CHAPTER XLIV. A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION TO THE SUBURBS.
During the earlier part of the evening, since we had left the hotel, mycompanion had shown no disposition to talk. On the contrary, his silenceamounted almost to moroseness, and he had not always answered myquestions. But immediately we had started on this new expedition hismanner underwent a complete change. He seemed to lay himself out withfeverish eagerness to entertain me and to absorb my attention.
"I hope you're not tired," he said suddenly, at the end of one of hisanecdotes. "We have rather a long drive before us."
"Not in the least," I assured him. "What is the place we are going to?"
"A sort of private club. In confidence, I'll tell you why it is so farout of the way. Some of the members are fond of playing a little high,and have started a roulette board. That sort of thing is best kept quiet,you know."
"The place is a gambling-club, then?"
"Something of that sort," he acknowledged. "I shouldn't dream of takingyou there if it wasn't for the sake of meeting Marx. You understand?"
"Perfectly, thanks. Save for that reason I shouldn't think of going."
"What an infernal night!" he exclaimed, looking out of the carriage for amoment; "almost enough to give one the miserables. Come, we'll shut itout." He struck a match and, turning round, lit a lamp which was fixed atthe back of the carriage. Then he quietly pulled down the blinds andbegan to tell me a story, of which I heard not a word. My thoughts wereengrossed by another matter. M. de Cartienne's action, coupled with thestrangeness of his manner, could bear but one interpretation.
He had some reason for keeping me as much as possible in the dark as tothe route we were taking.
For a few moments I felt, to put it mildly, uneasy. Then several possibleexplanations of such conduct occurred to me, and my apprehensions grewweaker. What more natural, after all, than that M. de Cartienne shoulddesire to keep secret from me the exact whereabouts of an establishmentwhich, by his own admission, was maintained contrary to the law? The moreI considered it, the more reasonable such an explanation appeared to me.I began to wonder, even, that he had not asked me for some pledge ofsecrecy. But there was time enough for that.
By degrees the rattling of vehicles around us grew less and less, untilat last all traffic seemed to have died away. Once, during a pause in theconversation, I raised the blind a little way and looked out. We had lefteven the region of suburban semi-detached villas; and, blurred though theprospect was by the mud which the fast-rolling wheels drew incessantlyinto the air and on to the window-panes, I could just distinguish the dimoutline of hedges and fields beyond.
I looked at the carriage-clock and found that we had been already an hourand a quarter on our journey. From the furious pace at which we weretravelling we must have come nearly fifteen miles.
"This place is a long way out," I remarked.
The Count laughed and lit a cigarette. "Oh, there's a good reason forthat. But the men don't drive here from town--at least, not in thewinter. There's a railway-station only a mile away."
"We're almost there now, then, I suppose?"
He let the blind up with a spring and looked out.
"Nearer than I imagined," he remarked. "We shall be there in threeminutes."
He was just drawing in his head when he gave a visible start and leanedright out of the window, with his face upturned to the beating rain,listening intently.
Suddenly he withdrew it, and, snatching at the check-string, pulled itviolently. I looked at him in amazement. His face was ghastly pale, buthis thin lips were set firmly together and his features rigid withdetermination. It was the face of a brave, desperate man preparing tomeet some terrible danger.
The carriage pulled up with a jerk and he leaped down into the road. Hedid not speak to me, so, after a second's hesitation, I followed him andstood by his side. There was no mistaking the sound which had alarmedhim. Behind, at no very great distance, was the sound of galloping horsesand the rumble of smoothly-turning wheels.
Round the corner it came, a small brougham drawn by a pair of greatthoroughbred horses, whose heavy gallop, even at fifty yards' distance,seemed to shake the ground beneath us. M. de Cartienne snatched one ofthe carriage-lamps from the bracket and, stepping into the middle of theroad, waved it backwards and forwards over his head. His action had thedesired effect.
