The House of Whispers

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  IS ABOUT THE MAISON LENARD

  The big, rather severely but well-furnished room overlooked the busyBoulevard des Capucines in Paris. In front lay the great white facade ofthe Grand Hotel; below was all the bustle, life, and movement of Parison a bright sunny afternoon. Within the room, at a large mahogany table,sat four grave-faced men, while a fifth stood at one of the longwindows, his back turned to his companions.

  The short, broad-shouldered man looking forth into the street, inexpectancy, was Monsieur Goslin. He had been speaking, and his words hadevidently caused some surprise, even alarm, among his companions, forthey now exchanged glances in silence.

  Three of the men were well-dressed and prosperous-looking; while thefourth, a shrivelled old fellow, in faded clothes which seemed severalsizes too large for him, looked needy and ill-fed as he nervously chafedhis thin bony hands.

  Next moment they all began chatting in French, though from theircountenances it was plain that they were of various nationalities--onebeing German, the other Italian, and the third, a sallow-faced man, hadthe appearance of a Levantine.

  Goslin alone remained silent and watchful. From where he stood he couldsee the people entering and leaving the Grand Hotel. He glancedimpatiently at his watch, and then paced the room, his hand thoughtfullystroking his grey beard. Only half an hour before he had alighted at theGare du Nord, coming direct from far-off Glencardine, and had driventhere in an auto-cab to keep an appointment made by telegram. As hepaced the big room, with its dark-green walls, its Turkey carpet, andsombre furniture, his companions regarded him in wonder. Theyinstinctively knew that he had some news of importance to impart. Therewas one absentee. Until his arrival Goslin refused to say anything.

  The youngest of the four assembled at the table was the Italian, arather thin, keen-faced, dark-moustached man of refined appearance."_Madonna mia!_" he cried, raising his face to the Frenchman, "why, whathas happened? This is unusual. Besides, why should we wait? I've onlyjust arrived from Turin, and haven't had time to go to the hotel. Let usget on. _Avanti!_"

  "Not until he is present," answered Goslin, speaking earnestly inFrench. "I have a statement to make from Sir Henry. But I am notpermitted to make it until all are here." Then, glancing at his watch,he added, "His train was due at Est Station at 4.58. He ought to be hereat any moment."

  The shabby old man, by birth a Pole, still sat chafing his chillyfingers. None who saw Antoine Volkonski, as he shuffled along thestreet, ever dreamed that he was head of the great financial house ofVolkonski Freres of Petersburg, whose huge loans to the RussianGovernment during the war with Japan created a sensation throughoutEurope, and surely no casual observer looking at that little assemblywould ever entertain suspicion that, between them, they couldpractically dictate to the money-market of Europe.

  The Italian seated next to him was the Commendatore Rudolphe Cusani,head of the wealthy banking firm of Montemartini of Rome, which rankednext to the Bank of Italy. Of the remaining two, one was a Greek fromSmyrna, and the other, a rather well-dressed man with longish grey hair,Josef Frohnmeyer of Hamburg, a name also to conjure with in thefinancial world.

  The impatient Italian was urging Goslin to explain why the meeting hadbeen so hastily summoned when, without warning, the door opened and atall, distinguished man, with carefully trained grey moustache, andwearing a heavy travelling ulster, entered.

  "Ah, my dear Baron!" cried the Italian, jumping from his chair andtaking the new-comer's hand, "we were waiting for you." And he drew achair next to his.

  The man addressed tossed his soft felt travelling hat aside, saying,"The 'wire' reached me at a country house outside Vienna, where I wasvisiting. But I came instantly." And he seated himself, while the chairat the head of the table was taken by the stout Frenchman.

  "Messieurs," Goslin commenced, and--speaking in French--beganapologising at being compelled to call them together so soon after theirlast meeting. "The matter, however, is of such urgency," he went on,"that this conference is absolutely necessary. I am here in Sir Henry'splace, with a statement from him--an alarming statement. Our enemieshave unfortunately triumphed."

  "What do you mean?" cried the Italian, starting to his feet.

