Part 10 (2/2)
”This is a most extraordinary affair, Dr. Whitlett,” he said gravely. ”I presume that this letter, then, is a forgery?”
The doctor took the note of introduction which Wilmot had brought, and adjusting his pince-nez, read it hastily through.
”A forgery from the beginning to end,” he declared, turning it over and looking at it helplessly. ”I have never known any one of the name in my life!”
”It is written on notepaper stamped with your address,” Wolfenden remarked. ”It is also, I suppose, a fair imitation of your handwriting, for Lady Deringham accepted it as such?”
The doctor nodded.
”I will tell you,” he said, ”all that I know of the affair. I started out to pay some calls this evening about six o'clock. As I turned into the main road I met a strange brougham and pair of horses being driven very slowly. There was a man who looked like a gentleman's servant sitting by the side of the coachman, and as I pa.s.sed them the latter asked a question, and I am almost certain that I heard my name mentioned. I was naturally a little curious, and I kept looking back all along the road to see which way they turned after pa.s.sing my house. As a matter of fact, although I pulled up and waited in the middle of the road, I saw no more of the carriage. When at last I drove on, I knew that one of two things must have happened. Either the carriage must have come to a standstill and remained stationary in the road, or it must have turned in at my gate. The hedge was down a little higher up the road, and I could see distinctly that they had not commenced to climb the hill. It seemed very odd to me, but I had an important call to make, so I drove on and got through as quickly as I could. On my way home I pa.s.sed your north entrance, and, looking up the avenue, I saw the same brougham on its way up to the house. I had half a mind to run in then--I wish now that I had--but instead of doing so I drove quickly home. There I found that a gentleman had called a few minutes after I had left home, and finding me out had asked permission to leave a note. The girl had shown him into the study, and he had remained there about ten minutes. Afterwards he had let himself out and driven away. When I looked for the note for me there was none, but the writing materials had been used, and a sheet of notepaper was gone. I happened to remember that there was only one out. The whole thing seemed to me so singular that I ordered the dogcart out again and drove straight over here.”
”For which,” Wolfenden remarked, ”we ought to feel remarkably grateful. So far the thing is plain enough! But what on earth did that man, whoever he was, expect to find in my father's study that he should make an elaborate attempt like this to enter it? He was no common thief!”
Dr. Whitlett shook his head. He had no elucidation to offer. The thing was absolutely mysterious.
”Your father himself,” he said slowly, ”sets a very high value upon the result of his researches!”
”And on the other hand,” Wolfenden retorted promptly, ”you, and my mother, Mr. Blatherwick, and even the girl who has been copying for him, have each a.s.sured me that his work is rubbis.h.!.+ You four comprise all who have seen any part of it, and I understand that you have come to the conclusion that, if not insane, he is at least suffering from some sort of mania. Now, how are we to reconcile this with the fact of an attempted robbery this evening, and the further fact that a heavy bribe has been secretly offered to Blatherwick to copy only a few pages of his later ma.n.u.scripts?”
Dr. Whitlett started.
”Indeed!” he exclaimed. ”When did you hear of this?”
”Only this afternoon,” Wolfenden answered. ”Blatherwick brought me the letter himself. What I cannot understand is, how these doc.u.ments could ever become a marketable commodity. Yet we may look upon it now as an absolute fact, that there are persons--and no ordinary thieves either!--conspiring to obtain possession of them.”
”Wolfenden!”
The two men started round. The Countess was standing in the doorway. She was pale as death, and her eyes were full of fear.
”Who was that man?” she cried. ”What has happened?”
”He was an impostor, I am afraid,” Wolfenden answered. ”The letter from Dr. Whitlett was forged. He has bolted.”
She looked towards the doctor.
”Thank G.o.d that you are here!” she cried. ”I am frightened! There are some papers and models missing, and the admiral has found it out! I am afraid he is going to have a fit. Please come into the library. He must not be left alone!”
They both followed her down the pa.s.sage and through the half-opened door. In the centre of the room Lord Deringham was standing, his pale cheeks scarlet with pa.s.sion, his fists convulsively clenched. He turned sharply round to face them, and his eyes flashed with anger.
”Nothing shall make me believe that this room has not been entered, and my papers tampered with!” he stormed out. ”Where is that reptile Blatherwick? I left my morning's work and two models on the desk there, less than half an hour ago; both the models are gone and one of the sheets! Either Blatherwick has stolen them, or the room has been entered during my absence! Where is that hound?”
”He is in his room,” Lady Deringham answered. ”He ran past me on the stairs trembling all over, and he has locked himself in and piled up the furniture against the door. You have frightened him to death!”
”It is scarcely possible----” Dr. Whitlett began.
”Don't lie, sir!” the admiral thundered out. ”You are a pack of fools and old women! You are as ignorant as rabbits! You know no more than the kitchenmaids what has been growing and growing within these walls. I tell you that my work of the last few years, placed in certain hands, would alter the whole face of Europe--aye, of Christendom! There are men in this country to-day whose object is to rob me, and you, my own household, seem to be crying them welcome, bidding them come and help themselves, as though the labour of my life was worth no more than so many sheets of waste paper. You have let a stranger into this room to-day, and if he had not been disturbed, G.o.d knows what he might not have carried away with him!”
