The Sign of the Stranger

by William Le Queux

whereupon he saidsnappily--

  "Well, I can't help you. You'll have to prove your innocence. Thepolice say that you've been confronted with the body of the woman, andthat your attitude showed plainly that you were guilty."

  "But it's monstrous!" I said. "I was attacked in the street by someruffian, struck insensible, and carried up to the room."

  "You'll have to prove that, What's your name?"

  I told him, without, however, mentioning my connexion with theStanchesters.

  "And the woman? You admitted to the police that you know her?"

  "She's a Frenchwoman named Lejeune--who was wanted by the police."

  He sniffed suspiciously, and rearranged his cravat in the mirror uponthe wall.

  "Well," he remarked in Italian to the _delegato_ who stood at his side."This is a matter in which I really cannot intervene. The prisoner hasto prove his innocence. How can I help him?"

  "By doing your duty as Consul," I chimed in. "By having an interviewwith the Questore and obtaining justice for me."

  "I know my duty, sir," he snapped. "And it is not to investigate thecase of every unknown tourist who gets into difficulty. If you havemoney, you can engage some lawyer for your defence--and if you haven't,well I'm sorry for you."

  "Yours is a rather poor consolation, Mr Johnson," I remarked in anger."Am I to understand then that you refuse to help me--that you will notsee the Questore on my behalf?"

  "I've told you plainly, I am unable to interfere."

  "Then I shall complain to the Foreign Office regarding the inutility oftheir Consul in Milan and his refusal to assist British subjects indistress," I said.

  "Make whatever complaint you like. I have no time to discuss the matterfurther." And he turned rudely upon his heel and left me, while thepolice drew their own conclusions from his attitude.

  "Very well, my dear sir," I called after him down the hospital ward,"when Sir Charles Renton asks for your explanation of your conductto-day, you will perhaps regret that you were not a little more civil."

  My words fell upon him, causing him to turn back. Mention of the nameof the head of his particular department of the Foreign Office stirredthe thought within him that he might, after all, be acting contrary tohis own interests. He was a toady and place-seeker of the first water.

  "And of what do you complain, pray?" he asked.

  "Well," I said, "I chance to know Sir Charles very intimately--in facthe is a relative of mine. Therefore when I return I shall not fail todescribe to him this interview." It was the truth. Sir Charles was mycousin.

  "Then why didn't you tell me that before, my dear sir?" asked thepompous official, in an instant all smiles and graces, for he knew toowell that direct complaint to the head of his department meanttransference to some abominable and desolate hole in West or EastAfrica. "Of course, I'm only too ready and anxious to serve any friendof Sir Charles," he assured me.

  "No doubt," I said smiling and inwardly reflecting that, happily,members of our Consular Service were not all cast in that person'smould. Previously he had put on the airs of an Ambassador--the air heassumed, I suppose, in the drawing-rooms of democratic Milan, but now hewas all obsequiousness, declaring himself ready and anxious to carry outmy smallest wishes in every respect.

  "Well," I said, regarding him contemptuously, "I can only tell you thatthe tragic affair that has just occurred concerns the honour of one ofthe greatest houses in England. I cannot be more explicit, otherwise Ishould betray a confidence. I am accused of murder, but I am, ofcourse, innocent."

  "Of course," he said. "Of course! These fools of police are alwaystrying to parade their wonderful intelligence. But," he added, "how areyou going to prove yourself innocent?"

  Strangely enough that very serious question had never occurred to me. Iwas in a country where the law regarded me as guilty, and not inEngland, where I should be looked upon as innocent until convicted.

  I was silent, for I saw myself in a very serious predicament.

  I would have asked him to telegraph to Keene or to Lolita, but I fearedto give him the address lest he should institute inquiries, and I had nowish to mix up Lord Stanchester or his sister with the terrible affair.

  "The only course I can suggest is the engagement of a good criminalcounsel who will, without doubt, secure your acquittal at once when thecase comes on for trial," remarked the Consul. "Why the police arrestedyou appears to be an utter enigma, but in Italy it is not extraordinary.They had to make an arrest, so they detained you."

  "Shall I be detained long do you think?"

  "Probably a month," he replied regretfully. "Perhaps even more."

  My heart sank within me. I was to remain there a prisoner, inactive andin ignorance of the web of intrigue around my love. Too well I knewLolita's danger, and now, with the Frenchwoman dead, she would becompelled to face the inevitable.

  A month of absence and of seclusion! What might happen in that period,I dreaded to contemplate. If I were free, I might be instrumental inbringing the murderers of Marie Lejeune to justice, but detained thereit was impossible.

  Of a sudden, like a flash, a brilliant idea occurred to me. There wasjust a chance that I could secure my release by a very fortuitouscircumstance--the meeting of that _delegato_ of police in Biffi's cafeon the night of the murder!

  At once I explained this incident to Mr Martin Johnson, described theappearance of the detective and his friend, and urged him to go to theQuestore, place my statement before him, and if possible ascertain whowas the _delegato_ in question and confront me with him.

  In an hour the Consul returned. He had seen the chief of police, andfrom my description it was believed that the detective was a brigadiernamed Gozi, who was that day over at Como. They had telegraphed for himto return, and he would come and see me at once.

  This gave me hope, while knowledge of my statement and the interest theConsul was taking in my case aroused the interest of my guards. Eventhe doctor and nurses seemed to regard me differently.

  The hours crept slowly by in that great house of suffering. A priest, akindly cheery old man, came to my bedside and chatted. He was fromBologna, a city I knew well, and he had once when a young man been inLondon, attached to the Italian Church in Hatton Garden. The sunsetthat streamed through the long curtainless windows and fell upon the bigcrucifix before me, faded at last, the clear sky deepened into night,and the hush of silence fell upon the ward. Yet still beside me theresat the immovable figure of my guard, his arms folded as he dozed.

  That night I passed in the torture of suspense. My head burned, my eyesseemed sore in the sockets, and I was apprehensive lest my hope ofrelease might be a futile one.

  In the morning, however, my friend of the cafe entered briskly with thedoctor, who had conducted him to the scene of the tragedy on theprevious day, and in a moment our recognition was mutual.

  "Well," he exclaimed, standing by me and regarding me with somesurprise. "What has happened to you?"

  "I'm under arrest," was my reply. "Accused of murder."

  "So I hear," he answered. "It seems that our meeting at Biffi's wasrather fortunate for you--eh?"

  "Now you recognise me, I'll tell you all that occurred," I said quickly.And then I related to them both in detail all the startling incidents,just as I have already written them down.

  "Then it was not the Englishwoman who was murdered?" he said. "You toldme her name was Price--if I mistake not. After I left Biffi's thatnight I somehow felt convinced that Ostini and Belotto were up to somemischief, and I afterwards regretted that I had not waited and watchedthem. They looked rather too prosperous to suit my fancy. You, ofcourse, believed the dead woman to be your friend, the English lady?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "And the Englishman--what of him?"

  "I did not see him after he entered the house," I answered.

  Then, after I had furnished him with many other minute details of mystartling adventure of that night in which I had so narrowly es
capeddeath at the hands of the assassins, he held a brief consultation inprivate with his colleague, who was apparently his superior in rank.

  And presently they both returned to my bedside and, to my joy, announcedthat it was decided to release me from custody.

  Within half an hour an active search was being made for the four who hadsat at table that night at Biffi's, and although I hoped that theassassin would be caught, I felt a little apprehensive lest Marigoldshould fall into the hands of the police and the Earl's name be draggedinto the criminal court.

  If she still remained at the _Metropole_ the police must certainlydiscover her. I could only hope