CHAPTER XXVI
Early as it was in the adventure, Bert was already realisingthe difficulties of the part he had to play. He had induced thegratified--though suspicious and thankless--Ned to accept his servicesin the matter of the horse; and, having seen him depart with a smallbrown paper parcel--which furnished the outward evidence of hisintention to stay the night with his people--had harnessed the animalagain in good time, arrayed himself in the livery belonging to Ned, andadorned his chin with the false beard provided by Madame Querterot,so that no time should be wasted on his return. "I do look a guy," hesaid to himself, as he contemplated his reflection in the strip oflooking-glass in the harness-room.
Nothing remained but to drive down to Covent Garden, and take his placeon the rank of waiting vehicles. This, he was surprised to find, was notso easy as he had expected. He discovered that attempting to controlMrs. Wilkinson's dun horse, which had a willing spirit and a hard mouth,was a very different affair from driving the old and sluggish beast thatused to meander between the shafts of his uncle's van. Their progresswas erratic in the extreme, and he several times narrowly avoided anaccident. The Providence which looks after bad drivers did not failhim, however, and at length he found himself, a good deal to hissurprise--for at one period of the journey hope had altogether desertedhim--forming one of the long string of motors and carriages that hadalready drawn into line in the vicinity of the opera house.
Now began a time during which the fear that the expected summons wouldnever reach him alternated with something very like hope that it wouldnot. As he sat on the box, while minute after minute passed, and stillno voice cried for Mr. Targon's carriage, he was beset with evergrowing misgivings as to the appearance he presented, and felt that hisill-fitting livery and the false beard, which the scarf he had wrappedround his neck and chin only partially concealed, must be riveting uponhim the eyes of every beholder; so that not a look was cast in hisdirection but he read in it distrust and suspicion.
Even the most seemingly interminable suspense comes to an end at last,and he had not endured these torments more than a short half-hour beforethe words for which he had been waiting fell upon his ear, and makinghis way out of the line he succeeded in guiding the dun horse beneaththe portico of the theatre.
The safe accomplishment of this manoeuvre, however, fully occupiedhis every faculty, and it was only when the carriage had come to astandstill before the doors that he had time to glance in the directionof the lady he was to carry off. With a shock of surprise and dismay hesaw that not one but two elegantly attired women were about to enter thecarriage.
He had not the courage for more than a feeble remonstrance; indeed, itneeded all the courage he could muster to lift up his voice at all inthe presence of the waiting attendants, and in the brilliant glare ofthe lamps. After he had driven some way in increasing perplexity andirresolution, he stopped, and tried again to induce Barbara to get out;but the attention the ensuing discussion aroused from the passers-byand the sight of an approaching policeman were too much for his nerves,and he decided hastily to drive on and allow Madame Querterot to dealwith this unexpected complication. A glimpse of her face when theyarrived in Scholefield Avenue, and she saw what had happened, did notadd to his peace of mind. He drove round to Mrs. Wilkinson's stables,extinguished the carriage lamps, and unharnessed the dun horse by thelight of his pocket electric torch as quietly and quickly as he might,his heart sinking at the prospect of what she would say to him when hereturned. It was lucky that the stable gate opened on to such a lonelystreet as the one which ran at the back of the gardens of the houses inScholefield Avenue.
A blank wall faced it across the road, studded at intervals with thedoors to the gardens at the back of the houses in Westford Avenue,which lay beyond. There was another stable some hundred yards furtherdown; but, unless some one were awake and about in that direction, Bertknew that there was little chance of his presence and movements beingdiscovered. Still he could not feel secure for a moment, and it was nottill he had put everything in some kind of order and shut the door ofthe loose box behind him that he breathed again. He hurried round to No.13, seeing the fancied forms of lurking policemen behind every tree andin every shadow, and it was with a hand already shaking with agitationthat he gave the three taps on the door, with which it had been agreedthat he should signal his return to Madame Querterot.