”We have been very foolish,” Lady Deringham said pleadingly. ”We will set a watch now day and night. We will run no more risks! I swear it! You can believe me, Horace!”
”Aye, but tell me the truth now,” he cried. ”Some one has been in this room and escaped through the window. I learnt as much as that from that blithering idiot, Blatherwick. I want to know who he was?”
She glanced towards the doctor. He nodded his head slightly. Then she went up to her husband and laid her hand upon his shoulders.
”Horace, you are right,” she said. ”It is no use trying to keep it from you. A man did impose upon us with a forged letter. He could not have been here more than five minutes, though. We found him out almost at once. It shall never happen again!”
The wisdom of telling him was at once apparent. His face positively shone with triumph! He became quite calm, and the fierce glare, which had alarmed them all so much, died out of his eyes. The confession was a triumph for him. He was gratified.
”I knew it,” he declared, with positive good humour. ”I have warned you of this all the time. Now perhaps you will believe me! Thank G.o.d that it was not d.u.c.h.esne himself. I should not be surprised, though, if it were not one of his emissaries! If d.u.c.h.esne comes,” he muttered to himself, his face growing a shade paler, ”G.o.d help us!”
”We will be more careful now,” Lady Deringham said. ”No one shall ever take us by surprise again. We will have special watchmen, and bars on all the windows.”
”From this moment,” the admiral said slowly, ”I shall never leave this room until my work is ended, and handed over to Lord S----'s care. If I am robbed England is in danger! There must be no risks. I will have a sofa-bedstead down, and please understand that all my meals must be served here! Heggs and Morton must take it in turns to sleep in the room, and there must be a watchman outside. Now will you please all go away?” he added, with a little wave of his hand. ”I have to reconstruct what has been stolen from me through your indiscretion. Send me in some coffee at eleven o'clock, and a box of cartridges you will find in my dressing-room.”
They went away together. Wolfenden was grave and mystified. Nothing about his father's demeanour or language had suggested insanity. What if they were all wrong--if the work to which the best years of his life had gone was really of the immense importance he claimed for it? Other people thought so! The slight childishness, which was obvious in a great many of his actions, was a very different thing from insanity. Blatherwick might be deceived--Blanche was just as likely to have looked upon any technical work as rubbish. Whitlett was only a country pract.i.tioner--even his mother might have exaggerated his undoubted eccentricities. At any rate, one thing was certain. There were people outside who made a bold enough bid to secure the fruit of his father's labours. It was his duty to see that the attempt, if repeated, was still unsuccessful.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE SCHEMING OF GIANTS.
At very nearly the same moment as the man who had called himself Dr. Wilmot had leaped from the library window of Deringham Hall, Mr. Sabin sat alone in his sanctum waiting for a visitor. The room was quite a small one on the ground floor of the house, but was furnished with taste and evident originality in the Moorish fas.h.i.+on. Mr. Sabin himself was ensconced in an easy chair drawn close up to the fire, and a thin cloud of blue smoke was stealing up from a thick, Egyptian cigarette which was burning away between his fingers. His head was resting upon the delicate fingers of his left hand, his dark eyes were fixed upon the flaming coals. He was deep in thought.
”A single mistake now,” he murmured softly, ”and farewell to the labour of years. A single false step, and goodbye to all our dreams! To-night will decide it! In a few minutes I must say Yes or No to Knigenstein. I think--I am almost sure I shall say Yes! Bah!”
The frown on his forehead grew more marked. The cigarette burned on between his fingers, and a long grey ash fell to the floor. He was permitting himself the luxury of deep thought. All his life he had been a schemer; a builder of mighty plans, a great power in the destinies of great people. To-night he knew that he had reached the crisis of a career, in many respects marvellous. To-night he would take the first of those few final steps on to the desire of his life. It only rested with him to cast the die. He must make the decision and abide by it. His own life's ambition and the destinies of a mighty nation hung in the balance. Had he made up his mind which way to turn the scale? Scarcely even yet! There were so many things!
He sat up with a start. There was a knock at the door. He caught up the evening paper, and the cigarette smoke circled about his head. He stirred a cup of coffee by his side. The hard lines in his face had all relaxed. There was no longer any anxiety. He looked up and greeted pleasantly--with a certain deference, too--the visitor who was being ushered in. He had no appearance of having been engaged in anything more than a casual study of the St. James's Gazette.
”A gentleman, sir,” the stolid-looking servant had announced briefly. No name had been mentioned. Mr. Sabin, when he rose and held out his hand, did not address his visitor directly. He was a tall, stout man, with an iron-grey moustache and the remains of a military bearing. When the servant had withdrawn and the two men were alone, he unb.u.t.toned his overcoat. Underneath he wore a foreign uniform, ablaze with orders. Mr. Sabin glanced at them and smiled.
”You are going to Arlington Street,” he remarked.
The other man nodded.
”When I leave here,” he said.
Then there was a short silence. Each man seemed to be waiting for the other to open the negotiations. Eventually it was Mr. Sabin who did so.
”I have been carefully through the file of papers you sent me,” he remarked.
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