A Mysterious Disappearance

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XVI

  FOXEY

  The keen, cold air of the streets soon restored the man to his habitualcalm. He felt that a quiet stroll would do him good.

  As he walked he pondered, and the more critically he examined Mrs.Hillmer's change of attitude the less he understood it.

  "For some ridiculous reason," he communed, "the woman believes herbrother guilty. Now I shall have endless trouble at getting at thetruth. She will not be candid. She will only tell me that which shethinks will help him, and conceal that which she considers damaging.That is a woman's way, all the world over. And a desperately annoyingway it is. Perhaps I was to blame in springing this business too hastilyupon her. But there! I like Mrs. Hillmer, and I hate using her as onejuggles with a self-conceited witness. In future I shall trouble her nomore."

  A casual glance into the interior of Sloane Square Station gave him aglimpse of the barrier, and he recognized the collector who had takenLady Dyke's ticket on that fatal night when she quitted the Richmondtrain.

  Rather as a relief than for other cause he entered into conversationwith the official.

  "Do you remember me?" he said.

  "Can't say as I do, sir." The man examined his questioner with quicksuspicion. The forgotten "season" dodge would not work with _him_.

  "Maybe you remember these?" said Bruce, producing his cigar-case.

  "Now, wot's the gyme?" said the collector to himself. But he smiled, andanswered: "Do you mean by the look of 'em, sir?"

  "Good!" laughed Claude. "Take three or four home with you. Meanwhile Iam sure you remember me coming to see you last November concerning alady who alighted here from Victoria one foggy evening and handed you aticket to Richmond?"

  "Of course I do, sir. And the cigars are _all_ right. There was a lot offuss about that lydy. Did she ever turn up?"

  "Not exactly. That is to say, she died shortly after you saw her."

  "No! Well, of all the rummy goes! She was a fine-looking woman, too, aswell as I rec'llect. Looked fit for another fifty year. Wot 'appened to'er."

  "I don't know. I wish I did."

  "An' 'ave you been on the 'unt ever since, guv'nor?"

  "Yes, ever since."

  "She's dead, you s'y?"

  "Yes."

  "But 'ow'd you know she's dead, if you 'ain't seen 'er since?"

  "I have seen her. I saw her dead body at Putney."

  "At Putney! Well, I'm blowed!"

  A roar from beneath, the slamming of many doors, and the quick rush of acrowd up the steps, announced the arrival of a train. "Pardon, sir,"said the man, "this is the 5.41 Mansion House. But don't go aw'y.There's somethin'--Tickets, _if_ you please."

  In a minute the collector had ended his task. While sorting his bundlesof pasteboards he said:

  "Nobody ever tell'd me that before. An' you ain't the only one on 'ertrack. Are you in the police?"

  "No."

  "I thought not. But some other chaps who kem 'ere was. None of 'em eversaid the lydy was dead."

  "Why; what matter?"

  "Oh, nothin', but two 'eads is better'n one, if they're only sheep's'eads."

  "Undoubtedly. The rule is all the more reliable when one of them belongsto a shrewd chap like you."

  The collector grinned. He understood that he was being flattered for apurpose, yet he liked it.

  "That's one w'y of lookin' at it," he said, "but if this affair'spertickler, why, all I can s'y is it's worth somethin' to somebody."

  "Certainly. Here's a sovereign for a start. If you can tell me anythingreally worth knowing I will add four more to it."

  "Now, that's talkin'. I'm off duty at eight o'clock, an' I can't 'ave achat now because I expect the inspector any minute."

  "Suppose you call and see me in Victoria Street at nine?"

  "Right you are, sir."

  Bruce gave the man his address and recrossed the square. Few people wereabroad, so he walked straight to the first door of Raleigh Mansions andmade his way to the fourth floor.

  Had he been a moment later he must have seen Mrs. Hillmer, closelywrapped up, leave her residence unattended. Her carriage was not inwaiting. She walked to the cabstand in the square and called a hansom,driving back up Sloane Street.

  Her actions indicated a desire to be unobserved even by her servants, asin the usual course of events the housemaid would have brought a cab tothe door.

  But the barrister, steadily climbing up the stairs, could not guess whatwas happening in the street. He soon opened Mensmore's door, and noted,as an idle fact, that the expected gust of cold air was absent.

  There was no light on this landing, so he was in pitch darkness once hehad passed the doorway. There was no need to strike a match, however, ashe remembered the exact position of the electric switchboard--on theleft beyond the dining-room door.

