Harrison moved towards the door very cautiously and, when doing so, thought he heard a faint click like the unlocking of a door. “Gone to his own room,” thought Harrison. “I wonder if he has any weapon up there. If he has I should be foolish to go outside. I don’t want to form an easy target for him. I may have to call Henry.”
Again he thought he heard the click. “I wonder if he has locked himself in,” he mused. “Still a key may be turned on both sides of the door and he may be coming down again. I must be careful.”
Very quietly he shut the door of the sitting-room and wedged a chair under the handle. He was making for the window with the idea of attracting Henry’s attention when there was a crash in the room above him like the sound of a heavy body falling and the whole house seemed to shake with the shock.
A moment after the handle of the door was turned and somebody tried to push it open.
“Who’s there?” called Harrison.
“It’s me,” said a woman’s voice. “Open the door, please, Mr. Harrison.” Harrison went across to the door and quickly threw it open. Outside was standing “Mrs. Cross”, a little boy with a very frightened face, holding tightly to her hand. They were both dressed ready to go out.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Of course I did,” answered Harrison.
“I think something awful has happened,” said the woman.
“Are you going up to see?”
Harrison thought for a moment and the strange silence of the house seemed to grip them all.
“Did he lock himself in?” he asked.
“Yes,” said the woman, “I watched from down here. I think he’s—” She looked down at the little boy and stopped. Harrison nodded.
“I’ll find out,” he said, and ran up the stairs. The door was certainly locked.
“Cross,” called Harrison, turning the handle. There was no reply and the silence seemed even more ominous.
Harrison called again and the name seemed to echo in futile fashion round the house.
He pressed his shoulder to the door and, holding on to the handle, gave a terrific lunge. The door yielded slightly but the lock held. Another push and then another, with all his weight, and finally the door broke inwards.
With the quickness of one realising the great danger he was risking, Harrison pushed open the door and stood flat against the wall of the landing so as to be out of range of any stray bullet which Cross might fire if he had found any firearms. As he stood there he could see into the middle of the room and he realised that there was no danger to fear, for Cross was lying in a heap on the floor with a small glass still clutched in his outstretched hand.
As he went into the room, Harrison sniffed. There was no doubt of the very faint tell-tale smell of prussic acid. Cross’s good-bye had had more meaning in it than he had realised.
Cross was dead, there was no doubt of that, dead in the room which supplied all the evidence of his criminal career. Practically the whole of the wall space, except for one long cupboard, was fitted as a kind of wardrobe. On hangers were every variety of men’s clothes from the most immaculate evening dress to those of the poorest artisan type. Under each suit were the shoes appropriate to it, while on a shelf above were hat, tie, socks, and any other accessories which might be needed. The whole thing was perfectly arranged. Cross had been thorough indeed. The organisation certainly was there.
Harrison opened the cupboard and there again was the orderliness which characterised the rest of the room. The shelves were filled with large jars of every variety of contra-band drug, all carefully labelled, and with them was a chemist’s balance, so that they could obviously be sold in a business-like manner.
“What a waste of first-class material,” thought Harrison, closing the cupboard door.
The woman was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the boy’s hand, as Harrison came down again.
“Well?” she said.
“As you thought,” answered Harrison.
“I must see him,” said the woman.
“I’d advise you not to,” replied Harrison.
“You don’t understand,” she said, firmly. “I must see him like that.”
Harrison looked at the woman and saw that this was no morbid craving but a cold desire to see the end of the man who had ill-treated her. She would not gloat when she went into that room upstairs but she would be eternally satisfied.
“Stay with this gentleman just one minute, Reggie,” she said to the boy. “Mother will be down again directly.” The little boy looked at Harrison and, confident in the smile that greeted him, gave up his mother’s hand and took hold of Harrison’s. So the two stood, hand in hand, at the bottom of the stairs while the woman known as Mrs. Cross went to take her last look at the dead man.
As the woman again reached the head of the stairs her face radiating a look of intense relief, there was a peremptory knock on the front door and the relief faded at once, giving place to the old terror.
“My God,” she said.
“Hush,” said Harrison; “don’t make a noise. It may be nothing. A neighbour who heard the noise coming to ask what happened or someone like that. We can soon deal with them.”
“But if it’s one of his friends?” asked the woman, fear-stricken.
“We can deal with that, too,” said Harrison, almost in a whisper. “Come down quietly and we’ll see.”
The woman crept downstairs and they both tiptoed into the sitting-room where Harrison looked into the ingenious mirror to see if the front door was covered by it. Cross had worked out his system very effectively for Harrison was able to see quite clearly a man standing on the doorstep.
“Do you recognise him?” Harrison said to the woman, pointing to the mirror.
She nearly shrieked again but regained control of herself and answered, “Yes, he’s one of them. He has been here regularly.”
The knocker sounded on the front door again.
“Very well,” said Harrison, “you’d better answer it and tell him to come again to-morrow.”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes,” said Harrison. “Don’t give him time to knock again or the neighbours will start getting excited.”