Quivering and plunging with fear, the horses, bathed in foam and mud,came to a standstill before us, and a tall, fair man, with a long furcoat thrown hurriedly over his evening-clothes, leaped out into the road.The Count was by his side in a moment.
I remained a little apart, of course, out of earshot, but with my eyesfixed upon the two men.
They could scarcely have spoken a hundred words before their colloquy wasat an end. The new-comer returned to his carriage and M. de Cartiennefollowed his example. I looked at him as he stepped in, anxious to seewhat effect the other's news had had upon him. Apparently it was not sobad as he had feared, for, although he still looked anxious and pale, hisface had lost its ghastly hue.
We drove on in the same direction as before. When we had started heturned to me.
"Do you know what a police raid is?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Well, I can't stop to explain," he went on rapidly. "Sir Fred--my friendthere, has just brought down word of some strange rumours about the clubsto-night. It seems the police have got to hear of this place and aregoing to pay it an uninvited visit. They won't be here for an hour,though, so if you like just to come inside and see whether Marx is thereor not, you will have time."
We had turned off the road into a bare, grass-grown avenue, leading up toa red-brick house, unilluminated by a single light.
We were barely a minute driving up this uninviting approach andpulling up at the grim, closed door. The carriage had scarcely cometo a standstill before the Count was on the doorstep, fitting acuriously-shaped key into the lock. It yielded at once and we bothstepped inside, followed by the man in the fur overcoat, whose carriagehad pulled up close behind ours.
We were in perfect darkness and no one seemed to be stirring in thehouse, although the mat under our feet, in some way connected with anelectric alarm bell, was giving shrill notice of our arrival. Then weheard swift feet approaching and a tall, hard-featured woman in a plainblack gown, and holding a lamp high over her head, appeared before us.
M. de Cartienne took her by the arm and led her on one side. The otherman, who was making vain attempts to appear at his ease and composed,sank into a chair, palpably trembling. Of the real nature of the dangerwhich was imminent I could form only the slightest idea; but that it wassomething very much to be feared I could easily gather from his agitationand de Cartienne's manner.
Suddenly the latter turned round.
"Ackland," he said quickly to the man in the chair, eyeing him keenly andwith a shade of contempt in his tone, "you are not fit for any of theserious work, I can see. Listen! Light up the club-room and thesmoke-room, stir up the fires, bring out the cards and wine-glasses,empty some tobacco-ash about, make the place look habitable for us whenwe come. Ferdinand is on the watch outside and will give you notice ofour visitors. Ring all three alarm-bells at once if he gives the signal.Morton, I want you to wait for me. I'll send you away all right beforeanything happens; but don't go unless you see me again--unless you'refrightened."
He turned on his heel and, without waiting for any answer from either ofus, hurried away down the passage. The man whom he had called Acklandrose from his seat and, striking a match, lighted the gas-brackets allaround the hall and the burners of a candelabra which hung from the roof.
My companion then threw open a door and I followed him into aluxuriously-appointed room, furnished with a suite of lounges andeasy-chairs corresponding with those in the hall.
Whilst I was looking round, he hastily began moving the chairs about, asthough they had been recently used, poking the fire and generally makingthe plac
e look inhabited. Having done this, he crossed the hall andentered the opposite room. It was a little smaller, but similarlyappointed and decorated, save that a long table, covered with a whitecloth and laid for dinner, stood in the centre, and a smaller one, with agreen baize covering at the further end. My companion threw a pack ofcards and some counters upon the latter and drew it closer up to thefire. Then, having placed some chairs around it, he went back into thehall again and I followed.
All the while we had been moving about, strange noises had been going onunder our feet. Now and then the sound of hurrying footsteps and ofhoarse voices reached us, and, more often still, the steady rumbling ofheavy articles being moved about. I looked at my companion for anexplanation, but he did not seem inclined to offer one.
"What's going on underneath?" I asked at last.
"Bowls!" he answered curtly, "Don't talk, please, I want to listen!"
Mr. Marx's Secret Page 45