The Sign of the Stranger Part 9

On the opposite side, by the parapet which divided the roadway from the river, two persons were walking slowly, a man and a woman. In an instant I strained my eyes in their direction, and as they pa.s.sed beneath one of the lamps I saw that the woman was young, dark-haired, thin-faced and rather well-dressed, while her companion was older, bearded, with a reddish bloated face which betokened an undue consumption of alcoholic liquors. As they pa.s.sed on towards Britten Street I stepped across the road and walked behind them when, next instant, I recognised by the man's dress and his broad back view that he was none other than he whom I had observed walking with Lolita in the wood that morning--the stranger whose face I had not then plainly seen!

My curiosity was aroused immediately, for on hearing the woman make an observation in French I knew that she must be the person of whom I was in search.

Was she, I wondered, aware that the police were watching her house?

Should I not, by placing her on her guard, ingratiate myself with her?

My object was to get her to speak the truth and thus save Lolita, therefore I should have greater chance of success were I her benefactor.

She and her companion, whoever he was, were stepping straight into the trap laid for them, therefore on the spur of the moment, regardless of the fact that I might be the means of enabling certain criminals to escape from justice, I stepped boldly up to her just before they turned the corner into Britten Street and, raising my hat, said--

"Excuse me, mademoiselle, but your name, I believe, is Lejeune?"

The pair started quickly, and I saw that they were utterly confused.

They were evidently endeavouring to reach the house by the less-frequented route.

"Well, and what if it is?" inquired the broad-shouldered man in a harsh bullying tone, speaking with a p.r.o.nounced c.o.c.kney accent and putting forward his flabby bull-dog face in a threatening att.i.tude.

"There's no occasion for hot blood, my dear sir," I replied quietly.

"Just turn and walk back a few yards. I'm here to speak with mademoiselle--not with you."

"And what do you wish with me?" the young woman inquired in very fair English.

"Come back a few yards and I'll explain," I responded quickly. "First, let me tell you that my name is Willoughby Woodhouse, and that I am private secretary to the Earl of Stanchester."

"Woodhouse!" gasped her companion involuntarily, and I saw that his face went pale. "You are Mr Woodhouse!"

"Yes," I continued, "and I have been sent here to you by Lady Lolita Lloyd to warn you that your house is being watched by the police."

"The police!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the man. "Are they there now?"

"They are. A detective has been keeping observation all the evening."

"Then we must fly," he whispered quickly. "By Jove! we've had a narrow escape! And, sir, I can only apologise for what I've just said. Of course I didn't know who you were. The fact is I thought you were yourself a detective."

"No apology is needed," I smiled. "I've only one further word to deliver from her ladys.h.i.+p," I added, turning to the young Frenchwoman, "and it is that, having given you this timely warning, she hopes that you will not fail to let her know your whereabouts. She also says that you are to regard myself as the intermediary between you."

"Tell her that I shall not fail to recognise this kindness," was the woman's answer in her broken English. "But for her we might both have fallen into the hands of the police. I've been absent a fortnight, but thought that all was clear, otherwise I should not have dared to return here."

"Come, let's get away," urged her companion anxiously.

It was on the tip of my tongue to remark upon his presence in the Monk's Wood with her ladys.h.i.+p, but perhaps fortunately I held my peace. He seemed more in fear of detection than she did, for his face had gone ghastly pale and his bloodshot eyes were turned back upon the street-corner.

"Have you any message for her ladys.h.i.+p?" I inquired eagerly of the woman.

"Only my thanks to her."

"But," I said, bending to her and speaking in a low very earnest voice, "she is in grave peril. Only the truth, spoken by yourself, can save her. Recollect by giving you this warning she is saving you from the police."

"I know. I know!" she replied. "I am fully aware of the disaster which threatens her. Tell her that I have not yet myself learned the whole truth. When I do, I will write to her."

"But you will surely tell what you know?" I urged quickly.

"At risk of incriminating myself? Not likely," was her reply.

"Then when the blow falls--as fall it must--it will kill her," I said, disregarding the man's presence, for I felt that he must certainly be aware of everything.

"Perhaps," was her vague answer, in a hard strained voice. "If I could help her I would. At present, however, it is utterly impossible."

"Not after this great service she has rendered to you? She has rescued you, remember."

"Because it is not to her own interests that she should be connected with the affair," she remarked with what seemed a sneer.

Then, for the first time, I realised what a terrible mistake I had committed. The warning I had given this woman she actually believed to be an additional sign of weakness on the part of my well-beloved!

"But her very life depends upon your words," I cried. "You surely will not now withhold the truth?"

"I can say nothing--at least at present," she responded evasively.

"But you must--you hear?" I cried. "You must!"

"I shall not until it suits me," was the woman's defiant answer, as her dark eyes flashed quickly upon me, and I recognised with what kind of person I had to deal. "Tell her that in this matter the stake is her life, or mine--and I prefer to keep my own." And she laughed that harsh discordant laugh of a Frenchwoman triumphant.

"Then you refuse to tell the truth?" I demanded fiercely.

"I do."

In that instant a bold plan had suggested itself. She expected to escape, but now she defied me I had no intention that she should; therefore I sprang forward, seized her, and at the same time shrieked with all my might--

"Murder! Murder! Help--_help_!"

Her companion flung himself upon me, beating me about the head, but I had gripped them both, and in a few moments there sounded hurrying footsteps and several persons, including the detective Bullen, came tearing round the street-corner.

Next second the pair recognised how very neatly they had been trapped.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE EARL OF STANCHESTER SPEAKS HIS MIND.

"Let me go!" cried the woman, speaking in French in her excitement.

"Let us cry quits and I will tell the truth. If I am arrested, Lady Lolita must also fall into the hands of the police. You do not know everything or you would not do this! Let us go--and save her."

There was something in her quick argument that struck me as truthful.

If the pair were arrested they might certainly lay some counter-charge, true or false, against my love, therefore with as sudden an impulse as I had raised the alarm I released my hold, saying--

"Very well. That's a bargain. I shall hold you both to it, remember.

Get away as quickly as you can."

And before the detective, the newsvendor and the two other men attracted by my shouts could reach the spot, the pair had sped along the Chelsea Embankment as fast as their legs could carry them and turned into a narrow thoroughfare running parallel with Britten Street.