The Crime Club

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE GAMING-HOUSE

  Westerham turned the note about and about in his fingers in the futileattempt to extract some further information from it.

  He realised, of course, that the note boded a new move.

  Had the crisis really crept so close? Or was the danger in which LadyKathleen stood merely fictitious?

  Possibly it was a trap; but that he had to risk. One thing wascertain--he could not ignore the message.

  On second thoughts, indeed, he was inclined to regard the summons as areal and urgent one. The murder at the hotel had shown him that Melunwas not the man to stick at trifles.

  Moreover, he recollected that Madame's concern at his becomingentangled in Melun's toils had without question been genuine. Madame,he almost persuaded himself, had been his friend from the beginning. Hetrusted that she might be now.

  Without any further delay, therefore, he walked out into the quietlittle street and turned in the direction of Berkeley Square, where heknew he would be sure to find a cab.

  But as he emerged from the door a hansom passed him, and withoutthinking, he accepted the invitation of the driver to enter it.

  Through the trap-door he told the man to drive to the Laburnum Road;and then as the vehicle moved along at a smart pace he gave himself upagain to speculating in what way Kathleen might be in peril and fromwhat motive Mme. Estelle had warned him.

  He had come to no conclusion on this point when the hansom swungsharply round from the Finchley Road into Laburnum Road, which at thathour of the day was more quiet and deserted than ever.

  Then a strange thing happened so suddenly that he had no time to wardoff the danger in which he found himself.

  Two steel arms, which had been so secreted in the upholstery of thecab as to be invisible, suddenly closed round his arms and body with asnap, and as the hansom was pulled up with a jerk he found himself aprisoner, so tightly squeezed by the encircling steel arms that he wasunable to do more than wriggle in his seat.

  In a moment the driver was off the dicky and had come round to thefront of the cab. With a fascinated gaze Westerham watched him take alittle phial from his pocket and saturate a handkerchief.

  He divined the man's intention in a moment, and cried out an inquiry asto what he was about to do.

  But the man made no answer, except to grin and climb on to the step ofthe cab.

  A moment later he had clapped the handkerchief over Westerham's mouthand nose and held it there tightly for a few seconds.

  Westerham was alike unable to struggle or cry out. For a few momentshe fought against the overpowering odour of chloroform; then hisvision grew dim, his ears began to sing, and he lapsed into completeunconsciousness.

  When he awoke it was to find himself fully dressed and stretched upona sofa. It was apparently morning-time, for the table close beside himwas laid out as though for breakfast, and a flood of early sunshine waspouring in through the open French windows.

  He was so astonished at his whereabouts that he closed his eyes againand endeavoured with a still half-numbed brain to call to mind theevents which had brought him into such strange surroundings.

  Slowly, stupidly, he began to remember Mme. Estelle's letter and hisdisastrous drive in the cab. But so dazed was he that he had for thepurpose of fully arousing his faculties actually to repeat his name andaddress several times before his senses began to assume their normalcondition of alertness.

  When his brain was clearer he endeavoured to rise, but he immediatelybecame dizzy again and sank back on the couch as though exhausted by along illness.

  So complete was the blank between the time he had been chloroformed andhis awaking that he had not the faintest idea whether he had lain onthe couch on which he found himself for hours or days, or even weeks.

  Yesterday seemed to be a long time behind him.

  So, finding exertion out of the question, he leant back with almostcontentment among the pillows, and fell to wondering in whose house hemight be. From the shape of the room and the aspect of the garden morethan anything he came to the conclusion that the roof which shelteredhim was that of Mme. Estelle. On this point, however, he could notquite make up his mind until the door opened softly and Mme. Estelleherself came into the room.

  She walked over to the couch and stood looking down at him pleasantlyand kindly.

  Westerham was so astonished at her appearance that he could say nothingat all.

  It was Madame who spoke first, but before doing so she drew a chair tohis side and sat down. Then she said:

  "Sir Paul, I owe you a deep apology."

  Westerham contented himself with a slight inclination of his wearyhead, and waited for Madame to explain.

  "I can speak quite frankly now," she said, "knowing that there is noone about to overhear, and I must begin by asking you to forgive me."

  Westerham nodded, but still said nothing, though now he saw plainlyenough that the letter had merely been a blind.

  "Yet," Madame continued, turning her face away from him, "it was not sogreat a lie. Lady Kathleen was in peril, and is still in peril, but notin the peril which I really imagined at the time."

  "What do you mean?" asked Westerham.

  Madame glanced uneasily about her, and then shrugged her shoulders.

  "I cannot tell you, my friend. I wish I could."

  "She was in peril, is still in peril, but not in the peril in which shewas," Westerham repeated to himself. He removed his puzzled gaze fromthe woman's face and glanced at his feet.

  Then he started violently, for the boots which he wore, comfortablethough they were, were not his boots.

  Struggling into a half-sitting posture, he looked hastily over hisclothes. They were not his clothes.

  He endeavoured to rise and Madame helped him to his feet. On one sidehe supported himself by the table, and on the other by Madame's arm.