She greeted him, as he had feared she would, with a storm of whisperedreproaches. What had he been thinking of to bring that girl to thehouse? Was he mad? As she looked at him, however, in the light of thegas jet which burned at the foot of the stairs, she saw plainly enoughthat he was in a state of nervousness which she had not expected; andthat, if he was to be of any use to her in the crisis that was uponthem, she had better employ herself in soothing rather than adding tohis distress of mind.
"Well, well," she interrupted her own words, "it is perhaps of no suchgreat consequence. A little more trouble, possibly, for you; but ofthat we will talk later. For the moment we must get to business. Thesesummer nights are short and we have much to do before morning. Go intothe dining-room, while I prevail upon Miss Turner to leave her friend.I will put her in the library, where she will be out of the way for thepresent."
After a few minutes, during which Bert waited, breathless, in thedarkness of the dining-room, she was back again, and announced in awhisper that all was well. Barbara had been shown into the back room;and upstairs Mrs. Vanderstein, alone and expectant, awaited the comingof the Prince.
"She has got on all her jewels," sniggered the Frenchwoman, drawing onher gloves. "And she little thinks that there are here two people whoappreciate them as her Prince never could. Ah! Bah! Are there imbecilesin the world? Now then, my friend, you know what you have to do. We rushinto the room, you seize this fair creature and hold her fast, while Iadminister a little whiff of chloroform that shall keep her quiet andprevent any outcry, so that we can remove from her the gems at our ease.See, I have the bottle ready. Allons donc; a la besogne!"
They went softly and quickly up the stairs. Now that the moment foraction had arrived, Bert's confidence was in some measure restored. Thesight of the diamonds glittering in the light of the brougham lamp,when Mrs. Vanderstein had stood upbraiding him for his bad driving,had sharpened his appetite for them, and the prospect of fingering theshining things was a pleasant one. Inside the four walls of the house,with the door bolted between them and the interfering outside world,it seemed again safe and desirable enough to take her jewels from thispampered member of the idle rich, and afterwards to lead her blindfoldedto some sequestered place, as they had planned, and there release herto find her own way home. Even if she knew where the house was to whichshe had been decoyed, it would be empty and discreetly silent by thetime she could bring to it the avenging hosts of the police. He himselfwas so well disguised that she never could recognise him again; besides,she would only see him for one moment. True, Madame Querterot was wellknown to her, but Madame Querterot had her own plans for avoiding anyunpleasant consequences of their deed; so she had informed him, andknowing her as he did, he never doubted her intention and capacity oftaking care of herself. A medley of these thoughts was in his mind asthey mounted the stairs, and paused for an instant at the drawing-roomdoor. No sound came from behind it, and with an encouraging whisper toher companion Madame Querterot turned the handle and went in.
From the end of the room Mrs. Vanderstein rose to greet them, with aradiant, blushing countenance. Always a beautiful woman, she had neverbeen more lovely than at this moment. The smile faded from her lips asshe realised that here was not the lover she looked to see; but beforeshe had time to speak Bert was beside her, clutching her round thewaist and dragging her back towards the sofa, while over the mouth sheopened with a remonstrating cry were clapped the plump hands of MadameQuerterot, holding between them something that choked her with itssickly, overwhelming odour.
"See," said Madame Querterot, after a short interval, "see, she sleeps!"But still she continued t
o hold the mouth of the bottle over Mrs.Vanderstein's mouth and nose.
It was at this moment that the door was flung open, and Barbara rushedinto the room.
Bert sprang to meet her, fully alive to the undesirability of herpresence. It hardly needed Madame Querterot's cry of "Take her away,"to make him grasp her by the arms, and half push, half carry her outon to the landing and down the narrow stairs to the library, wherehe left her after a minute or two safely locked in. He listened fora little while outside the door, for he fancied the girl might raisethe alarm or do some unimagined, desperate thing which should imperiltheir safety. She had already threatened to set fire to the house, andhe racked his brains to guess what might be her next move. He was inno hurry to return to the drawing-room, moreover, for his heart wasbeating unpleasantly fast, and the sight of the helpless lady they hadso violently treated, sinking quiet and motionless on to the sofa, hadfilled him with vague discomfort.
