CHAPTER XXX
THE SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF MR HOLT
I was standing in the middle of the room, Sydney was between the doorand me; Mr Holt was in the hall, just outside the doorway, in which he,so to speak, was framed. As Sydney advanced towards him he was seizedwith a kind of convulsion,--he had to lean against the side of the doorto save himself from falling. Sydney paused, and watched. The spasmwent as suddenly as it came,--Mr Holt became as motionless as he hadjust now been the other way. He stood in an attitude of febrileexpectancy,--his chin raised, his head thrown back, his eyes glancingupwards,--with the dreadful fixed glare which had come into them eversince we had entered the house. He looked to me as if his every facultywas strained in the act of listening,--not a muscle in his body seemedto move; he was as rigid as a figure carved in stone. Presently therigidity gave place to what, to an onlooker, seemed causeless agitation.
'I hear!' he exclaimed, in the most curious voice I had ever heard. 'Icome!'
It was as though he was speaking to someone who was far away. Turning,he walked down the passage to the front door.
'Hollo!' cried Sydney. 'Where are you off to?'
We both of us hastened to see. He was fumbling with the latch; beforewe could reach him, the door was open, and he was through it. Sydney,rushing after him, caught him on the step and held him by the arm.
'What's the meaning of this little caper?--Where do you think you'regoing now?'
Mr Holt did not condescend to turn and look at him. He said, in thesame dreamy, faraway, unnatural tone of voice,--and he kept hisunwavering gaze fixed on what was apparently some distant object whichwas visible only to himself.
'I am going to him. He calls me.'
'Who calls you?'
'The Lord of the Beetle.'
Whether Sydney released his arm or not I cannot say. As he spoke, heseemed to me to slip away from Sydney's grasp. Passing through thegateway, turning to the right, he commenced to retrace his steps in thedirection we had come. Sydney stared after him in unequivocalamazement. Then he looked at me.
'Well!--this is a pretty fix!--now what's to be done?'
'What's the matter with him?' I inquired. 'Is he mad?'
'There's method in his madness if he is. He's in the same condition inwhich he was that night I saw him come out of the Apostle's window.'Sydney has a horrible habit of calling Paul 'the Apostle'; I havespoken to him about it over and over again,--but my words have not mademuch impression. 'He ought to be followed,--he may be sailing off tothat mysterious friend of his this instant.--But, on the other hand, hemayn't, and it may be nothing but a trick of our friend the conjurer'sto get us away from this elegant abode of his. He's done me twicealready, I don't want to be done again,--and I distinctly do not wanthim to return and find me missing. He's quite capable of taking thehint, and removing himself into the Ewigkeit,--when the clue to aspretty a mystery as ever I came across will have vanished.'
'I can stay,' I said.
'You?--Alone?'
He eyed me doubtingly,--evidently not altogether relishing theproposition.
'Why not? You might send the first person you meet,--policeman, cabman,or whoever it is--to keep me company. It seems a pity now that wedismissed that cab.'
'Yes, it does seem a pity.' Sydney was biting his lip. 'Confound thatfellow! how fast he moves.'
Mr Holt was already nearing the end of the road.
'If you think it necessary, by all means follow to see where hegoes,--you are sure to meet somebody whom you will be able to sendbefore you have gone very far.'
'I suppose I shall.--You won't mind being left alone?'
'Why should I?--I'm not a child.'
Mr Holt, reaching the corner, turned it, and vanished out of sight.Sydney gave an exclamation of impatience.
'If I don't make haste I shall lose him. I'll do as yousuggest--dispatch the first individual I come across to hold watch andward with you.'
'That'll be all right.'
He started off at a run,--shouting to me as he went.
'It won't be five minutes before somebody comes!'
I waved my hand to him. I watched him till he reached the end of theroad. Turning, he waved his hand to me. Then he vanished, as Mr Holthad done.
And I was alone.
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 30