The woman went to the door and a gruff voice demanded Mr. Cross.
“He’s not in,” was the reply.
“He must be in,” came the voice. “He has always been here before.”
“I tell you he’s not in,” said the woman.
“That’s very queer,” answered the voice. “I must see him. I’ll come in and wait.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Cross has told me not to let anybody do that.”
“I’m going to,” said the gruff voice, decisively.
Harrison listened hard as to what would happen next and was greatly relieved when he heard the woman’s voice say firmly and clearly, “You’re not going to disobey Mr. Cross’s orders.”
There was a pause and then the voice said, grudgingly, “All right. If Cross said so I suppose he must have this way. Has he been here at all yet?”
There was another pause and then the woman answered, “No, he hasn’t come yet. He won’t be here till to-morrow morning. I had a telegram.”
“All right,” said the voice. “It’s queer, all the same; he’s never missed an appointment before. I’ll come again to-morrow.”
The door closed and in the mirror Harrison watched the stranger go down the street. He noticed that Henry looked at him very suspiciously as he passed but did not leave his post.
The woman came back to Harrison, trembling. “Excellent,” said Harrison. “Now if we’re all ready to go we’d better do so before there are any more callers.”
The woman looked gratefully at him and collected a small suitcase from some nether region. She took Reggie’s hand again and made for the front door. Harrison looked around the sitting-room and, picking up the representation of Admiral Benbow, slipped it in his pocket.
The front door closed carefully; they made their way quickly down the street to Henry. Harrison wondered whether his gossiping friend at the grocer’s shop had noticed their retreat. She seemed to notice everything and it might complicate things a little if she started to grow too inquisitive, but that was a risk which had to be taken.
Henry’s smile was supernaturally broad when he saw his master appearing safe and sound, and he hurried forward to greet them.
“All right, sir?” he asked.
“I suppose so, Henry,” answered Harrison, “but not quite what I intended. Still I’ll explain it all at the hotel.” He turned to the woman. “I’m so sorry; may I introduce Henry to you. Henry is one of the best friends any man—or woman—could hope to have.”
“Very pleased to meet you,” said Henry, looking at the boy as well, “Mrs.—” He turned to his master for enlightenment.
“Mrs. Clay Harrison, of course,” said Harrison.
Henry and the woman both opened their mouths to protest.
“And this,” continued Harrison, with a smile at the little boy, “is Reggie Harrison. You won’t forget your name, will you?”
The boy looked at Harrison as if it was impossible for him to do anything wrong. Idolatry was in his eyes as he said, “No, sir. Reggie Harrison.”
“But, sir—” started Henry.
“Don’t argue, Henry,” said Harrison; “you’ll have to use the name for a little while so you had better get used to it.”
“But I can’t, sir,” exclaimed the woman.
“You must trust me,” said Harrison. “It may be unnecessary but I think it’s the best thing to do.”
Henry knew by Harrison’s tone that argument was out of the question and remained silent.
“Now we’ll all get back to the hotel,” continued Harrison, “and we’ll lie low there until the boat goes to-night. It’s a long wait but we can’t help that, and I’m sure you, Henry, will do your best to make Reggie as happy as possible.” Henry smiled and, as they moved on, he turned to the woman with the most courtly air and said, “You must let me carry your case, Mrs. Harrison.”
Chapter XXIII
Miss Williams Tries Again
The day passed quickly at the Pension du Paradis and the proprietor was discretion completely regarding “Mrs. Harrison” and Reggie. He took them in the normal course of a day’s work. Life held no surprises for him. His pension meant everything to him, and if a very respectable person like Clay Harrison obviously was—his money undoubtedly was quite satisfactory—chose to produce a wife and child from nowhere, what was there to grumble about? It might be very foolish but the English were foolish by nature over their sentimental relationships, and who was he to set himself up as their judge?
Henry and Reggie became firm friends and found a large number of interests in common while the woman sat silent all day in the reaction of the sudden change in her life. Harrison spent most of his time getting together his notes and bemoaning the absence of suitable cigars.
After an excellent dinner Harrison explained to Henry that he thought it would be best for the woman and child to be escorted by him to the boat and Harrison would follow later. Henry could have a word with the steward and obtain a cabin while Harrison would come a little later with the general crowd of passengers.
“You see, Henry,” he said, “I have been under cover all day, and I want to be able to come down slowly and keep my eyes open. I might hear something of the business on the Avenue des Viguerres—”
“Yes, sir,” said Henry, doubtfully.
“And also, somebody may be looking for me, and it is easier for one person to dodge than four. You never know what may still be in store for us in Havre.”
“If it’s any danger, sir,” said Henry, decisively, “I’m not going to leave you.”
“I don’t think there is any danger,” said Harrison, “but if there is, I’m not going to expose that woman and child to it, and they can’t look after themselves, Henry. That’s up to you. Here are the two spare tickets. Get a taxicab and take them on board as soon as you can. That’s the safest thing to do.”
