The Golden Face Part 31

"What rubbish are you talking?" demanded Rayne.

"Rubbis.h.!.+" echoed the stranger. "I am talking no rubbish. I am simply reminding you of a very serious and secret matter, namely, the mysterious end of Monsieur Gerard, of the Chateau du Sierroz in the Jura, and of the Avenue des Champs Elysees. The Surete, in combination with the Danish detective service, are still trying to clear up the affair. You and I can do it," he said; and, after a pause, he looked Rayne straight in the face, and asked: "Shall we? It rests with you!"

Rayne frowned darkly. Never before had I witnessed such an evil look upon the face of any man. I knew that his brain was working swiftly, and I also saw that our visitor was most unwelcome--evidently an accomplice who had managed by some unaccountable means to penetrate the veil of secrecy in which the super-crook had always so successfully enveloped his ident.i.ty.

"Well," he laughed. "You really are a most dramatic person, Signor Gori, or whatever your name may be. I really don't understand you, unless you are attempting to blackmail me. And if you are, then I'll get my servant to show you the door."

The stranger smiled meaningly, and asked quite quietly:

"Is it not to your advantage, Signor Rayne, to talk this little matter over in a friendly spirit? I offer you the opportunity. If you refuse it----" And he shrugged his shoulders meaningly, without concluding his sentence.

Rayne was silent for a few seconds. Then he said in quite a changed and genial tone:

"I am much mystified at your visit, Signor Gori, for I certainly have no knowledge of you. But the hour is late. If you are staying in the neighborhood could you call again at noon to-morrow, when we will go further into this tangled affair? We seem to be at cross-purposes to-night."

"As you wish," replied the visitor, bowing with exquisite politeness.

"I am staying at the Fleece Hotel, at Thirsk, and I have motored out here. To-morrow at noon I will call upon you." And then he added in a hard, relentless tone: "And then I trust your memory will be refreshed. Signori, I wish you both _buona sera_."

"Stay! I quite forgot! I shall not be here to-morrow," Rayne replied quickly. "I have to be out some part of the day, and also I expect visitors."

"Then the day after?" suggested the visitor politely, to which Rayne sullenly replied:

"Yes. The day after to-morrow, at six o'clock in the evening. I will be here to see you, if you still persist in pestering me. But I warn you, Signor Gori, that it is quite useless."

The Italian smiled, bowed, and again wis.h.i.+ng us good night, crossed the room as Rayne pressed the electric b.u.t.ton for the servant.

I realized that a big cloud of trouble had unexpectedly descended upon Overstow. When he had gone Rayne broke out into a furious series of imprecations and vows of vengeance upon some person whom he did not name, but whom he suspected of having made a _faux pas_.

Suddenly, however, he bade me good night in his usual manner, as though nothing had occurred to disturb him. He was a man of abnormal intellect, defiant, fearless, and with a brain which, had it been put to proper usage, would undoubtedly have made him a world-famous Englishman. After all, the brains of great criminals, properly cultivated and directed, are the same brains as those possessed by our great leaders, whether political, commercial, or social.

That night I scarcely closed my eyes in sleep. The Damoclean sword had apparently fallen upon the Squire of Overstow. And I recollected his daughter's warning.

Next morning, directly after breakfast, which he ate with relish, and seemed quite his normal self, I drove with him at his orders over to Heathcote Hall, about five miles away, where lived Sir Johnson Burnham, one of the old Yorks.h.i.+re aristocracy, who was also chairman of quarter sessions.

I waited at the wheel while he called. I knew that the baronet was not at home, as a week before Lola had told me that he had gone to San Remo. Nevertheless, Rayne went inside, and was there quite half an hour. I was puzzled at his absence, but the reason seemed plain when the butler, bowing him out, exclaimed:

"I am so sorry, Mr. Rayne, but the telephone people are, I fear, very slack in these days. It takes so long to get a number."

So Rayne had gone to Heathcote in order to telephone to somebody in great urgency--somebody he dare not speak with from Overstow.

As we drove back again, Rayne said:

"Of course, George, you will never breathe a word of this--well, this little _contretemps_--or of its result. When I'm up against the wall I always. .h.i.t hard. That's the only way. I'm not going to be blackmailed!"

"The affair does not concern me," I replied. "What I hear in your presence I never repeat."

