the day when Willethad produced the portrait of Lady Wrenwyck.
"Glad to see you, old chap," cried the footman heartily. "I've beenlonging to hear how you got on with that little job at Weymouth. Nodifficulty in finding her ladyship, I suppose?"
"Tumbled to her at once," answered Johnson, who adapted his tone andlanguage to those of the company in which he found himself for the timebeing. "Took a walk down to the post-office, and she and the maid fellinto my arms in a manner o' speaking."
Johnson paused, not quite knowing what to say next. Willet looked athim inquiringly, but meeting with no response exhibited signs of injureddignity.
"Look here, old man, it ain't my business to pry into secrets that don'tconcern me. But I helped you a goodish bit in that quarter, and I don'tthink you need be so devilish close."
Johnson goaded himself to speech; if he was to retain his cousin'sfriendship he must say something. And the man spoke the truth; he hadhelped him to the extent of making the preliminaries very easy.
"Now, look here, laddie, I should like to tell you everything. Youhelped me a lot, but on my honour I can't do it. Large interests andgreat people are affected in the matter. But I will tell you this much,and you must believe me or not, as you please: I found her ladyshipright enough, only to discover that I was on the wrong scent. Now andagain, you know, we do make bloomers at the Yard."
Mr Willet's affability was at once restored by this frank and manlystatement. "Say no more, old man; mum's the word. Fill up, to showthere's no ill-feeling."
Johnson filled up, and drank his relative's health with becomingcordiality. He wanted something more out of him yet.
"So far as Lady Wrenwyck is concerned. I've no further use for her.But I haven't quite done with all the people in the Wrenwyck houseitself. Only this time I'm on another track altogether."
Willet's eyes bulged out of his head with curiosity, but he knew fromexperience that wild horses would not drag out of Johnson anything thatastute detective had made up his mind to conceal.
"I suppose it's the old man you're after, this time?" he hazarded.
"Guessed right the first time, old chap. I want to have a few minutes'conversation with his lordship. That's why I wrote asking you if youknew anything of his movements."
"By gad! you are a deep 'un," cried Willet admiringly.
"Thanks," said Johnson easily, but it was plain to see the complimenthad not fallen on deaf ears. "Well, now, you say he's back in town. IfI knock at the door in the course of half-an-hour or so, do you thinkI'm likely to find him in?"
"It's a pretty safe find. He hardly ever goes out when in London,drives down to the Carlton once or twice a week, and stays a couple ofhours. But anyway. I'm pretty sure you'll find him in to-day, and I'lltell you for why."
"Yes?" interrupted Johnson eagerly. Willet was certainly invaluable inthe way of giving information.
"Her ladyship is giving a big party this afternoon--I think it's aphilanthropic sort of hustle, in aid of some charity. On theseoccasions he usually shuts himself up in his own den till the lastcarriage has driven away. Then he comes out growling and cursingbecause his house has been turned upside down, and everybody gives himas wide a berth as possible."
"He seems an amiable sort of person," observed Johnson.
"Touched, my dear boy, touched," replied Willet, tapping his somewhatretreating forehead. "And getting worse, so I'm told. Triggs, hisvalet, told me yesterday it can't be long before they'll have to put himunder restraint."
"You've no idea where he's been the last few weeks, I suppose," wasJohnson's next question.
"Nobody has. He seems to have done the same sort of disappearance ashis wife, with this difference, that she did take her maid, and he leftTriggs behind. But he came back in the devil's own rage; been carryingon like a madman ever since. Triggs is going to give him notice; saysflesh and blood can't stand it."
Johnson parted from his cousin with mutual expressions of esteem andgood-will. A few minutes later he was standing outside the open portalsof Wrenwyck House, one of the finest mansions in Park Lane.
A big party was evidently in progress. Carriages were driving up everymoment to take up and set down the guests. Johnson could picture thebeautiful hostess, standing at the top of the stairs, a regal andsmiling figure.
