Lord John in New York

by C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

  EPISODE IV

  THE DEATH TRYST

  For me, one of the strangest things in a strange world is this: thecompelling influence exerted upon our lives by people apparentlyirrelevant, yet without whom the pattern of our destiny would bedifferent.

  Take the case of Anne Garth and her connection with MaidaOdell--through Maida Odell, with me. Of my adventures in America whileattempting to protect Maida, that in which Anne Garth played her partwas among the most curious.

  It happened while Paul Teano, the private detective, and I were tryingour hardest to bring "Doctor Rameses" to book. We were morally certainthat he was the Egyptian who had, for a mysterious reason of his own,persecuted the girl's family, and followed her (as its last survivingmember) from Europe to New York. Unfortunately, however, a moralcertainty and a certainty which can be proved are as far from oneanother as the poles. We might believe if we liked that "DoctorRameses," controlling the Grey Sisterhood, intended evil to the girlwho had been induced to join it: but it was "up to us" to prove theconnection. So far as the police could learn, Doctor Rameses was asphilanthropic as wise. If, as we suggested, his was the spirit guidingmore than one criminal organisation in New York, he was the cleverestman at proving an alibi ever known to the force. If we reported hispresence in a certain place at a certain time, he was invariably ableto show that he had been somewhere else, engaged in innocent if notuseful pursuits. As for Maida, her confidence in the veiled woman atthe head of the Sisterhood was apparently unbroken. Judging from thelittle I could find out, she was irritatingly happy in her work amongrescued women and children, at the lonely old house on Long Island. Nodoubt there were genuine cases cared for, which made it hard to proveanything crooked, especially to a girl so high-minded.

  She had promised to remain for a year, and I had met her too late tochange that determination. The rules of the House did not permit thesisters (of whom there were only six) to receive the visits of men, andthough now and then I contrived to snatch a glimpse of Maida, seldom ornever since our real parting had I had word from her except by letter.How could I be sure the letters were genuine?

  While I was in the state of mind engendered by these difficulties,Teano rushed in one morning to say that he was off to Sing Sing."There may be something for us," he said, and asked me to go with him.It seemed that the Head Sister had departed at dawn in her automobilefrom the Sisterhood House (Teano had someone always watching the placenight and day, in these times), and "putting two and two together" hededuced that she might be en route for the prison. He had learned thata notorious woman criminal was coming out that day, after serving aheavy sentence. She had been a member of an international band ofthieves; and if the head of the Grey Sisterhood intended to meet her,it could hardly be a case of "rescue."

  "I know a 'con. man' whose time is up," Teano went on, "and I shallmake an excuse of meeting him if I see the lady's head turned my way.The same excuse would do for you, my lord. 'Twon't matter putting thewoman on her guard, for if she's going to meet Diamond Doll, they'llhave met before we give 'em the chance to spot us and we'll know whatwe want to know."

  I was keen on the expedition, and offered my car for it. We overtookthe Head Sister, and our hearts bounded with hope: but, though we wereable to follow in her wake all the way, our hopes were dashed byfinding that she had come to "rescue" a person of a different classfrom buxom "Diamond Doll." The latter was met at the moment of releaseby a virtuous looking mother; and the tall grey form of the Head Sisteradvanced toward a small, shabby young woman who might have been ateacher in a Sunday-school.

  The latter, unless she were a good actress, could hardly have feignedthe start of astonishment with which she received the veiled lady'sgreeting. She had been glancing about as if she expected someone butthat one was not the head of the Grey Sisterhood. She listened withreserve for a moment, then brightened visibly. She had rather a tragicface, as if she were born for suffering, and could not escape.Evidently, so far, she had not escaped; but she was young, not morethan twenty-eight. Her oval face was pale with prison paleness, andthere were shadows under the deep-set grey eyes which held no light ofhope.

  Why should the Head Sister single this girl out? If her object werecharitable, there were other women being released who neededencouragement; yet it was to this one alone that help was offered.

  As the veiled lady explained herself with the dignity of manner whichhad won Maida Odell's admiration, a young man joined the two, with anapologetic air. He had to be introduced to the Head Sister, and as hepulled off his cap I recognised a vague likeness between him and thegirl.

  His decent, ready-made clothes were of the country, and proclaimedthemselves "Sunday best." His sunburnt complexion was of the country,and his shy, yet frank manners were of the country too.

  The new-comer was out of breath, and apparently had hurried to make uptime lost. He kissed the girl; and presently, without seeming tonotice us, the Head Sister walked away with the two. She wasfavourably known to the prison authorities for her "kindness" infinding work for discharged women prisoners, and for her offers ofshelter in the Sisterhood House till work could be found. If we hadattempted to give warning against her, we should have been laughed atfor our pains, and there was nothing we could do but play watchdog.

