The Four Faces: A Mystery

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER XXI

  A CHANNEL MYSTERY

  Nobody could have seemed more friendly or more thoroughly pleased to seeme again than Hugesson Gastrell as he grasped me heartily by the hand,expressing surprise at our meeting so unexpectedly.

  On the night I had talked to him at Cumberland Place, when I wasmasquerading for the first time as Sir Aubrey Belston, I had experienceda growing feeling of revulsion against him, and now as he took my handthe same feeling returned and I could not dispel it, for the thought hadflashed in upon me: could it be that I was shaking hands with a manwhose hand was stained with blood? I had, of course, no proof thatGastrell had committed murder, but in face of what Harold Logan had toldSir Roland Challoner and myself upon his death bed, added to otherthings I knew, it seemed well within the bounds of possibility that--

  "And are you crossing to France?" he inquired, cutting my train ofthought.

  "Yes," I answered mechanically.

  "Going to Paris?"

  "Yes."

  "Why, how capital!" he exclaimed. "You must make one of our party on theboat, and when we land. Connie Stapleton will be delighted to meet youagain, Sir Aubrey; she is on this train, and so are other mutualfriends. Connie was speaking of you not half an hour ago."

  "Indeed?" I said, feeling that I must say something.

  "Why, yes. Try one of these cigars, Sir Aubrey," he added, producing alarge gold case from his inside breast pocket.

  I had to take one, though I hated doing it. I tried to look him in theface as I did so, but I couldn't. It was not that I feared he mightrecognize me, for I did not--experience had proved to me that mydisguised appearance and voice were most effectual. But there wassomething about the man that repelled me, and I hated meeting his gaze.

  The noise of the train caused us presently to relapse into silence, and,picking up my newspaper, I tried to read. My thoughts were too deeplyengrossed, however, to allow me to focus my attention on the printedpage. Could it really be possible, was what I kept wondering, that thissmooth-spoken, pleasant-mannered man was actually a criminal? AgainHarold Logan's dying eyes stared into mine; again I saw him strugglingto speak; again I heard those ominous words, almost the last words hehad spoken before his spirit had passed into Eternity:

  "Hugesson Gastrell--don't forget that name, Sir Roland. You may some daybe glad I told it to you."

  I shuddered. Then I remembered Preston's warning and the part I had toplay. Up to the present, Gastrell suspected nothing--of that I feltpositive; but let the least suspicion creep into his brain that I wasnot the man he believed he had been speaking to--

  Instantly I pulled myself together. For Dulcie's sake even more than formy own I must exercise the utmost care. Her life as well as mine mightdepend upon the skill and tact I must exercise during the next fewhours, possibly during the next few days. I felt I would at that momenthave given much to be able to look into the future and know for certainwhat was going to happen to me, and, most of all, to Dulcie, before Ireturned to England.

  Well it was for my peace of mind that that wish could not be gratified.

  On board the boat, rather to my surprise in view of what had happenedand of what Gastrell had just said to me, I saw nothing of Gastrell orof any of his companions, including Preston. Apparently one and all musthave gone to their cabins immediately upon coming on board.

  It was a perfect night in the Channel. Stars and moon shone brightly,and a streak of light stretched away across the smooth water until ittouched the sky Hue far out in the darkness. For a long time I stood ondeck, abaft the funnel, smoking a cigar, and thinking deeply. I hadturned for a moment, for no particular reason, when I thought I saw ashadow pass across the deck, then vanish. I saw it again; and thenagain. Stepping away from where I stood, hidden by a life-boat, Idistinctly discerned three figures moving noiselessly along the deck,going from me. Curiosity prompted me to follow them, and to my surpriseI saw them disappear one after another down the hatchway leading to thesteerage. As they must, I felt certain, have come out through the saloondoor, this rather puzzled me.

  It was past midnight when, at last, I went below. The saloon,smoking-room and alleyways were deserted and almost in darkness. Nosound of any sort was audible but the rhythmic throbbing of theengines. The boat still travelled without the slightest motion.

  Hark!

  I stopped abruptly, for I had heard a sound--it had sounded like a gasp.Hardly breathing, I listened intently. Again I heard it--this time morefaintly. It had seemed to come from a cabin on my left, a littlefurther forward.

  I stood quite still in the alleyway for several minutes. Then, hearingnothing more, I went on to my own cabin.

  But somehow, try as I would, I could not get to sleep. For hours I laywide awake upon my bunk. What had caused that curious sound, I keptwondering, though I tried to put the thought from me. And who had thosemen been, those three silent figures passing like spectres along thedeck, and what had they been doing, and why had they gone down intothe steerage?

  I suppose I must at last have fallen asleep, for when I opened my eyesthe sea had risen a good deal, and the boat was rolling heavily. Pullingmy watch from beneath my pillow, I saw that it was nearly four--we weredue into port at Dieppe before four. The timbers of the ship creaked atintervals; the door of my cabin rattled; I could hear footsteps on deckand in the alleyway beside my door.

