CHAPTER XIX
RECORDS FURTHER FACTS
How long I remained there, or what subsequently happened to me, I didnot learn till long afterwards.
I only knew, when I again awoke to consciousness, that it was day, and Ifound myself in a narrow bed, with two nurses in blue linen dresses, andwhite caps and aprons, standing near me, while two doctors were gazinginto my face with keen, anxious expressions.
At first they would tell me nothing, even though, with a great effort, Iasked what had happened. Bandages were around my throat and across myleft shoulder, and I felt a nausea and a giddiness that I knew arosefrom chloroform, and therefore that some operation had been performed. Islowly struggled back to a knowledge of things about me.
"It's all right, Mr. Vidal," the youngest of the two doctors assured me."Try and sleep. Don't worry. Everything is all right."
I felt uncommonly drowsy, and again slept, and not until night hadfallen did I re-open my eyes.
A night-nurse was seated at my bedside, reading by a green-shaded lamp.The little room was in darkness, and I think I startled her when Isuddenly spoke.
"Where am I, Nurse?" I inquired in a thin, weak voice, and withdifficulty.
"This is the Cottage Hospital at Hounslow," was the reply. "You've beenhere two days, but you are much better now. Don't talk, however, for thedoctor has forbidden it."
"But I want to know what has happened," I protested.
"Well, I don't exactly know," the dark-haired young woman answered. "Ionly know what I've been told. That is, that a taxi-driver who took youto some house beyond Spring Grove, grew tired of waiting for you, and ongoing to the house found you in one of the rooms, dying."
"Dying!" I gasped. "Ah! yes, I remember," I added, as recollections ofthat fateful night arose within my memory.
"Yes. You were suffering from a serious bullet-wound in the throat," shewent on. "The window of the room was smashed, but your friends had allfled."
"My friends!" I echoed. "Who said they were my friends?"
"The taxi-driver said so, I believe."
"Where is he?"
"He has promised to come to-morrow, to see you."
"But was not a lady found in the same room?" I inquired eagerly, tryingto raise myself. "She had been killed--deliberately struck down!"
"Yes. I've heard that a lady was found there."
"Was she brought here, with me?"
"No" was the nurse's reply. "She was removed, but to what place I've notheard."
Lola was dead! Ah! The sight of that white, upturned face, so delicateand sweet, and of that dark, ugly stream of blood across the bosom ofher dress, haunted me. I recollected those hideous moments when, beingon my guard against the assassins, I alas! had no opportunity of lendingher aid.
She was found dead, apparently, and they had removed her body--probablyto the nearest mortuary to await an inquest.
All my thoughts became confused when I realized the tragic truth. Thenurse saw that I was upset and urged to try to sleep again. Indeed shegave me a draught which the doctor had ordered and, presently, thoughmuch against my inclination, I again dozed off.
It was once more day--a warm, sunny day--when I became thoroughly aliveto things about me. The doctors came and expressed satisfaction at myimprovement, dressed my wound, which I confess was very painful, anddeclared that I had had a very narrow escape.
"A quarter of an inch further to the left, Mr. Vidal," one of thesurgeons remarked, "and we couldn't have saved you."
Towards noon the taxi-driver, cap in hand, came up to my bedside toinquire how I was. His name was Stevens. The nurse would not, however,allow me to put many questions to him.
"You were such a long time gone, sir, that I thought I'd just come upand see if you wanted me any more. I had to get over to Acton to thegarage, for I'd had a long day," he told me. "I'd just got to the gardengate when I heard a pistol shot and, entering the garden, and seeing thewindow smashed, I suspected something wrong. I got in at the window andfound the room in darkness. A light was burning in the hall and the doorwas open. Quickly I found the electric switch and, turning it, saw youlying on the floor close beside the body of a young lady."
"Did you see the other men?" I asked eagerly.
"At first sir, I believed it to be a case of murder and suicide,"answered Stevens, "but a moment later, as I stood in the room horrifiedat the discovery, I heard several persons leave the house. I tried toraise an alarm, but nobody heard me, so they got clean away. I examinedthe young lady and yourself, then I rushed out for help. At the bottomof the road I went towards my cab, but as I did so, I heard the enginestarted and the red tail-lamp moved off, away from me. Those fellowsthat had run from the house were inside. Yes, sir, them vagabonds hadstolen my cab!"
"What did you do then?" I asked excitedly.
"Why, I yelled after 'em, but nobody heard me, until presently I cameacross a copper and told him what was up. We soon got another taxi andwent back to the house, and there we found you both a-lying as I'd leftyou."
"Was the lady alive?" I queried huskily.
"Yes. She was a-breathing slightly, and as we thought she was injuredworse than you, the copper took her off at once to the BrentfordHospital by herself, as there wasn't room for both of you in the cab. Onthe way he sent another taxi back for me and I brought you here."
"But is the young lady alive now?" I asked.
"I believe so, but I'm not quite sure. She was last night when I calledat the hospital, but she was dreadful bad, and in great danger, theytold me."
"Ah!" I sighed. "I only hope and pray that she may recover to face andcondemn her brutal enemies."
"Was she a friend of yours, sir?" asked the man with some curiosity.
