Part 34 (1/2)

For an escaped murderer and his guilty accessory, I am afraid that our dissipation proved to be rather a colourless affair. Tommy had always had simple tastes in the way of amus.e.m.e.nt, and even if it had been safe for us to parade the West End in each other's company, I certainly had no wish to waste my time over a theatre or anything of that sort. I found that real life supplied me with all the drama I needed just at present.

What we actually did was to dine quietly in a little out-of-the-way restaurant just off Sloane Square, and then play billiards for the remainder of the evening in a room above a neighbouring tavern. We had several most exciting games. In old days I had been able to beat Tommy easily, but owing to a regrettable oversight on the part of the Government there is no table at Princetown, and in consequence I was rather short of practice.

Afterwards Tommy walked with me as far as Victoria, where we discussed such arrangements for the future as we were in a position to make.

”I'll write to you, anyway, Neil,” he said, ”as soon as I've tackled Latimer; and I'll probably come down with Joyce on Tuesday. If you want me any time before, send me a wire.”

I nodded. ”You'll be more useful to me in London, Tommy,” I said.

”All the threads of the business are up here. McMurtrie--Latimer-- George”--I paused--”I'd give something to know what those three do between them,” I added regretfully.

Tommy gripped my hand. ”It's all right, old son,” he said. ”I'm not much of a believer in inspirations and all that sort of rot, but somehow or other I'm dead certain we're going to win out. I've had a feeling like that ever since the trial--and so has Joyce.”

”Thanks, Tommy,” I said briefly. ”You'd give a jellyfish a backbone--you two.”

And with a last squeeze of the hand I left him standing there, and set off across the station for Edith Terrace.

It was close on midnight when I got back, and every one in the house seemed to have gone to bed. The light had been put out in the hall, but the door of my sitting-room was partly open, and a small jet of gas was flickering away over the fireplace. I turned this up and, looking round, discovered a large box with Holland's label on it, a note, and a half-sheet of paper--all decorating the table in the centre of the room.

I examined the half-sheet of paper first. It contained several dirty thumb-marks and the following message, roughly scrawled in pencil:

”sir the lady with the hat c.u.m for you about for aclock i told her as you was out and she rote this leter gerty.”

Hastily picking up the envelope, I slit open the flap, and pulled out the ”leter” from inside. It covered two sides, and was written in Sonia's curious, sloping, foreign-looking hand.

”I have to go away with my father until the end of next week. By that time, if you have succeeded with your invention, there will be nothing to stop our plans. I would have explained everything to you today if you had been here. As it is, _on no account give your secret to any one_ until I have seen you. I shall come down to Tilbury either on Friday or Sat.u.r.day, and within a few hours we can be utterly beyond the reach of any further danger or difficulties. Until then, my lover--SONIA.”

I read it through twice, and then slowly folding it up, thrust it back into the envelope.

”It seems to me,” I said, ”that I'm going to have quite an interesting house-party.”

CHAPTER XVII

THE WORKSHOP ON THE MARSHES

I gave Gertie her hat next morning when she brought me up my breakfast. It was a gorgeous thing--rather the shape of a dustman's helmet, with a large scarlet bird nestling on one side of it, sheltered by some heavy undergrowth. Gertie's face, as I pulled it out of the box, was a study in about eight different emotions.

”Oo--er,” she gasped faintly. ”That ain't never for me.”

”Yes, it is, Gertrude,” I said. ”It was specially chosen for you by a lady of unimpeachable taste.”

I held it out to her, and she accepted it with shaking hands, like a newly-made peeress receiving her tiara.

”My Gawd,” she whispered reverently; ”ain't it just a dream!”

To be perfectly honest, it seemed to me more in the nature of a nightmare, but wild horses wouldn't have dragged any such hostile criticism out of me.

”I think it will suit you very nicely, Gertie,” I said. ”It's got just that dash of colour which Edith Terrace wants.”