A humorous smile crossed his countenance as he recalled the one and onlyoccasion on which they had met in the unpretentious lodgings on theWeymouth front. Well, that was one of the things that never would berevealed to her circle, unless she chose to confide it to her bosomfriend, Mrs Adair.
He took advantage of a momentary lull in the restless tide of traffic,to accost a tall footman.
"I want particularly to see Lord Wrenwyck, if he is at home," he saidboldly. "I daresay he will be at leisure, as I understand he shutshimself up when this sort of function is going on."
The footman's manner showed that he was half contemptuous, halfimpressed. With the unerring eye of his class he saw at once thatJohnson was not of the class from which the guests of Wrenwyck Housewere recruited. On the other hand, he seemed to possess an intimateknowledge of the private habits of its owner.
"His lordship is in, but I should very much doubt if he will see you,"he said with just a touch of insolence. "If you tell me your name andbusiness, I will inquire."
Johnson slipped a card into an envelope and handed it to this tall andimportant person.
"I'm afraid my business is of too private a nature to communicate to athird party," he said quietly. "If you'll have the goodness to handthat envelope to his lordship, and tell him my card is inside, I thinkit's very probable he will see me."
Five minutes later the astonished menial returned, and the contempt ofhis bearing was somewhat abated.
"Please follow me," he said, in a voice that was almost civil. A momentlater the detective was in the presence of the wealthy and eccentricpeer.
His immediate thought was that he had never met a more forbiddingpersonality. Hard, angry eyes, that shot forth their baleful fire atthe slightest provocation, a long hawk nose, a cruel, sensual mouth,were the salient features of a face that instinctively gave you theimpression of evil.
His greeting was in accord with his appearance.
"Explain at once, if you please, the reason of this extraordinaryintrusion. I see you come from Scotland Yard. What the devil have I todo with such a place?"
Johnson did not allow himself to be disturbed by the other's rough andinsolent manner.
"I have brought you a message from my chief, Mr Smeaton," he said, inhis most urbane manner. "I have no doubt you have heard of him."
Lord Wrenwyck looked on the point of indulging in another angryexplosion, but something in the steady gaze of the self-possessed youngman seemed to momentarily disconcert him. He only growled, and mutteredsomething too low for Johnson to catch.
"My chief, Mr Smeaton, occupies a very special position," resumed theimperturbable detective. "In virtue of that position, he becomesacquainted with many curious facts, some of them connected with personsin high positions. Some of these facts he has to make known, inaccordance with his sense of public duty. There are others which nevergo beyond his own cognisance and that of a few of his trustedsubordinates. I trust your lordship gathers my meaning, which I amtrying to convey as pleasantly as possible."
Lord Wrenwyck stirred his crippled limbs, and shook his fistvindictively at the other.
"Come to the point, curse you, and spare me all this rigmarole."
"To come to the point, my lord, Mr Smeaton requests your attendance atScotland Yard, where he proposes to give himself the pleasure of a shortconversation with you."
The hard, angry eyes were now sullen and overcast, but they were nolonger defiant.
"Suppose I tell you and your precious Mr Smeaton to go to the devil!What then?"
"I don't think either of us will hasten our journey in that direction onaccount of your lordship's intervention," replied Johnson with
readyhumour.
He paused a moment, and then added with a gravity that could not bemistaken: "The arm of the law is very long, and can reach a greatnobleman like yourself. Take my advice. Lord Wrenwyck. Let me conveyyou in a taxi to Scotland Yard, to interview my chief. Come voluntarilywhile you can," he paused and added in significant terms: "Believe me,you won't have the option after to-day."
Cursing and growling, the crippled peer stood up, and announced hisreadiness to accompany this imperturbable young man. A few minuteslater, he and Smeaton were face to face.
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On the evening of that day, Sheila and Wingate dined together at a smallrestaurant far removed from the haunts of the fashionable world.
