Books: Number Seventeen
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Louis Tracy >> Number Seventeen
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"Yes, sir, in the best of health," said the manager, indicating, with
a flourish of both hands, that nothing else was to be expected as to
the condition of any among the numerous patrons of the Royal
Devonshire Hotel.
Evelyn asked that tea should be served in her mother's sitting room.
When they were screened by the closed door Winter examined Theydon's
throat. Beyond a slight swelling and external soreness, the cricoid
cartilage-- known to the multitude as Adam's apple-- was seemingly
uninjured, while Theydon himself now made light of the blow, though a
certain hoarseness was perceptible in his voice, and he deemed it
advisable to speak in a low-pitched tone.
Evelyn Forbes listened with ill-repressed bewilderment while he
related the day's doings. At first, she hardly grasped the
significance of the story, but Winter's occasional questions and
comments, and a parenthetical sentence or two introduced by Theydon
for her benefit, quickly revealed the astounding nature of the plot of
which her father was the chief object.
At this crisis she displayed a self-control and reticence which were
admirable. She seemed to realize intuitively that any gaps in the
recital could be filled in later, whereas it was all-important that
the detective should be made acquainted as speedily as possible with
the developments brought about by the morning's fuller disclosures.
As for Winter, he was keenly interested in Furneaux's behavior at the
moment of Forbes's departure from Innesmore Mansions. Glancing at his
watch, he rose when Theydon's revelations came to an end.
"I'll just go and ring up the Yard," he said. "There may be news. When
Furneaux starts off in full cry it is a wary fox that escapes him. I
only wish you and I had traveled from Victoria in company, Mr.
Theydon; Wong Li Fu would now have been in custody. However, we'll get
him. If, as I imagine, he is making for London in that car, there is
even a chance of intercepting him in the suburbs. I'll see to it."
Left alone with Evelyn Forbes, Theydon suddenly grew tongue-tied. This
man who could invent all manner of glib conversation for the
characters in his novels now cudgeled his brains vainly for something
to say that would dwell in her memory when they parted. And he knew
why a cloud was thus effectually befogging his wits. He had only seen
Evelyn three times in as many days, had spoken to her but twice, yet
was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her.
He, who had so often and so thrillingly described the grand passion of
a man's life, had now fallen a victim to it, only to feel how
unutterably ridiculous and impossible was the wild longing that had
sprung up in his heart. Here, by his side, wistfully sympathetic and
friendly in manner, sat the "one woman in the world," yet he felt
awkward and constrained, and took refuge in a vague expression of
anxiety on behalf of Handyside, a man who at least might be trusted to
extricate himself safely from the labyrinth of Eastbourne!
The girl, of course, attributed these disjointed remarks to physical
suffering. In reality, he was contrasting her wealth and his own
comparative poverty, and bidding himself fiercely not to be a vain
fool!
"Don't you think you ought to call in a doctor?" she inquired,
tenderly.
"No, no," he hastened to assure her. "The effects of the blow are
passing rapidly. In another hour I shall hardly feel it at all. I'm
afraid, Miss Forbes," he ventured to add, "that when this piratical
gang is broken up, as certainly will be the case now that the English
police are tackling it, you will associate our brief acquaintance with
the only dark days in your existence."
"Why do you say that?" she demanded.
"Because I am bound to admit that if I had not dined at your house on
Monday evening, many, if not all, of the amazing events of the past
thirty-six hours could not have happened."
"I don't agree with you-- not one little bit," she protested
emphatically. "Why, the detective-man himself said that the Young
Manchus have been searching ever since the beginning of the year for
proof of Dad's connection with the revolutionaries, and he was candid
enough to tell us that if it hadn't been for you that horrid Wong Li
Fu would have got me into the car. No, Mr. Theydon, our meeting has
proved most fortunate for me. Suppose I had really been captured!
Would he have gagged me and taken me away to some lonely place, where
I would be kept a prisoner, or even killed?"
Theydon had no desire that her mind should dwell on such a harrowing
topic. He shuddered to think of her fate if ever she fell into the
hands of the miscreants who had not scrupled to murder Mrs. Lester.