  He stepped cautiously forward, and stretched forth his hand to grope forthe lever. With a quick rush, some two or three assailants flungthemselves upon him, and after a fierce, gasping struggle--for Bruce wasa strong man--he was borne to the floor face downwards, with one armbeneath him and the other pinioned behind his back.

  "Look sharp, Jim," shouted a breathless voice. "Turn on the light andclose the door. We've got him safe enough."

  They had. Two large hands were clutched round his neck, a knee wasfirmly embedded in the small of his back, another hand gripped his leftwrist like a vice, while some one sat on his legs.

  He could not have been collared more effectually by a RugbyInternational team.

  The third man found the electric light and turned it on.

  "Now, get up," said some one, "and don't give us any more trouble. It'sno use."

  The barrister, who had had his wind knocked out of him, rose to hisknees. Then, as the light fell upon the horrified face of Mr. White, hevainly essayed to keep up the pretence of indignation. Once fairly onhis feet, he nearly collapsed with laughter. He leaned against the wall,and, as his breath came again, he laughed until his sides ached.

  Meanwhile the detective was crimson with rage and annoyance. His twoassistants did not know what to make of the affair.

  "What's wrong, Jim?" said one at last. "Isn't this Corbett?"

  "No, of course it's not," was his angry growl.

  "Then who the ---- is it?"

  "Oh, ask me another! How on earth could I guess, Mr. Bruce, that you'dcome letting yourself in here with a latchkey?"

  Claude was still holding his sore ribs and could not answer; but thepoliceman who had questioned White caught the name. He recognized it,and grinned at his companion.

  "What did you want here, anyhow?" snarled the infuriated detective, ashe realized that his great _coup_ would be retailed with embellishmentsthrough every police station in the metropolis.

  "I w-wanted you to ar-r-rest me, W-White," roared Claude. "I s-said youwould, and you have."

  "Confound it, how could you know I was here?"

  "You were sure to wait here for a man who probably will not return formonths."

  "Was I, indeed? Well, you have yourself to blame if you are hurt. Ihope my mates did not treat you too badly?"

  "What?" cried the one who had not yet spoken. "He gave me such a punchon the bread-basket that I've only just recovered my speech."

  "I think we're about quits," said the other, surveying a torn waistcoatand broken watch-chain.

  "I shall be black and blue all over to-morrow," said Bruce; "but if youare satisfied I am. Come, Mr. White, bring your friends and we will opena bottle of wine. We all want it. Corbett won't be here to-night. Justnow he is in Wyoming."

  "How do you know?"

  "By intuition. I am seldom mistaken."

  "But why didn't you call out just now when you came in?"

  "I hadn't a chance. You were on me like a thousand of bricks. I mustconfess that if Corbett were in my shoes he would be a doomed man."

  White didn't know whether to believe Bruce or not. He was genuinelyangry at the incident, but the barrister did not want t
o convert himinto an enemy, and he vaguely felt that a catastrophe was imminent, anda false move by the police might do irretrievable mischief.

  "Well, inspector," he said, "I must confess that this time you have gotthe better of me. I did not know you were here. I looked in for thepurpose of quietly studying the ground, as it were, and I was never moretaken by surprise in my life. Moreover, your plan was a very clever one,in view of the fact that Corbett might return at any moment."

  The detective became more amiable at this praise from the famousamateur, for Bruce's achievements were well known to his two colleagues.

  "I suppose you wondered what had happened," he said with a smile.

  "I thought my last hour had come. I am only sorry that Corbett himselfdid not have the experience."

  "Do you really believe he is in the States, sir?"

  "I am sure of it."

  "Then he must have returned there since he wrote that letter."

  "That is the only solution of the difficulty."

  "Hum. It's a pity."

  "Why?"

  "I would sooner prefer to arrest him on this side. To get him byextradition is a slow affair, and probably means a trip across theAtlantic."

  Good-humor being now restored, the party quitted the flat and adjournedto a neighboring hotel, where the barrister started White on the full,true, and particular account of his pursuit and capture of the WinchmoreHill burglars, an exploit which was the pride of the detective's life.

  At the end of a bottle of champagne and a cigar they all partedexcellent friends, but Bruce did not attempt to revisit Raleigh Mansionsthat night.

  Instead, he partook of a quiet meal at a restaurant, and hurried to hischambers to await the advent of the ticket-collector.

  Punctual to the hour, this new witness arrived, and was admitted bySmith in obedience with previous instructions. The man was somewhat awedby the surroundings and the appearance of a servant in livery, but Brucequickly put him at his ease.

  "Come, sit near the fire. Do you drink whisky and soda? That boxcontains your favorite cigars. Now, tell me all you know about thisbusiness."

