, the nearest halting-place for the Savage Club in theAdelphi.

  "I wonder if Smeaton has left Farloe altogether out of hiscalculations," was his inward comment on the night's proceedings. "Butit can't be; he is too old a bird for that. Well, it's evident he is inwith the gang, whoever they are--as well as his sister."

  CHAPTER TEN.

  IN THE LOBBY OF THE HOUSE.

  The weeks had slipped by. Smeaton was not at all satisfied with theprogress he was making. His inquiries had led him into a _cul-de-sac_.The absence of the man Stent from the Savoy worried him. It looked asthough the man had received a hint from Mrs Saxton, and taken thealarm. In addition, he had constant inquiries from the Home Secretaryas to what progress he was making.

  He paid a visit to Chesterfield Street to talk over matters. Before heleft, Sheila screwed up her courage to tell him of Varney's visit, andtheir acquiescence in his proposal to investigate on his own account.

  She had expected that he would display resentment at their having takensuch a step before consulting him. But, to her relief, he did nothingof the kind.

  "Varney is a rather clever young chap," he admitted, "and if he devotedhimself entirely to detective work, and acquired plenty of experience, Ibelieve he would be as good as, if not better than, many of us. In theCaxley mystery he certainly got on the right track, while we wentblundering on wrong lines altogether. And the revelations in the Balhamaffair were entirely due to him."

  "He spoke very highly of you," said Sheila, with woman's _finesse_. "Iam glad you don't think we did wrong."

  "Not at all, my dear young lady. Tell him not to hesitate to come tome--if he is in need of any special facilities that I can give."

  "No news of Mrs Saxton, I suppose?" asked Sheila, as Smeaton was on thepoint of leaving the drawing-room.

  "None at all. She is at home, and nobody seems to go near her but herbrother. I told you how she put me on the wrong scent about Stent.Once or twice I have thought of going there again and taxing her withit. But what would be the good? She would still stick to her storythat she knew next to nothing about him. In giving me the St Albansclue she would swear she had mixed him up with somebody else. My menseem cooling their heels to no purpose. She knows she is being watched,and she won't give us a chance. I expect she does all her necessarywork on the telephone, and we must attend to that point at once."

  Next morning Mrs Saxton aroused herself from her apparent inactivity,and gave her watchers a big surprise, which added to Smeaton's growingdissatisfaction with the state of affairs.

  At about eleven o'clock her maid whistled up a taxi. Mason, the headdetective on duty, immediately communicated with his own taxi-driver,waiting in readiness round the corner, and entered the cab, givinginstructions to follow the other when it started.

  She came out without any luggage, simply carrying a small vanity bag.She might be going shopping, to pay a visit, to send a telegram, or ahundred-and-one things. His duty was to follow her.

  The woman's cab drove down the Edgware Road, crossed the Park, andstopped at the Hyde Park Tube Station. Here Mrs Saxton paid the fare,and went into the booking-office. Mason at her heels. She took aticket to Piccadilly Circus, and Mason did the same. They went downtogether in the same lift, Mrs Saxton near the door of exit, he at theother end of the lift.

  He was puzzled as to her movements. If she wanted to get to PiccadillyCircus, why had she taken this roundabout route? The taxi would havetaken her there direct.

  The train was full. For a few seconds he was separated from her by asurging and struggling crowd blocking the entrances to the long cars.By dint of hard fighting he managed to get in the same carriage.

  So far, lu
ck seemed in his favour. It was a non-stop train, and wentpast Down Street. At the next station, Dover Street, he saw her turnhalf round, and cast a furtive glance in his direction. She wasevidently debating within herself if she would chance getting out there.

  While thus deliberating, the train re-started. At Piccadilly Circusthere was a considerable exodus, as there always is. The process ofdisembarking was slow, owing to the number of passengers.

  They both emerged into Jermyn Street, and went along to the Haymarket.Here she looked round, apparently for a taxi, but there was not one insight. It struck him, as he caught a side glimpse of her features, thatshe was looking worried and harassed. Evidently his persistent dogginghad shaken her nerves.

  She walked slowly, with the deliberate gait of a person who wasperturbed, and thinking hard. She