The Cab of the Sleeping Horse Part 18

"The letter doesn't seem to be there--which I much regret, but these visiting cards may be useful in our business; with your permission I'll take them. Thank you, Mr. Harleston."

He folded the book and returned it to Harleston's pocket.

"I might have looked in your shoes, or done something disagreeable--I believe I even promised to smash your face when I got the opportunity--but I'm better disposed now. I shall return good for evil; instead of tying you up as you did me, I'll release you from your bonds if you give me your word to remain quiet in this room until tomorrow morning at eight, and not to disclose to anyone, before that hour, what has occurred here."

"After that?" said Harleston.

"You shall be at liberty to depart and to tell."

"And if I do not give my word?"

"Then," said Crenshaw pleasantly, "we shall be obliged to bind you and gag you and leave you to be discovered by the maid--which, we shall carefully provide, will not be before eight tomorrow morning."

"You leave small choice," Harleston observed.

"Just the choice between comfort and discomfort!" Crenshaw laughed.

"Which shall it be, sir?"

Harleston had been s.h.i.+fting slowly from one foot to the other, feeling behind him for the man with the garrote. He had him located now and the precise position where he was standing--one of his own legs was touching Sparrow's.

At the instant Crenshaw had finished his question, Harleston suddenly kicked backwards, landing with all the force of his sharp heel full on Sparrow's s.h.i.+n.

Instantly the garrote loosened; and Harleston, with a wild yell, sprang forward and swung straight at the point of Crenshaw's jaw.

Crenshaw dodged it--and the two men grappled and went down, fighting furiously; Harleston letting out shouts all the while, and even managing to overturn a table, which fell with a terrific smash of broken gla.s.s and bric-a-brac, to attract attention and lead to an investigation.

He had not much trouble in mastering Crenshaw; but Sparrow, when he was done spinning around on one foot from the agonizing pain of the kick on the s.h.i.+n, would be another matter; the two men and the woman could overpower him, unless a.s.sistance came quickly. And to that end he raised all the uproar possible for the few seconds that Sparrow spun and the woman stared.

Just as Sparrow hobbled to Crenshaw's aid, Harleston landed a short arm blow on the latter's ear and sprang up, avoided the former's rush and made for the hall-way.

At the same moment came a loud pounding on the corridor door. The noise had been effective.

In a bound, Harleston reached the door; it should, as he knew, open from within by a turn of the k.n.o.b. But it was double-locked on the inside and the key was missing.

He whirled--just in time to see the last of the mixed trio disappear into the drawing-room, and the door snap shut behind them.

He sped across and flung himself against it--it was locked.

Meanwhile the pounding on the corridor door went on.

"Try another door!" Harleston shouted.

But by reason of the heavy door and the din, some time elapsed before he could attract the attention of those in the corridor and make himself understood. Then more time was consumed in getting the floor-maid with the pa.s.s-key to the room adjoining the drawing-room of the suite.

By that time, the manager of the hotel had come up and put himself at the head of the relief; and he was not in the best of temper when he entered and saw the debris of the bric-a-brac and the table.

"What is the meaning of--" he demanded--then he recognized Harleston and stopped--"I beg your pardon, Mr. Harleston! I didn't know that you were here, sir; this apartment was occupied by--"

"Two men and a woman," Harleston supplied. "Well, it's been vacated by them in deference to me."

"I don't understand!" said the manager.

"If you will have the baggage, which, I imagine, is in the bedrooms, examined, and give me your private ear for a moment, I'll endeavour to explain as much as I know."

"Certainly, Mr. Harleston," the man replied; and, directing the others to examine the baggage, he closed the door of the drawing-room.

"First tell me who occupied this suite, when it was taken, and when they came," said Harleston.

"One moment," said the manager, and picking up the telephone he called the office. "It was, the office says, occupied by a Mr. and Mrs.

Davidson of New York City, who took it this afternoon about five o'clock. They had made no reservation for it."

"Now as to their baggage."

The manager bowed and went out--to return almost instantly, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Two new and cheap suit cases, each containing a couple of bricks and some waste paper," he reported.

"Yes," nodded Harleston, "I thought as much. Mr. Banks, you will confer a favour on me, and possibly on the government, if you will be good enough to let this affair pa.s.s unnoticed, at least for the time. I'll pay for the broken table and its contents, and a proper charge for the rooms for the few hours they've been occupied. I overturned the table.

As for the rest--how I came to be here, and what became of the occupants, and why the furniture was smashed, and why I have a slight contusion in my cheek, and anything else occurring to the management as requiring explanation, just forget it, please."

"Certainly, sir."

"Very good!" said Harleston. "Now wait one moment."

He went to the telephone and asked for Mrs. Clephane's apartment.

Her maid answered--with the information that Mrs. Clephane had been out since five o'clock and had not yet returned.

Harleston thanked her, hung up the receiver, and turned to Banks.

"I have reason to believe that Mrs. Clephane, who is a guest of the hotel, has disappeared. I was talking to her in the red-room at about 6:30, when I was called to the telephone. On my return, after a brief absence, she was gone, and a frequent and thorough search on the first floor did not disclose her. She was to have dined with me at seven-thirty. She did not keep the engagement. I dined alone, and had just begun the meal when a letter was handed to me asking that I dine with her in her apartment, No. 972. I came here at once--and was held up by two men and a woman, who sought to obtain something that they imagined was in my possession. It wasn't, however, and we fought; and I raised sufficient disturbance to bring you. You see, I have told you something of the affair. The note was a forgery. This isn't Mrs.

Clephane's apartment, and her maid has just told me that her mistress has not been in her apartment since five o'clock--which was the time she met me. I am persuaded that she is a prisoner, and likely in this hotel--held so to prevent her disclosing a certain matter to a certain high official. What I want is for you to make every effort to determine whether she is in this house."

"We'll do it, Mr. Harleston," the manager acquiesced instantly. "Come down to the office and we'll go over the guest diagram, while I have every unoccupied room looked into. In fact, sir, we'll do anything short of burglaring our guests."

"I'll be right down," Harleston said; "after I've bathed my face and straightened up a bit."

The contusion on his cheek was not particularly noticeable; it might be worse in the morning; his collar was a trifle crushed and his hair was awry; on the whole, he had come out of the fight very well.

He took up his stick and gloves, put on his hat so as to shade, as far as possible, the cheek-bone, and went down to the private office.

There was, of course, the chance that Mrs. Clephane had lured him into the trap, and had herself written the decoy note; but he did not believe her guilty. Even though Crenshaw had adroitly implicated her, he was not influenced. Indeed, he was convinced of just the reverse:--that she was honest and sincere and inexperienced, and that she had told him the true story of the letter and its loss. At least he was acting on that theory, and was prepared to see it through. Maybe he was a fool to believe those brown eyes and that soft voice and those charming ways; if so, he preferred to be a fool for a little while, to, if not, being a fool to her forever. He had, in his time, encountered many women with beautiful faces and compelling eyes and alluring voices and charming ways, but with none had they been so blended as in Mrs.

Clephane.

He did not know a thing as to her history--he did not even know whether she was married, a widow, or a divorcee. Whatever she was, he was willing to accept her as genuine--until she was proven otherwise.

All of which would indicate that she had made something of an impression on Harleston--who was neither by nature nor by experience impressible and, in the diplomatic game, had about as much sentiment as a granite crag. In fact, with Harleston every woman who appeared in the diplomatic game lay under instant and heavy suspicion.

Mrs. Clephane was the first exception.