by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER XV
MRS. HILLMER HESITATES
"I wonder if I shall have such exciting times to-day as I hadyesterday," said Bruce to himself, as he unfolded his _Times_ nextmorning at breakfast.
Affairs had so jumbled themselves together in his brain the previousevening that he had abandoned all effort to elucidate them. He retiredto rest earlier than usual, to sleep soundly, save for a vivid dream inwhich he was being tried for his life, the chief witnesses against himbeing Mrs. Hillmer, Phyllis Browne, and Jane Harding, the latter varyingher evidence by entertaining the Court with a song and dance.
The weather, too, had improved. It was clear, frosty, and sunlit--one ofthose delightful days of winter that serve as cheerful remembrancesduring periods of seemingly interminable fog overhead and slush beneath.
During a quiet meal he read the news, and, with the invaluable morningsmoke, settled himself cosily into an armchair to consider procedure.
In the first place he carefully weighed those utterances of Mensmore atMonte Carlo, which he could recall, and which seemed by the light oflater knowledge, to bear upon the case.
Mensmore had alluded to "family troubles," to "worries," and"anxieties," that practically drove him from England.
Some of these, no doubt, referred to the Springbok speculation. Others,again, might have meant Mrs. Hillmer or some other presently unknownrelative. But in Mensmore's manner there was nothing that savored of agreater secrecy than the natural reticence of a gentleman in discussingdomestic affairs with a stranger.
This man had practically been snatched from death. At such a moment itwas inconceivable that he could cloak the remorse of a murderer by thesimulation of more honorable motives, in themselves sufficientlydistressing to cause him deliberately to choose suicide as the best wayof ending his difficulties.
The policeman had summarized the testimony against Corbett asinsufficient to curtail the remarkable powers of endurance of a cat. Butto Bruce the case against Mensmore, alias Corbett, stood in clearerperspective. Now that he calmly reasoned the matter he felt that thebalance of probabilities swung away from the hypothesis that Mensmorewas the actual slayer of Lady Dyke, and towards the theory that he wasin some way bound up with her death, whether knowingly or unknowingly itwas at present impossible to say.
The new terror to Bruce was Mr. White.
"Why, if that animated truncheon knew what I know of this business hewould arrest Mensmore forthwith. If he did, what would result? Ascandal, a thorough exposure, possibly the ruin of Mensmore'slove-making if he be an innocent man. That must be stopped. But how,without forewarning Mensmore himself?--and he may be guilty. Chance mayfavor White, as it favored me, in disclosing the identity of the missingCorbett. And what of the _real_ Corbett? What on earth has _he_ got todo with it, and why has Mensmore taken his name? If ever I get to thebottom of this business I may well congratulate myself. The sole resultof all my labor thus far may be summed up in a sentence--I have not yetcome face to face with the man whom I can honestly suspect as LadyDyke's murderer. Not much, my boy!"
Claude uttered the last sentence aloud, startling Smith, who wasclearing the table.
"Beg pardon, sir," cried Smith.
"Oh, nothing. I was only expressing an opinion."
"I thought, perhaps, sir, you was thinkin' of Mr. White."
"What of him?"
"Your remark, sir, hexactly hexpresses my hopinion of 'im."
Smith was not a badly educated man, but the least excitement produced anappalling derangement of the letter "h" in his vocabulary.
"Mr. White is a sharp fellow in his own way, Smith."
"Maybe, but why should 'e come pokin' round 'ere pryin' into your littleaffairs-deecur?"
"My what?"
"Sorry, sir, but that's what a French maid I once knew called 'em.Flirtations, sir. Mashes."
"Smith, have you been drinking?"
"Me, sir?"
"Well, explain yourself. I never flirted with a woman in my life."
"That's what I told 'im, sir. 'My master's a regular saint,' says I, 'asort of middle-aged ankyrite.' But Mr. White 'e wouldn't 'ave it at noprice. 'Come now, Smith,' says 'e, 'your guv'nor's pretty deep. 'E's atoff, 'e is, an' knows lots of lydies--titled lydies.' 'Very like,' saysI, 'but 'e doesn't mash 'em.' 'Then what price that lydy who called for'im in a keb afore 'e went away? An' who's 'e gone to Monte Carlo with?'This was durin' your absence, sir."
"Go on, Smith. Anything else?"
"Well, sir, that rather flung me out of my stride, as the sayin' is, asI _'ad_ seen the lydy in question. An' Mr. White 'as a nasty way ofputting you on your oath, so to speak. But I never owned up."
Claude laughed.
"Excellent. Mr. White has a keen nose for false scents. I have alreadytold him to let my affairs alone. He means no harm."
But the reference to a "lydy in a keb" had suggested an immediate planof action to the barrister. He would call to see Mrs. Hillmer. He wrotea note asking her if he might come to tea that afternoon, and sent it bya boy messenger.
In return he received this answer.
"Mrs. Hillmer will be at home at four o'clock if Mr. Bruce cares to call then."