She evidently regarded the crime in No. 17 Innesmore Mansions as the
sequel to some political disturbance in far-off Shanghai. It had not
occurred to her that a hapless woman had been done to death merely as
a warning to her father of the fate in store for him and his if he did
not yield to the demand of the reactionary party in China, and deliver
over to their vengeance some hundreds of the leading men in that
distressed country.
"I doubt whether Wong Li Fu and his associates would have dared to
offer you any real violence," he said. "At the worst, I suppose, they
might have retained you as a hostage."
"A hostage for what?"
"For their claim against Mr. Forbes."
"But what has he done? He has never been in China."
"He is a power in the financial world. If the reform party cannot
borrow money the movement will collapse. At any rate that is what the
Manchus believe, and they will strain every nerve to effect their
purpose."
"But why did they kill poor Mrs. Lester?"
Theydon felt that he was getting into deep water. This clear-sighted
girl would soon have the various threads of the enigma in her hands,
and then she could not fail but discover the true meaning of Edith
Lester's death.
"That phase of the problem has yet to be solved," was his noncommittal
reply.
Winter rejoined them somewhat hurriedly. He looked puzzled and rather
irritated.
"Furneaux has made an arrest," he said. "A Chinaman, described as Len
Shi, is lodged in the cells at Bow Street, on a charge of being
concerned in the Innesmore Mansions murder. Furneaux is out, and that
is all they know at the Yard. What I cannot understand is why no
inquiry has been made by telephone or otherwise concerning Miss
Forbes's flight to Eastbourne."
The words had hardly left his mouth when the bell of a telephone on
the table jangled. The coincidence was so peculiar that Winter
laughed.
"Some other person shares my opinion, I fancy," he said. "May I
answer, Miss Forbes?"
"Please do," said the girl, and the chief inspector lifted the
receiver from its hook.
"Trunk call from London; you're through," announced the hotel
operator. After a slight pause, an agitated voice said: "Is that you,
Evelyn?""Miss Forbes is here," said Winter. "Who is speaking?"
"Her father," was the reply.
"Oh, I'm Chief Inspector Winter of Scotland Yard. Your daughter is
quite safe, Mr. Forbes. Mr. Theydon and I accompanied her from London.
She will speak to you in an instant. Would you mind telling me what
happened at one o'clock, when my colleague, Mr. Furneaux, jumped on to
your car and went in pursuit of some one?"
"First, is Mrs. Forbes there, too?"
"She is out with a picnic party on Beachy Head. We expect her back
before six o'clock. I propose bringing her and Miss Forbes to London
tonight. They will be safer in your house than in Eastbourne, as you
will probably agree when you hear what a narrow escape your daughter
had this afternoon from being kidnaped by Wong Li Fu."
"Great Heavens! Evelyn in danger from that scoundrel!"
"Yes. But all is well, believe me. Owing to Mr. Theydon's promptitude
and pertinacity, Wong Li Fu's scheme was defeated. Your daughter will
make everything clear. Give me the barest summary of events after your
departure from Innesmore Mansions, and I'll get out of the way."
"We pursued a car which led us a pretty dance nearly as far as St.
Albans. It seems that Mr. Furneaux, looking out of the window of Mr.
Theydon's flat while Theydon and I were going downstairs, saw a
Chinaman watching us from a closed car standing in the cross street at
the end of the garden. He gave chase instantly, but as soon as the man
realized that he had attracted notice he tried to escape. At least,
that was Mr. Furneaux's first impression. Later, he convinced himself
that the supposed spy was little more than a red herring drawn across
the trail, and that the man's real motive was to take me out of
London, or waylay or detain me in some fashion, since it was
manifestly impossible that my presence in the Mansions should be known
to any one. I see now, of course, what the project was. If, as I
gather from you, an attempt was to be made to capture my daughter on
arriving at Eastbourne, it was all-important for the conspirators that
I should not know of her absence from home until after the arrival of
the train, so that I could not communicate with the hotel and take
measures to protect her. But that explanation was hidden from Mr.
Furneaux, and the first glimpse of it vouchsafed to me was when I
reached my office and was horrified to learn that she had gone away
without my knowledge. However, in a desperate matter like this, I must
not waste time by describing my agony and foreboding. As I have said,
by some phenomenal method of reasoning beyond my comprehension, Mr.
