Corner House — Chapter XXVI, The Black Motor; Chapter XXVII, A Glass of Wine; Chapter XXVIII, Baffled
"Amazing!"
Charlton cried.
"Why, these are my wife's diamonds, the real stones beyond doubt."
CHAPTER XXVI. THE BLACK MOTOR.
A certain sense of elation had taken possession of Hetty.
She had been tried in the fire, and she had not been found wanting.
She had done her work well, and she knew it.
And she was not quite satisfied.
Things were going on here that she ought to know.
At any moment she might come across important information that would be of the greatest use to Gordon.
She no longer had the slightest doubt that the Countess was at the bottom of the business that threatened to deprive him of his good name.
As soon as the weakness was passed, she followed Leona Lalage.
She heard the latter fumbling with the sash of the drawing-room window, she felt the sudden rush of air.
The owner of the house had barely reached the garden before Hetty was after her.
It was all for Gordon's sake, she told herself; for him she would do anything.
She crept on until the green door in the wall was reached.
It was risky to peep out, but Hetty had to hazard that.
The black motor car was in front of her, so that she was behind the gleaming lights.
With a thrill Hetty recognized that motor.
It was the same one that she had seen leaving the Corner House on the morning of the murder.
She was destined to see more of it before long.
But she saw other things; she saw Leona tear the skirt of her dress away; a wild cry of surprise rose to her lips, but she choked it down.
Here before her was the Spanish woman of Gordon's story.
The sudden flood of light set Hetty trembling from head to foot.
For the present she was not destined to obtain further information.
The big gates of the courtyard of the Corner House was closed upon her.
But she waited.
Wit!
Her little white teeth shut together; she would have waited there all night.
She heard Lalage's sudden cry; she heard the muttered conversation that followed.
She was only just in time to get back behind the green gates when the Countess emerged again with something in her hand.
Her head was held high, her eyes gleamed with triumph.
Then the great black car shot noiselessly away, and Hetty crept back to the house.
She managed to gain her bedroom unseen, she stood with a fast-beating heart at the head of the landing listening.
All the servants had gone to bed long ago, there were only one or two of the electrics burning.
A moment later Countess Lalage came out of her bedroom and swept down the stairs.
All signs of her disguise had gone; she was dressed from head to foot in a new and magnificent gown, black set off with red, her diamonds flashed and streamed in the light.
Evidently the adventures of the night were not over, for the Countess would not have taken all that trouble had she not expected some one.
Hetty crept back to her room and softly closed the door.
She could hear the snap of the electric switches as Leona Lalage proceeded from room to room downstairs until the whole place was brilliant with light.
Evidently some one was to be welcomed royally.
And crime and light do not go very well together.
Or perhaps it was a crime.
With all the servants in bed anybody alone with Leona Lalage and Balmayne would have a dangerous time.
"I must see further into this," Hetty told herself.
"When this honoured guest comes I will creep downstairs and listen.
It's not a very nice thing to do, but if ever the end justifies the means, surely this is a case in point."
She had to listen and wait a long time.
Meanwhile the black motor was throbbing its way to Charing Cross.
It was quite late as it passed under the archway into the station.
But, strange to say, the motor was no longer black, but it gleamed with lacquer and steel and brass like the perfect beauty that it was.
There were only a few passengers by the train, one an old bent man with a grey moustache and a hooked nose coming down over it.
His boots and hat and gloves were shabby enough, but his fur-lined overcoat, which he wore in spite of the warm night, was a magnificent garment of real sable.
He stepped along the platform absently.
As he looked round for a cab, Balmayne hailed him.
"Can I be of any service to you, Herr Maitrank?"
he asked.
The little man's eyes twinkled shrewdly.
He seemed to be amused about something.
"What a lucky meeting," he exclaimed.
"If that is your motor you can drive me to the Metropole and sup with me.
You are a clever young man, so clever that you will not pretend this meeting is an accident."
"I'm not going to try and deceive you," said Balmayne.
"I'm going to play the game with all the cards on the table."
"So?
Then you know why I am here?"
"Yes.
You have come to look into Countess Lalage's affairs."
"With a view to saving myself the loss of many thousand pounds.
The money itself would not make much difference to me, but I love my money.
To make it is the whole end and aim of my life.
Lie to me, deceive me, abuse me, anything you like, and I care nothing.
But rob me of money, ah!"
The little beady eyes gleamed angrily, the speaker spat furiously.
"I found out by chance," he went on.
"A bit of good luck showed me how I had been swindled.
But I said nothing--ah, I said nothing, because in this case silence is golden!
And nobody knows but myself.
Thinks I, that woman is a long way from being played out yet--she has resources.
Some people would have made a fuss and cried out and spoilt everything, but not so Maitrank.
I come here to get my money and I shall have it, mark you.
But I am not easy in my mind."
"About your money, Herr Maitrank?"
"About my money!
No. I shall get that all right.
What I am uneasy about is this: How did you know I was coming, and why?"
Balmayne shrugged his shoulders.
