Corner House — Chapter XLVII, Flown; Chapter XLVIII, Hetty Speaks Out; Chapter XLIX, In the Dead of the Night
CHAPTER XLVII. FLOWN.
With a white oblong sheet of paper in his pocket with the signature of the chief magistrate at Bow Street, Prout went down jauntily to call upon Lawrence.
The latter looked at him smilingly.
"You are going to arrest Countess Lalage?"
he asked.
"Well, I don't know anything about that," Prout said, taken aback.
"But I've certainly got a warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage.
Mr. Lawrence, I've solved the problem of the blacklead I found in the Corner House."
"That's clever.
How did you manage it?"
"Well, fortune was kind to me.
I couldn't think what that blacklead was doing there."
"I could have told you.
I knew that as far back ago as the first inquest on Leon Lalage.
Our friend the Countess has a fast motor.
It was so fast that she could be in two places at once.
But it became necessary to disguise the motor--the black motor that Miss Lawrence and the newspaper man saw.
It must be a disguise that would come off easily.
What better than blacklead, that could be removed from the bright parts with a damp rag and restored with a touch?
The black motor came to grief last night, I see."
"Ah!
you read that in the paper, sir.
And, of course, you knew all about the attempt on the life of Mr. Charlton by the fair Spaniard.
Well, she was seen to escape in that motor, and near the scene of the smash we found the wig.
The manufacturer of the car has been seen and he is prepared to swear whom he sold it to.
Therefore, knowing what we do I took the liberty of swearing an information before Sir John at Bow Street, and I've got the warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage in my pocket.
We shall get her on one charge if we fail in another."
"You can't fail," said Lawrence quietly.
"When I come to give evidence the character of my friend Dr. Bruce will be restored beyond question.
By the way, I have not heard how Mr. Charlton is today."
Prout remarked that Charlton was better.
Fortunately no great damage had been done.
He was suffering from some loss of blood, but in a day or two the patient would be able to give evidence.
There would be enough sensation for the papers tomorrow.
The detective went calmly on his way to Lytton Avenue.
The Countess was not down yet, but if the caller would send up his business it should be attended to.
Prout was firm, but his business was for the private ear of the lady of the house alone, and he would wait her good pleasure.
He was quite easy in his mind, seeing that he was not alone, but accompanied by two officers in plain clothes, one being stationed in the front of the house and the other at the rear.
It was Hetty who came back with the second message that the Countess would see her visitor presently in her dressing-room.
The girl started as she recognized the features of the detective.
"Is there anything wrong?"
she asked.
Prout gave his information in a low voice.
He could trust Hetty, and besides, she might have some valuable information to impart.
"Did you see anything queer last night, Miss?"
he asked.
Hetty hesitated.
It seemed hardly fair.
And yet so much might depend upon her speaking.
Nothing could save the Countess from arrest now.
Rapidly, but clearly, she told Prout all that there was to tell.
"That clenches it," he said.
"Now where did they hide themselves?"
A bell rang somewhere overhead, and Prout was summoned by a tall footman, who sniffed at him suspiciously as he led the way upstairs.
In a magnificent wrap Leona Lalage sat.
There was a cup of coffee before her.
In a flash she saw exactly what had happened.
Her hand did not shake now, the cigarette between her lips was steady.
She had known that sooner or later this blow must fall.
It was only in a very strong light that traces of last night's adventures could be seen on her face.
Just a little sigh of passionate regret escaped her, and then she was her own calm smiling self again.
"I fancy I have seen you before," she said.
"Are you not the detective who has the Corner House mystery in hand?"
Prout admitted that such was the case.
"I am not here about that," he said, "at least, not for the present.
I
am afraid I have some bad news for you.
I am speaking to the lady who is known to people generally as Countess Lalage."
"I am Countess Lalage," was the calm reply.
"As you like, madame," Prout said indifferently.
"I have a warrant for the arrest of Leona Lalage on a charge of attempted murder.
I can't say any more at present, and it will be as well for you to say as little as possible."
The Countess bowed; not for an instant did she change colour.
"I'll dress at once," she said.
"My bedroom door is locked, so this is the only way I can escape.
Get out something dark for me to wear, Hannah."
She called thus to her maid inside.
With a smile she intimated to Prout that she might keep him a little time waiting.
It did not matter how long seeing that he had his bird fast in the toils.
A quarter of an hour passed, and then a trim maid with dark short hair, and in the smart starched style peculiar to good servants, appeared.
She gave one glance of indifference at Prout, and then passed down the stairs.
From his window he could see the very neat figure crossing the square.
Time passed and he grew impatient.
He coughed as he looked into the bedroom.
Then he said something strong under his breath.
Nobody was there.
The opposite door was locked, but the bird had flown.
With a disturbed face Prout passed into the street.
The men were still there.
"See anybody leave the house?"
Prout asked.
"Nobody but a servant, and a pretty one," the other said.
"Then you be after her as soon as possible," Prout groaned.
"We're done, Smithers.
That smart lady's-maid was Countess Lalage!"
CHAPTER XLVIII. HETTY SPEAKS OUT.
There was a good deal of whispering and talking in corners and under the trees at Longmere House.
