by Headon Hill
CHAPTER VII--_The Men on the Stairs_
The rooms--two in number--occupied by Alec Forsyth in John Street,Adelphi, were in a house let off in bachelor chambers, with theexception of the ground floor, which was used as an office by a firm ofwholesale wine-merchants. The young Scotsman's limited income hadprecluded a more aristocratic locality; and, at any rate, John Streetoffered the advantage of being within a few minutes' walk of his dailywork in Downing Street.
In the daytime, when the tenants were out at their various avocations,the upper part of the dingy old building was deserted, save by thehousekeeper in the attics; while the counting-house abutting on thestreet was all life and bustle. At night the conditions were reversed,the wine-merchant's premises being locked up and silent, and the roomsabove occupied.
On the evening of that Monday on which the Duke of Beaumanoir called onthe Shermans at the residence of General Sadgrove, Alec was busy in hissitting-room, tearing up papers and preparing generally for hisdeparture to Prior's Tarrant on the morrow. It was past eight, and hehad just lit the gas, when the door suddenly opened and Beaumanoir camein.
"Why, Charley--hang it! Duke, I mean--I thought you were in thecountry!" Alec exclaimed, more astonished by his friend's actions thanby his appearance there.
For, after slipping quietly in, Beaumanoir had turned sharp round andloosed the catch of the spring-lock. Not satisfied with that, he alsoshot home the two old-fashioned bolts with which the door was fitted,top and bottom, and then flung himself into an easy chair, mopping hisbrow with his handkerchief.
"I don't think I was spotted, but it's best to be on the safe side," hemuttered. Then aloud: "I came to ask you to give me a shake-downto-night, old chap, on a sofa or anything; only I don't know if it'sfair to you; my proximity carries a pretty considerable risk. But I'vebeen--rather worried, and I seem to want company."
Forsyth rose, and laid an affectionate hand on the Duke's shoulder.
"Now, look here," he said, firmly. "I'm going to forget that you're myemployer at a generous salary, and remember only that I'm your friend.What does all this mean? You've been hurt somehow, too. Just make aclean breast of it, and let's see what can be done."
Beaumanoir shook his head sadly.
"I can't make a clean breast of it," he began; then pulled up short andwent on. "At least, I can't tell you causes, but I'll tell you effects.My life has been attempted twice certainly, possibly three times, sincenoon yesterday."
"How?" said Alec with Scotch brevity.
"A lame gardener was set upon at Prior's Tarrant, and released on hisassailants finding that they had mistaken him for me. And at night theygot on the roof and tried to suffocate me by letting a brazier ofcharcoal down into the grate and plugging the chimney. Luckily I awoke,and managed to crawl out of the room in time."
"But surely you raised an alarm and caught the fellows? They couldn'tget off the roof and escape so quickly as that," exclaimed Alec, halfincredulous.
Again the Duke shook his head.
"I raised no alarm, and they did get away, after pulling up the brazierand leaving no trace," he replied. "There are reasons, Alec, why I couldnot have appeared against them had they been caught--the same reasonswhy I can't confide more fully in you."
"You must have done something very bad--murder at least," said Forsyth,gravely.
"On the contrary, I have done nothing at all," Beaumanoir retorted. "Itis for not doing something that I am being persecuted."
"Well, what about the third attempt?"
"It happened this afternoon, as I was on my way to your uncle's. Acarriage knocked me down and very nearly crumpled me. But that may havebeen an accident."
"Did you take stock of the driver and the people in the carriage?"
Beaumanoir was obliged to admit that he had not. In his disheveled statehe had been only anxious to be cleaned down and have his wrist attendedto, and it was not till after the carriage had driven rapidly away thathe had connected the incident with the other attempts.
Forsyth said nothing for the moment, but fetched some cigarettes fromthe mantelpiece; and it was not until they had smoked in silence forawhile that he blurted out suddenly:
"This can't be allowed to go on. It makes everything impossible. Haveyou any reason to think that the people who are pursuing you will do soindefinitely--until they have settled you?"
Beaumanoir considered before replying, as though the point had notoccurred to him before.
"No," he said, with a nervous laugh. "Things have crowded so in the lastfew hours that I haven't thought much about any sort of future. I cannotbe sure, but I believe if I could pull through till the end of nextweek--say, for another fortnight--that the danger would pass."
Forsyth sat and ruminated, blowing blue smoke-rings; and then, after twoor three minutes of silence, a faint noise sounded in the room. TheDuke, whose nerves were tuned to concert pitch, heard it first, andturned a pair of wide-open eyes on the door. Forsyth's gaze followed,and they both saw the handle of the door move. The door itself, beinglocked and double bolted, of course refused to yield to the gentlepressure from without.
Forsyth laid his finger to his lips for silence, and motioned Beaumanoirto retire into the bedroom, which communicated by means of folding doorswith the sitting-room. When the Duke had noiselessly disappeared,Forsyth stole to the outer door, and having first quietly drawn thebolts he quickly unlocked it and flung it open, to be confronted by anunder-sized little man, who shrank back from his threatening attitude.
"Who the deuce are you--and what do you want, disturbing me at this timeof night?" Forsyth demanded fiercely.
"These are Mr. Crofton's chambers, ain't they, sir?" bleated theintruder.
"No; they are not. There's no one of that name in the house that I knowof," replied Forsyth, partially mollified by his mild manner, and whollyso when the little man proceeded to apologize for his mistake,explaining that he was from a chemist's in the Strand with some medicinefor the gentleman, but that he must have come to the wrong house.