  This we did, making ourselves inconspicuous, but not resorting to thepretext Teano had suggested. We let the "con. man" go off to face theworld without a salutation, and devoted our attention to the friends ofthe Head Sister. It was only the girl who went with her in the closedautomobile. The man bade them good-bye, but not with an air of sorrow.He looked grave as he set off for Ossining station, but satisfiedrather than sad. Plainly it pleased him to think that the young womanhad a powerful protector.

  "Well?" I asked, when Teano and I had let the strapping figure strideout of sight: for the detective had been trying to unearth some memoryof the girl's features. "Have you got her dug up?"

  "Yes, milord," said the Italian, grinning at my way of putting it."She'll be no use to the grey dame in any shady job. They say I have'camera eyes.' When I see a face--or even a photograph--I don'tforget. Anne Garth is the girl's name. She was not bad at heart."

  "She doesn't look it," I said. "She'd be beautiful if she werefattened up and happy."

  On our way back to Long Island Teano told me Anne Garth's story. Shewas a country girl, ambitious to become a nurse. Somehow she hadworked her way up with credit in a New York hospital. There she hadfallen in love with one of the younger doctors; and when his engagementto another woman was announced, she had waited for him outside thehospital one day, and shot him. The wound was not serious, but AnneGarth had spent two years in Sing Sing to pay for the luxury ofinflicting it.

  "Doran the doctor's name was," Teano remembered. "Not much doubt heflirted with the girl and made her believe he would marry her. Shemight have got off with a lighter sentence, but she wouldn't showregret. The jury thought her hard. She doesn't look hard to me,though! I expect the fellow we saw was the brother--her only relative,I recall the papers saying. Let me think! Didn't he have some job inthe mountains? Something queer--something not usual! I can't bring itto mind. But it doesn't matter."

  "I suppose not," I agreed. "Did Doran marry the other girl?"

  Teano shook his head. "No," he said. "After what happened, she wasafraid to trust him, or else--but there's no use guessing!"

  I agreed again. Neither was there much use in "guessing" the HeadSister's object in taking Anne Garth into the Sisterhood House; butthere might be more use in trying to find out. During the weeks thatfollowed I did try, with Teano's help, but succeeded only in learningthat Miss Garth was employed as a nurse. She was seen in the garden byTeano's watchers, wearing a nurse's dress, but she did not appearoutside the gates.

  A month later, I happened to hear talk of a fancy dress ball in honourof an Egyptian prince visiting America. He was a relative of theex-Khedive, and being a handsome man with romantic eyes, was
being mademuch of by more than one hostess. The ball was to be given by Mrs.Gorst, a rich "climber," a lady who was, I heard from Teano, one of thehypnotist Rameses' devoted patients. She lived in the fashionable newDominion Hotel, where the ball would take place. Her guests woulddance, newspapers announced, in the "magnificent Arabian room, socongenial in its Eastern decorations to the taste of the principalguest, Prince Murad Ali."

  It occurred to me that Dr. Rameses was certain to be one of theseguests. I did not know Mrs. Gorst, but I knew some of her friends, andto get an invitation was "easy as falling off a log." As it was only afancy dress affair, and no masks were to be worn, if Rameses werepresent I ought to recognise him. I hoped to make sure whether he wasor was not the man with the scar, who had frightened Maida Odell at thetheatre on the night when I met, fell in love, and--lost her. Sincethat night I had discovered Doctor Rameses' existence and had seen himmore than once, but without the clue of the scar it was impossible toidentify a man seen for a few seconds only. If Rameses' throat borethe mark, there could no longer be room for doubt, and I determined tolay hands on him if necessary.

  How I was to manage this, I didn't see: but that was a detail. Isecured the card, and 'phoned to my old hotel in New York for a room.If I had dined there, everything that followed would have beendifferent, but I went with the man who had got me invited (a friend ofOdell's) to dine at his club. There I stopped till it was time to goback and rig myself up as a Knight Templar: and taking my key from oneof the clerks I was told that a young lady had called.

  "A young lady?" I echoed. My thoughts created a white and gold visionof Maida, but the clerk's next words broke it like a bubble.

  "She was dressed as a nurse," he explained. "She wouldn't give hername; said you'd not know it--but she mentioned that she'd called firstat your Long Island hotel. When she told them there that her errandwas urgent they consented to give this address."

  "The errand was urgent!" I felt my blood leap. After all, the visionmight not have been so far-fetched. What if this woman were the nursefrom Sisterhood House--Anne Garth, whom I had seen come out ofprison--Anne Garth with a message for me from Maida?

  "What did you tell her?" I asked.

  "Well," the clerk hedged, "she seemed anxious to know where she couldfind you--insisted it was a matter of life and death, so I suggestedyou might be at Mrs. Gorst's ball for that Egyptian Prince."

  My first impulse was of anger. The man was a fool, not to have knownthat I must come back to dress! But in a flash I realised that if hehadn't known, it was my fault. I had left no word when I went out at aquarter to eight.

