The Pauper of Park Lane

by William Le Queux

each other. The doctor, when he wasin power at Belgrade, was probably the old man's cat's-paw. Is it nottherefore surprising that he has never expressed a desire to seek outthe truth?"

  Rolfe held his breath as a new and terrible suspicion arose within him.He had never regarded the affair in that light. Was it possible thathis master knew well all the circumstances which had led the doctor todisappear in that manner so extraordinary? Had he really had a hand init?

  Was he the "friend" of whom Sir Charles had spoken in Belgrade?

  But no! He would not believe such a thing. Sam Statham was alwayshonest in his dealings--or, at least, as honest as any millionaire canever be. The man who habitually deals in colossal sums must now andthen, of necessity ruin his opponents and wreck the homes of honest men.And strange it is that the world is ever ungrateful. If a very wealthyman gave every penny of his profits to the poor he would only be dubbeda fool or an idiot for his philanthropy.

  He recollected that afternoon when, at work in old Sam's room, he hadmentioned the doctor's sudden departure, and how deftly the old man hadturned the conversation into a different channel.

  Until two days ago he would hear no word nor believe any ill against theman who had befriended him. But the man's refusal to assist him todiscover the truth concerning the charge against Marion or to order herto be reinstated had turned his heart.

  He was now Sam Statham's enemy, as before he had been his friend.

  The two men seated together discussed the matter carefully and seriouslyfor the greater part of the night, and when they parted to go to theirrooms they took each other's hands in solemn compact.

  "We will investigate that house, Rolfe," Max declared; "and we'll laybare the mystery it conceals!"

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

  THE IMPENDING BLOW.

  Four nights later Max and Charlie alighted from the Scotch express atEuston on their return to London to make investigation.

  Next morning Rolfe went as usual to Park Lane, and spent some hoursattending to the old man's correspondence. The excuse Charlie made forhis absence was that he had been away in an endeavour to find hissister, whereat the millionaire merely grunted in dissatisfaction. BothCharlie and Max were full of sorrow and anxiety on Marion's behalf.What had befallen her they dreaded to guess. She had left OxfordStreet, and from that moment had been swallowed in the bustling vortexof our great cruel London, the city where money alone is power and wheregold can purchase everything, even to the death of one's enemy. Perhapsthe poor girl had met with some charitable woman who had taken her inand given her shelter; but more probable, alas! she was wandering hungryand homeless, afraid to face the shame of the dastardly charge againsther--the charge that to neither her brother nor her lover none wouldname.

  That morning Charlie wrote on, mechanically, speaking little, with theold man seated near him sucking the stump of a cheap cigar. His mindwas too full of the action he was about to execute--an action which inother circumstances would have indeed been culpable.

  Both he and his friend had carefully considered all ways and means bywhich they might enter those premises. To get in would be difficult.Old Levi bolted the heavy front door each night at eleven, and thenretired to his room in the basement, where he slept with one ear and hisdoor open to catch the slightest sound.

  And even though they obtained access to the hall and study there was thelocked iron door at the head of the staircase--the door through whichthey must pass if their investigation of the house was to be made.

  That morning he made excuse to leave the old man seated in his study,saying that he wanted to speak to Levi and give him a message for one ofthe clerks from Old Broad Street. Outside in the hall he sprangnoiselessly up the stairs, and, pulling open the baize-covered door,swiftly examined the great iron fireproof door so carefully concealedand secured. His heart failed when he recognised the impossibility ofpassing beyond. The door was enamelled white like the panelling up thestairs, only over the small keyhole was a flap of shining brass bearingthe name of a well-known safe-maker. At imminent peril of discovery byLevi, who often shuffled in noiseless slippers of felt, he lifted theflap and peered eagerly beyond. He could, however, see nothing. Thehole did not penetrate the door.

  Then, fearing that he might be discovered, he slipped downstairs again,and went to examine the front door. The bolts were long and heavy, andthe chain was evidently in use every night.

