CHAPTER XVII
The grey lady stood there, with her hands pressed to her heart, hergreat pathetic eyes dilated with a curious fear. It was a long timebefore she spoke, though it was easy to see that she had penetratedBerrington's disguise. But then, he had spoken in his natural voice,which made all the difference. It seemed to him that the grey lady wouldhave fallen had he not put out his hand and supported her slender frame.
"Wait a bit," Berrington whispered. "Don't try to talk yet. You aresurprised to see me here, Mary. And yet it is natural enough--you mustknow that I have been seeking you for years. Why have you carefullyavoided me all this time?"
A little colour crept into the cheeks of the grey lady. Field had drawninto the background with a feeling that he was not wanted here. Yet hewas not pleased at the unexpected contretemps. The detective had mappedout a line for himself, and he desired now to bring it to a successfulconclusion. And yet the interruption might not altogether be without itsgood results. Field had, of course, already heard a great deal about thegrey lady, and he did not doubt that the pathetic figure standing therein the doorway was the same person.
"You will not forget to be cautious," he whispered.
The grey lady started. She had not anticipated that anybody else wasthere.
"Who is that?" she asked. "And how did you get here?"
"Well, we got into the house by the pantry window," Berringtonexplained. He had himself well in hand again by this time. "I am afraidthat we must have some kind of an understanding, Mary. Would you mind,Inspector?"
Field was understood to say that he had no objection so long as it didnot lead to anything rash. He began to wish that he had half a dozen orso of his most trusted men with him. Meanwhile his hands were tied andhe could do no more than wait developments. He had naturally a keendesire to know what was going on behind the closed door of thedining-room, but on that score he would have to possess his soul inpatience for the time. He had the comfortable assurance that he couldbag his birds, one by one, later on.
"Don't go out of earshot and don't betray yourself, sir," he said.Berrington gave the desired assurances and he and his companion passedquietly across the hall to a morning room beyond. This was at the backof the house, with a French window that gave on to the lawn. The greylady softly undid the catch.
"That will be an easy way out for you, if necessary," she said. "Ifanybody comes in here you can slip out into the garden. And now, Philip,how did you find me?"
Berrington made no reply for the moment. He was looking at the palefeatures of his companion with something like a lovelight in his eyes.Looked at closely it was a beautiful face, despite its sorrow and thegrey hair that crowned it. Berrington recollected the grey lady as amerry laughing girl, who seemed not to have a single care in the world.His mind was very far away from Audley Place at that moment.
"How long since we last met, Mary!" he said.
The woman sighed and her eyes filled with tears. Berrington had struck atender cord.
"Four months, four years, four centuries!" she said with a passionatecatch of her voice. "You are not angry with me, Phil? I can see you arenot angry with me."
"My dearest, no. When I look at you I can feel no anger in my heartagainst you. My God, what you must have suffered! The same and yet sodifferent. All your colour has gone, the laughter from your eyes, thetender lines of your mouth. And yet at the outside your years cannot bemore than thirty."
"Thirty-one," the other said mournfully. "And yet I seem to have livedsuch a long, long life. You think that I treated you very badly, Phil?"
"My dear Mary, how could I come to any other conclusion? You wereengaged to me, we were going to be married, the very hour was fixed.Then you disappeared utterly, leaving nothing more than a note to saythat I was to forget you and not seek you. I was to think of you asbeing utterly unworthy to become a good man's wife."
"If you had done so a great deal of trouble and anxiety would have beensaved, Phil."
"Yes, but I declined to do anything of the kind," Berrington saideagerly. "I knew that in some way you were sacrificing yourself forothers. And when I found that your brother had gone, I felt absolutelycertain of it."
"Did you discover anything about him?" the grey lady asked anxiously.
"Dear Mary, there was nothing fresh to discover. Your love for Carl madeyou blind to his faults. Did we not all know what he was! Every man inIndia who knew him could have told you. It is a painful thing to say,but he was an utter blackguard. But for influence, he had been expelledthe Civil Service long before he chose to vanish. It used to madden meto see the way in which he traded upon your affection for him. Oh, hewas a bad man."
The red blood flamed into the cheeks of the listener. Berrington couldsee her hands clasped together.
"You are wrong," she said, "oh, I am sure you are wrong. Carl was alittle selfish, perhaps, but then he was so brilliantly clever, so muchsought after. And when he fell in love with--with the right woman, I wasentirely happy. He was passionately in love, Philip."
Berrington gave a dissenting gesture. There was a bitter smile on hislips.
"Carl never cared for anyone but himself," he said. "It was a physicalimpossibility."
"Indeed you do him wrong, Phil. He was very much in earnest with SirCharles Darryll's ward who came out with her brother and his wife toSimla. All was going brilliantly when a rival came on the scene. Youwere not in Simla at the time, and I daresay if you had been you wouldnever have heard anything about that unhappy business. Whether the rivalused his power unscrupulously or not I never knew, but there was aquarrel one day, out riding. Even Carl refused to speak of it. But hisrival was never seen again, and from that day to this Carl has been aphysical wreck. He----"
"You don't mean to say," Berrington burst out, "you don't mean to sayyour brother is the Carl Sartoris who is master of this house?"
