The Wiles of the Wicked

by William Le Queux

satisfaction. "And nowI must ask you to excuse me further, Mr--Mr Heaton, and wish you goodmorning."

  I made my adieu, after obtaining from him a promise to communicate withme if anything transpired, and, accompanied by the constable, made myway out into the long passage again.

  I had not walked a dozen paces ere I knew instinctively that somepersons were near me, and next instant felt myself seized roughly byboth arms and legs.

  "What are you doing?" I shouted in alarm; "let me go!"

  But only for an instant I struggled. The force used was utterlyirresistible, and not a single word was uttered. My arms were in amoment pinioned, rendering me helpless as a child. With my terribleaffliction upon me, I could neither defend myself nor could I see myassailants. Whoever the latter were, it was evident that they weredetermined, and, further, that I had been cleverly entrapped.

  My first thought was that I had been arrested, but ere the lapse of afew moments the hideous truth became impressed forcibly upon me.

  I tried to fight for life, but my wrists had been seized in grips ofsteel, and after a few desperate wrenches I stood, bound, and utterlyunconscious of where I was.

  My real position was, to a certain degree, plain. The man whom I hadbelieved to be a constable was no police-officer at all, but some thiefor London ruffian; I, far too confiding, had neglected to take theprecaution of feeling his uniform.

  A shrewd suspicion overcame me that this trap had been purposely laidfor me. The man who had posed as a police inspector had obtained fromme a signed declaration of the remarkable occurrence, for what reason Iknew not. Did they now intend to silence me for ever? The thoughtstruck a deep and terrible dread within my heart.

  To my demands to know where I was, no response was given.

  Indistinct whisperings sounded about me, and by the liquid "s's" of oneperson I felt convinced that a woman was present.

  Little time, however, was I given in which to distinguish mysurroundings, for two persons gripped my bound arms and drew me roughlythrough a narrow door, across an uneven floor, and thence down a long,crooked flight of stone steps.

  From below came up a dank, mouldy smell, as of some chamber longunopened, and suddenly there broke upon my quick ears the wash of water.

  In that moment of mental agony the truth was rendered plain. I was notin a police-station, as I believed, but in some house beside the Thames,and, moreover, I was descending to the water--going to my death.

  Once again, as a last effort, I struggled and fought with the fiercedesperation begotten of terror, but in a moment the strong hands thatheld me pushed me violently forward, and I then felt myself fallinghelplessly from some dizzy height. My head reeled, and weakened as Ialready was, all knowledge of things became blotted out.

  The touch of a cool, sympathetic hand upon my brow was the first thing Isubsequently remembered. My arms had apparently been freed, and with aquick movement I grasped the hand. It was a woman's.

  Was I dreaming?

  I stretched forth my left hand to obtain some idea of my surroundings,and found myself lying upon an uneven stone flooring that seemed coveredwith the evil-smelling slime of the river.

  With my right hand I touched a woman's firm, well-moulded arm, and to myamazement my eager fingers came into contact with a bangle. I felt it.

  The hand, the arm, the bangle, the perfume of _peau d'Espagne_, all werethe same as those of the woman who had pitied me in my helplessness, andhad so tenderly cared for me in that mysterious, unknown house, whereinthe tragedy had afterwards occurred.

  At first I lay speechless in wonderment, but when I found tongue Ispoke, imploring her to make explanation. I heard her sigh deeply, butto all my inquiries she remained dumb.

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  THE UNSEEN.

  "Tell me," I demanded in my helplessness, of the mysterious woman at myside, "what has happened?"

  "Rise, and try whether you can walk," said the voice at last, sweet andlow-pitched, the same well-remembered voice that had spoken to me inthat unknown house of shadows.

  I struggled and rose stiffly, assisted tenderly by her. To my joy Ifound that I could walk quite well.

  "Thank God!" she gasped, as though a great weight had been lifted fromher mind. "Thank God that I have found you. The tide is rising, and inhalf an hour you would have been beyond human aid."

