by Robert Reed
the rays of light . He watched them sadly, and the great crowd that
marched on either side of them . Not all the arms of England, all her
military and naval strength, her laws and splendid institutions, could
save her from the malignity of the “Red Hand .”
He turned with a start to the Prime Minister, and found that gen-
tleman regarding him curiously .
“In a sense,” he said, “I do not mind this abduction, always pro-
viding that neither of these people are injured . I cannot understand
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why they should have bothered; but it is these side issues of private
vengeance which invariably bring the big organizations to grief .”
“Seriously, Professor Tillizini,” said the Premier, “do you think
that these men will carry their threat into execution?”
“Seriously, I do,” said Tillizini . “Your experts scoffed at the idea
of the ‘Red Hand’ being able to cultivate this particular germ . The
‘Red Hand’s’ reply must have been a little startling to them .” He
smiled . “If I remember rightly they sent a little of the culture to
your Bacteriological Institute . Animals which were inoculated died
with all the symptoms which have been described by the fifteenth-
century writers .”
The Premier nodded his head .
“We cannot give the money, that is impossible; you recognize
that, Professor?” Tillizini assented .
“It would mean the negation of all law; it would create a prec-
edent which would put an end to all the authority of civilization; it
were better that all England should be ravaged by this disease than
that a single penny should leave the Treasury . That is my view . I am
prepared,” he said quietly, “to accept not only the responsibility of
that action, but the first consequence of these men’s machinations.
This I have intimated through the public press . The only hope is
that we may secure the culture, and not only secure it, but locate
the laboratory where the cultivation is being made . It is a hope,”
he shrugged his shoulders . “I know you are doing all you can, Til-
lizini,” he said quickly, “and Scotland Yard—”
“Scotland Yard is working splendidly,” said Tillizini . “Your po-
lice organization is rather wonderful .”
He rose to his feet .
“Four days,” he said, “is a very long time .” “You will take any
steps you deem necessary for the public safety?”
“You may be sure of that, sir,” said Tillizini .
The Premier twisted his blotter in his preoccupation .
“They say of you, Professor,” he said deliberately, “that you do
not hesitate to commit what in the eyes of the law-abiding world
might be considered as criminal acts, in order to further justice .”
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“I have never hesitated,” said Tillizini, “if you mean—”
“I mean nothing in particular,” said the Premier; “only I tell you
this, if you deem it necessary to go outside the law to administer
preventive punishment, I assure you that I will secure you the neces-
sary indemnity from Parliament .”
Tillizini bowed .
“I have to thank your Excellency for that,” he said, “and you may
be sure I shall not abuse the power, and that no crime I commit will
ever need an act of indemnity .”
The Premier looked up in astonishment .
“Why?”
“Because,” said Tillizini, with his sweetest smile, “my crimes are
never brought home to me .”
With another bow he left the room .
Outside the house in Downing Street . Inspector Crocks was wait-
ing .“I got you some telegrams,” he said, genially . “I am rapidly dete-
riorating into a private secretary’ .”
Tillizini smiled . A feeling of affection had grown up between
these two men, so differently constituted, so temperamentally apart .
When Crocks had been detailed to assist Tillizini in his work, there
were many sceptical people who smiled behind their hands, for any-
body more unlike the detective of fiction than the inspector could
not easily be imagined . Yet he was a shrewd, clever man, subtle to
a point of brilliancy . A rapid and effective organizer, with a knowl-
edge of the criminal underworld which few men possess .
Tillizini tore open the telegrams; he read them twice, then he
crumpled them into a ball and thrust them into his coat pocket . The
letters, after glancing at the address and the postmark, he placed
unopened in the inside pocket of his frock coat .
“I didn’t show you the telegrams,” he said to the other, “because
they were in code .”
In a few words he communicated the gist of their contents . Til-
lizini’s code-book was in his head .
“I am going to see my decoy now .”
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“Is he still alive?” asked the inspector with simulated surprise .
“He was, a few minutes ago,” said Tillizini . For once he did not
treat the subject facetiously, and the inspector knew that the ques-
tion he had put in good-humour had a serious application .
“I secured him a position,” said Tillizini suddenly; “he is an out-
side porter at Victoria, It will afford him an excellent opportunity of
becoming acquainted with contrary humanity .”
“And at the same time he will be able to give you a little infor-
mation,” said Crocks . “I think it is an excellent scheme . He doesn’t
look clever, and I don’t think he is particularly clever, but he has got
the power which so few police officers possess, unfortunately. The
moment a man begins to look important his value decreases .”