  "I may see or hear from her later," I said, holding out a hand for mykey. With it, the clerk gave me an envelope--one of the hotelenvelopes, sealed and containing a thing which felt like a smallaccount book. It was addressed in pencil, evidently in haste. Insidethe flap I caught sight of something else hurriedly pencilled, luckilydiscovering it as I tore the envelope, to extract a black-coverednote-book. "I was going to write a letter," I read, "but I fear I'mwatched. This is the best I can do, unless they let me in at the ball."

  There was no signature, not even an initial.

  I went up to my room, and opened the book under the light of areading-lamp. Its contents suggested a diary, with a number ofdisjointed notes dashed down in pencil (the same handwriting as thatinside the envelope) with many blank spaces.

  "I never hoped for anything like this," were the only words on thefirst page, under the vague date, "Wednesday." On the next page wasjotted: "It's like heaven after hell, and _she_ is an angel. I neversaw anyone so beautiful or sweet. Would she be as kind if she _knew_?"

  "This must mean Maida," my heart said. Certainly it could not refer tothe Head Sister! But, after all, how did I _know_ that the "womandressed like a nurse" was Anne Garth? So far, I merely surmised.Eagerly I turned over the leaves. Often the writer spoke of herself,or of things that had no special meaning for me. Then came a notewhich held my eyes. "I've confessed to _her_ the truth. She says Iwas more sinned against than sinning. Heaven bless her! She hasconfided in me what is making her ill. The poor child suffers! Inever heard of one as sane as she, having illusions. I suppose they_are_ illusions. She can have no enemies."

  Again, on the next page: "She has told me her history. What a strangeone! She _has_ enemies. But none of them can have got in here? I'mglad she has a love story. I pray it may have a happier end than mine."

  A few blank leaves, and then: "There's a room with a locked door overhers. Nobody sleeps in it. I wonder why they keep it locked? Isuppose it's a coincidence. If they wished her harm why should theysend for a nurse to take care of her, when she isn't ill, except fordreams.... A beautiful thing she said last night. 'I should die ofhorror if I didn't make _his_ face come between me and the wicked face.His love saves me.' I envy her the _saving_ love! Through mine I waslost. I wish I were allowed to sleep in her room. _She_ wouldn't ask,because she thought it cowardly, but I did, and was refused. I'mneeded at night for the children's room."

  Further on, after more blanks: "It's against the rules for men to comehere, but I saw a man going upstairs--or a ghost. They say there _are_ghosts in this house. A woman told me that the room over my sweetgirl's is haunted. That's why it's locked. I wonder if the man-ghostwas going to it? I wish it hadn't been dark in the hall, so I couldhave seen what he was like. He seemed a tall moving shadow."

  Later: "I hope there's nothing wrong with _my_ head! I was going tothe room of our H.S. for orders. I thought the message was for me totap at her door at nine o'clock, but before I had time to knock shecame out and met me. She shut the door as she asked what I wanted--thefirst time she's spoken sharply! But I caught one glimpse of the roominside. Opposite the door, there's a picture of the desert bymoonlight, and the Sphinx. It's in a carved black frame, set in themiddle of a bookcase. The frame is part of the bookcase. But as Ilooked into the room this time--I didn't mean to look or spy--thepicture of the Sphinx _wasn't there_. It seemed to have opened outlike a door of a cabinet, and behind it was a white space with namesand dates written in red. On top was a sign like an eye, andunderneath I thought I saw the words, 'I watch, I wait.' Then came thedates. I can't be sure what they were, but I think the first was 1865.There was a General and a Captain, and a Madeleine or Margaret, all ofthe same name, which I _think_ was Annesley. Anyhow, there were threedates and four names, and opposite the fourth name--that of mybeautiful girl--was a question mark. A black line had been drawnthrough the other names as if they were done with, but there was noline through hers.

  "It's queer how quickly one sees things--all in a flash. I'd only timeto draw in my breath before the door of the room was closed, yet I keptthe impression, as one goes on seeing the sun with one's eyes shut.Now, _could_ I have imagined the whole thing? I _did_ imagine thingsat night in my cell, but I _knew_ they weren't there. They neverseemed as real as this."

  These notes, hastily pencilled, covered several of the blue-linedpages. There were more blanks; and then, in a shaky hand was written:"I'm frightened. I caught H.S. dropping something from a tiny bottleinto the glass of milk on the tray I was getting ready to takeupstairs. I'd turned my back to fetch a bunch of violets H.S. hadbrought in for me to put with the breakfast. I don't know if she knewI caught her, but she said she put phosferine for a tonic into the milktwice a week, and asked if I approved. Perhaps I oughtn't to say I'_caught_' her. Perhaps it's all right. But if we had a cat in thehouse I'd have tried to make it drink the milk. I tasted it, and therewas a faint bitter tang, yet phosferine would give that. I dared notdrink more, because if anything were wrong, and I were ill or died, Icouldn't protect _her_. But I poured out the milk and got fresh, inanother glass, when I was sure H.S. was back in her study with the doorshut. This can't go on. If anything is wrong, I mayn't be able tosave _her_. And the fear is getting on my nerves. Yet I can't bear togive the poor child a warning. She has enough to worry about. Al
l daythis horrid thought has been in my head. Was _I_ chosen because if_she_ died, I could be blamed--a prison bird, with a black heart toofull of evil to be reclaimed by kindness? If my darling girl will giveme the name of the man who loves her and where he is, I'll make someexcuse to get a day off--perhaps to meet my brother Larry--and tell herlover what has been going on."