After all--the thought would not be kept away any longer--what wouldJulie think of all this? Could she ever be brought to care for a robber?Yes, that was what he was--a robber. His fortifying socialistic claptraprefused, somehow, to come to his aid in this hour of need. What wouldJulie say? Already misgivings undermined his unstable resolves. He satdown half-way up the stairs and buried his face in his hands.
It was ten minutes before he could make up his mind to go back to thedrawing-room.
Madame Querterot looked up quickly as he entered; she was on her kneesbeside the unconscious form of Mrs. Vanderstein, engaged in unfasteningthe clasp of a bracelet. A bright silk-covered cushion lay on the floorbeside her.
"Where have you been?" she said. "Come and help me to get these thingsoff."
Bert went over and stood opposite her. As his eyes rested on the figurethat lay so still upon the sofa, a horrible doubt leapt into hismind. How white, how dreadful Mrs. Vanderstein looked! How quiet, howmotionless she was. Could she indeed be sleeping? There was no movementto show that she breathed.
Bert looked at Madame Querterot.
"Madame Querterot!" was all he could find to say. But there was a worldof accusation in his hoarse tones, and the Frenchwoman, looking up inreply to his words, was unable to stand the fixed stare with which heglared into her face, as if expecting to read the terrible truth uponit. Poor innocent, to look for the truth upon that face!
Still, for once, she could not meet his eyes, and her glance shiftedfurtively to one side.
He knew now; and in the horror and rage which fell upon him he wouldhave struck her, if the sofa on which Mrs. Vanderstein was stretched hadnot been between them.
With dropping jaw and eyes starting from his head he thrust his faceforward towards her.
"You have killed her!" he whispered.
Madame Querterot laughed a little nervously "It was an accident. I gaveher a little more chloroform than I had the intention."
"That is a lie. You meant to kill her all along. That cushion! You havesuffocated her! I see it now. Oh! I see it in your face; murderess!"
"Bert, don't be a fool!"
"Well, we'll see who's a fool," said he. "I am going for the police!"
"My good Bert, you are, as I say, a fool," said Madame Querterot,resuming with an effort her usual assurance. "For what will you fetchthe police? What will you tell them, eh? That you brought this womanhere in some one else's carriage, which you stole for the purpose; andthat I killed her, I suppose? A likely story! When you are gone I shallscream and run to Miss Turner, who knows me well; and her I shall tellthat you have done this thing, and that now you would murder me, andher also. Do you think the police would believe that I have done it?Why, I am not stronger than Mrs. Vanderstein; it is impossible that Icould have done it alone, and they will see that easily. But it is verypossible that you could have done it, and believe me, Bert, if you arenot sensible and do all that I tell you, it is you, and you alone, whowill dangle in the air as a sequel to this accident."
At this forecast, which he saw too plainly had a smack of probabilityabout it, Bert's resolution, never a dependable feature in hiscomposition, wavered and failed him. He flung himself down in a cornerof the room, bewailing his fate and cursing his companion with impartialheartiness.
Madame Querterot waited till he had exhausted his powers ofrecrimination, and busied herself in transferring the jewels from thebody of Mrs. Vanderstein to the bag she had provided for the purpose.
Then she had her turn.
"What," she cried, "did you actually suppose I was sufficiently imbecileto contemplate allowing this woman to live, when her first act wouldhave been to have me arrested? How do you suppose either of us couldhave escaped, when it was I who made all the arrangements with her thatshe should come to this house, and when she knew as well as you do thatit was I that chloroformed her? I could not have done it without yourhelp, so that you are as responsible as I; and more, for it was you whobrought her to the house. You brought the other girl too, you great,stupid, whimpering baby, and she will have to die as well before eitheryou or I are safe. And that will be entirely your doing, for if she hadnot come she could have lived till Doomsday for all I cared. Now, whatyou have to do is to get the spade which I brought this afternoon fromthe tool house in the garden, and dig a grave under the trees at theback of the house, where you can hide this." She patted the arm of Mrs.Vanderstein with gruesome familiarity.
