by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER IX. A PACKET OF CIGARETTES
Following their dismissal by Chief Inspector Kerry, Seton and Graywalked around to the latter's chambers in Piccadilly. They proceeded insilence, Gray too angry for speech, and Seton busy with reflections. Asthe man admitted them:
"Has anyone 'phoned, Willis?" asked Gray.
"No one, sir."
They entered a large room which combined the characteristics of alibrary with those of a military gymnasium. Gray went to a side tableand mixed drinks. Placing a glass before Seton, he emptied his own at adraught.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment," he said, "I should like to ring upand see if by any possible chance there's news of Rita."
He walked out to the telephone, and Seton heard him making a call. Then:
"Hullo! Is that you, Hinkes?" he asked.... "Yes, speaking. Is Mrs. Irvinat home?"
A few moments of silence followed, and:
"Thanks! Good-bye," said Gray.
He rejoined his friend.
"Nothing," he reported, and made a gesture of angry resignation."Evidently Hinkes is still unaware of what has happened. Irvin hasn'treturned yet. Seton, this business is driving me mad."
He refilled his glass, and having looked in his cigarette-case, began toransack a small cupboard.
"Damn it all!" he exclaimed. "I haven't got a cigarette in the place!"
"I don't smoke them myself," said Seton, "but I can offer you acheroot."
"Thanks. They are a trifle too strong. Hullo! here are some."
From the back of a shelf he produced a small, plain brown packet, andtook out of it a cigarette at which he stared oddly. Seton, smoking oneof the inevitable cheroots, watched him, tapping his teeth with the rimof his eyeglass.
"Poor old Pyne!" muttered Gray, and, looking up, met the inquiringglance. "Pyne left these here only the other day," he explainedawkwardly. "I don't know where he got them, but they are something veryspecial. I suppose I might as well."
He lighted one, and, uttering a weary sigh, threw himself into a deepleather-covered arm-chair. Almost immediately he was up again. Thetelephone bell had rung. His eyes alight with hope, he ran out, leavingthe door open so that his conversation was again audible to the visitor.
"Yes, yes, speaking. What?" His tone changed "Oh, it's you, Margaret.What?... Certainly, delighted. No, there's nobody here but old SetonPasha. What? You've heard the fellows talk about him who were outEast.... Yes, that's the chap.... Come right along."
"You don't propose to lionise me, I hope, Gray?" said Seton, as Grayreturned to his seat.
The other laughed.
"I forgot you could hear me," he admitted. "It's my cousin, MargaretHalley. You'll like her. She's a tip-top girl, but eccentric. Goes infor pilling."
"Pilling?" inquired Seton gravely.
"Doctoring. She's an M.R.C.S., and only about twenty-four or so.Fearfully clever kid; makes me feel an infant."
"Flat heels, spectacles, and a judicial manner?"
"Flat heels, yes. But not the other. She's awfully pretty, and used tolook simply terrific in khaki. She was an M.O. in Serbia, you know, andafterwards at some nurses' hospital in Kent. She's started in practicefor herself now round in Dover Street. I wonder what she wants."
Silence fell between them; for, although prompted by different reasons,both were undesirous of discussing the tragedy; and this silenceprevailed until the ringing of the doorbell announced the arrival ofthe girl. Willis opening the door, she entered composedly, and Grayintroduced Seton.
"I am so glad to have met you at last, Mr. Seton," she said laughingly."From Quentin's many accounts I had formed the opinion that you were akind of Arabian Nights myth."
"I am glad to disappoint you," replied Seton, finding something veryrefreshing in the company of this pretty girl, who wore a creasedBurberry, and stray locks of whose abundant bright hair floated abouther face in the most careless fashion imaginable.
She turned to her cousin, frowning in a rather puzzled way.
"Whatever have you been burning here?" she asked. "There is such acurious smell in the room."
Gray laughed more heartily than he had laughed that night, glancing inSeton's direction.
"So much for your taste in cigars!" he cried
"Oh!" said Margaret, "I'm sure it's not Mr. Seton's cigar. It isn't asmell of tobacco."
"I don't believe they're made of tobacco!" cried Gray, laughing louderyet, although his merriment was forced.
Seton smiled good-naturedly at the joke, but he had perceived at themoment of Margaret's entrance the fact that her gaiety also was assumed.Serious business had dictated her visit, and he wondered the more tonote how deeply this odor, real or fancied, seemed to intrigue her.
She sat down in the chair which Gray placed by the fireside, and hercousin unceremoniously slid the brown packet of cigarettes across thelittle table in her direction.
"Try one of these, Margaret," he said. "They are great, and will quitedrown the unpleasant odor of which you complain."
Whereupon the observant Seton saw a quick change take place in thegirl's expression. She had the same clear coloring as her cousin, andnow this freshness deserted her cheeks, and her pretty face became quitepale. She was staring at the brown packet. "Where did you get them?" sheasked quietly.
A smile faded from Gray's lips. Those five words had translated himin spirit to that green-draped room in which Sir Lucien Pyne was lyingdead. He glanced at Seton in the appealing way which sometimes made himappear so boyish.
"Er--from Pyne," he replied. "I must tell you, Margaret--"
"Sir Lucien Pyne?" she interrupted.
"Yes."
"Not from Rita Irvin?"
Quentin Gray started upright in his chair.
"No! But why do you mention her?"
Margaret bit her lip in sudden perplexity.
"Oh, I don't know." She glanced apologetically toward Seton. He roseimmediately.
"My dear Miss Halley," he said, "I perceive, indeed I had perceived allalong, that you have something of a private nature to communicate toyour cousin."
But Gray stood up, and:
"Seton!... Margaret!" he said, looking from one to the other. "I meanto say, Margaret, if you've anything to tell me about Rita... Have you?Have you?"
He fixed his gaze eagerly upon her.
"I have--yes."
Seton prepared to take his leave, but Gray impetuously thrust him back,immediately turning again to his cousin.
"Perhaps you haven't heard, Margaret," he began. "I have heard what hashappened tonight--to Sir Lucien."
Both men stared at her silently for a moment.
"Seton has been with me all the time," said Gray. "If he will consent tostay, with your permission, Margaret, I should like him to do so."
"Why, certainly," agreed the girl. "In fact, I shall be glad of hisadvice."
Seton inclined his head, and without another word resumed his seat. Graywas too excited to sit down again. He stood on the tiger-skin rug beforethe fender, watching his cousin and smoking furiously.
"Firstly, then," continued Margaret, "please throw that cigarette in thefire, Quentin."
Gray removed the cigarette from between his lips, and stared at itdazedly. He looked at the girl, and the clear grey eyes were watchinghim with an inscrutable expression.
"Right-o!" he said awkwardly, and tossed the cigarette in the fire. "Youused to smoke like a furnace, Margaret. Is this some new 'cult'?"
"I still smoke a great deal more than is good for me," she confessed,"but I don't smoke opium."
The effect of these words upon the two men who listened was curious.Gray turned an angry glance upon the brown packet lying on the table,and "Faugh!" he exclaimed, and drawing a handkerchief from his sleevebegan disgustedly to wipe his lips. Seton stared hard at the speaker,tossed his cheroot into the fire, and taking up the packet withdrew acigarette and sniffed at it critically. Margaret watched him.
He tore the wrapping off, and tasted a strand
of the tobacco.
"Good heavens!" he whispered. "Gray, these things are doped!"