The Red Room
Page 9
and I, to solve, and by the exercise of patience andwatchfulness we shall, I hope, be able to elucidate the mystery.
"The inquiries may carry us far afield; I have a keen presentiment thatthey will. Therefore if I am suddenly absent do not trouble on myaccount. My silence will mean that I am watchful and active. When I amabroad I make a point of receiving no letters, therefore do not write.I always communicate with my friends through the advertisement columnsof the _Times_. To you I shall be `Silence.'
"Take the paper daily and watch for any message I may send you. Youhave a car outside, I suppose? I wonder whether you would take me toTottenham Court Road?" he asked.
Thereupon we went below, and after a whispered conversation withAntonio, who was waiting in one of the back rooms, he mounted into thecar, and Dick drove us very slowly through the fog half-way downTottenham Court Road, where Kirk alighted.
"Shall I wait for you?" I asked.
"No," he replied; "I really don't know how long I shall be. Besides, Ishall not return to Bedford Park to-night. It's very kind of you, but Iwon't trouble you further. Good night, Mr. Holford! Perhaps I shallsee you to-morrow. If not, then recollect to keep an eye upon the_Times_ for a message from `Silence.'"
And he shook my hand, descended, and went forward into the yellow fog.
My curiosity was aroused; therefore in an instant I had resolved tofollow him and ascertain whither he went.
In the direction he had taken towards Oxford Street, I started off, butbefore me the lights blurred in the misty obscurity. Foot-passengers onthe pavement loomed up in the uncertain light and melted again, and as Ihurried on I discerned the figures before me with difficulty. Where theshopfronts were lit were patches of red mist, but where they were closedit was almost complete darkness, for in that neighbourhood the fog wasthicker than further westward, and Dick had had considerable trouble infinding his way there at a snail's pace.
In my haste I collided with several persons coming my way, apologisingand going forward again until I came to a corner where a shop waswell-lit. Of a sudden I distinguished the man I was following; he hadhalted in conversation with the shop-keeper, who was pointing up theside street.
In the fog, Kirk was evidently out of his bearings.
I drew back, so as to escape observation, but I watched him plunge intothe darkness of the side street, and I was soon at his heels. It was asqualid neighbourhood into which we had entered. I had been through itbefore, but was not certain which street it might be down which we weregoing.
Guided by his footsteps I went on behind him. Fortunately my tread wassoft, owing to the rubber heels I wore. At the crossing I listened, atfirst uncertain whether he had turned to the right or left, or gonestraight on.
Again the footsteps sounded out of the obscurity, which now caused myeyes to smart, and I knew that he had gone straight forward, so on Iwent.
At the next corner I was nearer him, near enough to distinguish that hecrossed the road and suddenly turned along the pavement to the right.We were evidently going in the direction of Fitzroy Square, though inwhich street I had no idea. In fear lest his quick ears should detectthat I was following, I fell back a little, allowing him to get furtherin front. The houses we were then passing were good-sized private onesinterspersed with shops, substantial houses of the usual style found inthe decayed districts of London, dark, gloomy, and mysterious-looking.I recognised that we were in Cleveland Street. Then we turned again--the first turning on the left round the corner by a laundry.
Of a sudden I heard Kirk halt, as though in doubt. It seemed as thoughhe was retracing his steps, having passed the house of which he was insearch. Quick as thought, in order to avoid meeting him face to face, Istepped off the kerb into the roadway.
He passed by within a few yards of me, yet entirely unconscious of myproximity. Then he repassed, as though having satisfied himself that hehad not yet reached his goal. In a London fog, one house is very muchlike another, especially in a side street. In the distance I saw a redglimmer--the light of a surgery.
Two dark, evil-looking men lurched past me, and then a woman,half-drunken and reeling. For a few seconds I lost his footsteps, butagain they reached my ears. The sound was a different one. He hadascended one of the flights of steps!
I hurried forward, but as I did so I heard a door close sharply. He hadentered one of those dark houses, but which of four or five I was,unfortunately, utterly at a loss to decide.