  This was the last entry in the book, and it gave me the certainty forwhich I groped. The nurse must have come from the Sisterhood House andfrom Maida; and--Maida cared for me more than I had made her confess.

  I could hardly wait to get to the ball. My first object in going wasforgotten in anxiety to find Anne Garth, to hear all she'd meant totell me when she called, and missed me. It was still important--morethan ever important, perhaps--to identify Dr. Rameses as a conspiratoragainst Maida; but I could no longer concentrate my thoughts upon him.My fear was that Anne Garth might not have been admitted, lacking thecard of invitation which every guest was asked to bring. But I judgedthat she would not give up easily. If her costume (which she mightmake pass as fancy dress) and her determination did not get her intothe ballroom, I believed that she would think of some other plan.

  Though the Dominion Hotel is new, its Arabian room is famous. It mightbe called "Aladdin's Cave," so gorgeous are its glimmering gold walls,and the stage jewels which star the ceiling and the gilded carvings ofits boxes. Even its drapery is of gold tissue, embroidered withjewelled peacock feathers: its polished floor gleams like gold,reflecting thousands of golden lights, and its gold-framedpanel-mirrors repeat again and again a golden vision. I was an earlyarrival, but there were many before me, because Prince Murad Ali had areputation for un-oriental promptness, and lovers of pageants wished tosee his entrance with his suite. If Doctor Rameses were present amongthe gorgeous groups scattered like bouquets about the ballroom, my mostsearching glances failed to pick him out. I had no intention of givingup the quest, however; and wishing to be independent I tried to evademy hostess's offer of pretty partners who "danced like angels."Unfortunately, as I thought, fortunately as it turned out, the ladyconquered. I evaded a "Fox trot" on the plea that my wounded leg wastoo stiff: but I could not refuse to sit out with a countrywoman ofmine, just over from England, who had "come to look on." We had knowneach other slightly at home, and I was obliged to sit through a dancetelling Lady Mary Proudfit who people were.

  "At least," I tried to console myself, "if Anne Garth or that bruteRameses comes along, I can see them."

  But the crowd increased, and with many dancers on the floor it wasdifficult to distinguish faces. The Prince and his attendants arrived,magnificent as figures incarnated from the "Arabian Nights"; and theentrance of the principal guest was the signal for a charming surprise.From hidden apertures in the carved ceiling, rose petals--pink andwhite and golden yellow--began to flutter down, light as snowflakes.The great room was perfumed with attar of roses, and silver ribbonconfetti, glittering like innumerable strands of spun glass, descendedon the laughing dancers. My companion and I were lassoed by the fairyropes, and looking up I was struck on the cheek with a rose thrown froma box.

  The flower was thrown, not accidentally dropped. It came from adistance, aimed by a woman dressed as a nurse. She was sitting in achair drawn close to the front of her box--a box in the second tier,close to the musicians' gallery--and was leaning on the ledge in orderto take good aim. Behind her stood a tall man in chain armour, hisvisor so nearly covering his face as practically to mask it. He wasbending over the nurse, as if to see where her rose fell.

  Before I could grasp the flower it had fallen to the ground, and I hadto stoop to pick it up. I was rude enough to have forgotten LadyMary's existence until--as I was unwinding the thread which bound athin bit of paper to the stem--she exclaimed, "A melodrama, Lord John!The jealous husband's on your track. Be careful, or he'll see thatnote--no, he's gone from behind her now. Perhaps he's coming down toyou."

  "Forgive me, Lady Mary," I said, "but this is serious. Not a loveaffair, I assure you, but it may be a vital matter. I must go to thatbox. I----"

  "Don't mind me!" She took the cue, and changed her teasing tone tofriendly common sense. "Here comes a man I know. He'll look after me.Go along! Why, how odd! Your friend who threw the rose is pretendingto be asleep--or she's fainted!"

  I glanced up from the note I had been reading while my companiontalked. The nurse still leant on the broad ledge with its goldenfringe, but she had laid her head on her arm. Her face I could not see.

  I did not wait to make sure that Lady Mary had secured her friend inneed: but semi-consciously I heard their greetings as I turned away.The entrance to the boxes was outside the ballroom, and there mighthave been some delay in identifying the one I wanted, but for the noteattached to the rose. Anne Garth bade me come quickly to Box 18, asshe feared she had been followed. "I have a letter for you from_her_," was added as a further inducement.

