by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER IV
NO. 61 RALEIGH MANSIONS
Really, the maid deserved to have her ears pulled.
People in her walk in life should not ape their betters. Lady Dyke,owing to her position, was entitled to some degree of oddity or mysteryin her behavior. But for a lady's maid to so upset the entire householdat Wensley House, Portman Square, was intolerable.
Sir Charles became, if possible, more miserable; the butler fumed; thehousekeeper said that the girl was always a forward minx, and thefootman winked at Buttons, as much as to say that he knew a good deal ifhe liked to talk.
The police were as greatly baffled by this latter incident as by itspredecessor. The movements of the maid were quite unknown. No one couldtell definitely when she left the house. Her fellow-servants describedthe dress she probably wore, as all her other belongings were in herbedroom; but beyond the fact that her name was Jane Harding, and thatshe had not returned to her home in Lincolnshire, the police could findno further clue.
So, in brief, Jane Harding quickly joined Lady Dyke in the limbo offorgetfulness.
Bruce, however, forgot nothing. Indeed, he rejoiced at this newdevelopment.
"The greater the apparent mystery," he communed, "the less it is inreality. We now have two tracks to follow. They are both hidden, it istrue, but when we find one, it will probably intersect the other."
The new year was a few days old when Bruce made his first step throughthe bewildering maze which seemed to bar progress on every side. Hereceived a report from the man, a pensioned police-officer, who hadconducted a painstaking search into the history and occupation of everyinhabitant of Raleigh Mansions.
Two items the barrister fastened on to at once.
"At No. 12, top floor right, entrance by first door on Sloane Square side, is a small flat occupied by a man named Sydney H. Corbett. He passes as an American, but is probably an Englishman who has resided in the United States. He does not mix with other Americans in London, and is of irregular habits. He frequents race meetings and sporting clubs, is reported to belong to a Piccadilly club where high play is the rule, and has no definite occupation. He occasionally visits a lady who lives at No. 61, same mansions, ground floor, and sixth door. They have been heard to quarrel seriously, and the dispute appears always to have concerned money. Corbett went to Monte Carlo early in December. His address there is 'Hotel du Cercle,' and the local post-office has a supply of stamped and addressed envelopes in which to forward his correspondence.
"At No. 61, as already described, resides Mrs. Gwendoline Hillmer. She lives in good style, rents a brougham and a victoria, and is either a wealthy widow or maintained by some one of means. She dresses well, and goes out a good deal to theatres, but otherwise leads a rather lonely life. Her most frequent visitor is, or was, a gentleman who looked like an officer in the Guards, and, much less often, the aforesaid Sydney H. Corbett. Her servants, except the maid, live out. The maid, who is a sort of companion, is talkative, but does not know much, or, if she does, will not speak."
Bruce weighed these statements very carefully. They did not contain anypositive facts that promised well for the elucidation of Lady Dyke'svisit to the mansions on that fateful November evening, but the absolutecolorlessness of the reports concerning the other occupants renderedthem quite impossible of individual distinction.
After an hour of puzzled thought the barrister finally decided upon acourse of action. He would see Mrs. Gwendoline Hillmer, and trust toluck in the way of discoveries.
A quiet smile lit up his handsome, regular features as he proceeded toarray himself in the most fashionable clothes he possessed, paying theutmost attention to every detail in a manner that amazed his valet.
When at last that worthy was despatched to the nearest florist's for a_boutonniere_, he communicated his bewilderment to the hall-porter.
"My guv'nor's going out on the mash," he said confidentially. "I thoughthe would never look at a woman; but, bless you, Jim, we're all alike.When the day comes we all rush after a petticoat."
It was nearly six o'clock when Bruce walked down Victoria Street. Forsome reason, he did not call a hansom, and it was almost with a startthat he found himself purchasing a ticket to Sloane Square at theUnderground Railway office. At this precise hour and place he had lastseen Lady Alice on earth. The memory nerved him to his purpose.
A few minutes later he pressed the electric bell of No. 61 RaleighMansions. As he listened to the slight jar of the indicator within, hesmiled at the apparent fatuity of his mission.
He had one card, perhaps a weak one, to play, it was true, but he hopedthat circumstances might prevent this from being tabled too early in thegame.
The door opened, and a youthful housemaid stood before him, the simplewonder in her eyes showing that such visitors were rare.
"Is Mrs. Hillmer at home?" he said.
"I'll see sir, if you give me your name."
"Surely you know whether or not she is at home?"
The girl stammered and blushed at this unexpected query. "Well, sir,"she said, "my mistress is in, but I do not know if she can receive anyone. She is dressed to go out."
"Ah! that's better. Now, take her my card, and say that while I will notdetain her, my business is very important." This with a sweet smile thatput the flurried maid entirely at her ease.