  "Have you heard the dreadful news, sir?" a scared-looking steward saidto me as I made my way towards the companion ladder half an hourlater--I had taken care to adjust my disguise exactly in the way thatPreston had taught me to.

  "No--what?" I asked, stopping abruptly.

  "A saloon passenger has hanged himself during the night."

  "Good God!" I exclaimed. "Who is it?"

  "I don't know his name. He was in number thirty-two--alone."

  "Thirty-two! Surely that was a cabin in the alleyway where I had heardthe gasp, not far from my own cabin."

  "Are you certain it was suicide?" I asked.

  "Oh, it was suicide right enough," the steward answered, "and he musthave been hanging there some hours--by a rope. Seems he must havebrought the rope with him, as it don't belong to the boat. He must havecome aboard intending to do it. My mate--he found him not half an hourago, and it so scared him that he fainted right off."

  "Have you seen the poor fellow? What was he like?"

  "Yes. Most amazing thing, sir," the steward continued volubly, "but itseems he'd disguised himself. He'd got on a wig and false moustache andwhiskers."

  All the blood seemed to rush away from my heart. Everything about me wasgoing round. I have a slight recollection of reeling forward and beingcaught by the steward, but of what happened after that, until I foundmyself lying on a sofa in the saloon, with the ship's doctor and thestewardess standing looking down at me. I have not the remotestrecollection.

  The boat was rolling and pitching a good deal, and I remember hearingsomeone say that we were lying off Dieppe until the sea should to someextent subside. Then, all at once, a thought came to me which made mefeel sick and faint. While I had been unconscious, had the fact beendiscovered that I too was disguised? I looked up with a feeling ofterror, but the expression upon the faces of the ship's doctor and ofthe stewardess revealed nothing, and my mind grew more at ease when Inoticed that the few people standing about were strangers to me.

  I saw nothing of any member of the group of criminals I now feltliterally afraid to meet until the Paris express was about to start.More than once I had felt tempted to alter my plans by not going toParis, or by returning to England by the next boat. But then Dulcie hadrisen into the vision of my imagination and I had felt I could not leaveher alone with such a gang of scoundrels--I might be leaving her to herfate were I to desert her now. No, I had started upon this dangerousadventure, and at all costs I must go through with it, even though I nolonger had poor Preston to advise me.

  "Ah, Sir Aubrey, we have been looking for you."

  I turned sharply, to find at my
elbow Connie Stapleton and DorisLorrimer. The latter stood beside her friend, calm, subdued; Mrs.Stapleton was in her usual high spirits, and greeted me with an effusivehand-shake.

  "Hughie told us you were on board," she said, "and he says you are goingto stay at our hotel. I am so pleased. Now, you must dine with usto-night--no, I won't take a refusal," she added quickly, as I was aboutto make some excuse. "We shall be such a cheery party--just the kind ofparty I know you love."

  There was no way of escape, at any rate for the moment. Later I must seewhat could be done. My desire now was to keep, so to speak, in touchwith the gang, and to watch in particular Dulcie's movements, yet toassociate on terms of intimacy with these people as little as possible.We had not been long in the train, on our way to Paris, when someone--itwas Dulcie who first spoke of it, I think--broached the subject whichhad created so much excitement on board--the suicide of thedisguised stranger.

  "I wonder if his act had any bearing upon this robbery which is said tohave been committed on board between Newhaven and Dieppe," a man whom Iremembered meeting at Connie Stapleton's dinner party, presentlyobserved--I suddenly remembered that his name was Wollaston.

  "Robbery?" I exclaimed. "I have heard nothing about it. What was stolen?and who was it stolen from?"

  "Well," he answered, "the stories I have heard don't all tally, and oneor two may be exaggerated. But there is no doubt about the robbery ofLady Fitzgraham's famous diamonds, which I have always heard were worthanything between thirty and forty thousand pounds. She was coming overto stay at the Embassy, and had them with her, it seems, in quite asmall dressing-bag. I am told she declares she is positive the stoneswere in the bag, which was locked, when she went on board at Newhaven;yet early this morning they were missing, though the bag was stilllocked. The theory is that during the night someone must by some meanshave forced an entrance to the cabin--they declare the cabin door waslocked, but of course it can't have been--in which she and her maidslept, have unlocked the bag and extracted the jewels. Lady Fitzgrahamwas travelling alone with her maid, I am told," he ended, "but SirAubrey Belston travelled with her part way from London to Newhaven."

  "You are talking to Sir Aubrey at this moment," Connie Stapleton saidquickly. She turned to me: "Sir Aubrey, let me introduce Mr. Wollaston."

  "I beg your pardon," Wollaston stammered, "I had no idea--I know you byname, of course, but I have not before, I believe, had the pleasure ofmeeting you. It was Hughie Gastrell, whom I expect you know, who told mehe had seen you in Lady Fitzgraham's compartment on the way to Newhaven.I suppose Lady Fitzgraham didn't, by any chance, speak to you of herjewels--say she had them with her, or anything of that kind?"