A fussy little man with an eyeglass seemed to have a great deal to say.
Lady Longmere laughed somewhat scornfully as she watched him.
A great pile of strawberries were on her plate.
"I have a great many faults," the pretty American heiress said, "but scandal never was one of them.
Look at that little wretch of a Mosley Harcourt.
Nobody likes him, and nobody is free from his poisonous tongue, but he goes everywhere because he has the very latest gossip."
Hetty nodded absently; in society parlance Lady Longmere had taken Hetty up.
Since the night of the card party at Lytton Avenue, when her ladyship had foresworn cards for good and all, she had seen a good deal of Hetty.
And she was one of the few who stuck loyally to Bruce.
"Here's your young man," she said presently.
"He didn't want to come, but I made a special journey and persuaded him.
Never hide yourself at times like this."
"Gordon is very sensitive," said Hetty.
"That's the kind of thing that hurts."
She clutched at the handle of her sunshade passionately as a society leader responded to Bruce's uplifted hat by a cold stare.
"And Gordon saved that woman's life," Hetty said.
"He sat up all one night with her and part of the second.
It's very hard, Lady Longmere."
Lady Longmere replied generally that it would benefit Bruce in the long run.
Lady Rockingham came up and said it was very hot.
After his rebuff Bruce stood by as if unconscious of Lady Rockingham's presence.
"Surely your ladyship knows Dr. Bruce!"
Hetty said with a vivid splash of colour on either cheek "A little time ago I understood that Dr. Bruce----" "Dr. Bruce perfectly understands," Lady Rockingham said coldly.
"But you evidently don't," Hetty said coolly.
"I was going to give your ladyship a little information.
I fancy you were present at Lytton Avenue the night of the card party when those mysterious notes were produced.
It was never known exactly who paid them over to Mr. Isidore, but I know now.
They came from Countess Lalage; indeed, she admitted as much to my uncle, Mr. Lawrence."
Bruce drew Hetty gently away.
The girl was sore and angry, and might be betrayed into saying something that she would be sorry for afterwards.
After all, it did not matter much so long as they had one another.
The grounds were large and secluded; there were plenty of spots there for lovers.
They might have been far away in the country.
"I have been talking to Lawrence," Bruce said.
"My dear little girl, I have only learnt lately what you have endured for me.
If these people had found you out they would most certainly have murdered you."
Hetty smiled lightly.
She had her own reward.
It would be mainly due to her that her lover's good name would be cleared.
"But it makes my blood boil to see you treated in that way by that woman," she cried, "especially after what you did for her.
I long to tell her who the real culprit was, and that in a few days a woman in whose house she had been would be arrested for the crime."
"I'm glad you didn't," Bruce smiled.
"What a sensation those good people will have presently!
And most of them have been on intimate terms with our Countess.
My darling, I shall never be easy in my mind till you are out of that house."
"And I shall never go till I can make some arrangements for Mamie," Hetty said.
"Of course the secret cannot be kept much longer, and then I suppose everything will be seized by the creditors.
But even the servants are in the dark as yet."
Bruce nodded moodily.
He seemed to have something on his mind that he could not throw off.
The cloud lifted a little under Hetty's blandishments; it was impossible to sit looking into those clear eyes and be wholly unhappy.
"You have some trouble," Hetty said anxiously.
"I have," Gordon said, "but I shan't tell it to you today.
Let us talk of something else.
Let us forget the world for ourselves."
A band was playing somewhere; there were voices pitched high close by;
then came the clear laugh of Lady Longmere.
"Say, what a comedy!"
she said.
"What does it matter?
It will be something to say afterwards that we knew the woman."
"I can't believe it," said Lady Rockingham.
"Mr. Harcourt, are you quite clear and certain of your facts?
Who told you?"
"Shouldn't dare to speak thus of the fascinating Lalage," Harcourt, the little man with the eyeglass, drawled.
"Should be afraid of a knife in my back, or something horribly Corsican of that kind.
Can't tell you any more except I know the police had a warrant for her arrest, and that she's bolted."
"And she's got a diamond star of mine worth a thousand pounds!"
Lady Rockingham screamed.
"A stone was missing, and she offered to have it replaced for me out of her stock of loose diamonds.
I made a friend of that woman, a vulgar adventuress, who steals brooches and the like."
"Be a lesson to us all," Harcourt said sapiently, "for at least a month.
And then we shall run after the next flashy adventurer who comes along.
Give me the money, and I'll put any gutter flower-girl in society, and at the top of all in a month.
It's only a question of cash."
The speaker passed on.
Hetty seemed amused about something.
"So the story has leaked out," she said.
"But it has its funny side.
Fancy Leona Lalage getting Lady Rockingham's star like that!
It was the sort of cynical thing she would have enjoyed."
Bruce held up his hand for silence.
"What are the boys saying in Piccadilly?"
he asked.
The cries came nearer; a familiar name was mentioned.
"Latest society scandal!"
came the shrill voices.
"Latest society sensation!
Flight of the Countess Lalage!"
CHAPTER XLIX. IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT.
The story flashed like lightning from one end of London to the other.