Thanks to the strange and unexampled circumstances, their courtship hadbeen conducted on very unconventional lines. But to-night anunobtrusive maiden aunt of Wingate's played propriety.
At an early hour, they left the restaurant. The maiden aunt was firstdropped at her modest house in Kensington, and then the car took them toChesterfield Street.
When Grant had opened the door, Wingate had put out his hand infarewell. He was always punctilious and solicitous about theconventions, in Sheila's unprotected position.
But she demurred to this early parting. "It is only a little afternine," she told him. "You must come in for five minutes' chat beforeyou go."
What lover could refuse such an invitation, proffered by such sweetlips? As they were going up the staircase to the drawing-room. Granthanded her a letter.
"It was left about an hour ago by that young person. Miss; the one whowouldn't leave her name."
She opened it, and, after perusal, handed it to her betrothed. "Oh,Austin, what can this mean?"
Austin Wingate read the brief words: "There is a great surprise instore. It may come at any moment."
They sat down in silence, not trusting themselves to speak, to hazard aconjecture as to this mysterious message. At such a moment, so tensewith possibilities, they almost forgot they were lovers. And whiletrying to read in their mutual glances the inmost thoughts of eachother, there came the faint tinkle of the door-bell.
Sheila started up as her ears caught the sound. "Listen, Austin! Who'sthat?" she asked breathlessly.
A few moments later they heard old Grant open the door. Next second aloud cry of alarm rang through the house. The voice was Grant's.
Austin, hearing it, dashed from the room and down the stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
CONTAINS MANY SURPRISES.
Wingate, hearing Grant's cry as he opened the hall-door, had onlyreached the head of the stairs, followed by Sheila, when he met thefaithful old butler rushing towards him, crying--"Oh, Miss Sheila, wehave--we have a visitor! Come down." _In the hall stood ReginaldMonkton_! He was sadly and woefully changed from the alert, vigorousman from whom his daughter had parted on that fateful night which seemedso far distant. The once upright figure was stooping with fatigue andweariness, his face was thin and shrunken, his fine eyes, that used toflash forth scorn on his opponents, had lost their brilliant fire.Behind him stood Mrs Saxton, dressed in a sober garb of grey.
As he caught sight of Sheila, a broken cry escaped from him: "At last,at last, my beloved child."
Sheila sprang forward, and in a moment they were locked in each other'sarms, tears of happiness raining down her face.
For some seconds nobody spoke a word. Austin Wingate was trying hard tocontrol his emotion. Grant, in the background, was crying like a child.Then Mrs Saxton advanced, her own eyes dim with the pathos of thescene--of this sudden reunion of father and daughter.
"I have brought him back to you," she said, in a voice that trembled."But he is very weak and ill. Let us take him to the library at once.You shall learn everything from me."
Tenderly, the two, Sheila and her lover, led the poor, worn man to theroom in which he had spent so many happy hours, Mrs Saxton following.They placed him in the big arm-chair, and his daughter knelt beside him.Wingate standing in front.
Then suddenly, the girl pointed a trembling finger at the woman gownedin grey, and her eyes took on a hard, steely look. "What has she to dowith it?" she asked, hoarsely.
Almost in a whisper came her father's words: "Everything; she had to dowith it from the beginning. But listen to her; for without her aid Ishould not be here to-night; perhaps I should never have been here, or,if so, such a hopeless wreck that life would have been no blessing."His voice broke as he ended, and he raised Sheila's hand to his lips.
And then Mrs Saxton spoke, at first hesitatingly, and in tones thattrembled with her terrible emotion. But as she went on her courage cameback, and she enunciated her words clearly and distinctly.
"I know you must hate me. Miss Monkton, and I deserve your hatred.Perhaps, later on, you will judge me a little less harshly, inconsideration of the fact that I repented at the eleventh hour, andsaved him from these fiends who were bent upon his undoing."