"Yes, a great friend," was my reply.
"But who tried to kill you, sir?" Stevens asked. "Those blokes asescaped seemed to be a pretty desperate lot. My cab ain't been foundyet," he added.
"They were her enemies as well as mine," I replied vaguely, for I had nointention of telling him the whole story, though I thanked him sincerelyfor his prompt help. Had it not been for him I fear that Lola and myselfwould never have lived through the night. Jeanjean would have taken goodcare that the lips of both of us were closed for ever.
"Well, sir, you've had a pretty narrow shave of it," Stevens declared."There's something very queer about that house, it seems. People saythat though the place, as was to be let furnished, had nobody a-livingin it, strange lights have been seen a-moving about it, and in thewindows now and again and always very late at night."
"Will you do a favour for me, Stevens?" I asked.
"Certainly, sir."
Then I gave him instructions first to go to the hospital where Lola waslying, to inquire how she was. Then he was to go on to my flat inCarlos Place, tell Rayner all that had occurred, and order him to cometo me at once.
Just then the nurse kindly, but very firmly intervened, and thetaxi-driver rose from the chair at my bedside and left.
For some hours I dozed. Then woke to find the faithful Rayner standingby me, much concerned.
"I've had an awful fright, sir," he said. "When you didn't come home forforty-eight hours, I went to Vine Street Police Station and reportedthat you were missing. Inspector Palmer, of the C.I. Department, knowsyou well, sir, and he quickly stirred himself. But I heard nothing tillthat taxi-driver came and told me you were here. He explained how you'dbeen shot at a house in Spring Grove, Isleworth. I hope you're all rightagain, sir?"
"Yes, Rayner, so far," I answered rather feebly. "I've a bit of pain inmy throat, but they've bandaged me up all right, and I'll soon be aboutagain. That fellow you knew as Dr. Arendt, in Cromer, plugged me."
"What! The man Jeanjean!"
"The same," I said. "Gregory was there, too. I tracked them into theirden, and this is what I got for my trouble," I added grimly.
"Well, sir, I'm no end glad you escaped. They're a desperate crowd andyou might very easily have gone under. Can I do anything?"
"Yes. Take a message for me to the Brentford Hospital, to MademoiselleSorel."
"The lady the taxi-man told me about?" Rayner asked.
"Yes. An attempt was made upon her life," I replied. "Go there, takesome nice flowers, and send up a message from me expressing a hope thatshe's better, and say that I will see her as soon as ever I'm able."
"Very well, sir. I'll be off at once," he replied.
But for some time longer he sat with me, while I gave him instructionsregarding various matters. Then he left, promising me to quickly returnand bring me news of Lola.
He was absent about a couple of hours, and on re-entering told me thathe had seen the Sister in charge, who had given Lola my flowers and mymessage and had received one in return from her. This was that she feltmuch better, and that until we met and consulted it would be best totake no action against the assassins.
That same evening, with the doctor's sanction, a tall, clean-shaven manin grey tweeds approached my bed and, seating himself, announced thathis name was Warton, and that he was an Inspector of the CriminalInvestigation Department.
He brought out a business-like book and pencil and in a rather abruptmanner commenced to interrogate me regarding the events of that nightwhen I so narrowly escaped being murdered.
From his methods I judged that he had risen from a constable. He wasbluff and to the point. He told me he was attached to the BrentfordStation, and I set him down as a man of similar mental calibre toFrayne.
No good could accrue at that moment from any full explanation, so, afterlistening to him for some little time, I pretended to be very unwell andonly answered his questions with plain "yes" or "no."
It was not likely that I would tell all I knew to this local detective.Had Henri Jonet been present it would have been a different matter, butI saw at a glance that Warton was a very ordinary type ofpolice-officer.
He asked me what took me to the house in Spring Grove on that fatefulnight. To this I merely replied with the one word--
"Curiosity."
Then he asked--
"Did you know the lady who was found stabbed a few feet from you?"
"Yes. I had met her," was my reply.
"Do you know the circumstances in which she was struck down?"
"I was not present then, therefore I could know nothing," was my evasiveresponse.
"But the men in the house were friends of yours, were they not?" heasked.
"No. They were not," was my prompt reply.
"Then, who were they?" he asked, scribbling down my answers with hisstumpy pencil.
"I--I don't feel well enough to be questioned like this," I complainedto the Sister, who was standing by. "I've committed no crime, and Iobject to the police making a cross-examination as though I were acriminal. I appeal to you, Sister."
The middle-aged woman in her cool linen uniform, with a silver medalupon her breast, looked hard at me for a moment. Then, realizing thesituation, she turned to the detective, and said--
"You must come to-morrow. The patient still suffers much from shock, andI cannot allow him to be questioned further. He is too weak."
"Very well, Sister," replied Warton, as he closed his pocket-book. "I'llcome to-morrow. But a strange mystery envelopes that house in SpringGrove, Mr. Vidal," he added, turning back to me. "You'll be surprisedwhen you go there and see for yourself."
"Perhaps Mr. Vidal may be well enough to do so in a few days," said theSister. "We shall see."
And with that the police-officer was forced to depart.