Leona Lalage had been an important personage.
Her face was familiar to the society paper window; no report of a great function was complete without a description of her dress.
She was a constant source of "copy" to the paragraphists; her dinners and her parties were things to imitate and envy.
And now the crash had come.
It was the sensation of the hour.
Every penny paper had a portrait of sorts of Leona Lalage.
The wildest rumours were afloat.
As far as anybody knew for the present, the Countess was not at home, and the servants could give no clue as to her whereabouts.
Tomorrow a whole hoard of tradesmen would be down upon Lytton Avenue, but for the present Hetty was left in peace.
Mamie was very far from well, flushed and feverish, so that at eleven o'clock she decided to call in Bruce.
She rang the bell, but no servant appeared.
She rang again, and went down presently into the basement to investigate.
There was no sign of a servant to be seen anywhere.
They had all packed up their boxes, and fled, as rats quit a sinking ship.
Hetty was alone in the house.
At any rate there was the telephone.
Dr. Bruce was out, they told her, but expected in shortly, when he should have the message.
It was not nice to be alone in so large a house with a sick child, but Hetty had no fear.
All the horrors and all the tragedies had gone with the Countess.
It was quite late when Bruce arrived.
He asked no questions, as Hetty let him in herself.
And Hetty said nothing of the fact that she had been deserted.
It would only make Gordon uneasy, and she was certain that she could manage alone.
"Of course you can, darling," Bruce said fondly.
"If ever there was a born nurse you are one.
I don't like the look of the child at all.
She ought to be got away from here to the seaside.
Fresh air and salt water is what she wants."
The child lay between waking and sleeping.
Her cry was for water.
"Not too much water," said Bruce.
"A little now, and some fresh cold water later on.
I shall give her a few of those drops I prescribed for her last week.
Four now, and four in an hour's time.
But be very careful as to the dose."
Hetty produced the little phial marked "poison," and examined the label.
She had administered the medicine before, usually she kept it locked up.
As she poured out the drops she had a curious sensation that she was being watched.
Her hand shook so that she had to try again before she was satisfied.
"Are you nervous tonight?"
Bruce asked.
"Not more than usual," said Hetty.
"Once I get away from this house I shall be all right, and that looks as if it won't be long."
Bruce lingered as if loth to depart.
The house seemed wonderfully silent.
Bruce went down the stairs presently, accompanied by Hetty.
"Good night, my darling," he said, as he kissed her fondly.
"You'll be compelled to leave here tomorrow, and I only hope the child will be better.
Thank goodness, Gilbert Lawrence will be only too glad to have you."
Hetty fastened the door carefully.
Now that she was alone she was feeling more horribly nervous than ever.
She locked most of the downstairs doors, and it was only sheer self-contempt that prevented her from fastening her bedroom door.
It required a deal of courage to sleep in a large, empty house.
Mamie had half-dropped asleep, but she opened her eyes again as Hetty entered.
"You have been so long," she said, pitifully, "so very long.
And why didn't you come when I heard you standing by the door."
"I wasn't standing by the door," Hetty said, quietly.
"But indeed you were.
I called out and you said 'Hush' very quietly.
Then I heard the rustle of your dress as you went down the stairs."
Hetty murmured something to the effect that she had forgotten.
There was no reason to contradict and argue over a child's fancies.
Mamie murmured again.
"Take the drops first," Hetty suggested.
Mamie declined fretfully.
She wanted water, and that on the table was quite warm.
With a patient smile Hetty went downstairs to get more.
Mamie drank thirstily.
Hetty picked up the little bottle to pour out the drops.
By sheer habit she looked at the label.
It was the same, and not the same.
Hetty stifled a cry of surprise.
She had made no mistake before--of that she was certain.
Then what could possibly have happened?
Somebody had crept into the room in her absence and changed the bottles!
There could be no doubt about that.
The label had the same chemist's name on it, with the red caution of "Poison" underneath.
The girl put the bottle to her nostrils and noticed the difference in the smell.
The discovery turned her sick and faint.
That any one should deliberately try and take an innocent life like this filled her with loathing.
Mamie had dropped into what looked like a sound sleep.
Hetty lay on the bed with the light out.
She had the switch to her hand, she could lie there with the chance that the fiend who had done this thing would come back.
More than one person in the house had known that that medicine was an experiment.
If Mamie died it would do Bruce incalculable harm.
And she herself might suffer.
A thousand horrors rose out of the darkness and mocked at Hetty.
She lay there waiting patiently.
Soon it seemed to her that somebody was in the room.
She could hear breathing that was not her own, and the creep, creep of drapery.
There was a faint rattle on the stand where the medicine stood, so faint that it would not have been heard by any but strained ears.
Hetty could stand it no longer.
Her fingers went out to the electric switch, there was a sudden snap, and the room was bathed in light.
There was a startling cry from a woman who stood just under the light with a bottle in her hand--the real bottle, as Hetty could see quite plainly.
"Now I have got you, murderess!"
Hetty cried.
The woman reached up a long white hand, and taking the bulb of the swinging electric light in her grasp desperately, crushed it to pieces.
Then there was swift darkness again and the rush of flying feet.