"I'm glad you appreciate your position," he answered. "I'm a good employer to those who trust me, but an infernally bad one to those who doubt, who blunder, or who betray me, as you have probably learned,"

he said in a hard voice, as we swung into the handsome lodge gates of Overstow.

Just before luncheon Rayne was called to the telephone. I was in the room at the time. He apparently recognized the voice, and scribbled something upon the pad before him.

"Will you repeat that?" he asked. "I want to be quite clear."

Then he listened again very intently.

"Right! I'll be with you at ten to-night," he replied, and then hung up the receiver.

"I must go to London," he said, turning to me. "You'll drive me into York, and I can catch the four-thirty up. You stay here and meet that Italian chap to-morrow at six, and tell him that I'm up at Half Moon Street. Give him my address, and ask him to see me there. After you've seen him, start in the car for London and carry out the instructions I gave you on Monday."

Then he went to his room, changed his clothes, and came down to lunch in very bright spirits. It seemed that by the Italian's visit he was now not in the least perturbed.

I drove him with Lola to York, where he went to London and Lola to Scarborough. Afterwards I dined at the Station Hotel alone, and returned to Overstow, which seemed chill and lonely. The local doctor happily looked in during the evening, and I played him a game at billiards.

In impatient curiosity I waited until next day, when, punctually at six o'clock, Signor Gori was shown into a little room adjoining the great hall, and there I joined him in the capacity of a busy man's secretary.

"I much regret, Signor Gori," I said, after we had bowed, "but Mr.

Rayne was called to London quite unexpectedly upon some very urgent business. He presents his apologies and asks whether you can manage to meet him in London when it is convenient to you. Will you telephone to him?" And I gave him the address of Rayne's rooms.

"His apologies!" echoed the Italian, with a very marked accent and a gesture of ridicule. "The apologies of 'The Golden Face'! Ah! my dear friend, you are his secretary; you are not the princ.i.p.al in this very serious affair."

"Serious. How?" I asked in pretense of ignorance, and hoping thereby to learn something.

"_Madonna Santa!_ You do not know--you do not realize the depths of that man's villainy! I do! I am the one person who has penetrated the veil of secrecy beneath which he has so long remained hidden. Querot, of the Paris Surete, and Tetani, of the Public Security of Italy, are my friends. I can now go to them, as I shall."

"My dear sir!" I exclaimed. "The matter is no affair of mine! I am simply a paid secretary to do Mr. Rayne's correspondence, and sometimes to drive his car. There my engagement ends."

"Then be very careful! Be warned by me!" the Italian cried, gazing at me very seriously. "This man, your employer, is the leader of the most wonderfully organized gang of criminals in Europe. I happen to know."

"How?" I asked.

He looked at me strangely, and his manner changed. His dark eyes seemed to search mine, and then next instant he smiled mysteriously.

"I will tell you the truth," he said. "The reason I know is because I have unwittingly--owing to a little lapse from the path of honesty--been made one of the tools of this man whose marvelous brain controls the actions of dozens of the most unscrupulous and dangerous thieves on the Continent. My suspicions were aroused by something a woman told me in Paris, and for many months I have been unceasing in my inquiries. I have at last discovered the well-concealed chief who gives his orders like a general in the field, and those orders are obeyed to the letter without question, and always to the profit of those who execute them. And here," he added, gazing around, "I am in the fine house of the man of mystery for whom the police are ever seeking--'The Golden Face'!"

"What you have said certainly surprises me," I replied. "Surely there must be some mistake. Mr. Rayne is not the leader of a criminal gang.

He is simply a country landowner here."

"Under that guise he poses unsuspected by the police," laughed my visitor. "You can rest a.s.sured that I have made every inquiry and that now I know."

"And what are your intentions?" I asked. "Surely you will go and see him in London?"

The truth was out, and I saw that the Italian meant mischief.

"Perhaps I shall go to the police at once," he said. "Perhaps I shall go to London. I shall consider. He made an appointment and he has broken his promise. He fears me! That is quite plain. But, signore, I am here in England to bring him to justice, if only for one very serious crime--a crime that a woman witness I have can prove!"

"This is all very distressing to me, especially as Mr. Rayne has a daughter, a young lady who is entirely ignorant of her father's source of income," I said.

"Ignorant!" he echoed. "Ah! my dear signore, do not think the Signorina Lola is ignorant! I have waited and watched. I know more than you or Signor Rayne ever suspect. The girl may affect ignorance, but she knows, and I can prove it!"