The Lost Million Part 30

"I suppose you believed I had been arrested?"

"Well," he replied, "the police took you away."

"For interrogation only," I replied. "But I am in search of my friends."

"And the police are in search of them also, I believe," he replied abruptly. "It does no good to the reputation of the hotel to have such visitors, m'sieur."

"Then they have not been arrested!" I cried in delight.

"No. Mademoiselle, I believe, must have recognised the inspector of the Surete from Paris as she was coming downstairs. She rushed back and told her father, and hastily seizing her dressing-case, while he took a small bag, they both descended the service stairs and made their exit by the back premises. There was a door below which is always kept locked, but Monsieur Shaw had somehow provided himself with a key in case of emergency, for we found it in the lock. When the police, after arresting you, went upstairs to take the pair, they found they had already flown. They must have rushed down to the station and caught the Paris night express, which was due just about the time they would arrive there."

"And the police are furious," I said. "They must be."

"They have, I believe, just missed a most important, capture."

"What was the charge against them?" I inquired "Ah, they would not tell me," was his reply. "They seemed to be acting with great caution and secrecy. They made a careful examination of everything, and only left about three-quarters of an hour ago."

And with that I was compelled to remain satisfied.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE SECRET OF HARVEY SHAW.

For three days I remained in Aix, awaiting some news or message from the fugitives--but none came.

Tramu called and saw me twice, evidently astounded at the channel of escape which Shaw had so cunningly prepared. He had, no doubt, obtained an impression of one of the servants' master keys, and had one cut to fit the locked door which prevented visitors from pa.s.sing out by any other way save by the front hall. He had antic.i.p.ated that flight might be necessary, and the fact that he had prepared for it showed that he was both cunning and fearless.

Asta's injunctions to me to say nothing showed plainly that they intended still to keep their hiding-place a secret. And if Shaw was the adventurer I believed, it was not likely that either he or she would carry anything by which to reveal their more respectable ident.i.ty.

So at length, full of grave apprehensions, I left Aix, sickened by its music and summer gaiety, and travelled home, halting one night at the Grand in Paris, and duly arrived at the Cecil in London. There I found a batch of letters sent on to me from Upton End, and among them was a formal letter from a firm of solicitors called Napier and Norman, 129, Bedford Row, W.C., stating that they were acting for the late Mr Guy Nicholson of t.i.tmarsh Court, and asking me to call upon them without delay.

Exercising caution lest I should be watched, I had immediately on arrival telephoned from my hotel bedroom to Lydford, but the response came back it a woman's voice that "the master" and Miss Asta were still abroad. Therefore about noon on the morning following my return I went round to Bedford Row in a taxi, and was quickly shown into the sombre private room of an elderly, quiet-spoken man--Mr George Napier, head of the firm.

"I'm extremely glad you have called, Mr Kemball," he said, as he leaned back in his chair. "I believe you were present at t.i.tmarsh very soon after the unfortunate death of our client, Mr Guy Nicholson. Indeed, I remember now that we met at the inquest. Well, Mr Nicholson, with his father and grandfather! before him, entrusted his affairs in our hands, and, naturally, after his decease we searched his effects for any papers that were relative to his estate, or any private papers which should not fall into anybody's hands. Among them we found this letter, sealed just as you see it, and addressed to you. He evidently put it aside, intending to post it in the morning, but expired in the night."

And taking a letter from a drawer in his writing-table, he handed it across to me.

I glanced at the superscription, and saw that it was addressed ready for the post and that a stamp was already upon it.

"Poor Nicholson's death was a most mysterious one," I exclaimed, looking the solicitor full in the face; "I don't believe that he died from natural causes."

"Well, I fear we cannot get away from the medical evidence," replied the matter-of-fact, grey-faced man, peering through his spectacles. "Of course the locked door was a most curious circ.u.mstance--yet it may be accounted for by one of the servants, in pa.s.sing before retiring, turning the key. Or, as you suggested at the inquest, the servant who entered the library in the morning may have thought the door was locked.

It might have caught somehow, as locks sometimes do."

I shook my head dubiously, and with eager fingers tore open the message from the dead.

From its date, it had evidently been written only a few hours prior to his untimely end, and it read--

"Strictly Private.