Tillizini laughed .
“Oh, unimportant man!” he said cryptically .
A few minutes later the two parted . The detective went back to
Scotland Yard and Tillizini hailed a cab and drove to an address in
South London .
At half-past twelve that day the fast train from Burboro’ to Victo-
ria steamed slowly into the big terminus . Vera Morte-Mannery was
one of the first to descend. Her foot touched the platform almost
before the train stopped .
She walked quickly through the barrier into the large space at the
end of the station .
She looked round anxiously, and then up at the clock . The man
she sought was not there . She strolled aimlessly from one side of the
station to the other, and was returning to the bookstall, when Festini,
with rapid strides, came into the station .
She caught his eye and he checked himself and turned about care-
lessly . He walked out of the station and she followed . At his uplifted
finger a car came out of the rank and drew alongside the pavement.
Without a word she got in and he followed . They drove in silence
until the car turned into Hyde Park and slowed down in obedience
to the regulations .
Then she turned to him suddenly and, with a breaking voice,
asked—
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 3
81
“Where is Marjorie Meagh?”
He raised his eyebrows .
“Marjorie Meagh?” he asked . “You do not mean to tell me that
you have brought me to London to ask me a question like that?”
“Where is Marjorie Meagh?” she asked again .
“How on earth should I know?”
“Festini,” she said, pleadingly, “let us be frank with one another .
Marjorie has been taken by the ‘Red Hand .’ You are the ‘Red Hand .’”
“Hush!” he muttered, savagely; “don’t shout, people could hear
you on the sidewalks!”
His manner to her had changed . It was a little cold, a little im-
patient, more than a little intolerant . She had detected the changed
atmosphere the moment she had met him .
She pressed her lips tightly together and remained silent for a
little while .
“What is your object in taking her?” she asked .
“That is hidden from you . Do you not trust me?”
“Trust you!” she laughed bitterly . “Have I not trusted you to the
fullest extent?” she asked . “That question should rather come from
me . You do not trust me, Festini .”
It was less a statement than a pleading . She wanted him to deny
it, but no denial came .
“There are things which it is not right for me to tell you .”
“Why?” she asked; “is there any secret of the ‘Red Hand’ which
I do not know?”
He smiled a little uneasily .
“You did not know anything about the Fourth Plague,” he said,
softly .
“I do not complain of that,” she said, “it was too great a thing to
trust with any man or woman . But there is nothing so subtle in this
kidnapping of Marjorie Meagh .”
He spread out his hands with a gesture of helplessness .
“I cannot tell you,” he said . “There is something behind this
which you cannot know .”
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“There is something behind it which I can guess!” she said fierce-
ly . “You love Marjorie—you have taken her because you love her .
Don’t deny it . I can see it in your face . Oh, you liar! You liar!”
He had never seen her like this . It was a new force he was en-
countering, one which at once pleased and piqued him .
She had been all softness, all yielding to him before, an easy con-
quest for this handsome man, with his soft voice and his eloquent
eyes .
In her anger she was a little terrible, but she did not terrify him .
He was used to opposition, and had a quick way with it . There was
enough of woman in him to appreciate her feelings . But, like the
autocrat he was, he resented her revolt, and in his resentment said
more than it was wise, under the circumstances, to say .
“Yes, it is true,” he said, coolly . “I do love her . Why should I deny
it? I do not love you any less because I love her . She is on a different
plane to you and I .”
Vera was breathing quickly; her bosom rose and fell with the
intensity of her pent up rage . She did not speak again for a minute;
she was conquering an insane desire to throw herself from the car, to
run anywhere out of his sight, as she had gone, she knew, out of his
heart. The fires of humiliation and jealousy burnt too fiercely within
her for words .
Again and again she checked the wild torrent of speech that rose
to her lips and choked in the checking .
And this was the end! The end of her dream, the reward for all
her work, for all her treachery to those who loved her, the last stretch
of the happy road which she had fondly thought led to eternity .
From time to time he looked at her out of the corner of his eye .
“I understand,” she said at last, speaking composedly, “your great
plan has come to fruition . You have no further use for me?”
“Do not say that, Vera,” he said .
He was immensely relieved to discover how well she had taken
the news, which, cold-blooded as he was, he had no desire, and if the
truth be told, no intention of telling her .
