Part 9 (1/2)

On our way back I racked my brain to discern the nature of the latest plot, but could see nothing tangible. Mr. Blumenfeld had been taken suddenly ill while playing billiards with me, and Rayne, when summoned, had done his best to resuscitate him. Yet Rayne's manner was triumphant and he was in most excellent spirits.

We arrived back at Overstow Hall just before midnight, and he and Duperre held a long conversation before retiring. Of its nature I could gather nothing. As for Lola, she retired at once very cramped and tired.

The whole of the following morning Duperre and Rayne were closeted together, while afterwards I drove Duperre into York, where from the telegraph office in the railway station he sent several cryptic messages abroad, of course posing to the telegraph clerk as a pa.s.sing railway pa.s.senger. Rayne never sent important telegrams from the village post-office at Overstow, or even from Thirsk. They were all dispatched from places where, even if inquiry were made, the sender could not be traced.

”What's in the wind?” I asked Duperre as he sat by my side on our drive back to Overstow.

”Something, my dear George,” he answered, smiling mysteriously. ”At present I can't tell you. In due course you'll know--something big.

Whenever Rudolph superintends in person it is always big. He never touches minor matters. He devises and arranges them as a general plans a battle, but he never superintends himself--only in the real big things. Even then he never acts himself.”

With that I was compelled to be satisfied. That night we all had quite a pleasant evening over bridge in the drawing-room, until just about ten o'clock Rayne was called to the telephone. When he rejoined us I noticed that his countenance was a trifle pale. He looked worried and ill at ease. He sat down beside Madame Duperre, and after pensively lighting one of his expensive cigars, he bent and whispered something to her.

By what he said the woman became greatly agitated, and a few moments later rose and left the room.

The household at Overstow was certainly a strange and incongruous one, consisting as it did of persons who seemed all in league with each other, the master-criminal whose shrewd, steel-grey eyes were so uncanny, and his accomplices and underlings who all profited and grew fat upon the great _coups_ planned by Rayne's amazing mind. The squire of Overstow mesmerized his fellows and fascinated his victims of both s.e.xes. His personality was clear-cut and outstanding. Men and women who met him for the first time felt that in conversation he held them by some curious, indescribable influence--held them as long as he cared, until by his will they were released from a strange thraldom that was both weird and astounding.

Whatever message Rayne had received it was evidently of paramount importance, for when Madame Duperre had left the room and Lola had retired, he turned to me and with a queer look in his eyes, exclaimed:

”I expect you'll have to be making some rather rapid journeys soon, George. Better be up early to-morrow. Good night.” And then dismissing me, he asked Duperre to go with him to the smoking-room.

”I've heard from Tracy,” I overheard him say as I followed them along the softly carpeted corridor. ”We're up against that infernal Benton again because of old Moody's blunder. I never expected he'd be caught, of all men. Benton is now looking for Moody's guiding hand.”

”Well, I hope he won't get very far,” Duperre replied.

”We must make certain that he doesn't, Vincent, or it will go badly--very badly--with us! That's what I want to discuss with you.”

Of the result of the consultation I, of course, remained in ignorance, but next morning Rayne sent for me and said he had decided to meet his friend Tracy at the Unicorn Hotel at Ripon.

”I telephoned him to the Station Hotel at York during the night,” he added. ”He'll have a lady with him. I want you to drive me over to Ripon and drive the lady back here.”

So an hour later we set out across country and arrived in Ripon in time for lunch.

Gerald Tracy I had met before, a big, stout, round-faced man of prosperous appearance, bald-headed and loud of speech. That he was a crook I had no doubt, but what his actual _metier_ was I could not discover. He met us on the threshold of the old-fas.h.i.+oned hotel in that old-fas.h.i.+oned Yorks.h.i.+re town, and with him was a well-dressed young woman, Italian or Spanish, I saw at a glance.

When Tracy introduced her to Rayne she was apparently much impressed, replying in very fair English. Her name, I learnt, was Signorina Lacava, and she was Italian.

We all lunched together but no business was discussed. Rayne expressed a hope that the signorina's journey from Milan had been a pleasant one.

”Quite,” the handsome black-eyed girl replied. ”I stayed one day in Paris.”

”The signorina has made a conquest in Milan,” laughed Tracy. ”Farini, the commissario of police, has fallen in love with her!”

Rayne smiled, and turning to her, said:

”I congratulate you, signorina. Your friends.h.i.+p may one day stand you in very good stead.”

That the young woman was someone of great importance in the criminal combine was apparent from the fact that she had been actually introduced to its secret head.