"Whew!" he whistled. "What's in the wind there? This is an uncommonlystiff invitation. That rascal White has upset her, I'll be bound. I_must_ choke him off somehow. Suppose he were to find that damagedbracket! He would have Mensmore under trial at the Old Bailey indouble-quick time. After I leave Mrs. Hillmer I must visit No. 12 again,and carry off that pair of brackets before White discovers them, as hewill haunt the place in future."
Bruce had a set of skeleton keys in his possession.
They were in his pocket when he approached Raleigh Mansions at theappointed hour.
The same trim maid opened the door for him and ushered him into thedrawing-room. On the occasion of his first visit he was taken to thedining-room. It was a small matter, but Bruce paid heed to such.
Mrs. Hillmer appeared, very stately and undemonstrative. She greeted himcoldly, seated herself at a distance, and said, in a cold,well-controlled voice:
"I did not expect the honor of another visit from you, Mr. Bruce."
"Why not?"
There was a fight brewing, and he would let the enemy open fire. Theglitter in her eyes showed that the batteries were ready to be unmasked.He was not mistaken.
"Why not? Because I believed you to be a gentleman. Once you had stoopedto sending your myrmidons to pester me I imagined that you would keepyourself in the background."
There was an indignant ring in her words as she concluded. When a womanis angry her own speech acts as a trumpet-call and fires her blood. Mrs.Hillmer began, as she intended, in icy disdain. She ended in tremulousanger.
"You allude to Mr. White?" said the barrister, looking steadily at her.
"Yes, that is the man. Some hireling from Scotland Yard. How _could_ youso meanly induce my confidence at our first meeting? I have never beenso deceived in a man in my life, and I have had a surfeit of bitterexperience already."
"Brother and sister are alike. They have led queer lives," mused Bruce.Aloud he said:
"Your experience, Mrs. Hillmer, should at least lead you not to condemnany one unheard. May I explain that which is to you incomprehensible atthis moment?--justly so, I admit."
"Explanations! I am a child in the hands of such as you. How can I hopeto fathom your real intent? Presumably, if I accept your apologies now,it will be a prelude to further visits by impudent police officers."
"I am not here to apologize, Mrs. Hillmer."
"What then, pray?"
"To plead with you. For Heaven's sake do not distrust _me_. It may ruinthose whom you hold dear. Listen to me first, and try to believe meafterwards."
He was so thoroughly in earnest, so impressive in manner, that she didnot know what to make of him. In her despair, she adopted a woman'schief resource--her eyes filled with tears.
But he anticipated her.
"Now, Mrs. Hill
mer," he cried, "let us act like sensible people. Composeyourself, order in some tea, and after an interlude I will tell you allabout it. Candor is an indispensable element of confidence."
Mrs. Hillmer rose, made an effort to choke back her agitation, went out,and called to the maid for tea. She returned in a few moments. When theywere alone Bruce said, with a smile:
"A little _poudre de ris_ is an excellent corrective for signs ofgrief."
The lady blushed, and there was a perceptible return to her formerpleasant manner.
"You are incorrigible, I fear," she cried.
"Not a bit. Impressionable, rather. Now, I am going to startle youconsiderably, so be prepared. And do not jump at conclusions. Thoughstartling, my news is not alarming. All may yet end well."
Mrs. Hillmer was manifestly anxious, but she promised to try tounderstand him fully before she formed any judgment.
"Then," said he, "I can clear the air a good deal by a simple statement.Mr. White is no agent of mine, and I have seen your brother, AlbertMensmore, at Monte Carlo."
Mrs. Hillmer gave a little gasp of surprise. "You have seen Bertie?"
"Yes; your brother, is he not?"
"My half-brother, to be exact. My father was married twice. I--I am theelder of the two by four years."
"Apart from the compliment, you do not look it. But what you sayexplains the total absence of likeness between you."
"Possibly. People said we each resembled our mother. And Bertie, youknow, has led a somewhat adventurous career. He roughed it a good dealin America. But what has all this got to do with detectives, and recentinquiries, and that sort of thing?"
"Much. The last time we met I told you that your brother was mixed up insome little affair with a lady."
Mrs. Hillmer laughed, a trifle constrainedly. "If you knew Bertie aswell as I do, you would not harbor suspicions concerning him. He neverhad a love affair in his life. Indeed, he is something of awoman-hater."
"No doubt he was. But he has changed his opinions. He is in love, and isengaged to be married to a very charming girl. Thus far, his beliefs andhis good fortune have pulled against each other."
"Bertie engaged to be married! Good gracious! Who is she? And how can hesupport a wife? He is poor, and in debt, and he won't even let me helphim."
"I have stated the facts, nevertheless. The lady is a daughter of SirWilliam Browne, and they are now yachting with a large party in theMediterranean."
"Are her people against the match? Is that why this Scotland Yardman--?"
"No. Mensmore is on board Sir William's yacht. But there is anotherlady, missing from her home for nearly three months, who is believed tobe dead--murdered, the police say--and with whom your brother was insome indefinable way associated."
"Do they dare to say that Bertie killed her?" Mrs. Hillmer's color roseand her eyes flashed fire again.