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“You are indispensable,” he said . He tried to take her hand, but
she withdrew it . “It is only the exigencies of the scheme we have in
hand which has prevented me from taking you more fully into my
confidence. As to Marjorie, I want you to be generous,” he said. “I
want you to realize—”
“Oh, I understand,” she said, wearily . “Were you ever sincere,
Festini, were you ever faithful?”
She looked at him searchingly .
“I swear,” he began .
“Don’t swear,” she said . “I think I understand .” She smiled
bravely . “I’ll get out here,” she said . “I’d like a little walk . This was
not exactly the outcome of the morning’s meeting that I expected,”
she went on; “although I was jealous, I never realized that my sus-
picions were true .”
He tried by argument to persuade her to remain with him, but she
was determined . She tapped the window and the car drew up . As she
alighted, he assisted her . She held out her hand .
“Good-bye, Festini,” she said . His eyes narrowed .
“You must see me again, there is no goodbye with me,” he said,
abruptly . “I have told you you are indispensable—I mean that .”
She made no reply . Gently she relaxed her clasp, and her hand
fell listlessly to her side . Then she turned abruptly and walked away .
He stood watching her until she was out of sight . Could he trust
her? He had a large knowledge of men, a larger of women . He had
weighed all the chances; she would not betray him, he thought .
These English people love to suffer in silence, to hug to their secret
hearts their greatest griefs .
He smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and, turning to the driver,
directed him to a fashionable restaurant . For men, even great con-
spirators, must lunch .
He stopped the car in Oxford Street to buy an evening newspaper .
It was filled, as had been the morning journals, with speculations
on the Fourth Plague . Would the “Red Hand” put their threat into
execution? One journal had found a scientist who had discovered
a specific, another gave a perfect pen picture of Tillizini. Wild and
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 384
improbable rumours found prominence, there was nothing of any
real account . He was closing the paper when a little paragraph which
had evidently been inserted to fill up caught his eye at the bottom of
the column .
“The unfortunate man, Mansingham, who has added to the tragic
variety of his career by being associated with the disappearance of
Miss Marjorie Meagh, was an expert swimmer, and at the annual
meeting of the Burboro’ Aquatic Club last night sympathetic refer-
ences were made to his disappearance .”
Festini frowned . A swimmer? Of course it was absurd . But there
might have been grave danger in throwing him into the water . He
was stunned, though, and three days had passed without a
ny sign of
his reappearance .
He knew, by careful inquiry, that nobody had been picked up
on the coast, but it sometimes happened that weeks elapsed before
the sea gave up its dead . It was absurd to bother about that . But
throughout his luncheon he found the thought intruding in his mind .
Suppose this man turned up? It would have been better to have fol-
lowed out the suggestion of Il Bue and have killed him right away .
The waiter brought him his bill, and he paid, tipping the servant
lavishly .
He walked out of the hall into the big vestibule of the restaurant,
selected a cigar at the little cigar counter, and strolled out into Pic-
cadilly .
His car, driven by a trusted member of the “Red Hand,” followed
him along the broad, crowded thoroughfare at a snail’s pace .
At the corner of Piccadilly Circus he suddenly came face to face
with Frank Gallinford .
The Englishman was looking ill; the strain of the past few days
was telling on him. The loss of his fiancée was preying on his mind;
he had not slept . His agents were searching the country from end to
end . He had also established a little police organization of his own,
for Frank Gallinford was a fairly wealthy man .
The two men stopped, staring at each other for the fraction of a
second, then Festini held out his hand with a suave smile .
THE 4TH PLAGUE, by Edgar Wallace (Part 2) | 385
“How do you do Mr . Gallinford?” he said .
Frank was in no mood for conversation or condolence . He uttered
a few conventional words, shook hands hurriedly and passed on,
leaving Festini to finish his stroll.
Frank had not gone twenty yards before somebody pressed his
arm softly . He looked round . A tall man was standing at his side . At
first he did not recognize him in his rough workman’s kit and his
little moustache, but when he spoke he knew him .
“Go back after Festini,” said Tillizini quickly . “Talk to him about
anything you like, hold him in conversation for a few minutes,” he
turned and walked back with the other a little way, “and when you
get into St . James’ Street turn off to the right . The street is up . Induce
him by any art in your power to go to the other end of that street .”
“But why?”
“No, do not ask, ‘Why,’” said Tillizini . He gave one of his rare
gestures of impatience . “Do as I tell you .”