  In the kitchen he found Levi, preparing his master's frugal meal, whichusually consisted of a small chop, a piece of stale bread, and one glassof light claret. His visit below gave him an opportunity of examiningthe fastenings of the windows. They were all patent ones, and, besides,the whole were protected from burglars by iron bars.

  Patent fastenings were also upon the windows of the study, looking forthupon Park Lane, while often at night the heavy oaken shutters wereclosed and barred. He had never before noticed how every precaution hadbeen taken to exclude the unwelcome intruders.

  Through the whole morning his brain was actively at work to discoversome means by which an entry might be effected, but there seemed none.

  The secret, whatever it might be, was certainly well guarded.

  He went across to the club to lunch, and returned again at threeo'clock. About four he rose, asking old Sam, who was seated writing,for a document from the safe, the key of which was upon his watch-guard.The millionaire took out his watch and chain and handed them to hissecretary, as he so often did, while the latter, crossing the room,opened the safe and fumbled about among some papers in one of thedrawers.

  Then he re-locked the safe, handed back the watch and chain, andre-seated himself at the table. Those few brief moments had beenall-sufficient, for upon the bunch was the latch-key of the front door,an impression of which he had taken with the wax he had alreadyprepared. The duplicate key could, he knew, be filed out of the handleof an old spoon, and such was his intention.

  He had hoped to find upon the bunch the key to the iron door on thestairs, but it was not among them. He knew each key by sight. The oldman evidently kept it in a safer place--some place where the hand ofnone other might be placed upon it.

  Where did he keep it?

  Its hiding-place must be somewhere handy, Charlie reflected, for atleast half a dozen times a day the old man passed that iron barrierwhich shut off the upper part of the mansion. He wondered where hecould find that key, but remained wondering.

  That evening he took the impression of the latchkey to Dover Street, andwith Max's help tried to fashion a key to that pattern, but though theytried for hours it was in vain. So they gave it up. Next day Max tooktrain to Birmingham, and handed the impression to a locksmith he chancedto know. The latter, having looked at it, shook his head, and said:

  "This impression is no use, sir. It's what they call a paracentriclock, and you must have impressions of both sides, as well as the exactwidth back and front before I can make you a duplicate."

  The man showed how the impressions should be taken. Max, of course,concocting a story as to why it was wanted, and then back to London hetravelled that same night to consult with his friend.

  The outcome of this was that two days later complete impressions weretaken of the small latchkey, and within three days came the duplicate bypost.

  Max bought two electric torches, two pairs of felt slippers, a piece ofthin but very strong rope, screwdriver, chisel, and other implements,until he had a full burglar's equipment. The preparations were excitingduring the next few days, yet when they came down to bed-rock fact therewas that locked door which stood between them and the truth.

  Charlie's object in obtaining a duplicate latchkey was to enternoiselessly one night shortly before eleven, and secrete, themselvessomewhere until Levi bolted the door and retired. They must take theirchance of making any discovery they could. Both were well aware ofLevi's vigilance, and his quickness of hearing. Therefore they would becompelled to work without noise, and also to guard against any hiddenelectric burg
lar alarms which might be secreted in the sashes of windowsor in lintels of doors.

  Investigation by Charlie had not revealed the existence of any of theseterrors to thieves; yet so many were the precautions against intrudersthat the least suspected contrivance for their detection was to beexpected.

  Nearly a fortnight passed before all arrangements were complete for thenocturnal tour of investigation. Daily Rolfe, though attentive to hisduties as the old man's secretary, was always on the alert to discoverthe existence of that key to the iron door. By all manner of devices heendeavoured to compel Statham to unwittingly reveal its whereabouts. Hemade pretence of mistaking various keys to deed boxes and nests ofdrawers, in order that the old man should produce other keys. But hewas too wary, and never once did he fall into the trap.

  Yet often he left the study, passed up the stain, and through the doorswiftly, until the younger man began to suspect that it might be openedby means of some secret