The Man Without A Face

by The Man Without a Face (retail) (epub)

  “I can quite understand,” said Harrison.

  “I knew she was rather attracted by William,” said Mrs. Marston, “but that didn’t worry me. I was rather pleased than otherwise. It’s a kind of compliment to me if my husband is still attractive to other women—especially of the type of Miss Williams—after he has been married to me so long.”

  “A pleasant philosophy,” said Harrison; “but isn’t it somewhat dangerous?”

  “Not if you know your man,” said Mrs. Marston, decisively. “William was flattered. I saw that. Men are so easily flattered, aren’t they, Mr. Harrison? But who wouldn’t be flattered by the marked attention of Helen Williams? I’m sorry to repeat it, Mr. Harrison, knowing what you think of her, but she was a most attractive person.”

  “I’ve never denied it,” said Harrison.

  “No, you haven’t,” said Mrs. Marston, “but you disapprove of it. Justice comes first with you. I don’t know how you do it and, in the case of a beautiful woman, I should say you were a little narrow-minded, but I admire your firmness. William wasn’t firm, at any rate, and I could see he was growing rather keen on her. He didn’t think he was showing it but really it was terribly transparent. I knew it would not last for long. William is very cautious, Mr. Harrison. Am I being dreadfully immoral about it all?”

  “It is my turn to say I admire you, Mrs. Marston,” said Harrison gently.

  For a moment the note of gaiety went out of Mrs. Marston’s voice. “I’m not saying I did not have a few difficult times,” she said. “But I understood,” she went on again, more firmly; “and after the terrible accident, when William started worrying and getting nervy, I tried to think that it was because he had been the innocent cause of Sir Jeremiah’s death, but I knew it was something else, something to do with Miss Williams. I was puzzled for the moment when he burst out violently against her and objected to Livia staying with her, but then I realised that he was worried because she had done him some harm. Some harm in his inner self. What could that be, I thought? And I had to decide that he felt she had made him disloyal to me.”

  “You’re a better detective than I am, Mrs. Marston,” said Harrison.

  “All wives are detectives, Mr. Harrison,” was the reply, “in the best sense of the word. The older they get the more they become so. They have to understand so much, you see. I tried to get William to talk but he wouldn’t. He didn’t tell me of the awful day he thought of committing—” She paused and was silent for a while. “He did say he had seen you and I knew it had done him good. His nerves were better altogether after that. He didn’t say any more to me although sometimes I think he tried to but I knew he must have spoken to you and got rid of his burden in that way.”

  “Again you are wonderfully right,” said Harrison.

  “You can’t imagine how grateful I was to you for that,” said Mrs. Marston. “I am grateful to Miss Williams for suggesting that I should invite you here. I can’t help it, you know.”

  “What are you going to say to your husband, Mrs. Marston?”

  “Nothing,” was the reply. “He acted a little foolishly, of course, but from what you say, Mr. Harrison, all their plans were so carefully laid that if he hadn’t given way to Miss Williams’ attractions at that moment, she would have found some other way of detaining him while the dreadful thing was being done.”

  “A dozen other ways.”

  “You’re certain of that?”

  “Absolutely,” answered Harrison. “That was her part in the plan. The way she did it wouldn’t matter much. If one line failed, she would have tried another until she succeeded.”

  “So there’s really nothing much for William to blame himself about?” asked Mrs. Marston.

  “Certainly not,” replied Harrison.

  “And nothing really for me to say to him?”

  “Mrs. Marston,” said Harrison, taking her hand, “do you mind if I say it is an honour to know you?”

  “If you talk like that, Mr. Harrison,” answered Mrs. Marston, with the faintest of blushes, “I shall lose all respect I ever had for the intelligence of a certain well-known detective named Clay Harrison. But I’ve kept you to myself long enough. I know the others are dying to ask you some questions, especially Livia. Don’t you think we had better ask them to come in too?”

  Harrison agreed and, going to the door, summoned William Marston and his daughter, Philip Bamberger, and Henry. Livia and Philip were obviously great friends again, and the look of understanding William Marston received from his wife was sufficient to show that matters were also entirely satisfactory in that quarter. Harrison gave Henry an affectionate glance, feeling that they too were as equally well paired as the other couples.

  “Now, Miss Marston,” said Harrison, in a business-like way, “the first thing is to hear what you have to say and then I’ll answer any questions that might help to make things clearer.”

  “First of all, Mr. Harrison, I want to say how thoroughly ashamed I am of myself,” said Livia, “and to apologise most abjectly. I cannot think why I was such an idiot—and you knew all the time. I would rather not be Miss Marston to you, Mr. Harrison,” she added, with a blush. “My friends call me Livia.”

  “I appreciate the honour,” answered Harrison, “but in some ways you were of the greatest assistance. What happened when you went to London?”

  “Helen and Mr. Cross were fearfully nice to me all the way up,” was the reply, “but they didn’t like it when I was puzzled at going to Hampstead instead of the hotel. They made some feeble excuse in quite an offhand way and then put me in a room for the night. I was quite comfortable and slept like a log after the excitement of the day. Next morning I was given breakfast in the room you found me in. Still nothing seemed strange until I thought I would go downstairs and find Helen. Then I found the door was locked and got a bit worried. I looked at the windows and found them heavily barred and I must admit I started to get a bit scared.”