The girl withdrew, after hesitating for a moment to decide the importantquestion as to whether or not she should close the door in his face.
Another smile, and she did not.
He was thus free to note the luxurious and tasteful air of the generalappointments, for the entrance hall usually reveals much of thecharacteristics of the inmates. Here was every evidence of refinementand wealth. All the display had not been lavished on the drawing-room.
As he waited, conscious of the fact that his colloquy with the servanthad been overheard, a lady crossed from one room to the other at the endof the passage. Her smart but simple dress, and the quick scrutiny shegave him, as though discovering his presence accidentally, caused himto believe--rightly, as it transpired--that this was the maid-companiondescribed by his assistant.
Not only had she obviously made her appearance in order to look at him,but the housemaid had carried his message to a different section of theflat.
The girl returned. "My mistress will see you in a few minutes," shesaid. "Will you kindly step into the dining-room?"
He followed her, sat down in a position where the strong glare of theelectric lamps would fall on any one who stood opposite, and waiteddevelopments.
The furniture was solid and appropriate, the carpet rich, and thepictures, engravings for the most part, excellent. This pleasant room,warmed by a cheerful fire, impressed Bruce as a place much used by thehousehold. Books and work-baskets were scattered about, and a piano,littered with music, filled a corner. There were a few photographs ofpersons and places, but he had not time to examine these before the ladyof the house entered.
Her appearance, for some reason inexplicable to the barrister himself,took him by surprise. She was tall, graceful, extremely good-looking,and dressed in a style of quiet elegance. Just the sort of woman onewould expect to find in such a well-appointed abode, yet more refined inmanner than Bruce, from his knowledge of the world, thought he wouldmeet, judging by the hasty inferences drawn from his subordinate'sreport. She was self-possessed, too. With calm tone, and slightlyelevated eyebrows, she said:
"You wish to see me, I understand?"
"Yes. Allow me first to apologize for the hour at which I have called."
"No apology is necessary. But I am going out. Perhaps you will be goodenough not to detain me longer than is absolutely necessary."
She stood between the table and the door. Bruce, who had risen at herentrance, was at the other side of the room. Her words, no less than herattitude, showed that she desired the interview to be brief. But thebarrister resolved that he would not be repelled so co
olly.
Advancing, with a bow and that fascinating smile of his, he said,pulling forward a chair:
"Won't you be seated?"
The lady looked at him. She saw a man of fine physique and undoubtedgood breeding. She hesitated. There was no reason to be rude to him, soshe sat down.
Claude drew a chair to the other side of the hearthrug, and commenced:
"I have ventured to seek this interview for the purpose of making someinquiries."
"I thought so. Are you a policeman?" The words were blurted outimpetuously, a trifle complainingly, but Bruce gave no sign of theinterest they had for him.
"Good gracious, no," he cried. "Why should you think that?"
"Because two detectives have been bothering me, and every other personin these mansions, about some mysterious lady who called here two monthsago. They don't know where she called, nor will they state her name; asif any one could possibly know anything about it. So I naturally thoughtyou were on the same errand."
"Confound that rascal White," growled he to himself.
But Mrs. Hillmer went on: "If that is not your business, would you mindtelling me what it is?"
Now Bruce's alert brain had been actively engaged during the last fewseconds. This woman was not the clever, specious adventuress he had halfexpected to meet. It seemed more than ever unlikely that she could haveany knowledge of Lady Dyke or the causes that led to her disappearance.He was tempted to frame some excuse and take his departure. But thecertainty that his missing friend had visited Raleigh Mansions, and thenecessity there was for exploiting every line of inquiry, impelled himto adopt this last resource.
"It is not concerning a missing lady, but concerning a missing gentlemanthat I have come to see you."
The shot went home.
Why, for the life of him, he could not tell, but his companion wasmanifestly disturbed at his words.
"Oh," she said.
Then, after a little pause: "May I ask his name?"
"Certainly. He is known as Mr. Sydney H. Corbett."
She gave a slight gasp.
"Why do you put it in that way? Is not that his right name?"
"I have reason to believe it is not."
Mrs. Hillmer was so obviously distressed that Bruce inwardly reviledhimself for causing her so much unnecessary suffering. In allprobability, the source of her emotion had not the remotest bearingupon his quest.
Then came the pertinent query, after a glance at his card, which shestill held in her hand:
"Who are you, Mr.--Mr. Claude Bruce?"
"I am a member of the Bar, of the Inner Temple. My chambers are No. 7Paper Buildings, and my private residence is given there."
"And why are you interested in Mr. Sydney Corbett?"
"Ah, in that respect I am at this moment unable to enlighten you."
"Unable, or unwilling?"