The woman hesitated, stammered, her face had grown very pale.
"You seem to know more than I imagined," she said. "Perhaps I shallunderstand better when I know what brings you here. But Carl Sartoris ismy brother."
"So he has gone back to his mother's maiden name! Does an honest manwant to do anything of that kind? But for the expression of your face,which is sweet and fair as ever, I should say that you were in thisbusiness. But I have only to glance at you to feel assured on thatpoint. You say that your brother is more sinned against than sinning.Can you look me in the face and say that he has no past behind him, thathe is not making a mystery now?"
The girl's face grew pale and she cast down her eyes. Berrington keptdown his rising passion.
"You cannot answer me," he went on. "You find it impossible to do so.You are running great risks for a worthless creature who is as crookedin mind as he is in body."
"Oh, don't," Mary Sartoris said. "Don't say such terrible things,please; they hurt me."
"My dear girl, I am sorry, but it is best to state these things plainly.You may not know everything, but you can guess a great deal. Otherwise,why did you try and see Sir Charles Darryll the night before his death,why did you write him the note that was found in his bedroom? Andagain, why did you stay in the hotel that night and try to warn theservants on night duty? You see, Mary, it is quite useless to try tokeep the secret from me."
Mary Sartoris looked at the speaker with dilated eyes. For a moment shecould not speak. And yet there were no signs of guilty terror on herface.
"I did not imagine that you knew so much," she said.
"I know more, but I would far rather know a great deal more," Berringtonadmitted. "Mind you, matters are out of my hands and the police are hoton the track. Why do you not confess everything and save yourself, Mary?For instance, you stand a chance of being placed in the dock on a chargeof being concerned in the disappearance of Sir Charles Darryll's body."
"I am as innocent of that as the grave, Phil. I only did my best to tryto prevent----"
"Oh, I know, I know," Berrington said impatiently. "But the fact remainsthat the bo
dy of Sir Charles Darryll was stolen for some vile purpose,and that the culprits are in grave danger. Your brother is at the bottomof this affair; he it was who drove up to the _Royal Palace Hotel_ inthat black hansom that took the body away. And yet you say that thatman----"
"Is more sinned against than sinning," Mary Sartoris cried. "I say itstill. Of course you regard me as blind and foolish, but then you do notknow everything."
"It is not a matter of what I know," Berrington protested. "Of course Ishould believe every word that you tell me. But the police will takeanother view of the matter altogether. Do you know what is going onbehind that closed door yonder?"
The girl shuddered and hid her face in her hands. She seemed afraid tosay anything. Berrington asked the question twice before he could getany reply.
"Indeed I don't," she said. "I am not altogether in my brother'sconfidence. I ventured to say something to him to-day and he wasdreadfully angry. He locked me in my bedroom, but I managed to get thedoor of the dressing-room open and escaped that way. I was going tointerfere when I saw you. There seem to be other people there."
"Oh, there are," Berrington said bitterly. "There are two adventurers,called Reggie and Cora, who very recently passed at the _Royal PalaceHotel_ for General Gastang and Countess de la Moray. There is thescoundrel Stephen Richford who tricked Beatrice Darryll into marryinghim, and then there is also a ruffian called Dr. James Bentwood. Whatwas that?"
"It seemed to me like a cry of pain," Mary Sartoris said in a frozenwhisper.
It was very like a cry of pain indeed, a fluttering, feeble cry endingin a moaning protest. Acting on the impulse of the moment, andforgetting Inspector Field altogether, Berrington crossed the hall andlaid his hand on the knob of the door. Mary Sartoris darted after him,her face white with fear, and terror and anxiety in her accent.
"Don't do it," she said, "pray restrain yourself. There are mysterieshere, strange, horrible mysteries that come from the East, of which youknow nothing, despite the years you have passed in India. Oh, the dangerthat lies there!"
In spite of his courage, Berrington hesitated. He might have recoveredhis self-possession and returned to the drawing-room, only the strangefeeble cry of pain was raised again. It was more than flesh and bloodcould stand, and in a sudden passion Berrington opened the door. Hewould have entered resolutely, but Mary pulled him back.
"The mischief has been done," she said hurriedly. "If anyone has tosuffer let it be me. I have brought you to this pass and I must get youout as best I can. Carl, what is this?"
The girl thrust herself past Berrington who stood in the shade of thedoorway. There was a sudden snarling, with a cry from the girl, as ablow tingled on her cheek. Somebody laughed as if approving thiscowardly business.
With a cry of rage Berrington darted into the room. Instantly a pair ofstrong hands were laid on him and he was borne backwards. Just for amoment he lashed out freely and successfully and then the weight ofnumbers was too much for him. The dining-room door was closed again.
The Slave of Silence Page 17