But Bert, sick and faint with horror, absolutely refused to do as hewas told in this matter. To go down into the starlit garden, to digfor interminable hours in the open, with every shadow full of unknownterrors, which would leap on him from out of the darkness, pounce on himfrom behind, come creeping and gibbering at him with every leaf thatstirred or every chance footfall in a distant street! No. Again, it wasa long job to dig a grave; he knew that. The ground would be hard; hewould want a pickaxe. In any case he would not do it.
Nothing Madame Querterot could say shook him in this determination. Shewas growing really anxious, for it wanted only two or three hours todawn, and it began to look as if the body must be left where it lay,when, by a lucky inspiration, she thought of the flower stand on thebalcony. Would Bert help her there? It would be quicker done and lessdangerous if he would, but if needs must, she said, she could managethat alone.
With a furious, shuddering sulkiness, Bert consented to help.
He opened a window and undid the fastening of the shutters. Then,after putting out the gas, they stepped cautiously out on to thebalcony, Madame Querterot carrying the spade, and, stooping behind thebalustrade, peered anxiously up and down the deserted street. Therewas no one to be seen or heard, and with frenzied haste they began topull up the plants which adorned the flower box. At Madame Querterot'sdirection Bert ladled out shovelfuls of loose soil, till the box wasmore than half empty and the balcony was heaped high with black mould.
They stole back to the drawing-room and Madame Querterot took from aparcel that she had stored away in a corner of the room a bundle ofclothing, which she told Bert to carry downstairs and give to MissTurner to put on.
"It would never do," she said, "for either of them to be found withclothes on them that could be identified as their own. It would be bestthat never should they be found at all, but it is well to be preparedfor everything, and though I fear Mrs. Vanderstein is sure to come tolight sooner or later, I prefer to take even more precautions withregard to Miss Turner, as I shall be obliged to leave the disposalof her to your scanty wits. Tell the girl, therefore, some cock andbull story about intending to help her to escape, so that she mayreadily attire herself in these clothes, which I had intended for theVanderstein. They are all bought in different rag shops, and there isnothing on any of them to identify them by. Tell her also to undo herhair and to screw it up plainly so as to hide it as much as possible.Now go and do as I say."
"But it is impossible," cried Bert, "that that girl should be killedtoo. I cannot, I will not let you do it!"
"So far from letting me do it, my dear Bert," replied Madame Querterotp
lacidly, "it is probable that you will have to do it yourself. But wewill speak of that again."
Bert went reluctantly on his mission, and by the time he returned MadameQuerterot had undressed and decently enveloped the body in the chintzcover of one of the sofas. Mrs. Vanderstein's clothes lay in a heap ona chair near by, and the Frenchwoman was vainly trying, with a silkenpetticoat, to rub away some large stains which appeared on the carpet,beside the couch. As Bert came in she got up quickly, abandoning herefforts.
"What is it?" he asked, "what is that on the floor?"
"Nothing. Only something I spilt. Some of the chloroform. It can easilybe hidden." And she pushed the sofa over the place.
She said nothing to Bert about the vitriol she had used, nor did hesuspect it till the following Thursday night, when he was obliged toundergo the ghastly ordeal of seeing the body unearthed by Mr. Gimblet.
With a preliminary reconnaissance of the balcony to make sure that nopoliceman was patrolling the street below, the young man and the womancarried out the body of their victim, laid it in the grave they had madeready, and then fell in silence to the task of restoring to the box themound of earth that was heaped upon the floor. When all was finished andthe flowers planted and blooming once more in their former places, therestill remained a quantity of soil for which there was no room in thestand.