  "The tide!" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

  "At high tide the river floods this place to the roof, therefore nothingcould have saved you."

  "What place is this?"

  The voice was silent, as though hesitating to reveal to me the truth.

  "A place wherein, alas! more than one person has found his grave," sheexplained at last.

  "But I don't understand," I said eagerly. "All is so puzzling. Ibelieved that I was inside a police-station, whereas I had actuallywalked into this mysterious and cleverly-prepared trap. Who are thesepeople who are my enemies?--tell me."

  "Unfortunately, I cannot."

  "But you, yourself, are not one of them," I declared.

  "I may be," answered the voice in a strange, vague tone.

  "Why?"

  "Ah! no, that is not a fair question to ask."

  "But surely, you, who were so kind to me after my accident in thestreet, will you desert me now?" I argued. Her failure to give me anyassurance that she was my friend struck me as peculiar. There wassomething extremely uncanny about the whole affair. I did not like it.

  "I have not said that I intend to leave you. Indeed, from motives of myown I have sought and found you; but before we go further I must obtainfrom you a distinct and faithful promise."

  "A promise--of what?"

  There was a brief silence, and I heard that she drew a deep breath asthose do who are driven to desperation.

  "The situation is briefly this," the voice said, in a tone a trifleharsher than before. "I searched for you, and by a stroke of goodfortune discovered where your unknown enemies had placed you, intendingthat at high tide you should be drowned, and your body carried out tosea, as others have been. From this place there is only one means ofegress, and that being concealed, only death can come to you unless Iassist you. You understand?"

  "Perfectly. This is a trap where a man may be drowned like a rat in ahole. The place is foetid with the black mud of the Thames."

  "Exactly," she answered. Then she added, "Now tell me, are you preparedto make a compact with me?"

  "A compact? Of what nature?" I inquired, much surprised.

  "It will, I fear, strike you as rather strange, nevertheless it is, Iassure you, imperative. If I rescue you and give you back your life, itmust be conditional that you accept my terms absolutely."

  "And what are those terms?" I inquired, amazed at this extraordinaryspeech of hers.

  "There are two conditions," she answered, after a slight pause. "Thefirst is that you must undertake to make no statement whatever to thepolice regarding the events of last night."

  She intended to secure my silence regarding the tragedy. Was it becausethat she herself was the actual assassin? I remembered that while I hadreclined upon the silken couch in that house of mystery this startlingsuspicion had crossed my mind. Was that same cool, sympathetic palmthat had twice soothed my brow the hand of a murderess?

  "But there has been a terrible crime--a double crime committed," Iprotested. "Surely, the police should know!"

  "No; all knowledge must be kept from them," she answered decisively. "Iwish you to understand me perfectly from the outset. I have sought youhere in order to rescue you from this place, because you haveunwittingly fallen the victim of a most dastardly plot. You are blind,defenceless, helpless, therefore all who have not hearts of stone musthave compassion upon you. Yet if I rescue you, and allow you to goforth again into the world, you may, if you make a statement to thepolice, be the means of bringing upon me a catastrophe, dire andcomplete."

  Every word of hers showed that guilt was upon her. Had I not hear
d theswish of her skirts as she crept from the room after striking down thatunknown man so swiftly and silently that he died without a word?

  "And if I promise to remain mute?"

  "If you promise," she said, "I will accept it only on one furthercondition."

  "And what's that?"

  "One which I know you will have some hesitation in accepting; yet, likethe first, it is absolutely imperative."

  Her voice showed traces of extreme anxiety, and the slim hand upon myarm trembled.

  She was young, I knew, but was she beautiful? I felt instinctively thatshe was, and conjured up within myself a vision of a refined face,perfect in its tragic beauty, like that of Van Dyck's Madonna that I hadseen in the Pitti Palace at Florence in those well-remembered days whenI looked upon the