  Then he took a step forward and deliberately surveyed himself in theglass. And his look of inspection filled him with intense surprise,though he did not allow himself to so much as utter an exclamation.

  Mechanically he began to employ those little tricks of gesture which aman indulges in when he is anxious to ascertain if his clothes sit wellon him.

  To his amazement not one article of attire was his own; yet the blueserge suit in which he was clad was of such a perfect fit that he mighthave been moulded into it. He moved his toes inside his boot and foundthat of all the boots he had ever worn these were the most comfortable.

  He put his hand to his tie and found that his collar was the exactsize. Quickly and methodically he searched through his pockets; hishandkerchief was where he always carried it; his keys were in his lefttrouser pocket; his money and knife in his right. Each in its owncorrect waistcoat pocket he found his nail clippers, his sovereignpurse and tiny card-case. His cards were intact.

  Plunging his hand into the inner pocket of his coat he discovered thathis notebook was in its place. Almost instinctively he opened it andturned over the contents; nothing whatsoever had been disturbed.

  So utterly dumfounded was he that he sat down heavily again upon thecouch and stared at Mme. Estelle.

  Madame laughed, showing her fine teeth.

  "You are a little puzzled," she suggested.

  "Truly," said Westerham, "I was never so puzzled in my life. Can youtell me what it all means?"

  "I would that I were able," said Madame, earnestly, "but it is quiteimpossible."

  "These things," urged Westerham, stretching out his limbs, "what is themeaning of it? I can quite understand," he added bitterly, "that itmight be necessary for Melun to chloroform me for various reasons, butone of those reasons was apparently not theft.

  "Indeed," he added, with a wry smile, "the captain seems to have beenspending money on me.

  "Tell me," he cried, starting up and then falling back weakly, "tellme what all this means. I have had my fill of mystery during the lastweek."

  "Don't you think," suggested Madame, quietly,
"that it would be best tobegin at the beginning? Surely it would be more reasonable for you toask why you were chloroformed and brought here."

  "Well," said Westerham, "why was it?"

  "It was done," said Mme. Estelle, "because it was necessary to make youa prisoner for nearly thirty hours--and it was the only way to do it.You see," she added lightly, "you are a strong man, and I don't blameMelun for declining to risk a struggle with you."

  "But I don't understand any better now," Westerham complained, passinghis hand across his forehead. "Why should I be made a prisoner?"

  Mme. Estelle touched his arm and looked earnestly into his face.

  "Because," she said slowly, "it was necessary to ensure that you shouldsee Lady Kathleen to-night."

  "To see Lady Kathleen to-night," cried Westerham. "When and where? Nothere, surely?"

  "No," answered Madame, with a little smile, "not here, indeed.

  "Events," she went on, "have taken a very sudden and curious turn.Yesterday, I tell you frankly, your own life was in considerabledanger. You may think it very cold-blooded and horrible of me tosay such a thing, but I know that Melun had practically come to theconclusion that you must be put out of the way in order to save trouble.

  "But I was averse to that, and, thanks to the plan I suggested, it wasfound unnecessary to do you any harm."

  "But why," urged Westerham, "was it found necessary to play all thesetricks with my clothes? Why, they must have been made from extremelycareful measurements. I should say they had been modelled on one of myown suits. And the boots are the strangest part of all--they fit melike gloves."

  "It was intended they should," said Mme. Estelle. "And be thankfulthat they do, for though it is impossible for me to explain, they haveactually saved you from death. I assure you that there is no man thisafternoon more jealous of your safety than Melun."

  "And Lady Kathleen?"

  "Lady Kathleen," said Mme. Estelle, gravely, "is still in greatdanger--but it is a danger of a different kind."

  "You don't mean to tell me," cried Westerham, "that whereas my life hasbeen spared hers is not safe."

  Mme. Estelle nodded.

  "Good Heavens!" cried Westerham. "But this is monstrous--perfectlymonstrous! What does all this juggling mean?"

  "Please don't excite yourself, Sir Paul!" said Mme. Estelle. "It cando no good. Believe me that I bear Lady Kathleen no ill-will, and thatif I can save her I will do so, even at the cost of being a littledisloyal to Melun."

  "But why all this trickery and mystery?" demanded Westerham again. "Italmost amounts to tomfoolery. One would think that Melun had gone crazyand was indulging in some mad whim."

  "Perhaps it is a whim, but it is a whim with a very serious motive."

  "Come," she added, "let's try to get some breakfast. I promise youthat if you will only endeavour to get strong during the day you shallcertainly see Lady Kathleen to-night."

  "Where?"

  "Where," said Mme. Estelle, "I don't know. I can only guess. It wasnot my business to ask questions on that point. The cab will call foryou to-night at nine."

  "The cab!" exclaimed Westerham. "Do you mean the same vehicle whichbrought me here? For if you mean that then I decline to travel in it."

  "Then I fear," said Mme. Estelle, sharply, "you will have to forego thesatisfaction of seeing Lady Kathleen. The cab will be your only meansof reaching her."