Henry still looked doubtful but knew it was impossible to argue and had soon left the pension with his charges.
Harrison followed leisurely. He bought the local evening paper but could find nothing alarming in it. As he walked down to the quay he kept continually on the alert to see whether he was being followed, but everything seemed quiet.
Havre was going about its Sunday evening quite contentedly and seemed to care little for Harrison, Cross, or anyone else.
He was just passing a not overclean cafe on the quayside when suddenly the door was flung open and a woman rushed out of it followed by two men. Harrison stepped aside to let her pass but the woman came straight up to him and clutched him tightly, shouting volubly in French.
Harrison gathered that the woman wanted money and wished him to pay her what he owed. He explained that it was a mistake and tried to disentangle himself.
The woman was dressed in a depressingly tawdry costume and left no doubt as to her occupation. Again she screamed and Harrison began to become slightly worried at the turn of events. This might be a usual method of extorting money from the English but it did not appeal to him. A few by-standers were starting to take an interest in the proceedings and the woman’s two men friends glowered fiercely, so he pushed the woman away from him with a greater effort. To his surprise she slipped away from him at once. The top part of her coarse dress was ripped down and a gleaming white shoulder was exposed. The woman then crashed to the ground as if Harrison had dealt her a blow, and lay still for a moment.
The two men moved forward and Harrison thought that it would be more discreet if not dignified to run for the ship. But the men only picked up the woman and started supporting her to the café from which she had appeared. Her flow of French started again, and as the café door was reached she moved towards Harrison and hurled a last threat. This was the first time Harrison had really been able to see her face—it had been half hidden as she clung to him.
The scene being finished, the bystanders started to move away, some of them being unable to restrain their feelings and saying aloud what their private opinion of Harrison might be. But even then their judgment was not entirely unanimous and Harrison made his way to the boat without any interference.
Henry was waiting for him at the gangway.
“Anything wrong, sir?” he said.
“Rather a hasty experience, Henry,” answered Harrison.
“I didn’t want you to come alone, sir,” said Henry, reprovingly.
“I’m glad I did,” said Harrison, and explained what had happened.
“It sounds a usual trick,” said Henry.
“Then why let me go?” asked Harrison.
“I suppose you stuck your ground too firmly, sir,” said Henry.
“Thank you, Henry,” answered Harrison, “but that’s not good enough. It was carefully staged. The woman came for me because I was Clay Harrison—”
“No, sir?”
“She tore her dress deliberately, I saw that, so as to give the impression that I was brutally ill-treating her and then she fell as if I had struck her. A good fall, Henry, very impressive.”
“A good way to frighten money out of you, sir.”
“But that was all, Henry,” said Harrison. “She stopped there and went back into the cafe and it was only then I was able to see who she was.”
“Who she was, sir?” asked Henry.
“Yes, Henry,” answered Harrison. “It was Helen Williams.”
“My glory, sir,” exclaimed Henry; “in that costume?”
“Costume doesn’t matter, Henry,” replied Harrison. “She had carefully planned it all. She might have been watching somewhere near the Avenue des Viguerres to-day. She daren’t call there, luckily for us, because she was in Cross’s bad books, but she intended to get back on me somehow and this is part of her scheme. I rather guess what
it is, Henry, but, believe me, we’re not out of the wood yet.”
“I don’t see what she can do now, sir!” said Henry.
“Think it over then, Henry,” said Harrison, cheerfully. “Now what about Mrs. Clay and Reggie? I trust you remembered to get the cabin in those names, Henry. I forgot to mention it when you left.”
“Of course I did, sir,” said Henry. “I knew that was what you wanted. They’re all right, sir. I’ve settled them down comfortably and told them not to move until you tell them to.”
“Good,” answered Harrison; “now we’ll see who’s coming aboard.”
By this time a fair number of passengers were arriving and Harrison and Henry leaned over the rail watching them.
“Look, sir,” said Henry, pointing across the roadway, “quite a procession.” Henry’s description was roughly correct, for marching to the gangway were what appeared to be a high police official, followed by two policemen, then a woman walking alone, followed in her turn by two rather evil-looking and shabbily-dressed men.
“The next move in Miss Williams’ little plan,” said Harrison.
“Do you mean to say that’s Miss Williams, sir?” asked Henry.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Good heavens, what clothes,” said Henry.
By this time the procession had reached the gangway and the police official had a solemn conference with the man on duty. He was then motioned on board and the procession moved forward in single file. As it reformed on the deck Harrison stepped into full view of an overhanging light and the woman dashed forward, caught the police official by the arm and exclaimed, pointing to Harrison, “There he is, that’s the man, the swindler.”
With the light full upon her as well there was no doubt that the woman was Miss Williams. Her hair was bedraggled and her face plastered with powder and paint, looking, into the bargain, not over-clean, while her clothes justified Henry’s exclamation. Still, through it all there showed to Harrison the vivid personality of the woman, Helen Williams, who, with true fighting spirit, despite her recent failure, would not admit defeat.
The Man Without A Face Page 30