The exterior of each I examined carefully, taking note of their number.In two of them yellow gas-jets were burning over the grimy fanlights,throwing out a faint light into the pall of the fog, while in one alight was burning in the front room of the ground floor.
All were let in squalid apartments, for there seemed a generalfrowsiness about that undesirable neighbourhood, where the greater partof the inhabitants were foreigners of the working class. Each house,with its railings and deep area, had but little to distinguish it fromits neighbours, all were dirty, neglected, and forbidding in thatdarkness and gloom.
I stood in chagrin at having thus lost sight of my mysterious friend,and could only wait for his exit. Two of the houses were within thezone of the weak light thrown by the street-lamp; the other three werein obscurity.
In one of them--which one I knew not--Kershaw Kirk had kept anappointment, arranged, perhaps, by that signal which he had made by theraising and lowering of the blind.
My position was most tantalising, yet I felt that if I remained there onwatch I should most certainly see him come out, and then at least knowthe number of the one he had visited.
Midnight rang out from a church clock somewhere, but there had been nosign of him.
Dick must, I knew, have grown tired of waiting, and, thinking me lost inthe fog, would slowly creep homeward. The ever-watchful vigil I waskeeping in that terrible atmosphere fagged me. I became numbed withcold, and very hungry.
Yet I dare not leave the spot lest Kirk should come forth, so I stoodleaning against the railings in patience, full of wonder andapprehension.
More than once I feared that the "dealer in secrets" might notice mefrom within if he chanced to look out. Hence from time to time Ichanged my position.
My impression was that he had entered with a latch-key, for scarce hadhe reached the top of the steps when he was inside, with the door closedbehind him; either that, or else someone was waiting there to admit him.
Another hour had nearly passed, when suddenly I was startled by a loudscream--a woman's piercing scream--which appeared to come from the firstof the houses which lay in the darkness.
Twice was that cry repeated, and I sped to the house whence it emanated.The place was in complete darkness. No light shone from any window ofthe gloomy, dismal house.
A third time was the shriek repeated, coming from the room behind therailing on a level with the door. As I stood upon the pavement I wasonly a few feet from the window.
"Help! Help! For God's sake, help! You brute! I thought I hadescaped you. No! Ah! Don't! I beg--I implore you! Ah!" shrieked arefined voice, the voice of a young woman. And then, in despairingtones that grew fainter with every syllable, I heard the words longdrawn out. "Ah! You--you've--killed--me! Killed me!--just as youkilled my--dear--father!"
I stood listening to that dying appeal, bewildered, utterly staggered.
What could I think? Place yourself in my position and ask yourself whatyou, in those circumstances, would have thought?
CHAPTER SEVEN.
ANOTHER PERSON BECOMES INQUISITIVE.
I was uncertain what to do. Was it best to ascend the steps, knockboldly at the door, and inquire the reason of that frantic appeal? Orshould I remain silent and watch?
If Kirk had caused the Professor's death, then why had he enlisted myaid? But was I not a complete novice, in the detection of crime, andmight not all his protestations of friendship be a mere blind, a cleverruse to cover the truth?
I stood on the pavement, my ears strained to
catch any sound within.But all was silent again.
Those final words of the woman's desperate appeal for help rang in myears: "_You've killed me, just as you killed my dear father_!"
The woman who had shrieked could surely have no connection with thetragedy in Sussex Place, for, alas! Ethelwynn Greer was dead. I had,with my own eyes, seen her stiff and stark.
Then what did it all mean? Was this an additional phase of the alreadyinscrutable problem?
I gazed at the window, where no light escaped through the loweredVenetian blinds. The very darkness struck me as strange, for eitherthere were closed shutters upon the blinds, or some heavy curtains hadbeen drawn carefully across to exclude any ray of light from being seenwithout.
In the neighbourhood wherein I was, I recollected there were manymysterious houses--secret clubs where waiters and foreigners of thelower class danced, drank, and played faro, and were often raided by thepolice. Those streets bore a very bad reputation.
After all, I