  "Do you mean to tell me," demanded Westerham, who had been so unnervedby the chloroform as to become a little excited, "do you mean that I ama prisoner in this house?"

  "Only so far as your feelings keep you captive," was the answer.

  "And I know what your feelings will say. They will decide that youmust wait here in patience until the hour comes for you to go to LadyKathleen."

  Westerham said no more; it was idle to argue with this woman.Circumstances were too strong and strange for him.

  After breakfast he revived considerably, and Madame left him on thecouch with a pile of magazines to amuse him.

  Lunch was served at one, and the afternoon dragged slowly and painfullyaway. It was with great impatience that Westerham watched the tablebeing leisurely and neatly laid for dinner. His irritation grew withevery passing minute.

  At dinner he ate but little and drank less, though Madame pleaded thata second glass of champagne would go far to steady his considerablyshaken nerves.

  Westerham, however, declined. He had become so suspicious of everybodyand everything he half imagined that, not content with chloroforminghim, his captors might attempt to drug him also.

  At the stroke of nine Westerham heard the rumble of wheels in thestreet, and, rising from the table, Mme. Estelle informed him that thecab had arrived.

  As they stood in the hall the woman held out her hand and Westerham putout his half-way to meet it.

  "Some day," he said, "I shall certainly require an explanation of allthese strange doings. In the meantime, I don't think you should takemy hand unless you are sincere in your determination to reduce LadyKathleen's danger in every way you can."

  "Believe me," declared Madame, most earnestly, "that I am quitesincere."

  Westerham shook her by the hand.

  It was not until the cab was bowling along Oxford Street that Westerhambegan to look about him. He had no idea of his destination, and heconsidered that it would be just as well to take careful note of thejourney.

  Half-way between Oxford Circus and the Tottenham Court Road the cabturned up to the left. Peering through the glass, Westerham could justmake out Newman Street. At the bottom of the street the cab turned tothe left, then to the right again, then to the left, and once more tothe right. So far as he could tell, Westerham gathered that he mustnow be parallel to the top of Tottenham Court Road, and be a good dealnearer to Portman Street than Oxford Street.

  Suddenly the cab drew up with a jingle and a clatter, and the driver,lifting the trap-door, informed Westerham that he had reached hisdestination.

  Upon this Westerham stepped out to find himself in a narrow, shabby,and almost deserted thoroughfare of mean and hang-dog appearance.

  In spite of this he recognised that the houses must once have been thedwellings of well-to-do people, for the railings about the areas wereof finely-wrought iron and the doors were high and massive.

  "Knock three single knocks," said the cab-driver into his ear, and thenjumping on to the dicky the man drove away.

  Suddenly Westerham remembered that there was one pocket of his newclothes which he had not searched. His hand went towards his hip, andhe was surprised to find that his revolver was without question there.

  Glancing about to make sure that he was not observed, Westerham drewit out and felt with his thumb along the back barrels. It was stillloaded. For a second Westerham wondered whether the bullets had beendrawn, but, opening the six-shooter, he satisfied himself that thecartridges had not been tampered with.

  This amazed him not a little, although the discovery considerablyrestored his confidence. At least he had to anticipate no furtherattack on that night.

  And then he remembered the mysterious words of Mme. Estelle: "No mannow is more jealous of your safety than Captain Melun."

  He could not help pondering on this point as he gave three taps withthe heavy old-fashioned knocker.

  The door was opened by a man, apparently a German, dressed in the blackcoat and white shirt of the traditional English butler.

  He said something to him in a foreign tongue which Westerham couldnot understand. His gesture, however, was clear enough, and he walkedstraight ahead down a dimly-lighted passage till he came to a baizedoor. This the man pushed open for him, and he passed on alone, andheard a bolt drawn behind him.

  There was not the slightest doubt as to the way he had to go. Therewas no other exit from the place except a flight of stone steps, whichled downwards. At the bottom of the flight of steps there was a secondbaize door, and through this Westerham passed along a well-carpetedcorridor faintly lit by electric light. The pas
sage had no windows, andit suddenly struck Westerham that he was underground.

  At the end of the corridor Westerham encountered another baize door,but as he stepped on the mat which was laid before it he heard anelectric bell ring sharply, and the door opened itself.

  As it did so Westerham was almost blinded by a flood of white light.

  For a moment he stood quite still, blinking and endeavouring to takein the scene. But it was the sound of it rather than the sight of itwhich instantly told him of the manner of the place in which he stood.He heard the monotonous cry of croupiers and the sharp click of aricochetting roulette ball.

  He was most unquestionably in a gambling-hell.

  That in itself did not disturb him in the least, and as his eyes grewaccustomed to the light he stepped forward into the room, only to standstill again and remain motionless, as though turned to stone.

  For there, at a long table in the centre of the room, with piles ofgold and notes before her, sat Lady Kathleen.

  A little cry which Westerham could not prevent breaking from his lipsdrew the eyes of all upon him. Lady Kathleen glanced up, and catchinghis gaze upon her turned as pale as death.