Madame Querterot fetched a couple of housemaid's pails and they carriedthe superfluous mould out by the back door to the garden, where theyscattered it widely upon the flower beds. It was a slow business andnecessitated many journeys, but by now Bert, in a paroxysm of fear,which was in part for his own neck and almost as much at the certaintythat he would irretrievably lose Julie if any trace should ever bediscovered of that night's work, showed himself more tractable, and bythe time they had made the place shipshape was ready to lend a receptiveear to the proposals of his resourceful leader as to their futureconduct. At her suggestion they sat down opposite to one another in theback of the drawing-room, to talk over the best means of averting even ashadow of suspicion.
"We are safe enough," Madame Querterot asserted positively; "how is ityou say? safe as a church! Once the girl is disposed of, that is. Ah,my friend, you made a mistake when you permitted the inclusion of MissTurner in the _partie_, but it is not impossible to remedy that error.Here is the chloroform. What do you say? Shall we repeat the comedywhich we have just performed? For me, I am ready, for your sake, to domy share."
"No, no," cried Bert with a shiver, "not that, not that! Besides," headded weakly, "there is only one flower box on the balcony."
"It is true," mused the Frenchwoman, "that there is no room there foranother burial. And you still refuse to dig a grave? Perhaps to-morrownight you will have more courage?" she suggested hopefully.
But of this Bert held out no hope. "It would take too long," he said. "Imight screw myself up to commence the job, but I simply couldn't stickto it for an hour, no more than I could fly. I'll do what I can, MadameQuerterot; I don't want to be hung for your beastly murders, and if Ican't keep my neck out of a noose any other way I suppose I've got to dowhat you say--within reason, that is. It's the girl's life or mine rightenough, I believe, and I can't be blamed for thinking of myself firstin such a case," said Bert, nearly crying; "though as a matter of factit's not so much myself I'm thinking of, in a manner of speaking, asit's Joolie. A nice thing for her it would be, to have it said that hermother was hung! A fair treat, that 'ud be!"
"It's very considerate of you, I'm sure, Bert, to take that view," saidMadame Querterot, with bitter sarcasm, "but it's no good talking likethat if you refuse to do anything to prevent such a scandal, which Iagree with you in thinking is one to be avoided if possible. Here isanother idea, though I think I am too patient with you, and shall notwaste much more time in trying to assist you out of a danger you haveyourself brought upon us. Suppose you take the girl out to a place wherethere is some deep water--there is a canal near the Zoological Gardens,is there not?--and push her in when she is walking beside it. She willgo with you willingly, if you let her think you are helping her toescape, and you can find a pretext for attaching something heavy to herfirst, so that she will not trouble us by rising again to the surface.It should be easy to do on a dark night, and there is no moon now, asyou know."
Bert had plenty of objections to raise to this plan, and they discussedothers with no better result. In the end he was obliged to admit thatdrowning offered the best and easiest solution to the difficulty, andshe wrung from him a promise that he would get rid of the unfortunateyoung lady by this means on the following night.
In vain Madame Querterot urged the danger of delay, and the perilswhich would attend on their keeping Barbara in the house for the nexttwenty-four hours. Bert was obstinately determined not to venture forthwith her at this hour, for it wanted but a short time to sunrise andany delay would mean that the culminating act must be performed afterthe full darkness of the night had been diluted by the coming dawn. EvenMadame Querterot was obliged to admit that there was something in hisargument, and it was finally decided that he should wait till anotherday had passed.
In the meantime the Frenchwoman, as had previously been arranged, wouldlose no time in leaving England, carrying with her the jewels, which,she assured Bert, would be very easy for her to dispose of in her owncountry without detection, as she had old friends there who were "inthat business." She promised faithfully to send him one-half of theproceeds as soon as she received the money.
"And then, mon cher," said she, "you and Julie will set up your little_menage_. I think you will find my daughter less capricious when I amgone. She will be lonely, the poor little one, without her mother."Madame Querterot's voice quavered with emotion at the thought, and shelifted her handkerchief to her face to wipe away a tear--or was it toconceal a smile?
