CHAPTER NINE
FACE TO FACE
On opening the door of the taxi I stood amazed to find that theoccupant was not a man--but a woman.
It was Sylvia!
She started at sight of me. Her countenance blanched to the lips asshe drew back and sat erect, a cry of dismay escaping her lips.
"You!" I gasped, utterly dumbfounded.
"Why--Mr. Biddulph!" she cried, recovering herself in a moment andstretching forth her small gloved hand; "fancy meeting you like this!"
What words I uttered I scarcely knew. This sudden transformation ofthe scoundrel Forbes into Sylvia Pennington held me bewildered. All Icould imagine was that Sylvia must have been awaiting the man inanother cab close to the bank, and that, in the course of our chase,we had confused the two taxis. Forbes had succeeded in turning awayinto some side street, while we had followed the cab of his companion.
She had actually awaited him in another cab while he had entered thebank and cashed the stolen cheque!
My taxi-driver, when he saw that a lady, and not a man, occupied thefugitive cab, drew back, returning to his seat.
"Do you know!" exclaimed the girl, with wonderful calmness, "onlyyesterday I was thinking of you, and wondering whether you were inLondon!"
"And only yesterday, too, Miss Pennington, I also was thinking ofyou," I said meaningly.
She was dressed very quietly in dead black, which increased thefairness of her skin and hair, wearing a big black hat and blackgloves. She was inexpressibly smart, from the thin gauzy veil to thetips of her tiny patent-leather shoes, with a neat waist and a figurethat any woman might envy. Indeed, in her London attire she seemedeven smarter than she had appeared on the terrace beside the blueItalian lake.
"Where is your father?" I managed to ask.
"Oh!--well, he's away just now. He was with me in London only theother day," she replied. "But, as you know, he's always travelling."Then she added: "I'm going into this shop a moment. Will you wait forme? I'm so pleased to see you again, and looking so well. It seemsreally ages since we were at Gardone, doesn't it?" and she smiled thatold sweet smile I so well remembered.
"I'll wait, of course," I replied, and, assisting her out, I watchedher pass into the big drapery establishment. Then I idled outside amidthe crowd of women who were dawdling before the attractive windows, asis the feminine habit.
If it had been she who had rescued me from death and had released me,what a perfect actress she was. Her confusion had only lasted for afew seconds. Then she had welcomed me, and expressed pleasure at ourre-encounter.
I recollected the bow of ribbon-velvet which reposed in my pocket, andthe Indian bangle I had found. I remembered, too, those agonized,terrified cries in the night--and all the mysteries of that weird andsilent house!
When she came forth I would question her; I would obtain from her thetruth anent those remarkable happenings.
Was it of that most ingenious and dastardly plot she had warned me?Was her own conviction that she must suffer the penalty of death basedupon the knowledge of the deadly instrument, that venomous reptileused by the assassins?
Could it be that Pennington himself--her own father--was implicated inthis shameful method of obtaining money and closing the lips of thevictims?
As I stood there amid the morning bustle of Regent Street out in thebroad sunshine, all the ghastly horrors of the previous night crowdedthickly upon me. Why had she shrieked: "Ah! not that--_not that_!" Hadshe, while held prisoner in that old-fashioned drawing-room, been toldof the awful fate to which I had been consigned?
I remembered how I had called to her, but received no response. Andyet she must have been in the adjoining room.
Perhaps, like myself, she had fainted.
I recalled her voice distinctly. I certainly had made no mistake. Shehad been actually present in that house of black torture. Therefore,being my friend, there seemed no doubt that, to her, I owed mymysterious salvation. But how? Aye, that was the question.
Suddenly, as I stood there on the crowded pavement, I became consciousthat I was attracting attention. I recollected my dusty clothes anddirty, dishevelled face. I must have presented a strange, dissipated,out-all-night appearance. And further, I had lost a thousand pounds.
Up and down before the long range of shop-windows I walked, patientlyawaiting her reappearance. I was anxious to know the truth concerningthe previous night's happenings--a truth which I intended she shouldnot conceal from me.
I glanced at my watch. It was already past eleven o'clock. Morningshopping in Regent Street had now commenced in real earnest. Thethoroughfare was lined with carriages, for was it not the height ofthe London season?
In and out of the big drapery establishment passed crowds ofwell-dressed women, most of them with pet dogs, and others with malefriends led like lambs to the slaughter. The spectacle of a man insilk hat out shopping with a lady friend is always a pitiable one. Hisvery look craves the sympathy of the onlooker, especially if he beladen with soft-paper parcels.
My brain was awhirl. My only thought was of Sylvia and of her strangeconnection with these undesirable persons who had so ingeniouslystolen my money, and who had baited such a fatal trap.
