Part 41 (2/2)

”Don't worry, Mr. Quest,” he said. ”We don't want the woman alone; we want the man, too. Now the man was away. He only visits the house occasionally, and I am given to understand that he is a member of several West End clubs. When the two women entered that house yesterday afternoon, there wasn't a soul in it except servants. The woman telephoned for the man. He never turned up last night nor this morning. He arrived at that house twenty minutes ago.”

Quest drew a little breath.

”It gave me a turn,” he admitted. ”Say, this is a slow taxi!”

The Inspector glanced out of the window.

”If this is the young lady you're looking for,” he said, ”you'll be in plenty of time, never fear. What I am hoping is that we may be able to catch my fellows before they try to rush the place. You understand, with your experience, Mr. Quest, that there are two things we've got to think of. We not only want to put our hand upon the guilty persons, but we want to bring the crime home to them.”

”I see that,” Quest a.s.sented. ”How much farther is this place?”

”We're there,” Hardaway told him.

He stopped the cab and they got out. A man who seemed to be strolling aimlessly along, reading a newspaper, suddenly joined them.

”Well, Dixon?” his chief exclaimed.

The man glanced around.

”I've got three men round at the back, Mr. Hardaway,” he said. ”It's impossible for any one to leave the place.”

”Anything fresh to tell me?”

”There are two men in the place besides the governor--butler and footman, dressed in livery. They sleep out, and only come after lunch.”

Hardaway paused to consider for a moment.

”Look here,” Quest suggested, ”they know all you, of course, and they'll never let you in until they're forced to. I'm a stranger. Let me go. I'll get in all right.”

Hardaway peered around the corner of the street.

”All right,” he a.s.sented. ”We shall follow you up pretty closely, though.”

Quest stepped back into the taxi and gave the driver a direction. When he emerged in front of the handsome grey stone house he seemed to have become completely transformed. There was a fatuous smile upon his lips. He crossed the pavement with difficulty, stumbled up the steps, and held on to the knocker with one hand while he consulted a slip of paper. He had scarcely rung the bell before a slightly parted curtain in the front room fell together, and a moment later the door was opened by a man in the livery of a butler, but with the face and physique of a prize-fighter.

”Lady of the house,” Quest demanded. ”Want to see the lady of the house.”

Almost immediately he was conscious of a woman standing in the hall before him. She was quietly but handsomely dressed; her hair was grey; her smile, although a little peculiar, was benevolent.

”You had better come in,” she invited. ”Please do not stand in the doorway.”

Quest, however, who heard the footsteps of the others behind him, loitered there for a moment.

”You're the lady whose name is on this piece of paper?” he demanded. ”This place is all right, eh?”

”I really do not know what you mean,” the woman replied coldly, ”but if you will come inside, I will talk to you in the drawing-room.”

Quest, as though stumbling against the front-door, had it now wide open, and in a moment the hall seemed full. The woman shrieked. The butler suddenly sprang upon the last man to enter, and sent him spinning down the steps. Almost at that instant there was a scream from upstairs. Quest took a running jump and went up the stairs four at a time. The butler suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed the revolver from Hardaway's hand and fired blindly in front of him, missing Quest only by an inch or two.

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