In spite of all assurances, she was unable to impart to Bert herconfidence in their safety from suspicion.
"You'll see, something will give the whole show away," he kept saying,half for the comfort of hearing himself contradicted. "Murder will out;that's well known."
"It is impossible." Madame Querterot spoke with refreshing conviction."Absolutely impossible if you manage the canal affair with discretion.Consider. You walk innocently along a public path by the waterside, witha companion who, mon Dieu! is so maladroit as to stumble and to fallin. If anyone should be attracted by the splash, or she should screamand be heard, are you not doing your utmost to rescue her?--though,if possible, at a different place on the bank to the spot at which shedisplayed such unfortunate clumsiness--but that is a remote chance, forwith proper care you will be able to manage so that the contretempsoccurs at a point from which no noise will reach the ears of strangers."
"I know where there's a gap in the fence that runs along the park sideof the canal," Bert interrupted involuntarily.
"Mourning her loss," Madame Querterot went on, "but silently, youunderstand, you continue your walk, and the world hears no more of MissBarbara Turner. Even if her body is eventually found, there will benothing on it which can be recognised as belonging to any particularperson; and who would connect the wearer of the clothes I have providedwith the fashionable young lady, who may, perchance, be missing from herhome in Grosvenor Street? No one. I repeat, no one. With regard to Mrs.Vanderstein we are even more entirely beyond suspicion. In the firstplace nobody will even enter this house for some weeks at least. Whenthey do so it is unlikely that the flower stand will be touched. Thoughthe plants will be renewed there will be no occasion, as far as I cansee, to disturb the soil to a regrettable depth. But admitting that luckmay go against us and the body be discovered, it will not be identified.I cut off the initials that were embroidered on her chemise, and therest of the clothing I will take home with me now, and burn before Istart on my journey. And I have a still better idea for diverting anysuspicion from us. Listen to this."
And she expounded to Bert a plan, which made him open his eyes inunwilling admiration of the coolness and courage of th
e woman. Such acourse as she proposed to adopt would have been entirely beyond hispowers, and well he knew it; indeed at first sight it seemed to requirean almost inhuman audacity to carry it out successfully. Her intentionwas to go to a large hotel at some French watering place, Boulogne orDieppe for choice, and there to pass herself off as Mrs. Vanderstein fora day or two, not long enough for the Jewess' friends to discover thatshe was there, but long enough to allow no doubt to exist of her havingreally been there when the fact should subsequently come to be known.
"I shall be far away by the time inquiries begin to reach to the otherside of the channel," she told Bert, "and the proprietor of the hotelwill answer all questions to our satisfaction. I shall so contrive thatit is not I who write my name in the visitors' book. The manager willbe so obliging as to do it for me when he hears that I have slightlyinjured my finger. But I shall not be feeling very well, I shall needrepose after the journey. I think, yes, I think that I shall send forthe doctor. When he is gone I shall give out that he has told me to keepto my room for a few days, and I shall therefore remain upstairs duringthe whole of my visit. When I leave I shall have established beyonddoubt that the lady I impersonate was staying in the hotel when she wasbeing sought in London, and after that she will be looked for abroad.Once the police have got the idea fixed in their stupid heads that Mrs.Vanderstein has left England, they may dig up her body as soon as theylike, and I, for one, shall not feel a moment's anxiety."
"But," objected the startled Bert, "the people at the hotel willdescribe you, and that will be a give away."
"They will describe me," said Madame Querterot airily, "or they willdescribe Mrs. Vanderstein. It will be the same thing. We are muchalike, she and I. That is," she added hastily, "we were much alike. Inthe matter of the colour of my hair, it is true, I must make a greatsacrifice. But I have resolved to forget the value that not I alone havealways attached to the golden hue of my _chevelure_, and to dye it blackthis same morning, before I start on my travels. You see that I shrinkat nothing! I promise you that, with a dress such as the Vandersteinwould have worn and a trifling alteration in my colouring, you yourselfwould have doubts as to who I am. There will be no risk to speak of,though it is worth a little to cover my retreat by a stratagem somasterly."