  "Simply this. Poor Sir Henry has been the victim of treachery.--Thosepapers which you, my dear Volkonski, brought to me in secret atGlencardine a month ago have been stolen!"

  "Stolen!" gasped the shabby old man, his grey eyes starting from hishead; "stolen! _Dieu!_ Think what that means to us--to me--to my house!They will be sold to the Ministry of Finance in Petersburg, and I shallbe ruined--ruined!"

  "Not only you will be ruined!" remarked the man from Hamburg, "but ourcontrol of the market will be at an end."

  "And together we lose over three million roubles," said Goslin in asquiet a voice as he could assume.

  The six men--those men who dealt in millions, men whose names, every oneof them, were as household words on the various Bourses of Europe and inbanking circles, men who lent money to reigning Sovereigns and toStates, whose interests were world-wide and whose influences weregreater than those of Kings and Ministers--looked at each other in blankdespair.

  "We have to face this fact, as Sir Henry points out to you, that atPetersburg the Department of Finance has no love for us. We put on thescrew a little too heavily when we sold them secretly those threeArgentine cruisers. We made a mistake in not being content with smallerprofit."

  "Yes, if it had been a genuinely honest deal on their side," remarkedthe Italian. "But it was not. In Russia the crowd made quite as great aprofit as we did."

  "And all three ships were sent to the bottom of the sea four monthsafterwards," added Frohnmeyer with a grim laugh.

  "That isn't the question," Goslin said. "What we have now to face is theperil of exposure. No one can, of course, allege that we have everresorted to any sharper practices than those of other financial groups;but the fact of our alliance and our impregnable strength will, when itis known, arouse the fiercest antagonism in certain circles."

  "No one suspects the secret of our alliance," the Italian ejaculated."It must be kept--kept at all hazards."

  Each man seated there knew that exposure of the tactics by which theywere ruling the Bourse would mean the sudden end of their greatprosperity.

  "But this is not the first occasion that documents have been stolen fromSir Henry at Glencardine," remarked the Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf. "Iremember the last time I went there to see him he explained how he haddiscovered his daughter with the safe open, and some of the papersactually in her hands."

  "Unfortunately that is so," Goslin answered. "There is every evidencethat we owe our present peril to her initiative. She and her father areon bad terms, and it seems more than probable that though she is nolonger at Glencardine she has somehow contrived to get hold of thedocuments in question--at the instigation of her lover, we believe."

  "How do you know that the documents are stolen?" the Baron asked.

  "Because three days ago Sir Henry received an anonymous letter bearingthe postmark of 'London, E.C.,' enclosing correct copies of the paperswhich our friend Volkonski brought from Petersburg, and asking what sumhe was prepared to pay to obtain repossession of the originals. Onreceipt of the letter," continued Goslin, "I rushed to the safe, to findthe papers gone. The door had been unlocked and relocked by an unknownhand."

  "And how does suspicion attach to the girl's lover?" asked the man fromHamburg.

  "Well, he was alone in the library for half an hour about five daysbefore. He called to see Sir Henry while he and I were out walkingtogether in the park. It is believed that the girl has a key to thesafe, which she handed to her lover in order that he might secure thepapers and sell them in Russia."

  "But young Murie is the son of a wealthy man, I've heard," observed theBaron.

  "Certainly. But at present his allowance is small," was Goslin's reply.

  "Well, what's to be done?" inquired the Italian.

  "Do
ne?" echoed Goslin. "Nothing can be done."

  "Why?" they all asked almost in one breath.

  "Because Sir Henry has replied, refusing to treat for the return of thepapers."

  "Was that not injudicious? Why did he not allow us to discuss the affairfirst?" argued the Levantine.

  "Because an immediate answer by telegraph to a post-office in Hampshirewas demanded," Goslin replied. "Remember that to Sir Henry's remarkableforesight all our prosperity has been due. Surely we may trust in hisjudicious treatment of the thief!"

  "That's all very well," protested Volkonski; "but my fortune is atstake. If the Ministry obtains those letters they will crush and ruinme."