  On the door of each box was a number. I knew 18 was in the secondtier, and hurried up the narrow stairway which led to that row, almostrudely pushing past a Harlequin and Columbine who were coming down.Apart from them I had the stairs and corridor to myself. If the man inchain armour had altogether deserted Box 18, he had made haste todisappear--a fact so disquieting that I regretted not having smuggledTeano into the hotel to help. Being alone, I had to obey orders and goat once to the box, although I saw that keeping track of the man wasequally important.

  I knocked, and when no answer followed, opened the door of Number 18.The nurse sat in the same position which Lady Mary had remarked,bending forward from her chair across to the broad ledge and leaningher whole weight on it, her head on her arm.

  "Miss Garth?" I said, knowing now for certain it was she, as in lookingup I had recognised the face seen outside Sing Sing prison. How shehad recognised me would have been a puzzle, had I not conceitedlydeduced that Maida had annexed a photograph given by me to Roger. Butit was not important to solve this puzzle. "Miss Garth?" I repeated,raising my voice over the music.

  No reply: and a prickling cold as the touch of icicles shivered throughmy veins as I laid a hand on the grey-clad arm. It was responselesslike her lips, and sick at heart I raised the limp figure in the chair.The head in its long veil and close-fitting bonnet lolled aside, andthere was no consciousness in the half-open eyes. The girl had falleninto a dead faint, or--she had been murdered, I could guess by whom.But selfishly, my first thought was not for her. It was for thepromised letter, and in her lap half concealed by the folds of her greycloak--I found it: a blank envelope, unsealed, but evidently containinga sheet or two of paper.

  "Thank God it's not been stolen!" I muttered, and pocketing theenvelope turned my thoughts to the thing which must next be done.

  No wound was visible, not even a drop of blood to cover a pinprick: butI could feel no beating of the heart; and the swift vanishing of theman in chain armour was ominous. I realised that, if the girl had diedby violence, I might come under suspicion, unless I could quickly proveinnocence. Needing my liberty in order to protect Maida, I could runno risk of losing it, and I realised that with Lady Mary Proudfit laymy best hope. There wasn't a minute to waste; and without a glance atthe letter I was dying to read, I peered through the sparkling ofribbon confetti and rose petals. What a mockery the brilliance was,and the gay ragtime melody in the musicians' gallery next door! Yetthe bright veil had its uses. It was like a screen of shatteredcrystal hiding the tragedy in Box 18.

  Lady Mary, as I hoped, sat where I'd left her. I beckoned. Surprised,but evidently pleased, she spoke to her companion, a British financieron government business in New York. Instantly they began to threadtheir way through the crowd, and less than five minutes brought them tothe box.

  "This lady had important news for me," I explained, "news of a dearfriend she has been nursing. It was as important for others that thenews shouldn't reach my ears. I fear there's been foul play, and Iwant a doctor. Everything must be done quietly--and the girl ca
n't beleft alone. But the police must be called, if she turns out to bedead, and----"

  "Oh, I can bear witness that her head dropped suddenly on her arm,while that man in chain armour bent over her--before you even left me.He was in fearful haste to get away!" Lady Mary interrupted.

  "Hello, what's this!" exclaimed the financial magnate, Sir FelixGottschild, stooping to drag from under a chair, pushed against thewall, a peculiar bundle. "Here is chain armour--a whole suit, rolledup and tucked under the chair! By Jove, it tells a tale--what? You'llbe all right, whatever happens, Lord John. We'll stop till you getback."

  I waited for no more, but went down to inform one of the men keepingthe ballroom door what had happened. The police and a doctor were'phoned for, and arrived with almost magical promptness. The goldtissue curtains were quietly drawn across Box 18 while two "plainclothes" men took note of what Lady Mary Proudfit and I had to tell,and the doctor probed the mystery of Anne Garth's condition. He wassoon able to pronounce her dead, but it was not till later that hediscovered the prick of a hypodermic syringe at the base of the brain.The girl had been killed as sick dogs are suppressed with an injectionof strychnine. Pre-occupied as I was with my own affairs, I could nothelp remarking the doctor's emotion. He was a young man, and at thetime I credited him with unusual sensitiveness and sympathy: but when Ilearned that his name was Doran I was less sure that he deservedcredit. Poetic justice had gone out of its way to avenge Anne Garth byordering this coincidence.

  I told what I knew of the girl, beginning with the day I saw her leaveSing Sing prison with the directress of the Grey Sisterhood, and goingon to the episode of the note dropped, weighted with a rose. I hadreason to emphasise Anne Garth's connection with the Sisterhood, hopingto fasten suspicion upon it, and secure aid more powerful thanmine--that of the police--for Maida. I described the tall Harlequinwho had passed me in the corridor as I hurried toward Box 18, and urgedmy theory that the murderer of Anne Garth had worn this disguise underhis chain armour. With the help of a confederate (the Columbine)waiting in an adjoining box, he could have made the change, and soescaped without drawing attention. I did not hesitate to suggest,also, that the man was Doctor Rameses, the hypnotist: but the police ofNew York had come to consider me mad on the subject of Rameses and theGrey Sisterhood. I was assured that enquiries would be made: and theywere made. It was ascertained that Doctor Rameses had accepted Mrs.Gorst's invitation, but at the last moment had telegraphed that anattack of "grippe" had laid him low. Another alibi as usual! It wasproved (to the satisfaction of the police) that he had not left hishouse that night. The disjointed diary of Anne Garth contained nonames, and was not even an accusation, still less a proof of evilintent on the part of any member of the Grey Sisterhood.