Furneaux did arrive at a sound conclusion. I suppose he was alive to
the ridiculous aimlessness of the race across country. My car is
powerful and speedy, but the Chinaman had a thoroughly up-to-date
conveyance, too, and drove without paying the least heed to traffic
conditions."
"There was only one man, then?"
"Yes. Didn't I make that clear? Perhaps not. But there can hardly be
any doubt that this fellow was alone, and acting as a sort of scout or
vedette. We had the utmost difficulty in following him along Oxford
Street, and I am sure that my chauffeur has been reported by a score
of constables on point duty for exceeding the speed limit and
disregarding signals to halt. To come to the material facts, the chase
took us up the Edgware road. We tore along at a tremendous rate after
passing the Welsh Harp. Overhaul the fellow we could not, until on the
outskirts of St. Albans, when he deliberately slowed up, as though to
allow us to pass. Mr. Furneaux flew at him like a terrier grappling a
rat, but the man made no resistance. He is undoubtedly a Chinaman,
though attired in a chauffeur's livery, and he could handle a car in
first-rate style, too. His pidgin English was difficult to understand,
and Mr. Furneaux shared my view that he did not try to render himself
intelligible. We gathered that he was obeying his master's orders in
trying the car, a new one, before purchase, but Furneaux bundled him
off to the nearest police station, borrowed handcuffs and brought him
back to London, leaving the car in a garage at St. Albans. That is a
bald but accurate summary of the facts. I dropped Mr. Furneaux and his
prisoner at Bow Street and was on the way to my city office, when I
suddenly felt faint for want of food, as I ate hardly any breakfast
this morning, and only drank a cup of coffee in Mr. Theydon's place.
So I returned to the Carlton, where I met a friend, a business
associate, who remained for a chat while I had a meal. This trivial
accident prevented me from telephoning to my house, though, naturally,
I had no misgivings as to my daughter's well-being. Even then I was
detained unduly, because my friend and I went to another office in the
city, and two more hours elapsed before I reached my own place. Then,
and not until then, did I hear of Evelyn's journey and its cause."
"Thank you, Mr. Forbes," said Winter quietly. "We seem to have made a
forward move today. Before calling Miss Evelyn to the phone I want to
tell you that in disobeying your orders to remain at home she did my
department a good turn. Wong Li Fu and I were brought face to face. He
is not a myth."
"My word might be regarded as sufficient proof of that fact."
"Certainly, Mr. Forbes, if given earlier," was the inevitable retort.
"But here is your daughter. She can plead her cause far better than
I."
Evelyn took the woman's way. To defend she attacked.
"Dad, dear," she complained, "why didn't you give me your confidence?
If I had had the least notion of the dreadful things that were going
on I should certainly have telephoned to Eastbourne before starting.
But don't you see the diabolical cleverness of the scheme? The
telegram arrived just in time to allow me to catch the 1:25 p. m.
train, and rendering it idle to think of making a trunk call if I
would obey an urgent message from my mother. Then again, when I
reached Eastbourne, why should I suspect a foreign-looking gentleman
who said Dr. Sinnett had sent his car to take me to the hotel? There
isn't a Dr. Sinnett in Eastbourne at this date, but how was I to know
that? Of course, both you and I have suffered a good deal, each in a
different way, but all is well that ends well, and I shall have such a
lot to tell you when we meet tonight.... What time? I don't know yet.
I'll wire or phone when mother returns and we settle about the train.
Goodby, darling! See you don't go anywhere alone until I come back."
For some reason Winter's manner was not so placid as usual. He looked
so obviously perplexed and troubled that Theydon, searching for a
cause, suddenly remembered that the chief inspector was a great
smoker.
"Won't you have a cigar?" he said; "that is, unless Miss Forbes has
any objection?"
"Me!" cried the girl. "I don't object in the least."
But the Royal Devonshire Hotel's best Havana did not wholly banish the
frown from Winter's forehead. More than once he glanced at his watch
and consulted a time table. At last he voiced one of his anxieties.