  “Horrible,” said Philip.

  “Not quite as bad as that, Philip,” answered Livia, with a smile. “It was some time before I heard the key turn in the lock and Helen appeared. She was quite different to what I had known before. Her eyes looked cruel and her voice was hard. She asked me why I was spying on her and naturally I was very indignant. Then she said she knew that you had arranged for me to come with her. I thought she was mad and told her so. I asked her if she realised my opinion of you and that I would rather have died than do anything you asked me.” She paused. “You understand, Mr. Harrison, I am telling you exactly what happened.”

  “That’s exactly what I want,” said Harrison.

  “Then she said I was a greater fool than she thought I was. I was really angry by this time, but something in her voice warned me to be careful. She said that I was a fool to have an opinion like that of Clay Harrison. The trouble about you was that you were too clever and she intended to settle with you. But she would not believe that I did not know why you wanted me to be with her and she kept on worrying me about it. I really think she was a bit rattled.”

  “As I had hoped,” said Harrison.

  “She left me then and locked the door again. She did not come back for a long time and then she brought some food. This time she said nothing about you but she told me I was going to be very unlucky in being mixed up with her affairs at all. I had brought it on myself, and things were likely to be very unpleasant for me. I dared her to do her worst and she smiled and said I had no idea what her worst could be so I could save my breath.”

  “I’m afraid she was right,” said Harrison, solemnly.

  “I guessed,” answered Livia, with a shiver.

  “The truth would be worse than even you guess,” said Harrison. “What else?”

  “That’s practically all,” was the reply. “I was kept a prisoner in that room until I heard you outside the window and then the police came and let me out.”

  Philip took her hand and pressed it sympathetically and Livia showed no unwillingness
to be so treated.

  “Did you see Cross at all?” asked Harrison.

  “Only once,” said Livia. “That was the morning of the day you came. He unlocked the door and brought two men with him. He said he wanted to introduce two friends of his. I was not very polite but they all had a good look at me. I don’t remember their names.”

  “We know them, don’t we, Henry?” said Harrison.

  “You don’t mean Josephs and Skelofski, sir?” said Henry.

  “I do, Henry,” answered Harrison. “That makes them all the more undesirable aliens than ever. What did they say?”

  “Nothing,” said Livia. “That’s what puzzles me. They just looked at me and then they all went away and locked the door again. There is really nothing else. Whenever Helen came to see me she added a few more choice phrases about what was going to happen to me. I must say I was really beginning to give up hope when you appeared.”

  “She never mentioned that I was coming to the house?” asked Harrison.

  “Not a word about it,” said Livia.

  “Miss Williams could be discreet, then,” answered Harrison.

  “And did you really want me to go with her?” asked Livia.

  “That was my idea,” said Harrison; “wasn’t it, Mrs. Marston?”

  “It was, Mr. Harrison,” said Mrs. Marston, “but even though everything has turned out all right I think you were taking a grave risk.”

  “So do I,” said Philip, emphatically.

  “Why?” asked Harrison.

  “We might never have seen Livia again,” said Mrs. Marston.

  “That was what Miss Williams and Cross intended,” answered Harrison.

  “Then why on earth did you do it?” asked Livia. “Was I just a pawn in the game?”

  “Part yes and partly no,” answered Harrison. “I wanted to convince you of Miss Williams’ character. She had come between you and Philip Bamberger and something had to be done. Nothing else, to my mind, would have been as effective.”

  “That may be so,” said Livia; “you make me feel still more ashamed of myself. But what if I had been permanently separated from Philip?”

  Philip looked fiercely round the room.

  “My other reason,” said Harrison, “was that, as you said, she was a bit rattled. She did not know why I wanted you to be with her. She thought there must be some reason and she couldn’t find one. That’s always an unpleasant thought, especially when you were playing for such high stakes as she was and working in the dark at the same time. I knew she would do nothing to you until she had settled with me, as she called it. She could not be certain about you until then. It was a gamble, Livia, but, believe me, I was gambling with my own life as well.”

  There was silence in the room for a few moments and then Livia said, very softly, “And if you had—had not succeeded, what would have happened to me?”

  “You feel strong enough to hear the truth?” asked Harrison.

  “Of course,” said Livia, holding tightly to Philip’s hand.

  “Your room was a prison, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “And two men came to look at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those two men are prominent members of what is called the white slave traffic.”

  Livia went white and then whispered “Go on.”

  “There is very little of that sort of thing in England, thank heaven,” said Harrison, “but occasionally a gang of criminals with a bit more daring than usual have a shot at it. Even then, they very seldom touch English girls, but I do not like to think of the anguish that some of the rooms in that house may have seen before those two men escorted victims of another nationality to some convenient South American republic. That is the truth, Livia, and that is why I said you could not guess at it. Your upbringing has been too decent to know of the horrors of that kind of life.”

  Livia looked almost like fainting but she controlled herself with a great effort of will, and said, “I understand.”