He indulged in a quiet piece of fencing:
"Really, Mrs. Hillmer," he said, "I am not here as in any sense hostileto you. I merely want some detailed information with regard to thisgentleman, information which you may be able to give me. That is all."
All this time he knew that the woman was scrutinizing himnarrowly--trying to weigh him up as it were, not because she feared him,but rather to discover the true motive of his presence.
Personally, he had never faced a more difficult task than thismake-believe investigation. He could have laughed at the apparent wantof connection between Lady Dyke's ill-fated visit to Raleigh Mansionsand this worrying of a beautiful, pleasant-mannered woman, who wassurely neither a principal nor an accomplice in a ghastly crime.
"Well, I suppose I may consider myself in the hands of counsel. Tell mewhat it is you want to know!" Mrs. Hillmer pouted, with the air of achild about to undergo a scolding.
"Are you acquainted with Mr. Corbett's present address?" he said.
"No. I have neither seen him nor heard from him since early inNovember."
"Can you be more precise about the period?"
"Yes, perhaps." She arose, took from a drawer in the sideboard a packetof bills--receipted, he observed--searched through them and found thedocument she sought. "I purchased a few articles about that time," sheexplained, "and the account for them is dated November 15. I had notseen my--" She blushed, became confused, laughed a little, and went on."I had not seen Mr. Corbett for at least a week before that date--sayNovember 8th or 9th."
Lady Dyke disappeared on the evening of the 6th!
Bruce swallowed his astonishment at the odd coincidence of dates, for hesaid, with an encouraging laugh, "Out with it, Mrs. Hillmer. You wereabout to describe Mr. Corbett correctly when you recollected yourself."
Mrs. Hillmer, still coloring and becoming saucily cheerful, cried, "Whyshould I trouble myself when you, of course, know all that I can tellyou, and probably more? He is my brother, and a pretty tiresome sort ofrelation, too."
"I am obliged for your confidence. In return, I am free to state thatyour brother is now in the South of France."
"As you are here, Mr. Bruce," she said, "I may as well get some advicegratis. Can people writ him in the South of France? Can they ask me topay his debts?"
"Under ordinary circumstances they can do neither. Certainly not thelatter."
"I hope not. But they sometimes come very near to it, as I know to mycost."
"Indeed! How?"
Mrs. Hillmer hesitated. Her smile was a trifle scornful, and her colorrose again as she answered: "People are not averse to taking advantageof circumstances. I have had some experience of this trait indebt-collectors already. But they must be careful. You, as a legal man,must know that demands urged on account of personal reasons may comevery near to levying blackmail."
"Surely, Mrs. Hillmer, you do not suspect me of being a dun. Perish thethought! You could never be in debt to me."
"Very nice of you. Don't you represent those people on LeadenhallStreet, then?"
"What people?"
"Messrs. Dodge & Co."
"No; why do you ask?"
"Because my brother entered into what he called a 'deal' with them. Heunderwrote some shares in a South African mine, as a nominal affair, hetold me, and now they want him to pay for them because the company isnot supported by the public."
"No, I do not represent Dodge & Co."
"Is there something else then? Whom do you represent?"
"To be as precise as permissible, I may say that my inquiries in nosense affect financial matters."
"What then?"
"Well, there is a woman in the case."
Mrs. Hillmer was evidently both relieved and interested.
"No, you don't say," she said. "Tell me all about it. I never knewBertie to be much taken up with the fair sex. I am all curiosity. Who isshe?"
He did not take advantage of the mention of a name which in no way stoodfor Sydney. Besides, perhaps the initial stood for Herbert. He resolvedto try another tack.
Glancing at his watch he said: "It is nearly seven o'clock. I havealready detained you an unconscionable time. You were going out. Permitme to call again, and we can discuss matters at leisure."
He rose, and the lady sighed: "You were just beginning to beentertaining. I was only going to dine at a restaurant. I am quite tiredof being alone."
Was it a hint? He would see. "Are you dining by yourself, then, Mrs.Hillmer?"
"I hardly know. I may bring my maid."
Claude now made up his mind. "May I venture," he said, "after such aninformal introduction, to ask you to dine with me at the Prince'sRestaurant, and afterwards, perhaps, to look in at the Jollity Theatre?"
The lady was unfeignedly pleased. She arranged to call for him in herbrougham within twenty minutes, and Bruce hurried off to Victoria Streetin a hansom to dress for this unexpected branch of the detectivebusiness.
When he told his valet to telephone to the restaurant and the theatrerespectively for a reserved table and a couple of stalls, that worthychuckled.
When his master entered a broug
ham in which was seated a fur-wrappedlady, the valet grinned broadly. "I knew it," he said. "The guv'nor's onthe mash. Now, who would ever have thought it of him?"