  I heard early next day that the police had duly, if discreetly, visitedPine Cliff, and learned that all was "above board." Anne Garth hadbeen impudent, and careless about her duties. She had been dischargedsome days before the ball, her principal patient having gone away on avisit, in order to "get rid of the nurse without a fuss." Some gossipin the house must have turned the woman's thoughts to Lord John Hasle,and she had seen a way of embarrassing the ladies of the Sisterhood.As for the murder, a theory was suggested by a bundle of love lettersfound among Anne Garth's effects, forgotten when she departed. Fromthese it appeared that she had been in the habit of meeting a man whosigned himself "Dick," whenever she was given a day off from her dutiesat Sisterhood House. The last letters threatened reprisals if shepersisted in seeing a certain "Tom," otherwise unnamed.

  As for the Harlequin and Columbine, they were as impossible to trace asghosts. No one could be discovered who had seen them enter theballroom or leave it. Had it not been for Lady Mary Proudfit'stestimony, I might have floundered into serious difficulties, in spiteof the chain armour. Thanks to her (and perhaps a little to my ownposition) I was free to come and go; which was well, because Anne Garthhad left me a tryst to keep for the following night.

  The one fact I hid was the existence of the letter found by me in thedead girl's lap. It was typed, and unsigned: but Anne Garth's journalproved to me, if not to the police, that she was loyal; and the notetied to the rose promised a letter from Maida. "From _her_," the nursehad written, expecting me to understand, and I had understood. I hadalso believed, because I could see no reason why Anne Garth, riskingmuch to deliver the message, should deceive me. The man in chainarmour had had too great a need for haste to seek a letter, nor had hereason to suspect the existence of one. His object, if I read itright, was to prevent Anne Garth from telling her story.

  The note so fortunately hidden under the nurse's cloak was not inMaida's writing, but had been neatly typed. It was not the first time,however, that I had received typed letters from her. Sometimes I haddoubted their genuineness, but one of them explained that she hadlearned to use a typewriter, to help the Head Sister with charitablecorrespondence. After that I had felt more at ease about those clearlytyped communications.

  "My dear Friend," the letter began (Maida never gave me a warmertitle), "I've been ill with grippe, which is an epidemic here. Now I'mbetter, but so weak that I long for tonic air, and it has been decidedto send me up to the Crescent Mountain Inn. I'm looking forward to thechange after my hard work and illness. But how glorious it would be ifyou could come to see me! I hope to start the day after you receivethis. If I can get off then, I shall arrive at the Crescent Mountainrailway station in the train which reaches there at nine-fifteen. Idon't know what time the train that connects with it leaves New York,but you can find out--if you care to! At the station a team of dogswith a driver who serves the Inn (his name is Garth) meets the train ifordered. As my departure is a little uncertain, because I'm notstrong, no telegram has been sent so far, and the team is free foranyone who wishes to engage it. If you _should_ do so, and I shouldhappen to be in the train, I'm sure you wouldn't mind having me for anextra passenger! I've spoken only to one person about my brilliantidea of our meeting. Yours ever, M."

  Nobody who reads this can wonder that I didn't show it to the police,or that I was ready to believe the letter genuine. Despite the gloomcast upon me by the death of Maida's messenger, despite my annoyancewith the police, I was selfishly happy. I saw that I was in great luckto have got out of a tangle which might have enmeshed me in bonds ofred tape; and it goes without saying that I telegraphed the CrescentMountain Inn, ordering a room, and Larry Garth the dog-driver to meetme with his team.

  I remembered Teano's mentioning that Anne Garth's brother lived in themountains; and I 'phoned him to ask if the man were employed by theCrescent Mountain Inn. The answer was, "Yes, he drives theirdog-team"; and I was the more firmly convinced that Maida and AnneGarth had concocted the typewritten letter together.

  In deducing this, I belittled the Enemy's intelligence. But one livesand learns. Or, one dies and learns.

  The Crescent Mountain Inn--as most people know--is one of the mostfamous winter resorts in America. It is also an autumn and springresort for those who love winter sports, for snow falls early at thatgreat height, and rests late. Its comparative accessibility from NewYork adds to the charm, and the sledge with a team of Alaskan dogs(instead of an ordinary sleigh drawn by mere horses) was an inspirationon the part of the landlord.

  I told no one but Teano of my intention. He, oppressively prudentwhere I was concerned, wished to accompany me "in case of queerbusiness," but I discouraged this idea without hurting his feelings.If there were hope of an "accidental" meeting with Maida in the train,I didn't want even a companion.