  “Do you still reproach me?” asked Harrison.

  “I know was a fool,” she answered, “and then I was part of your big plan for fighting these people. How can I reproach you? In a way, after all, I did my bit.”

  “That is true,” said Harrison, “and you have helped to save others going that terrible road. You can be quite certain of that, and, incidentally, your greatest debt is to the great Scotch photographer.”

  Livia smiled at Henry and there was a general feeling of relief from the tension.

  “And now for questions,” said Harrison.

  “Even now,” said Philip, “I find it hard to understand that the brutal murder of my father was necessary because he had obtained the address in Havre.”

  “The house in Havre,” said Harrison, “was the centre of the whole business. Look at the pains Cross had taken to make the place seem as innocent as possible. Once it was known, the game was pretty well up. I have heard from M. Berthay, that extremely intelligent police official, that he has found an amazing amount of material, documentary and otherwise, at the place. He has also arrested some first-class international criminals who called there to see Mr. Cross. He is thoroughly pleased about it. You see, Cross was the head of a gang that was a kind of ‘criminal universal provider’, which was mainly controlled from the Avenue des Viguerres. Confidence tricking on the grand scale, cross Atlantic, rich visitors in Europe, all the most paying methods. Dope, white slavery, a little bit of blackmail, I should think. Very little violent crime but everything else where international organisation can bring a profit. Cross was undoubtedly a great organiser and a remarkable criminal. Your father, Bamberger, had been a thorn in his side for a long time in a small way, and when the address was known to be in his possession they worked out this amazing plan to get rid of him.”

  “And the man who gave him the address?”

  “He was undoubtedly murdered, too,” said Harrison. “We shall never know how or where. He just disappeared. Poor devil.”

  “My heart goes out to that unfortunate woman at Havre, and her boy,” said Mrs.

  “As a matter of fact,” said Harrison, “things have turned out better than I expected. I have just heard from her—no need, I think, to tell you her name or where she lives—and she says she really was treated like the returned prodigal. Her relations and friends had got a bit scared at not hearing from her. A bit conscience-stricken, I expect, and they seem to have welcomed her right royally. Reggie is as happy as a sandboy and already going to an English school and his mother does not seem likely to move out of her native place again.”

  “I am so glad,” said Mrs. Marston.

  “And you really think your police friend knew who she was on the boat?” asked Philip Bamberger.

  “There is no doubt of it,” answered Harrison. “In his letter he rather pulls my leg about it. Says he is willing to admit that I may be good at discovering criminals but I should make a poor criminal myself. In fact, if that is my idea of deceiving the police, heaven help me.”

  “Then why did he let you get away with it?”

  “As far as I can see,” said Harrison, “M. Berthay had made one mistake with me and that made him particularly cautious. Even if he did not believe it, my story was possible. The woman and child did not need passports and there were certainly week-end tickets for them. Everything was in order on the surface and he would have had to have taken the risk of detaining them against appearances. He might have been morally right and expect it would have turned out all right but he was on dangerous ground. My efforts at being a criminal were not as bad as all that. I may not have deceived him but I put him in a dilemma. He chose the safest way out. I don’t think it worried him very much. He says my advice over watching the Avenue des Viguerres house outweighed any other consideration.”

  “And what about the European Development Company?” asked Mr. Marston, speaking for the first time.

  “That was quite neat,” said Harrison. “There was nothing wrong about
the name and its object was certainly to supply capital to industries in Europe which needed it. The only trouble was that the industries themselves were such as are not recognised by the law in any country. You remember what I told you about the house at Havre. It was a great industrial headquarters and its activities in providing people with the unlawful things in life were to be financed by the European Development Company. Crime nowadays needs capital as much as anything else, and the bigger the scale the more it needs. Quite a number of Cross’s acquaintances would be very astonished to find that they had put money in such a concern—and drawing good dividends from it too.”

  “An astonishing man,” said Mr. Marston.

  “A remarkable man,” answered Harrison, “and one wonders how many more there are like him. The rewards were great, and were well worth Cross’s while. It seems to suggest that my job is not finished, by any means. Cross has gone but one cannot help feeling that in a little while somebody else will think it worthwhile to try and take his place; but, by the look of him, Henry is aching to ask a question? Out with it, Henry. It’s to do with Miss Williams, of course?”

  “You’re right again, sir,” said Henry. “All I wanted to know is why she kicked up that fearful scene in the street at Havre and then on the boat. I can’t understand it at all. I thought it was quite unnecessary.”

  “Miss Williams wouldn’t do anything that was unnecessary, Henry.”

  “Of course she knew it would make you feel uncomfortable but what was the object of it? She knew she would get nothing out of it.”

  “Not quite,” answered Harrison. “She was gambling, Henry. We knew she didn’t dare go to the house in the Avenue des Viguerres; she was too unpopular with Cross. But her best move was to keep an eye on it. Cross might give way eventually, and in keeping an eye on it she noticed me as well. It is difficult to judge when quite she appeared but I should think it was not long before the woman and child came out with me. I expect she thought I was just helping them to get away. It was very lucky she did not guess what had happened to Cross. She was right in assuming that I should go back to England in that particular ship.”