Part 27 (1/2)
With this accomplished--and the facts established through discreet interrogation of madame la concierge that no enquiries had been made for ”Pierre Lamier,” and that she had noticed no strange or otherwise questionable characters loitering in the neighbourhood of late--he was ready for his first real step toward rehabilitation....
It was past one in the morning when, with the girl on his arm, he issued forth into the dark and drowsy rue des Acacias and, moving swiftly, crossed the avenue de la Grande Armee. Thereafter, avoiding main-travelled highways, they struck southward through tangled side streets to aristocratic Pa.s.sy, skirted the boulevards of the fortifications, and approached the private park of La Muette.
The hotel particulier of that wealthy and amiable eccentric, Madame Helene Omber, was a souvenir of those days when Pa.s.sy had been suburban. A survival of the Revolution, a vast, dour pile that had known few changes since the days of its construction, it occupied a large, unkempt park, irregularly triangular in shape, bounded by two streets and an avenue, and rendered private by high walls crowned with broken gla.s.s. Carriage gates opened on the avenue, guarded by a porter's lodge; while of three posterns that pierced the walls on the side streets, one only was in general use by the servants of the establishment; the other two were presumed to be permanently sealed.
Lanyard, however, knew better.
When they had turned off from the avenue, he slackened pace and moved at caution, examining the prospect narrowly.
On the one hand rose the wall of the park, topped by naked, soughing limbs of neglected trees; on the other, across the way, a block of tall old dwellings, withdrawn behind jealous garden walls, showed stupid, sleepy faces and lightless eyes.
Within the perspective of the street but three shapes stirred; Lanyard and the girl in the shadow of the wall, and a disconsolate, misprized cat that promptly decamped like a terror-stricken ghost.
Overhead the sky was breaking and showing ebon patches and infrequent stars through a wind-harried wrack of cloud. The night had grown sensibly colder, and noisy with the rus.h.i.+ng sweep of a new-sprung wind.
Several yards from the postern-gate, Lanyard paused definitely, and spoke for the first time in many minutes; for the nature of their errand had oppressed the spirits of both and enjoined an unnatural silence, ever since their departure from the rue des Acacias.
”This is where we stop,” he said, with a jerk of his head toward the wall; ”but it's not too late--”
”For what?” the girl asked quickly.
”I promised you no danger; but now I've thought it over, I can't promise that: there's always danger. And I'm afraid for you. It's not yet too late for you to turn back and wait for me in a safer place.”
”You asked me to accompany you for a special purpose,” she argued; ”you begged me to come with you, in fact.... Now that I have agreed and come this far, I don't mean to turn back without good reason.”
His gesture indicated uneasy acquiescence. ”I should never have asked this of you. I think I must have been a little mad. If anything should come of this to injure you...!”
”If you mean to do what you promised--”
”Do you doubt my sincerity?”
”It was your own suggestion that you leave me no excuse for doubt...”
Without further remonstrance, if with a mind beset with misgivings, he led on to the gate--a blank door of wood, painted a dark green, deeply recessed in the wall.
In proof of his a.s.sertion that he had long since made every preparation to attack the premises, Lanyard had a key ready and in the lock almost before they reached it.
And the door swung back easily and noiselessly as though on well-greased hinges. As silently it shut them in.
They stood upon a weed-grown gravel path, hedged about with thick ma.s.ses of shrubbery; but the park was as black as a pocket; and the heavy effluvia of wet mould, decaying weeds and rotting leaves that choked the air, seemed only to render the murk still more opaque.
But Lanyard evidently knew his way blindfold: though motives of prudence made him refrain from using his flash-lamp, he betrayed not the least incert.i.tude in his actions.
Never once at loss for the right turning, he piloted the girl swiftly through a bewildering black labyrinth of paths, lawns and thickets....
In due course he pulled up, and she discovered that they had come out upon a clear s.p.a.ce of lawn, close beside the featureless, looming bulk of a dark and silent building.
An admonitory grasp tightened upon her fingers, and she caught his singularly penetrating yet guarded whisper:
”This is the back of the house--the service-entrance. From this door a broad path runs straight to the main service gateway; you can't mistake it; and the gate itself has a spring lock, easy enough to open from the inside. Remember this in event of trouble. We might become separated in the darkness and confusion....”
Gently returning the pressure, ”I understand,” she said in a whisper.