  To my disappointment, I searched the train from end to end withoutfinding her. But enquiring of the conductor, I learned that themorning train was preferred by ladies. Perhaps--I thought--she hadalready got off, in which case Garth might bring a note to the CrescentMountain station. I hoped for Maida's sake it might be so, because ifshe'd started early she would not have heard of her messenger's fate,and I could break the news to her gently. As f
or the dead girl'sbrother, it seemed improbable that he would be informed by telegram.The pair were said by Teano to be alone in the world; and as Garth'sevidence wouldn't be needed--anyhow for days to come--in the affair ofAnne's murder, he would not be sent for post-haste.

  Again I underrated the intelligence of the Enemy.

  The train arrived on time at the little mountain station built forclients of the famous Inn. As it was still early in the season (it isonly for Christmas that crowds begin going up), I wasn't surprised tofind myself alone on the platform. The mountain train (into which I'dchanged long ago from the train starting from New York) went no furtherthat night. Snow-covered shoulders and peaks glistened dimly inhalf-veiled starlight, and I was glad to hear the jingle of bells. Abig sledge, capable of carrying several passengers and a little lightluggage, was in waiting with a fine team of impatient dogs: but thedriver who touched his fur cap with a mittened hand was not thehonest-faced country man who had met the released prisoner at Sing Sing.

  "You're not Garth!" I exclaimed, when he asked if I were Lord JohnHasle, and had been answered affirmatively.

  The dim yellow light from the little station building shone into hisface, and I thought it changed as if with chagrin. It was not aspleasant a face as the one I remembered. In fact, it was not pleasantat all. The eyes were brave enough, or anyhow bold; but the nose wasbig and red as if the fellow warmed his chilled blood generously withalcohol. He was older than Anne Garth's brother. The heavy featuresframed in fur ear-laps might have belonged to a man of forty.

  "Oh, yes, I'm Garth," he assured me, in a voice roughened by the sameagent which had empurpled his nose.

  "You're not the Garth I've seen," I persisted.

  "That may be," he admitted. "We're brothers. I'm a bit older thanLarry. He had to go to New York. Between the two of us, we do thedriving for the Crescent Inn."

  This explanation was good enough, if Teano was wrong about the family."Have you a note for me?" I asked.

  "No note," was the reply. "But you're expected at the Inn all right."

  "They have other guests by this time, I suppose?"

  "Yes, a few. The last that came's a young lady. I took her up fromthe afternoon train."

  This was what I had wanted to find out. My instinctive dislike of theugly-faced chap vanished. I felt almost fond of him.

  "Let's get on," I said.

  Another man had been looking after his dogs, a man also coated andcapped in fur--a big chap whose face I could not see, as he didn'ttrouble to salute or look my way before climbing into his seat besidethe driver's place. The suitcase I'd brought from New York wasdisposed of: I tucked myself into the strong-smelling rugs of roughblack fur, and the dogs flashed away like a lightning streak, theirforms racing with shadow ghosts on the blue whiteness of starlit snow.Soon we came to a cross track, marked with a sign-post. A red lanternon the top seemed to drip blood over the words "Crescent Mountain Inn.Winter Sports."

  To my surprise, though the dogs made as if to swerve leftward and dashup this beaten white way, the driver swore, and with his long whipforced them straight ahead.

  "We take the short cut. 'Tisn't everyone who knows it," he deigned tofling over his shoulder at me.

  I made no comment, and we sped along, until abruptly the dogs balked asat something unseen. With oaths and savage lashings they were goadedon through deep, new-fallen snow. The leaders yelped but obeyed.Then, suddenly, the driver flung reins and whip full in my face. Theunlooked-for blow dazed me for a second as it was meant to do: but, asin one of those photographic dreams which come between sleeping andwaking, I saw the two fur-coated figures in the front seat spring fromthe sledge into snow drifts. I tried to follow suit, too late, fordown slid the team over the brim of a chasm dark as a cauldron, anddragged the sledge in their wake.

  * * * * *

  Teano, it seems, though too polite to say so, did not like my mountainexpedition. As he was not allowed to join me, he decided that the nextbest thing was to watch my interests in New York. He and his wifeJenny (who had an exaggerated sense of gratitude for me) discussed,according to their habit, what they would have done and what they woulddo were they in the "Enemy's" place.

  "I'll tell you how _I'd_ have acted to begin with!" said Jenny, whoknew too well the ways of the underworld; "I'd have had a letter readyto leave for Lord John on that poor dead girl's lap--a letter supposedto be from Miss Odell. Typing's easier than forging! Then, if I_found_ a letter there I'd take it away and leave mine. Supposing_they_ did that? They could get Lord John to go alone to that mountainplace he told you about, and they could have him put out of the way, sohe'd never bother them again as he's always doing. They could bringhim to his death and make it seem an accident--they're so smart!Suppose, for instance, they telegraphed that brother of Anne Garth's,and told him his sister was murdered; why, he'd catch the morning trainfor New York. The Inn folks would be in a fix, and grab anyone whocame along, and knew how to drive dogs."