"That is my affair," he said.
"Perhaps I have been prepared for this--perhaps I have had a watch kept on you.
But no matter.
We have had time and we are ready.
Will you come and see the Countess now?"
Maitrank hesitated a moment and nodded.
"It will give me a good supper free," he said, "and a glass of wine.
And if you try any tricks on me, heaven help you, for I won't!"
CHAPTER XXVII. A GLASS OF WINE.
Hetty's patience was rewarded at last.
She could hear the faint murmur of the motor in the street; there was a sudden gush of air as the front door opened, and the voice of the Countess in her most honeyed tones as she ushered somebody into the dining-room.
Instantly the girl crept downstairs and hid herself behind the portière over the door.
It was an audacious thing to do, but her audacity paid, as it generally does.
All the lights in the room were ablaze; at one end of the table was a dainty supper, flanked by a couple of gold-topped bottles.
A little shabby man with a hooked nose was in the act of taking off a heavy fur-lined coat.
"How good of you to come," the Countess said.
"Sit down and let me wait upon you--there is no need at all to ring for the servants.
You can talk and eat at the same time.
There!
I will give you some of the cigarettes you are so fond of."
The meal was finished presently.
Hetty caught the scent of cigarette smoke.
The Countess lounged back in her chair, smoking too.
She seemed perfectly self-possessed.
She looked so easy and comfortable that Maitrank was filled with admiration.
"You are quite well and blooming?"
he asked.
"Ah, it is an easy conscience."
"I've no conscience at all," the Countess laughed.
"If I had possessed such a thing I should not be here at this moment."
Maitrank muttered.
"Perhaps not.
Also you would not have robbed me of the best part of £100,000. Charming swindler, where is my money?"
"Most courteous of Shylocks, it is all spent.
I am going to be frank with you, which is very virtuous on my part, seeing that you have found me out.
That San Salvator property is worth exactly nothing.
Also it is mortgaged in four places.
But for a bit of pure bad luck I should have got more out of you for it."
"Ay, ay," Maitrank showed his yellow fangs in a grin, "that is true.
Go on."
"You have found me out and I must pay you.
It is no question of honour, I am bound to do so to save my face.
But meanwhile I must find another victim."
"Meanwhile you will do nothing of the sort," said the usurer.
"I am not going to wait.
Give me half and I will hold the sword suspended for a fortnight.
Give me those diamonds, and I will write a receipt for £30,000." A little flush of colour crept into Leona Lalage's cheek.
"They are worth half as much again," she cried.
"You are a coward to take advantage of your position like that, and with a woman too."
Maitrank grinned again, in no way abashed.
"I never want another woman like you to deal with," he said.
"I prefer a man, however great a scoundrel he may be.
But you would have robbed me; I have turned the tables on you.
And I am going to squeeze you.
Give me those diamonds, take a receipt for the sum I mentioned, and I wait a fortnight."
"And if I refuse your offer?"
said Leona between her teeth.
Maitrank glanced meaningly round the luxurious room.
He took in the works of art, the carpets and skins, the flowers, and the soft shaded light.
"This place is more comfortable than a gaol," he said coolly.
He saw nothing of the murderous look in the eyes of his companion.
Nobody had seen him enter the house, nobody even knew that he was in London.
All the servants had gone to bed.
Lalage had by her hand an accomplice ready for anything.
She checked the words that rose to her lips.
She produced pen, ink, and paper.
With a passionate gesture she tore the diamonds from her throat and breast and hair.
"Take them," she said hoarsely; "take them and write me a receipt at once before I repent.
Better do anything than come between a woman and her jewels.
There, a glass of wine.
To your speedy ruin and destruction."
She poured out the amber liquid from a fresh bottle into a fresh glass and drank it down.
With a shaking hand she filled another glass for Maitrank, who accepted it gallantly.
The diamonds he slipped coolly into his pocket.
"Never lose your temper," he said.
"It leads to apoplexy.
Ah, my fine madam, you thought to pinch me, but I have pinched you instead."
The Countess rose with her eyes blazing.
She pointed to the door.
"Begone!"
she cried.
"Go, before I do you mischief.
See, I help you on with your coat.
Now go, and don't let me see that ugly yellow face of yours for a fortnight."
Maitrank chuckled as he passed down the steps.
A policeman bade him goodnight, a policeman chatting to a man in evening dress.
The policeman passed along the empty road, the other followed Maitrank.
A
second later and Maitrank staggered, and fell headlong in the roadway.
The policeman had passed out of sight now.
Like a flash the man in evening dress was upon the form of the unconscious capitalist.
He was picked up as if he had been a feather-weight.
An instant later and he was back at No. 1, Lytton Avenue, again.
"Quick!"
the Countess whispered.
"You managed that very cleverly, Balmayne.
We have a credible witness who saw this creature leave the house, thanks to you."
"And the idea of drugging the glass before pouring out the wine, thanks to you," said Balmayne.
"I must get this chap through the garden and on the motor at once.
Give me a few minutes' start, and he's not likely to trouble us again."