"Dear Mr Kemball,--I fear, owing to the fact that I have promised Asta to take her motoring on Sunday, that I may not be able to keep my appointment with you. Since my confidential conversation with you, I have watched and discovered certain things at Lydford which cause me the keenest apprehension. Shaw is not what he pretends to be, and many of his movements are most mysterious. By dint of constant watching both while I have been guest there and also by night when they have believed me to be safely at home, I have ascertained several very remarkable facts.

"First. In secret and unknown to any--even to his gardeners--he sets clever traps for small birds, which he visits periodically at night, and takes away the unfortunate creatures he finds therein.

"Secondly. He is in the habit of going forth in the night and walking through Woldon Woods to a spot close to Geddington village, at the corner of the road from Newton, and there meeting a middle-aged man who frequently stops at the inn. Once I followed them and overheard some of their conversation. They were planning something, but what I could not make out. However, I feel sure that they both discovered my presence, and hence he seems in fear of me and annoyed whenever I visit Lydford.

"Thirdly. In his bedroom there is a cupboard beside the fireplace. The door is enamelled white, and at first is not distinguishable from the rest of the panelling. Examine it, and you will see that it is secured by two of the most expensive and complicated of modern locks. What does that cupboard contain? The contents are not plate or valuables, for there is a large fireproof safe downstairs. Some mystery lies there.

"Fourthly. Though he makes most clever pretences of devotion to Asta, he hates her. Poor girl, she loves him, and cannot see those black, covert looks he so often gives her when her back is turned. But I have seen them, and I know--at least, I have guessed--the reason.

"Fifthly. If you are a frequent guest there, you will hear him sometimes utter a strange shrill whistle for no apparent purpose, as though he does it quite unknowingly. But it is with a purpose. What purpose?

"I feel that Asta is in danger, and it is therefore my duty to protect her and elucidate the mystery of the strange conspiracy which I feel convinced is now in progress. It is to discuss these matters, and to combine to keep vigilant watch, that I am anxious to spend a few hours with you. Think carefully over these five points, and if I am unable to come on Sunday I will motor over on Monday about eleven in the morning.

"Meanwhile be careful not to show that you either know or suspect anything. I know Shaw suspects me, and therefore by some means I must remove his suspicions.

"That, however, will be a matter for us to discuss seriously when we meet.

"Asta has told me of a strange and extremely weird incident which occurred to her one night a little while ago in the house of a friend-- the apparition of a black shadowy hand. I believe I have the solution of the mystery--a most remarkable and terrible one.

"I ask your a.s.sistance in this affair, and am eager to meet you to discuss it fully. Kindly destroy this letter.--Yours very sincerely,--

"Guy Nicholson."

I sat dumbfounded. It was just as I had believed. The man struck down so suddenly had discovered the actual truth! He had watched in patience and learned some strange and startling facts.

The reference to the hand filled my mind with the hideous recollection of what I had seen in that roadside inn at Arnay-le-Duc--and of Arnold's strange warning. Who was Harford--the name I was to remember. Asta had told her lover of her own experience, and he had solved the mystery!

Yet he had not been spared to reveal it to me. His lips had been closed by death. The name of Harford was still unknown to me.

How long I sat there staring at the closely written letter in my hand I know not. But I was awakened to a consciousness of where I was by Mr Napier's quiet voice exclaiming--

"I see that my late client's letter has made a great impression upon you, Mr Kemball. I presume it is of a purely private character, eh?"

"Purely private," I managed to reply. "It does not concern his affairs in any way whatsoever, and it is marked `strictly private.'"

"Oh, very well. I, of course, have no wish whatever to inquire into your private affairs with my dead client," replied the solicitor. "I believed that it might contain something important, and for that reason hesitated to send it through the post."

"Yes," I said meaningly, "it does contain something important--very important, Mr Napier. Had this been placed in my hand in time, my poor friend's life might have been saved."

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly, staring at me across the table.

"Have you evidence--evidence of foul play?"

"No evidence, but I find a distinct motive."

"Anything upon which we could work in order to bring the culprit to justice--if Mr Nicholson did not really die a natural death?"

"I tell you he did not!" I cried angrily. "The village jury were impressed by the medical evidence, as all rustic juries are. Your client, Mr Napier, discovered another man's secret, and the latter took steps to close his lips."