  "She didn't say a word about them," I answered. "Is she on this train?"

  "Yes. Gastrell has gone to suggest to her that she should stay with usat the 'Continental,' and--"

  "Sir Aubrey has just decided to stay there," Mrs. Stapleton interrupted,"and I have proposed that to-night we should all dine together."

  Conversation then reverted to the suicide and the robbery, and as ConnieStapleton's friends who shared the private car entered it, sheintroduced them to me. They seemed pleasant people enough, and, as thesubject of conversation did not change, one after another theypropounded ingenious theories to account for the way the robbery mighthave been committed. I noticed that they spoke less about the allegedsuicide, and that when the subject was broached they confined theirremarks chiefly to the question of the dead man's disguise, suggestingreasons which they considered might have prompted him to disguisehimself. They ended by deciding there was no reason to suppose that thesuicide and the robbery had any bearing on each other.

  The run from Dieppe to Paris by express takes about three hours, and wewere about half-way through the journey when Wollaston, who had beenabsent at least half an hour, re-entered our compartment inconversation with my recent travelling companion, whom I now knew to beLady Fitzgraham. She hardly acknowledged my look of recognition, and outof the tail of my eye I saw Connie Stapleton glance quickly at each ofus in turn, as though Lady Fitzgraham's unmistakable stiffnesssurprised her.

  Now the train was running at high speed across the flat, uninterestingstretch of country which lies about thirty miles south of Rouen.Presently the Seine came in sight again, and for some miles we ranparallel with it. We had just rushed through a little wayside stationbeyond Mantes, the train oscillating so severely as it rattled over thepoints that Dulcie, Connie Stapleton and Lady Fitzgraham becameseriously alarmed, while other occupants of the car glancedapprehensively out of the windows.

  "This car wants coupling up," Gastrell exclaimed suddenly. "At our nextstopping place I'll complain, and get it done."

  The words had scarcely passed his lips when the swaying increasedconsiderably. All at once the brakes were applied with great force, thetrain began to slacken speed, and a moment later we knew that we hadleft the metals.

  To this day it seems to me extraordinary that any of us should haveescaped with our lives. We probably should not have done so had the landnot been on a dead level with the rails at the point where the trainjumped the track. As a result, the cars did not telescope, as is usualon such occasions, nor did they capsize. Instead, the locomotive dashedforward over the flat, hard-frozen meadow, dragging the cars behind it,then came gradually to a standstill owing to the steam having beenshut off.

  My first thought as soon as the train had stopped was for Dulcie. As Icrawled along the car--for we had all been flung on to the ground--Icame upon her suddenly. Pale as death, and trembling terribly, shestared at me with a scared expression, and so great was the wave ofemotion which swept over me at that instant that I all but forgot mydisguise in my wild longing to spring forward and take her in my armsand comfort her.

  "Are you hurt?" I gasped, retaining only with the utmost difficulty theartificial tone I had adopted from the first, the tone poor Preston hadcoached me in until my accents, so he had assured me, exactly resembledthose of Sir Aubrey Belston.

  "No--no," came her answer, in a weak voice, "only shaken--but oh, thethirst this shock has given me is fearful. Is there anything Ican drink?"

  I looked about me. On all sides was a litter of hand-baggage that theaccident had hurled pell-mell about the car. Beside me was a largedressing-bag lying on its side, partly open, the force of the blow as itwas flung up against the woodwork having burst the lock. Thinking theremight be something in it that I could give to Dulcie to relieve herburning thirst, I set the bag upright, and pulled it wide open.

  As my gaze rested upon the contents of that bag, astonishment made mecatch my breath. For the bag was half filled with jewellery of alldescriptions jumbled up as if it had been tossed in anyhow--there hadbeen no attempt at packing. During the brief moments which elapsedbefore I shut the bag, I noticed rings, brooches, bracelets, scarf pins,watches, hair combs and three large tiaras, all of them, apparently, setin precious stones--mostly emeralds, rubies and diamonds.

  Hastily closing the bag, and fastening the clips to keep it shut, I leftit where I had found it and was about to go in search of water, when thesight I saw made my heart nearly stop beating.

  For at the end of the car, standing motionless, and looking straight atme, was Alphonse Furneaux! Almost as I returned his dull gaze the truthseemed to drift into my brain. Furneaux must have escaped from Preston'shouse, from the room where Preston had confined him. He must havediscovered that Preston was impersonating him. He must have followed himfrom London, followed him on to the boat--

  I dared not let my thoughts travel further. Horrible suspicions crowdedin upon me. Could the man standing there staring at me be Preston'smurderer? Was he aware of my identity too, and, if so, had he designsupon my life as well? Had he told the gang I was now mixed up with of mydisguise, and had they entrapped me in order to wreak vengeance? Andthat hoard of jewellery I had so unwittingly discovered--had the man nowstanding there before me seen me looking at it?