Hetty sped from her hiding-place through the hall into the garden.
The little green gate was open, and beyond the motor, once more in its black guise.
Hetty stood there just a minute, wondering what next she should do.
If there was only somebody near that she could confide in and send a message by!
If she could only prevent Balmayne from starting on his mysterious errand!
There was no time to be lost, for she could hear Balmayne coming down the garden.
And then a happy inspiration came to her.
From her head she removed the gold and ornamented dagger, with its long steel pin.
She stooped down.
.
.
Balmayne came with his burden, which he flung in and covered with a rug.
He pulled at the lever, and the great machine started, and then dragged, as if some great weight was hanging on behind.
A snarling curse came from Balmayne's lips.
"A thousand maledictions on it!"
he muttered.
"Both back tyres are punctured!"
CHAPTER XXVIII. BAFFLED.
Balmayne danced down the lane with impotent fury.
Despite her peril and the fear that was in her heart, Hetty smiled.
Here was a daring and audacious rascal engaged in some desperate and, no doubt, cunning scheme who was utterly baffled by a mere girl and a hairpin.
Hetty checked the smile, for that might have grown hysterical.
She had to brace herself to the effort, an easier task seeing that Gordon Bruce was uppermost in her mind.
For him she would have dared and done anything.
The woman who was at the bottom of this thing was his deadly enemy.
To gain her secrets must help in Gordon's final victory.
Balmayne knelt down there with one of the lamps in his hand.
His face was not good to look upon.
Leona Lalage watched him eagerly.
"Is it a very bad puncture?"
she asked.
"It isn't a puncture at all," Balmayne snarled, "at least not an accidental one.
Some mischievous fiend must have passed down the lane just now and done this for pure wickedness.
There are two long slashes in the tyres."
"And the mending will be a matter of time?"
"Rather.
An expert couldn't do it under an hour.
Both those tyres will have to come off.
Now what are we to do?"
The Countess clasped her hands together in hopeless rage.
"If I only had that ruffian here!"
she said.
Her voice was low, she strode backwards and forwards like an angry wolf.
"Oh, if I only had him here!
I should like you to hold him down so that I----" "Drop it," Balmayne said rudely.
"What's the good of that theatrical nonsense?
If something is not done at once our plans are utterly ruined.
Don't stand there like a tragedy actress, but suggest something."
"But what can I suggest?
This thing has taken me utterly by surprise.
The only thing is to carry that thing back into the street and lay him down where you found him.
A policeman saw him leave the house.
It will be thought that he had a fit in the street, and we shall not be suspected."
"And meanwhile the policeman on the beat has been at least twice past the spot where the body ought to be," Balmayne sneered.
"People in fits don't get out of the way and then come back again."
"True," the Countess exclaimed.
"I had not thought of that.
Wheel your motor into the courtyard of the Corner House before a policeman comes this way, and carry him back into the house."
There was nothing else to do, and Balmayne complied, muttering.
The autocar was disposed of, and Balmayne, breathless and dripping under the weight of his burden, staggered back into Lytton Avenue Gardens again.
Once the little green gate was closed he could breathe more freely.
But the perils and dangers of the night were not over yet.
The unconscious form of Maitrank was cast carelessly on the grass.
Balmayne wiped his heated forehead.
The moon came out from behind a ragged bank of cloud and fell on the face of the sleeping capitalist.
It was so white and still that he might have been dead already.
The white, still face looked up, the murderous dark one looked down.
Balmayne kicked the body in a sudden spurt of passion.
"You miserly old dog," he growled.
"A nice dance you are leading us.
I
wish I knew what on earth to do with you."
The Countess gripped his arm convulsively.
"Kill him," she said in a hoarse whisper that thrilled Hetty.
"That is a sure and easy way out of the peril.
We can prove that he left the house, nobody can prove that he ever returned.
I have my jewels back;
there is nothing that we can be traced by.
And the secret dies with him."
Balmayne gave a shudder.
Even he recoiled.
"I have never had that on my conscience," he whispered.
"And if we do----" "Kill him," urged the Countess.
"Kneel down and pin that wrap over his face.
He is an old man, and the drug has affected his heart.
He will go off quietly in his sleep.
Then you can throw him down the well in the courtyard of the Corner House."
"Can I help you?"
cried Hetty, with a voice so steady that it astonished herself.
"I had a dreadful headache, so I thought I would steal down into the garden.
Have you killed a burglar or something of that kind?"
Leona Lalage was the first to recover herself.
"Something of that kind," she said.
"My friend Mr. Balmayne was bringing my motor back when he found this poor fellow unconscious in the lane.
Mr. Balmayne called out to me for assistance and I fortunately heard."
Hetty nodded.
Truly the woman was magnificent.
"Had you not best get him into the house?"
Hetty suggested.
"It is not cold, but any one who is ill, to lie on the damp grass----" The Countess touched Balmayne.
She had turned her face away, fearful lest the expression of it should be seen.
"Convey him into the house," the Countess ordered.