Sheila and Wingate regarded her intently, but neither spoke a word torelieve her embarrassment, or give any indication that they regarded herwith anything but the deepest loathing.
"Mr Monkton and I have been to Scotland Yard, and seen Smeaton, thedetective. I know from him that you are acquainted with all the actorsin this tragedy, including myself. He has told me of your coming acrossme at the post-office, of your reading the telegram which I sent toBrighton to the man known as Bolinski, who is now in the hands ofjustice, along with the partner of his crime."
She paused a moment, and then resumed her narrative in the midst of achilling and hostile silence.
"My connection with it all arose from my intimate acquaintance with theman Stent. It would not interest you to know how I fell under hisinfluence and domination; it would reflect too much discredit on both--on him who persuaded, on me who yielded. You know already that Stentand Bolinski were the two men who abducted your father. What you do notknow is that this plan was maturing for, at least, a couple of years.Further, you do not know that they were not the instigators, but theinstruments of this outrage."
"And their motive?" questioned Wingate sharply.
A bitter smile crossed the young woman's face. "A motive ever dear tomen of their criminal and rapacious type--greed! Offer them a bigenough bribe, and they are the willing tools of the man who lures them.Scruples they have none."
"And who was the instigator?" questioned Wingate again.
"I will come to that all in due course. But more than half-a-dozentimes they tried to put their scheme into execution, and failed on everyoccasion but the last, through a series of accidents. I did not knowthis for some time after I came upon the scene, when it was revealed tome by Stent, in a moment of unusual confidence."
Here Sheila interrupted. "We know that these two put the dying mandressed in my father's clothes in the taxi. Presently you shall tell uswho that man was, and why he was sent. But first let us go back alittle before that. Why did my father dine at the Italian restaurantwith Bolinski?"
Reginald Monkton lifted his hand. "I will explain that, if you please,Mrs Saxton. I received a letter from this man, signed with an assumedname, stating that he could supply me with some important informationthat would be of the greatest possible use to the Government. Heinsisted that absolute secrecy must be observed on his part for fear ofunpleasant consequences, and suggested Luigi's restaurant in Soho as therendezvous. I have had information offered me in this way before, anddid not entertain any suspicions. I guessed him to be a needyadventurer who would sell his friends for a consideration, and walkedinto the trap."
"He kept up the _role_ of the informer I suppose?" queried Wingate. Hewas perhaps just a little surprised that a man of the world and anastute lawyer should not have had his doubts as to the genuineness ofthe letter.
"Perfectly, to all appearance. He told me various things aboutwell-known people which, if they were true, would most certa
inly beuseful. He assumed perfect frankness; he did not suggest that I shouldcredit his statements till I had fully investigated them, and named afairly modest sum in the event of my being satisfied. Of course, I nowsee that the whole thing was a pretence. He invented a lot of so-calledfacts to justify his having invited me to meet him."
Both Sheila and Wingate looked puzzled. Mrs Saxton broke in:
"Of course, I see what is presenting itself to your minds. What objecthad he in meeting your father at all, when to all appearances they hadcarefully laid their plans in another direction? Well, their first ideawas this, that, given a proper amount of luck, they might effect hiscapture outside the restaurant. But there were too many people about,and Mr Monkton was too quick for them. I told you just now they hadtried to carry out their plan before in half-a-dozen likely places."
Wingate nodded. "Yes, I see. It was one, probably, of severalalternative schemes which they had ready for the same evening. Now,Mrs Saxton, will you tell us who was the dying man they put into thetaxi and what was their object in putting him into Mr Monkton'sclothes?"
He looked at her steadily; it was with difficulty he could put anycivility into his tones as he spoke. But she had turned King'sevidence, and he was bound to recognise the fact. The less he showedhis hostility, the more he would get out of her.
"It was not for a long time that I was able
The Stolen Statesman: Being the Story of a Hushed Up Mystery Page 38