"What can have become of that American?" he said. "He knew what hotel
you were making for?"
"Oh, yes," cried the others in chorus.
They laughed. Quite a cheerful air possessed two members of the little
party, at any rate.
"Perhaps he has forgotten the name?" went on Evelyn.
"Americans never forget the names of hotels, or railway stations, or
steamers," said Winter. "The average Englishman can tell you what will
win the Derby, but the average American will be a good deal more
accurate concerning next Saturday's mail steamer.... So, I frankly
confess it-- that man's prolonged absence supplies a riddle which I
can't answer. What do you say if we give a look along the front? He
may be shy, though I told the hall porter that any inquirer was to be
shown up at once."
No; Mr. Handyside was not to be seen on Eastbourne's spacious marine
promenade. A couple of well-dressed men caught sight of Winter, and
decided that they had instant and urgent business elsewhere, But he
only smiled. His quarry that day was not the swell mobsman, but much
more dangerous game.
Lightning darted from a summer sky when the picnic party returned from
Beachy Head in three cars, but without Mrs. Forbes.
Evelyn was hardly anxious at first. The hall porter informed her who
the occupants of the cars were, and she watched the lively and
chattering groups forming on the pavement and breaking up again to
enter the hotel and dress for dinner.
At last, realizing that her mother was not among them, she singled out
a lady whom she knew, and asked for an explanation. The lady, a Mrs.
Montagu, was very much surprised.
"But, my dear Evelyn," she said, "didn't you yourself send for your
mother?"
The girl blanched. Some premonition of evil gripped her very heart.
"What do you mean?" she said, and the other woman could not help
noting the distress in her voice.
"If you didn't send, who did?" came the immediate response. "We were
just going to have tea when a gentleman, a stranger, came and asked
for Mrs. Forbes. We saw him arrive in a car which halted at the foot
of the path-- nearly a quarter of a mile away. Your mother answered,
and he said that you were in Eastbourne, and had sent him to bring you
to the hotel. He said the car belonged to a Doctor Somebody, but he
himself looked like a foreigner."
A few others had gathered around, attracted by Evelyn Forbes's pallor
and distress; Winter, too, had drawn near, and it was he who said:
"Did you see this stranger who brought the message?"
"O yes, plainly," said Mrs. Montagu.
"Had he a scar down the left side of his face?"
"Yes."
Then Evelyn Forbes, for the first time in her vigorous young life,
fainted. Her mother was in the power of Wong Li Fu. All the terrors
which imagination had painted in her own behalf were redoubled as to
her mother's fate. Her brain reeled. Merciful oblivion came. Theydon
and Winter were just able to catch her before she fell like a log.
CHAPTER XI
THE REAPPEARANCE OF HANDYSIDE
Consternation reigned for a while at the entrance to the Royal
Devonshire. Men craned their necks and women uttered nervous little
shrieks. But Evelyn Forbes was endowed with a vigorous frame and a
splendidly vital spirit, and she recovered her senses before she could
be carried into the vestibule.
The fact that she had fainted, too, brought to the aid of her waking
senses the innate horror of her race and class for anything
approaching a "scene," and she was almost unnaturally collected in
speech and demeanor within a few seconds after her eyes had reopened.
"Did I give way like that?" she said, with a valiant smile, first at
Theydon, and then at the ring of faces, each with its varying
expression of curiosity or concern. "How stupid of me! How excessively
stupid! That sort of behavior doesn't help at all-- does it?
Thank you, I can walk quite well.. I'll just go to mother's room and
telephone home.... There has been some silly mistake. By this time it
will be rectified, I'm sure.... Come, Mr. Theydon. Where is Mr.
Winter?"
"Here," said the detective. "I'll follow in a minute or so. Please
don't communicate with London till I arrive."
His quietly insistent tone was meant rather for Theydon than for the
half-demented girl, who was stumbling anywhere but in the right
direction until Theydon caught her arm and led her to the lift. She
contrived to remain outwardly calm until she reached the seclusion of
the sitting room, when she broke into a flood of tears, while in
disjointed and hysterical words she blamed her own rashness for the
fate which had overtaken her mother.