  "I can't s'y as I know anythink about it, sir, but by puttin' two andtwo together it makes four sometimes--not always."

  "Quite right. You're a philosopher. Let me hear the two two's. We willsee about the addition afterwards."

  "Well, sir, this yer lydy was a-missin' early in November. She tykes aticket at Victoria Station on the District for Richmond; she gives it upto me at Sloane Square, arsks a newsboy the w'y to Raleigh Mansions, for'e tell'd me so after you'd bin to see me, an' from what you s'y, 'asbin swallered up ever since."

  "The Lord Chief couldn't state the case more simply."

  "That's the first two. Now, for the second two, an' you won't forgit asI knew nothink about the lydy bein' dead, or I should 'ave opened mymouth long afore this."

  "Go on. No one can blame you."

  "There's an old chap--Foxey they calls 'im, but I don't know 'is rightnyme--who drives a four-wheeler around Chelsea, an' 'e 'ad tyken a farefrom the Square to the City. It might be four o'clock or it might befive, but 'e was on 'is w'y back from Cornhill when a gent, a tall,good-looking gent, a youngish, military chap, 'ails 'im and says:'Cabby, drive me to Sloane Square. There's no 'urry, but tyke care,because it's foggy.' Old Foxey nearly jumped out of 'is skin at this bitof good luck. 'E was pretty full then, for 'e's a regular beer-barrel,'e is, but 'e made up 'is mind to 'ave a fair old skinful that night.Well, Foxey drives 'im all right to the Square. The gent gives 'im fivebob and says: 'Wite 'ere for me, cabby. You can drive me 'ome in aboutan hour's time.' This was at 5.30. Foxey drew up near the stytion, tellsme all about it, an' stan's me two beers, 'e was that pleased with'isself. 'E goes to give 'is 'oss the nose-bag, in comes the Richmondtrain, and out pops the lydy with the Richmond ticket. D'ye follow me?"

  "Every word."

  "An' you see now 'ow it is I can fix the d'y?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Well, I sees no more of Foxey. I missed 'im about the Square, so oned'y I axes at the rank,--'Where's Foxey?' An' where d'ye think 'e was?"

  "I can not tell."

  "In quod."

  "In jail. Why?"

  "That's hit. That's number two of the twos. Pardon me, but I'm gettin' abit mixed. Well, it seems that that very night, comin' back from Putneyas drunk as a lord, old Foxey runs over a barrer. 'E an' the coster 'asa fight. The police come, and Foxey dots one bobby in the blinkers andanother on the boko. You wouldn't think it was in 'im. 'E must 'ave binparalytic."

  "So he was locked up?"

  "Locked up! 'E was dragged there by the 'eels. Next mornin' 'e comesbefore the beak. 'We was all drunk together, your wurshup,' 'e says. 'Itook a fare from the City to Sloane Square, an' 'e left me for more'n anhour. 'E comes back excited like--bin boozin' 'ard, I suppose--brings mykeb up to a 'ouse, carries in a lydy who was that 'toxicated shecouldn't stand, an' tells me to drive to Putney. We gits there, an' Isays 'you've nearly killed my 'oss, guv'nor.' With that 'e tips me afiver--a five-pun note, your wurshup.' 'What has that got to do withthe charge?' says the beak. 'Wot?' says Foxey. 'If a chap give you afiver for drivin' 'im to Putney wouldn't you get drunk?' With that themagistrate gives 'im three months for assaulting the police, and fines'im the balance of the fiver for bein' drunk in charge of a 'oss andkeb."

  The ticket collector took a long drink after this recital.

  "I hope you will not follow Foxey's example," said Bruce, rising.

  "'Ow do you mean, sir?"

  "Because I am going to keep my word. Here are the four sovereigns I oweyou. In your case your two and two have made five."

  "Thank you, sir. You're a brick. No fear of me meltin' this little lot.The missus will be on 'em like a bird w'en I tell her." And the man spatupon the coins with evident relish as he handled them.

  "One word more," said Bruce. "Where was this man tried?"

  "At the West London Police Court."

  "You can get me his real name and post it to me?"

  "Sure, sir. Anyway, I'll try."

  "I am greatly obliged to you."

  "An' 'as my yarn bin of any use to you, sir?"

  "The greatest. It has solved a puzzle. However, I will see you again.Good-bye. Don't forget to write."

  "Cornhill is the direct line from Leadenhall Street," mused Claude, whenhe was alone. "Any one coming to Sloane Square from Dodge & Co.'s officewould pass through it. Upon my word, things look very black againstMensmore. Yet I cannot believe it."