Part 26 (1/2)
”I remember that we spoke of Miss Sylvia,” I exclaimed, ”and that you refused to satisfy my curiosity.”
”I refused, because I am not permitted,” was his calm rejoinder.
”Since I saw you,” I said, ”a dastardly attempt has been made upon my life. I was enticed to an untenanted house in Bayswater, and after a cheque for a thousand pounds had been obtained from me by a trick, I narrowly escaped death by a devilish device. My grave, I afterwards found, was already prepared.”
”Is this a fact!” he gasped.
”It is. I was rescued--by Sylvia herself.”
He was silent, drawing hard at his pipe, deep in thought.
”The names of the two men who made the dastardly attempt upon me were Reckitt and Forbes--friends of Sylvia Pennington,” I went on.
He nodded. Then, removing his pipe, exclaimed--
”Yes. I understand. But did I not warn you?”
”You did. But, to be frank, Mr. Shuttleworth, I really did not follow you then. Neither do I now.”
”Have I not told you, my dear sir, that I possess certain knowledge under vow of absolute secrecy--knowledge which it is not permitted to me, as a servant of G.o.d, to divulge.”
”But surely if you knew that a.s.sa.s.sination was contemplated, it was your duty to warn me.”
”I did--but you took no heed,” he declared. ”Sylvia warned you also, when you met in Gardone, and yet you refused to take her advice and go into hiding!”
”But why should an innocent, law-abiding, inoffensive man be compelled to hide himself like a fugitive from justice?” I protested.
”Who can fathom human enmity, or the ingenious cunning of the evil-doer?” asked the grey-faced rector quite calmly. ”Have you never stopped to wonder at the marvellous subtlety of human wickedness?”
”Those men are veritable fiends,” I cried. ”Yet why have I aroused their animosity? If you know so much concerning them, Mr.
Shuttleworth, don't you think that it is your duty to protect your fellow-creatures?--to make it your business to inform the police?” I added.
”Probably it is,” he said reflectively. ”But there are times when even the performance of one's duty may be injudicious.”
”Surely it is not injudicious to expose the methods of such blackguards!” I cried.
”Pardon me,” he said. ”I am compelled to differ with that opinion.
Were you in possession of the same knowledge as myself, you too, would, I feel sure, deem it injudicious.”
”But what is this secret knowledge?” I demanded. ”I have narrowly escaped being foully done to death. I have been robbed, and I feel that it is but right that I should now know the truth.”
”Not from me, Mr. Biddulph,” he answered. ”Have I not already told you the reason why no word of the actual facts may pa.s.s my lips?”
”I cannot see why you should persist in thus mystifying me as to the sinister motive of that pair of a.s.sa.s.sins. If they wished to rob me, they could have done so without seeking to take my life by those horrible means.”
”What means did they employ?” he asked.
Briefly and vividly I explained their methods, as he sat silent, listening to me to the end. He evinced neither horror nor surprise.