If only she had used better judgment when the telegram came-- if only
she had hired an automobile and driven straight to Beachy Head-- if
only she had done a dozen other things which no one would possibly
have dreamed of doing-- she might have safeguarded her darling mother!
Theydon, meanwhile, was nearly frantic with the indecision of
ignorance. Never had he felt so helpless, so utterly childish and
unhinged in the face of disaster. He had heard that it was good for a
woman to be allowed to cry when overwhelmed with misery. Again, he
remembered reading somewhere that the feminine temperament should not
be allowed to yield to a too-tempestuous grief, or the delicate and
finely-balanced female organism might suffer irreparable injury.
Should she be given water or a stimulant? Should one leave her alone
or endeavor to soothe her?
Heaven only knew-- he didn't-- so he did exactly what any devout and
despairing lover might be expected to do-- put an arm around her
shoulders, and murmured a frenzied assurance of his willingness to die
several times, and vanquish a horde of Young Manchus in the process,
ere she could be allowed to endure one needless hour of distress on
her mother's account.
Somehow, this sort of nonsense was helpful. The girl raised her
swimming eyes to his. She placed two appealing hands on his shoulders,
and said brokenly:
"Mr. Theydon-- I am ready to trust you-- next to-- my own father....
Where shall we go? What can we do? I'll come with you-- anywhere--
only-- my dear one must be rescued."
He believed afterwards that he answered her by a kiss! He was not
certain. The delirium of the moment was such that he could never
recall its words or acts with that precision which a well-regulated
mind should display even under the stress of intense emotion. In any
event, the crisis was interrupted by the clamor of the telephone bell.
Withdrawing from what was perilously near an embrace-- so colorable an
imitation of the real thing that Winter, entering at that instant,
could make no distinction, and was secretly amazed at these strenuous
methods of consoling the lady-- Theydon lifted the receiver, and heard
as one in a trance the telephone operator's conventional announcement:
"Trunk call from Croydon; you're through."
"Who is it?" demanded the chief inspector gruffly.
Even he, veteran fighter in the unceasing battle between the law and
the malefactor, was feeling the strain of the Homeric struggle ushered
in by the death of Edith Lester.
"I don't know yet," Theydon managed to say collectedly. "Some one from
Croydon. Bend close. You'll hear."
A quiet, drawling voice reached them, the vibrating wire lending its
measured accents a metallic accuracy.
"That you, Mr. Theydon?"
"Why, it's Mr. Handyside! Yes, I'm here. Where are you speaking from?
Croydon?"
"That's so."
"Well, I don't understand, but I'm sure you'll pardon me. We are in a
deuce of a fix at this end, so, if you'll arrange to call tomorrow--"
"You've lost Mrs. Forbes, I guess. Is that the lady's name? If it is,
I've kept track of her. I--"
Theydon was so astounded that he looked at Winter in blank amazement,
the pressure of his fingers on the circuit key relaxed, and the
American's voice trailed abruptly away into silence. He put matters
right at once and heard the continuation of a new sentence, whereupon
he broke in excitedly:
"One second, Mr. Handyside. Miss Forbes is here. I must tell her your
news!"
He turned to Evelyn.
"Hooray!" he almost yelled. "Your mother is all right. She is with Mr.
Handyside. Some sort of miracle has happened. Come and listen."
Aroused from a stupor of grief as though she had received a galvanic
shock, Evelyn sprang up. Naturally, she had to place an arm on
Theydon's back to permit of her head approaching near enough to the
telephone. Thus, the three heads were almost touching each other; if
an artist had been present he would have obtained a study in facial
expressions worthy of Phil May or Guerrido.
Handyside, of course, had heard Theydon's gleeful exclamation. He
chuckled pleasantly:
"Your digest goes a little too far, Mr. Theydon," he said, "but
compared with the newspaper placard facts in your possession, my story
is a full-sized novel. Anyhow, I'll condense it, so here goes. I was
back of the crowd when the circus started outside the Eastbourne
depot. As I ante'd up your ticket and collected your deposit of a
sovereign, I saw what took place, and sized up the result pretty
accurately. The kidnaping proposition had failed, but the guy in the
silk hat had got clear away in a bully good car-- how good I know now.