Holding up a bottle as evidence of his _bona fides_, he retreateddownstairs, excusing himself to the last; but before going he hadmanaged to snatch a comprehensive glance round the room. Forsyth waitedon the landing until his steps had died away, and then went back intohis room, barring the door as before.
"It's all right," he said, going to the folding doors. "Only some chapwho had mistaken the address."
"Not much mistake there," replied the Duke, outwardly calm, but gonevery white. "I caught a peep of him. He's a johnny who shadowed me overfrom America, and never left me till just before I met you at the Cecil.He called himself Marker, and--and he's in this business, Alec."
"He didn't look very formidable. Why, you could lick the thread-paperlittle skimp with one hand," said Forsyth, beginning to wonder if hisfriend's mind were unhinged. It was not like the once gay hussar CharleyHanbury--intrepid horseman, champion boxer, and good all-roundathlete--to funk a miserable wisp such as that!
"He is only the spy, I expect--sent to find out if I was here," repliedBeaumanoir, passing a weary hand over his eyes.
Moved by a sudden impulse, Forsyth went into the bedroom, shutting thedoor behind him so as to be in the dark. The window commanded a view ofthe street, and the blind had not been drawn. Looking down, he saw a mansauntering on the opposite pavement, who presently coming under the raysof a street-lamp was revealed as Marker. Forsyth waited until the spyturned and slowly retraced his steps, and then went back into thesitting-room.
"You have convinced me that there is something in all this," he said."That fellow is mouching about outside."
"I'll go. I can't subject you to this sort of thing," said Beaumanoir,reaching for the new hat which he had purchased after his "accident."
But Forsyth pushed him back into his chair.
"A duke isn't necessarily a fool," he said, roughly. "What you want mostis a good sleep, and you shall have it--here in these rooms. Mr. Markercan't _know_ that you are here, or he wouldn
't have come to the doorwith that bogus yarn. Also, he is evidently not satisfied that you are_not_ here, or he would have gone away. It remains to throw dust in hiseyes and fool him a bit. Lord! how I wish my uncle, General Sadgrove,was with us!"
"He seemed to me a trifle dull," remarked the Duke, inconsequently.
Forsyth made allowances, and did not answer.
"See here," he said, after a minute's reflection. "This is the plan tothrow the spy off the scent. It's nine o'clock--just the hour when itwould be quite natural for a bachelor to go to his club. I will strollround to Northumberland Avenue, and drop into the Constitutional for anhour. In the meanwhile, do you stay here and lie low behind lockeddoors, and with gas turned down. That rascal will almost certainlyretire to his employers baffled, for he would not think that I should goout and leave you alone."
"That sounds promising," Beaumanoir assented. "But don't stay a momentlonger than the hour, Alec. I don't think I could stand it."
Forsyth reassured him, and having slipped into evening clothes anddonned a light overcoat, he issued his final instructions. It wasbeginning to be natural to him now to take the lead, after that glimpseof the lurking figure in the light of the street-lamp. Beaumanoir was tolock and bolt himself in, and only open on hearing the password "_Rat_."
These matters arranged, Forsyth departed, and, after waiting until heheard the bolts shot, went down into the street, where the spy was stillin evidence, prowling on the other side. He made no attempt to followForsyth, who, affecting not to notice him, walked rapidly the shortdistance to his club. There he remained in the smoking-room with whatpatience he could muster for the full hour, determined not to returntill time enough had elapsed for Marker to come to the desiredconclusion and act upon it.
It was half-past ten when Forsyth set out to retrace his steps to JohnStreet, and almost as soon as he entered that deserted thoroughfare hesaw that the watcher was no longer at his post. Eager to relieveBeaumanoir from his solitary state of siege, he made all haste to thehouse, and was passing quickly through the entry when he heard footstepson the landing above. A gas-jet was kept burning over the closed door ofthe wine-merchant's office, for the benefit of the resident tenants onthe upper floors, so that he had a clear view of the straight stonestairs. Before he reached the latter two men came into view, hurriedlydescending, and talking together in muffled undertones--one a gaunt,hungry-looking individual in the garb of a clergyman; the other, burlyand bull-necked, dressed in shabby tweeds and bowler hat.
Forsyth stood aside at the stair-foot for them to pass, and then, movedby the furtive glances they turned back at him, he ran upstairs twosteps at a time. He knew all his fellow-lodgers by sight; but these menwere strangers, and he did not like the looks of the curiously assortedpair. On coming to the door of his rooms, he rapped and spoke the agreedsignal, but something prompted him not to wait, and simultaneously heturned the handle. The door swung open at once, without any unbarringfrom within.
"Where have you got to?" cried Forsyth, peering round the room, in whichthe gas burned low, just as he had left it.
There was no response; and with a sinking heart he turned on a fulllight and dashed into the bedroom, only to find that also vacant. TheDuke of Beaumanoir had vanished from his refuge.
There was no doubt that he was in neither of the rooms. A hasty searchput that beyond question. Instinctively Forsyth ran to the outer doorand at once made the discovery--for which he was already prepared--thathis chambers had been forcibly entered during his absence. The door hadbeen wrenched open with a jemmy, and had simply been pulled to on thedeparture of the intruders. The shattered woodwork round the spring-locktold its own tale, though the mystery was increased by the fact that theold-fashioned bolts had been withdrawn.
But what of Beaumanoir?
