*CHAPTER XXIV*
*THE LONG DARK HOUR*
Even had Wilfrid Mercer had a stronger head and a steadier nerve, hemight still have been pardoned for a feeling of dread at that moment.He had been on the rack nearly an hour and was, besides, more worn outthan he was aware. As the first faint glow of the dawn filled theeastern sky it was impossible to piece together the tangled puzzle. Inthe first place it was idle to imagine what had happened to Uzali, andwho was responsible for the murderous attack upon him. And it seemedpurposeless now to conjecture why he had been in such a hurry to getaway without at least trying to explain the drift of events to Mercer.
He wondered if those strange kinsmen of Uzali's had had anything to dowith it, but so far as they were concerned the victim had been soconfident, so absolutely sure of them, that this theory appearedunlikely. There was nothing for it but to turn his attention to SamuelFlower's house and attempt to discover what had been going on there.Anything was better than standing still in the chilly dawn trying tosolve a problem which was seemingly beyond human skill.
He must be up and doing. Mechanically he grabbed for the cigarette caseand placed it in his pocket; then he crossed the grass and made his wayover the railings of the square close to Samuel Flower's residence. Thehouse was in pitch darkness. There was no sign of any trouble within.Wilfrid's first impulse had been to alarm the inhabitants and let themknow what he had seen, but in cooler blood he dismissed this notion.
He stood in the uncertain shadow of the trees making up his mind what todo and letting precious moments slip, though, for all he knew, someterrible catastrophe might have taken place under his very nose. As hewatched, doubting and hesitating, a figure crept along the other side ofthe square and entered Flower's house. The handle of the door wasturned boldly and resolutely. It closed as firmly, but Wilfrid's earcaught not the slightest sound. Then he noticed that the light in thehall sprang up, followed by another light in one of the bedrooms at thetop of the house.
"They are clever as they are daring," Wilfrid murmured. "Anybodypassing would think the servants were up and about. I wonder what timeit is."
At that moment an obliging clock struck the hour of five.
"Too early for town servants," Wilfrid muttered. "I have a good mind totry my own luck."
Wilfrid was by no means a timid man. He had gone through too manyprivations and dangers for that. With determined step, therefore, hecrossed the road and laid his hand on the latch. He was not surprised tofind that the catch was not down and that the door yielded to hispressure. A moment later and he was in the hall.
All the lights had been turned up. The place was flooded with a softtender glow; pictures and flowers and statuary stood out and delightedthe eye and pleased the senses. So far, whoever the intruders were,they had made hardly any attempt to disguise their presence. There wasa festive air about the house, too, for the atmosphere was heavy withthe smell of cigar smoke and the half-opened dining-room door showedthat a snug supper party had recently met. It must have been within afew hours, for the dregs of the champagne still sparkled in the glasses.Wilfrid pressed on curious. He buttoned his overcoat about his throatin case of a surprise, and caught up an old-fashioned life-preserverfrom the hall table and slipped it into his pocket.
Yet nothing broke the silence; nothing indicated anything out of thecommon. No doubt, he surmised, there must be scores of similar scenesin the west end of London to-night, where people had come home andpartaken of a hasty supper after the servants had gone to bed and thenretired themselves, carelessly leaving the lights burning.
But in this particular case Wilfrid knew the lights had not been leftburning. He had seen that sudden, mysterious gleam in the upper windowsand the quick flash of the electrics as the whole turned to a sea oflight. It was his plain duty to investigate the premises from top tobottom.
Wilfrid chose the basement, but nothing rewarded his search. All therooms there were empty, as they were on the dining-room floor. Nor werethere any strange coats or hats in the vestibule, excepting Flower's bigfur wrap and soft hat, and some cloudy-looking material which Beatricedoubtless had discarded when she came in. He must look further afieldand see what the next landing might reveal.
It was dangerous and difficult, but Wilfrid resolved to go through withit. He found the switches of the drawing-room lights and just turnedthem on long enough to enable him to see that the room was empty. Hedared not try any strong illumination, for fear of arousing thesuspicions of the police, who would know a great deal more about theservants' habits than he could. There appeared to be a large bedroombehind the drawing-room, looking out on the back of the house, and thisWilfrid tried cautiously. He felt sure some one was there because along slit of light showed from under the door. The door was locked onthe inside and no sound proceeded from the room save a gentle purringnoise such as machinery will make when heard a long way off. Wilfridlikened it to the singing of a kettle rather than anything else. As hebent down and listened more intently he seemed to hear the murmur ofvoices and occasionally a suppressed groan as if from some one in pain,who was being quieted by the application of a powerful drug. A minuteor two later Wilfrid knew that he was not mistaken, for from behind thelocked door came a sound which was unmistakably a smothered laugh.
It was no business of his, of course, and he hesitated before he wentfarther. He might have paused until it was too late, had not hisquickened hearing caught a sound overhead as if somebody had left theroom on the next landing and was coming leisurely downstairs. Wilfridcrept back into the deep shadow of the drawing-room door and waited. Itwas somewhat difficult to see, for he had only the gleams of the lightcoming from the hall to guide him. Presently, as his eyes became moreaccustomed to the gloom, he saw that he was not mistaken. A man drewnear with step noiseless and agile as a cat's. A peculiar perfumepreceded him, a perfume which Wilfrid had not the least trouble inrecognizing. It was the same strange scent he had smelt during theeventful night he had spent at Maldon Grange. He saw the stranger trythe door of the bedroom; then suddenly all his restraint deserted him.His right hand shot out and he caught the little man by the throat.
"Get them to open that door," he said hoarsely. "Get them to open it atonce or I'll choke the life out of you. Do you hear?"
Whether the man heeded or not he gave no sign. Wilfrid's grip was astenacious as that of a bulldog, all his fighting instincts aroused. Hefelt the exhilarating sense of superior power. For the moment the manwas as clay in his hands.
But only for a moment. Then in some strange way the little man managedto jerk himself free and two arms of wire and whipcord were aroundWilfrid's throat till he was fain to bend and give under the pressurelest his neck should break. In all his adventures he had neverencountered such a force as this. Try as he would he could not shakethose arms off. He felt himself gradually being borne backwards untilhis head touched the ground and one of those relentless grips wasrelaxed for an infinitesimal space of time. The struggle was none theless tenacious and deadly because it was being fought out almostentirely in the dark, and Wilfrid temporarily lost his self-possession.Then he knew that if he could not fling the man off him his end wasnear. With a desperate effort he struggled to his knees and graspinghis antagonist by the waist literally threw himself down the stairs.
Over and over they rolled, first one above and then the other, butmaking little or no noise as they slid down the velvet pile of carpet.No sound came from either and the ferocious struggle went on till theylanded at length in the hall and Wilfrid was conscious of the coldmarble under his head.
The time for the final struggle had arrived. Driving his knee upwardsWilfrid caught his antagonist fairly in the chest with a force that madehim groan again, and as he felt the tense, rigid limbs relax, he knewthat now or never was the time to save his life. A mist swam before hiseyes; he turned faint and unconscious for a second or two; then when helooked about him again he s
aw that his assailant was gone and that someone was bending over him with tender solicitude.
"Beatrice," he murmured. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Hush," the girl whispered, "not a word. Thank goodness I have managedto get here in time to save your life."
The Five Knots Page 24