It seemed to me that, next to rescuing that charming young lady, it
was important something should be known about the thug who wanted to
carry her off, and, when my eyes lit on a workmanlike motor bicycle
with a side-car rig standing close to the curb, and well clear of the
arena, said I to myself: 'George T. Handyside, this is where you take
a flier, and maybe Illinois will score one.' The man who owned the
outfit was watching the commotion when I dug him in the ribs. 'Take me
after that car,' I said, 'and I'll pay you a shilling a mile with five
pounds on account if it's only a 100 yards.' I pressed a note into his
hand-- and, say, you Britishers wake up all right when you see real
money! We were doing thirty per in less than ten seconds. No car on
four wheels can lose any decent motorcycle on a switchback track, and
Jackson, the owner of this one, says it's good enough for sixty on a
fair stretch of road. Anyhow, we held the thug dead easy, but didn't
press him any, as I had no call to butt in, had I?"
"Mr. Handyside," said Theydon. "I won't waste time now by telling you
how grateful we all are. Get on with the knitting!"
"Sir, I've had the time of my life-- a rip-snorting movie, with George
T. on the film from A to Z... No! Go away, exchange. I'm renting this
line for the next quarter of an hour. Well, we made a bee-line for
Beachy Head-- so Jackson told me-- and, when the automobile pulled up,
we got under a hedge and I did a bit of scout work on my feet. I saw
Silk Hat pick out a lady from a bunch of people, who seemed to be
taking the view with sandwiches, and it was simple as falling off a
log to follow the position of affairs-- Silk Hat urging lady to come
with him, lady astonished, not able to size up exact bearings of the
yarn, but finally yielding. Now, if Miss Forbes hadn't told us that
her mother had written saying she was going to Beachy Head with a
picnic party this afternoon I would have gotten off at the wrong
address, because I could hardly have failed to believe that Silk Hat
was picking up a female accomplice. But, as things stood, I
suspicioned that, failing the daughter, he was putting up a bunco tale
for the mother-- a situation new, I believe, in the realm of romantic
fiction. I thought it was up to me to play a strong hand, so I threw a
few facts on the screen for Jackson's benefit, and he straightway hit
the pike in pursuit. Where the country was open we kept well in the
rear, but crept closer in villages and towns. We had to stop at
Tunbridge Wells for petrol, but that didn't cut any ice, because
Jackson knew the country like a book, and we sighted the automobile
within five minutes, though the milestones were pretty numerous during
that run. After that, nothing particularly happened, except to a hen
and a dog, until we came near Croydon-- that is, I knew it was Croydon
because Jackson said so, and I have considerable faith in him. In
between whiles, where there was nothing doing, he and I fixed up an
automobile tour. Well, outside Croydon, there's a new road, with a
half-built villa at the near end and a way-back farmhouse at the other
end. That villa was the one thing needed when the thug made a bee-line
for the farm. I jumped out, told Jackson to find something to do to
his machine at the corner of the next block, and hurried into the
Alpine chalet. From a top back room I watched Silk Hat carrying a lady
into the farm. Eh, what's that? Yes, he was carrying her. I guess he'd
given her a dope so as to stop any cry for help. It made me feel
pretty mean to be standing there without taking a hand in the deal,
but I forced myself to believe that another hour or two couldn't make
such a heap of difference to the lady, while it would be better to
leave things to the police. I waited just twenty minutes-- I have all
the times scheduled-- until the car came back. By hurrying downstairs
I was able to look inside as it passed, and Silk Hat was alone. He
took the London road. I strolled out-- didn't dare to hurry, you know,
in case any one might be watching from the farm-- and put in some hard
thinking while walking to Jackson's stand. There were two courses
open, either to send Jackson after the auto and try myself to get in
touch with you and the police, or put Jackson on guard near the farm.
Whether I decided rightly or not I haven't a notion, but I let the car
go, and for this reason: We know where the lady is, and so does the
thug; if the police put up a hard game they can rescue her without his
knowledge and spread a web for the fly to walk into later. But they
must get a move on. This phone is nearly a mile from the farm, and
Jackson is tightening nuts outside the villa I spoke of. Now, what's
the next item on the program?"
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