With Bert's aid the clothes belonging to the two ladies were foldedand made into a tidy parcel, then with a few more words of advice,and a special recommendation never to come into the house without theprecaution of wearing gloves--for she was deeply impressed with thedangers attendant on careless finger-prints--Madame Querterot said ahasty farewell, the early summer dawn being at hand, and in anothermoment the back door of the house had shut behind her vanishing figure.
Bert, left alone without the support of the woman's ready resource andcalm confidence, would have soon sunk again into despair if his timehad not been too much occupied to admit of reflection. He was by now,besides, so tired and exhausted with the emotions he had undergone as tobe incapable of coherent thought, and he was more than content to givehis whole mind to carrying out the instructions he had received.
His first business was to get a brush from the cupboard under thestairs and to sweep and brush the floor of the hall, and the carpetsof the stairs and drawing-room. He was awkward at the work, but madeup in thoroughness what he lacked in skill. Little shining pieces ofpaste off Mrs. Vanderstein's dress were scattered everywhere; he sweptup quantities of them, but still some, better concealed than others,escaped his diligence.
Then having set straight such of the furniture as had been moved ordisarranged, he quietly opened the dining-room shutters and those of theback drawing-room, for he did not wish the place to look uninhabited.The shutters of the front drawing-room, however, he could not bringhimself to touch, though he seemed to hear the words of scorn whichMadame Querterot would have used if she had still been present. Helistened at the door of the library for some time, but not a sound camefrom within; at last, seeing no more to do, he stole quietly out ofthe house and back to his lodgings, where, in spite of the fears thatpursued him and the dreadful memory of the night's work, he soon sleptthe sleep of exhaustion.
Not for long, however. In a couple of hours his alarm clock awakenedhim, and he started up to face the new terrors which the day wouldbring. He had to feed the dun horse, he remembered; it would not do toannoy Ned.
After that came breakfast, for which he was surprised to find he had acertain appetite, and soon it was time to begin his daily routine atEnnidge and Pring's office.
Every time the door opened that day, and on the days that succeeded it,Bert expected to see a policeman enter. But the evening came withoutany such nightmare materialising, and he even managed to snatch somemore uneasy slumber during the evening, before he once more assumed hisdisguising beard and stealthily returned to the house in ScholefieldAvenue, knowing that before him lay far the worst part of the wholebusiness. He was too frightened for his own safety, however, tohesitate.
Madame Querterot had counted on that when she mentally balanced hisregard for his own neck against what she would have designated hismilksoppy squeamishness. It was hard to stay in that house of deathalone and in the dark, waiting till the small hours, when his projectmight be best entered upon.
Bert was very, very sorry for himself as he sat, trembling violently, inan arm-chair in the dining-room. His pity did not extend to the otherside of the partition wall, where the girl whose life he was about totake had sat in the same darkness and solitude for the last twenty-fourhours. For her, Bert, thoroughly selfish by nature and education--as,cowering among the shadows in the grim company of his fears, heshuddered away the hours--was shaken from start to finish by nodisabling pang of sympathy. Though at times his heart was like to burstwith compassion, it held barely enough to meet the urgent need of AlbertTremmels; and when like her he heard the far-off murmurs which heraldedthe approaching storm and the angry boom of the thunder began to rumblecloser and closer, though he started at each clap as if it were indeedthe wrathful voice of the Avenger drawing near to him, his whole beingcried out in resentful protest against this judgment that was beingpassed on him in the heavens, and against the certainty that it would beendorsed by mankind.
His intention was to wait till two o'clock, but it was not yet half-pastone when he got to his feet, unable to face his solitary vigil anylonger. Better get it over, he said to himself, like a patient in adentist's room who has got to have a tooth out. Only this tooth was nothis. He had long since decided that the spade would be the best thing toensure the sinking of his victim, and he had placed it, with a piece ofcord tied to it, ready by the door.