  Teano had reason to respect Jenny's suggestions, and he thought enoughof this one to meet a train connecting with that which left CrescentMountain station in the afternoon. My train had been gone only a shorttime, but--it had gone irrevocably.

  Jenny's forebodings were justified. Teano recognised Larry Garth andaccosted him, mentioning his own name and profession. Garth asked ifhe had sent the telegram received that morning, and produced it fromhis pocket. This told Teano, as the message was unsigned, that nomember of the police had wired. He explained to Garth thecircumstances of Anne's death, giving extra details which he hadferreted out that day: the fact that the girl had asked to see youngMr. Gorst (our hostess's son) privately, and begged to be allowed tosit in a box, because she had a "very important appointment with LordJohn Hasle, and a letter to give him from a lady." It seemed certain,therefore, that her desire to see me had been genuine. Teano toldGarth something of our suspicions, confessing however that nothing wasproved. Still, he impressed the young man so forcibly that Garth gaveup trying to see his sister's body, and instead was persuaded to returnat once to Crescent Mountain.

  There was no other train that day; but Teano, believing that my lifemight be at stake, drew some of his savings out of the bank and paidfor a special. It reached its destination not ten minutes after the9.15, but had to stop at a distance, owing to the presence of thelatter on the track. By that time both train and station weredeserted, but Garth quickly discovered the fresh traces of his dogs andsledge in the snow. He and Teano, armed with an electric torch,started on the trail. Reaching the cross road, Garth pointed to thetracks which led away instead of towards the hotel. In the dull redlight of the lantern above, the two men looked into each other's eyes;and snow, falling anew, was like pink-edged feathers in the crimsonglow. If evil deeds were doing, this new snowfall would help thedoers, for soon their footsteps would be blotted out of sight, and allhope of tracing them might be lost for ever.

  For the moment the only tracks to be seen were those of the team andthe sledge-runners. Garth and Teano followed. Not far on a differencein level in the white blanket of the earth indicated a seldom-used roadto a mountain farm. But the sledge had not taken that turn. It haddashed straight on.

  "Good heavens!" stammered Garth. "That way leads nowhere--except to aprecipice. They call it 'The Lovers' Leap'!"

  The two hurried along, stumbling often, a strong cold wind blowingparticles of snow almost as hard as ice into their faces. The glassbulb of the small electric lantern was misted over. Teano was obligedconstantly to wipe it clear. Suddenly Garth seized him by the arm."My God, stop!" he cried. "We're on the edge. The sledge has goneover here. Two men have jumped clear--one each side the sleigh. Oh,my poor dogs!"

  It was of me Teano thought. Clearing his lantern he examined the holeswhere the men had jumped, so near the verge of a great gulf that theyhad had to throw themselves violently back in the snow to keep fromfalling over. His trained eye detected delicate
markings in the snowwhich proved that both men had worn coats of stiff fur. Also theirboots had been large and heavy. Teano knew that I had had no fur coatwhen I started, and that my boots had not been made for mountain wear.

  "These two chaps were confederates," he announced confidently to Garth."They knew when to save themselves, and Lord John has gone down withthe sledge and the team."

  Garth blurted out an oath, swearing vengeance for his dogs rather thanfor me, but Teano's face of despair struck him with pity.

  "There's hope yet," he said, "if your lord guessed at the end what wasup and had the wit to chuck himself out. Thirty feet down, just underthis point, there's a knob sticking up they call the Giant's Nose.It's deep with snow now. It wouldn't hurt to fall on it--and there's atree stump he could catch hold of to save himself if he kept hissenses. But my poor dogs with the heavy sledge behind 'em wouldn'thave the devil's chance. A man wouldn't either, unless he jumped asthe sleigh went. Well, we shall see, when I've got the rope."

  "What rope?" Teano managed to move his stiff lips.

  "A rope we keep for the summer trippers," Garth explained. "More thanonce some silly gabe has got too close and lost his head, lookin' overthe Lovers' Leap. It's a suicide place too--though we don't tell folksthat. If anyone's caught on the Giant's nose, we can fish him up. Therope's in a hut near by, that's never locked."

  Teano is a smaller man than Garth, and it was Teano who, with the ropein a sailor knot under his arms, was let down by the big fellow, tolook for me. I had kept consciousness at first, and had saved myselfin the way suggested by the mountaineer: but by the time Teano cameprospecting, I had dropped into a pleasant sleep. An hour or two morein my bed of snow, I should have been hidden for ever by a smooth whitewinding-sheet, and so have kept my tryst with Death.

  As it was, Death and I failed to meet. I lived not only to help avengeAnne Garth, but to go on with my work for the girl I loved, and--livingor dead--shall love for ever. For a time after my adventure onCrescent Mountain (where it's needless to say Maida had neither arrivednor been expected) that vengeance and that work moved slowly. But soalso move the mills of the gods.