"They say nothing. They are simply doing their duty in trying todiscover the truth. And you may take it from me, as an undoubted fact,that the last place this lady visited before her death was one of theflats in these mansions. All present indications point to your brother'sresidence as being that place. Now, I pray you, be calm, and try to helpme, for I have acted in this matter as your friend and as your brother'sfriend. At this very moment I am concealing his identity and hiswhereabouts from the police, who are searching for him under the assumedname of Corbett. If he is guilty of this crime, then I must hand himover to justice, for the murdered woman was a dear and good friend ofmine. If he is innocent, as, indeed, I believe him to be, I will striveto help him and save his good name from the tarnish of being arrested onsuch an odious charge."
During this recital Mrs. Hillmer became deathly pale. Her agitation wasthe greater inasmuch as she forcibly controlled herself. But she couldnot remain seated. She sprang to the window and looked out, in the vaineffort to seek inspiration from the gathering gloom of the street. Thenshe turned, and spoke very slowly:
"I think I understand. I must have faith in you, Mr. Bruce.Who--was--the lady?"
The barrister thought deeply before replying. He had previously decidedupon this supreme step, but he hesitated now that it was imminent. Therewas no help for it.
"Her name," said he, "is one which is well known to the world. LadyDyke, wife of Sir Charles Dyke, is missing from her home since theevening of November 6 last. She met with a violent death that night, andI--not the police--have good reason to believe that she was killed inyour brother's residence."
Mrs. Hillmer flung herself on a lounge, buried her white face in herhands and moaned, in a perfect agony of terror:
"Oh, my God! What shall I do? What shall I do?"
This outburst astounded Bruce. He did not know what to make of it. Hisintelligence had certainly taken his hearer by surprise. Whatinterpretation was he to place upon her words and her unrestrainedactions?
"Now, Mrs. Hillmer," he began; but she broke in vehemently, running tohim and clutching him by the arm:
"He is innocent, Mr. Bruce. He _must_ be innocent. He could not lift hisfinger to any woman. You must save him--do you hear?--save him, or youwill have his blood on your soul. It _was_ true, then, that you camehere to hunt for him. Save him, if you hope for mercy yourself when youare dying."
In her passion she shook him violently, and for an instant they lookedintently at each other--the woman tensely piteous, entreating; the manamazed and questioning.
"Do you not see," he said at last, "that your vehemence reveals yourthoughts? For anything you know to the contrary, your brother may havecommitted the crime. Nay, it requires but slight knowledge of humannature to read your suspicions lest it be true. At this moment I amconvinced that you are, in your heart, less sceptical than I of hisguilt."
Mrs. Hillmer flung herself again upon the lounge, silent, tearful, tornwith violent emotion, which she vainly tried to suppress.
He tried to reason with her.
"It will, perhaps, serve to clear up a mystery that deepens each momentif you place your trust in me," he said. "Tell me fully and openly anycause you may have for fearing that your brother may be implicated inthis terrible business. I ask you to adopt this course in all faith. Ihave seen your brother under most trying circumstances; I have been withhim at an hour when it would be impossible for him to conceal his burdenif the weight of Lady Dyke's death lay upon him. Yet I think himinnocent. I think that chance has contributed to gather evidence againsthim. If I can learn even a portion of the truth it will enable me toquickly dispel the barrier of uncertainty that now hinders progress."
"What is it you want to know?"
Mrs. Hillmer's voice was hollow and broken. The barrister was shocked atthe effect of his revelation, but he was forced to go on with thedisagreeable task he had undertaken.
"Do you mean," he asked, "that you will answer my questions?"
"So far as I can."
"Would it not be better to tell me in your own words what you have tosay?"
Mrs. Hillmer looked up, and the agony in her face filled him with keenpity.
"Oh, Heaven help me to do what is right!" she cried.
"Your prayer will surely be answered. I am certain of that. A greatwrong has been committed by some one, and the innocent must not sufferto shield the guilty."
Mrs. Hillmer bowed her head and did not utter a word for some minutes.She appeared to be reasoning out some plan of action in a dazed fashion.When decision came she said in low tones:
"You must leave me now, Mr. Bruce. I must have time. When I am ready Ishall send for you."
He knew instinctively that it was hopeless to plead with her. Frivolous,volatile women of her stamp often betray unusual strength of characterin a supreme crisis.
"You are adopting an unwise course," he said sadly.
"Maybe. But I must be alone. I am not deceiving you. When I havedetermined something which is not now clear to me, I will send for you.It may be that I shall speak. It may be that I shall be silent. Ineither case I only can judge--and suffer."
"Tell me one thing at least, Mrs. Hillmer, before we part. Did you knowof Lady Dyke's death before to-day?"
She came to him and looked him straight in the face, and said: "I didnot. On my soul, I did not."
Then he passed into the hall; and even the shock of this painfulinterview did not prevent him from noting the flitting of a shadow pasta distant doorway, as some one hurried into the interior of a room.
In their excitement they forgot that their voices might attractattention, and ladies' maids are proverbially inquisitive.