Weighted with that heavy piece of iron, so he comforted himself, therewould be a single splash and all would be over. He would be spared thesight of a struggling figure rising to the surface, perhaps crying tohim for help or mercy, which above all things was what he most dreaded.
Fortifying himself with a mental vision, in which Julie, the hangman,and the body in the flower stand upstairs were all mingled, he unlockedthe library door and pushed it open.
It is not necessary to tell again of his walk with Barbara throughthe drenching rain and clamour of the storm, which was more severeand prolonged than any of those that burst over London during ayear remarkable for the number and fierceness of its atmosphericdisturbances. The horror with which, at the last moment, as he wastrying to tie the spade to Barbara before pushing her into the water,he beheld the running figure of the advancing policeman need not bedescribed. In a frenzy of disappointment, rage and fear, he lifted thespade and struck at the girl again and again, missing her the firsttime, and, as the handle twisted in his weak grasp, bringing it downflat on the top of her head at the second blow, instead of edgeways ashe was trying to do. He did not stay to see the result, but throwingdown the spade fled for dear life.
His legs were long, and he could run fast for a short distance. In afew minutes he had lost himself and his pursuer in the darkness, buthe still ran blindly on, till his utmost efforts
would drag him nofurther, when he threw himself at full length on one of the park seatsand endeavoured to still his panting, laboured breath. If the policemanshould come upon him now, he thought his only chance lay in being ableto simulate profound slumber. Luckily the working powers of this planwere not put to the test. Minutes passed, and no one came near him.It was some time before he could convince himself that he had eludedall pursuit for the present. When he was at last sure of it the factheartened him wonderfully. If he could so easily escape when caughtin the actual perpetration of a violent attack, it would bother theauthorities indeed to fasten on him as one of those concerned in a crimeso well concealed as that in which he had only unwillingly assisted.
It was when he remembered that he was quite ignorant of the damage hehad inflicted on Barbara that doubts assailed him again. It seemed tohim that he must have killed her. But if not ... if not? Why then,even though she could hardly denounce him, she would not forget MadameQuerterot. And Madame Querterot's first line of defence would be toaccuse him, as she herself had declared.
Curse the woman, how he hated her! From first to last everything was herdoing; he wished, oh, how he wished that it was she he had killed. If hehad thought of that sooner, he told himself savagely, all these troubleswould have been saved. As things were he would probably be arrested thatday.
He did not lose his head, however, and went back presently toScholefield Avenue, where he cleared away the broken glass in thelibrary and put everything in that room to rights, as he had alreadydone upstairs. Then he conquered his repugnance and went out on to thebalcony with his brush, and swept up a handful or so of earth, whichthey had not been able to remove with the spade.
He did not know how to get rid of the broken glass, as by now it wasdaylight and he did not dare go out to bury it in the garden; sohe left it in the dustpan, and swept the grains of soil into an oldnewspaper, which he crumpled up and thrust into the back of the cupboardin the basement. Then he closed the shutters again, for he could notbear to be a moment in the room without the friendly screen thatinterposed between him and the flower stand. Finding, however, no moreto do upstairs, he went down, and knocked out the pieces of the windowpane in the library that still remained stuck in the frame; he thoughtthat the empty space might well pass unobserved for a considerable time.In doing this he cut his hand, through the glove he was wearing inobedience to Madame Querterot's reiterated commands, and some drops ofblood fell on to the shining tin of the dustpan, but he wiped them offcarefully and polished the pan with his sleeve as it had certainly neverbeen polished since it left the shop and entered into domestic service.
At last his anxious mind could suggest nothing further, and he surveyedthe results of his efforts with some complacency.
"I'm bothered," said Bert to himself, "if the brainiest detective onthis rotten earth could set his fingers on a clue now."
Mrs. Vanderstein's jewels Page 26