Anxious as I was to get to a telephone and ring up Jack, yet I couldnot leave my post--I had promised to await her.
Nearly an hour went by; I entered the shop and searched its labyrinthof "departments." But I could not distinguish her anywhere. Upstairsand downstairs I went, inquiring here and there, but nobody seemed tohave seen the fair young lady in black; the great emporium seemed tohave swallowed her up.
It was now noon. Even though she might have been through adress-fitting ordeal, an hour was certainly ample time. Therefore Ibegan to fear that she had missed me. There were several other exitshigher up the street, and also one which I discovered in a sidestreet.
I returned to her taxi, for I had already paid off my man. The driverhad not seen his "fare."
"I was hailed by the lady close to Chapel Street," he said, "and Idrove 'er to Oxford Street, not far from Tottenham Court Road. Westood at the kerb for about ten minutes. Then she ordered me to drivewith all speed over 'ere."
"Did you see her speak with any gentleman?"
"She was with a dark, youngish gentleman when they hailed me. She gotin and left 'im in Chapel Street. I heard 'im say as we went off thathe'd see 'er again soon."
"That's all you know of her?"
"Yes, sir. I've never seen 'er before," replied the driver. Then headded with a smile, "Your man's been tellin' me as how you thought Ihad a bank-thief in my cab!"
"Yes, but I was mistaken," I said. "I must have made a mistake in thecab."
"That's very easy, sir. We're so much alike--us red 'uns."
Sylvia's non-appearance much puzzled me. What could it mean? Foranother half-hour--an anxious, impatient, breathless half-hour--Iwaited, but she did not return.
Had she, too, cleverly escaped by entering the shop, and passing outby another entrance?
Another careful tour of the establishment revealed the fact that shecertainly was not there.
And so, after a wait of nearly two hours, I was compelled to acceptthe hard and very remarkable fact that she had purposely evaded me,and escaped!
Then she was in league with the men who had stolen my thousand pounds!And yet had not that selfsame man declared that she, having betrayedhim, was to meet the same terrible fate as that prepared for me?
For a final five minutes I waited; then annoyed, disappointed anddismayed, entered the taxi, and drove to Wilton Street.
On entering with my latch-key, Browning came forward with a puzzledexpression, surprised, no doubt, at my dishevelled appearance.
"I've been very anxious about you, Mr. Owen," exclaimed the old man. Iwas always Mr. Owen to him, just as I had been when a lad. "When Iwent to your room this morning I found your bed empty. I wonderedwhere you had gone."
"I've had a strange adventure, Browning," I laughed, rather forcedly
Ifear. "Has Mr. Marlowe rung me up?"
"No, sir. But somebody else rang up about an hour ago, and askedwhether you were in."
"Who was it?"
"I couldn't quite catch the name, sir. It sounded likeShuffle--something."
"Shuttleworth!" I cried. "Did he leave any message?"
"No, sir. He merely asked if you were in--that's all."
As Sylvia was in London, perhaps Shuttleworth was in town also, Ireflected. Yet she had cleverly made her escape--in order to avoidbeing questioned. Her secret was a guilty one!
I called up Jack, who answered cheerily as usual.
"You didn't ring me up about one o'clock this morning, did you?" Iinquired.
"No. Why?" he asked.
"Oh--well, nothing," I said. "I thought perhaps it might have beenyou--that's all. What time shall you be in at White's?"
"About four. Will you be there?"
"Yes."
"Right-ho! Good-bye, old man," and he rang off.
I ascended to my room, changed my clothes, and made myselfrespectable. But during the time I was dressing I reflected whether Ishould go to Scotland Yard and relate my strange experience. Suchclever fiends as Reckitt and Forbes deserved punishment. What fearfulcrimes had been committed in that weird, neglected house I dreaded tothink. My only hesitation, however, was caused by the thought thatperhaps Sylvia might be implicated. I felt somehow impelled to try andsolve the problem for myself. I had lost a thousand pounds. Yet had Inot fallen into that trap in utter disregard of Sylvia's warning?
Therefore, I resolved to keep my own counsel for the present, and tomake a few inquiries in order to satisfy my curiosity. So, putting ona different suit, a different collar, and a soft felt hat which Inever wore, in a perhaps feeble attempt to transform myself from myusual appearance, I went forth again.
My first visit was to the bank, where I saw the manager and explainedthat the cheque had been stolen from my pocket, though I did notexpose the real facts. Then, after he had condoled with me upon myloss, and offered to send the description of the thief to the policeat once, I re-entered the taxi, and drove back to Porchester Terrace,alighting a short distance from Althorp House.
Hushed Up! A Mystery of London Page 11