  "Sir Henry is no novice," remarked the Baron. "He fights an enemy withhis own weapons. Remember that Greek deal of which the girl gainedknowledge. He actually prepared bogus contracts and correspondence forthe thief to steal. They were stolen, and, passing through a dozenhands, were at last offered in Athens. The Ministry there laughed at thethieves for their pains. Let us hope the same result will be nowobtained."

  "I fear not," Goslin said quietly. "The documents stolen on the formeroccasion were worthless. The ones now in the hands of our enemies aregenuine."

  "But," said the Baron, "you, Goslin, went to live at Glencardine onpurpose to protect our poor blind friend from his enemies!"

  "I know," said the man addressed. "I did my best--and failed. Thefootman Hill, knowing young Murie as a frequent guest at Glencardine,the other day showed him into the library and left him there alone. Itwas then, no doubt, that he opened the safe with a false key and securedthe documents."

  "Then why not apply for a warrant for his arrest?" suggested theCommendatore Cusani. "Surely your English laws do not allow thieves togo unpunished? In Italy we should quickly lay hands on them."

  "But we have no evidence."

  "You have no suspicion that any other man may have committed thetheft--that fellow Flockart, for instance? I don't like him," added theBaron. "He is altogether too friendly with everybody at Glencardine."

  "I have already made full inquiries. Flockart was in Rome. He onlyreturned to London the day before yesterday. No. Everything points tothe girl taking revenge upon her father, who, I am compelled to admit,has treated her with rather undue harshness. Personally, I considermademoiselle very charming and intelligent."

  They all admitted that her correspondence and replies to reports weremarvels of clear, concise instruction. Every man among them knew wellher neat round handwriting, yet only Goslin had ever seen her.

  The Frenchman was asked to describe both the girl and her lover. This hedid, declaring that Gabrielle and Walter were a very handsome pair.

  "Whatever may be said," remarked old Volkonski, "the girl was a mostexcellent assistant to Sir Henry. But it is, of course, the old story--ayoung girl's head turned by a handsome lover. Yet surely the youth isnot so poor that he became a thief of necessity. To me it seems ratheras though he stole the documents at her instigation."

  "That is exactly Sir Henry's belief," Goslin remarked with a sigh. "Thepoor old fellow is beside himself with grief and fear."

  "No wonder!" remarked the Italian. "None of us would care to be betrayedby our own daughters."

  "But cannot a trap be laid to secure the thief before he approaches thepeople in Russia?" suggested the crafty Levantine.

  "Yes, yes!" cried Volkonski, his hands still clenched. "The Ministrywould give a hundred thousand roubles for them, because by their aidthey could crush me--crush you all. Remember, there are namesthere--names of some of the most prominent officials in the Empire.Think of the power of the Ministry if they held that list in theirhands!"

  "No," said the Baron in a clear, distinct voice, his grey eyes fixedthoughtfully upon the wall opposite. "Rather think of our positions, ofthe exultation of our enemies if this great combine of ours were exposedand broken! Myself, I consider it folly that we have met here openlyto-day. This is the first time we have all met, save in secret, and howdo we know but some spy may be on the _boulevard_ outside noting who hasentered here?"

  "_Mille diavoli!_" gasped Cusani, striking the table with his fist andsinking back into his chair. "I recollect I passed outside here a man Iknow--a man who knows me. He was standing on the kerb. He saw me. Hisname is Krail--Felix Krail!"

  "Is he still there?" cried the men, as with one accord they left theirchairs and dashed eagerly across to the window.

  "Krail!" cried the Russian in alarm. "Where is he?"

  "See!" the Italian pointed out, "see the man in black yonder, standingthere near the _kiosque_, smoking a cigarette. He is still watching. Hehas seen us meet here!"

  "Ah!" said the Baron in a hoarse voice, "I said so. To meet openly likethis was far too great a risk. Nobody knew anything of Lenard etMorellet of the Boulevard des Capucines except that they wereunimportant financiers. To-morrow the world will know who they reallyare. Messieurs, we are the victims of a very clever ruse. We have beenso tricked that we have been actually summoned here and our identitydisclosed!"

  The five monarchs of finance stood staring at each other in absolutesilence.