CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A BOLD STROKE
Cleek stood a moment holding the burnt label between his thumb andforefinger and regarding it silently, his face a blank as far as anyexpression of his feelings was concerned. Then, of a sudden, his gazetransferred itself to one of the two other labels which, like this one,had escaped entire destruction by the fire; and carefully picking themup, he laid them inside his pocket notebook, gave a casual, offhandsort of glance at the windows of Lord St. Ulmer's room, and then quietlyresumed his sauntering walk in the direction of the house.
The twilight was now so rapidly fading that it might be said to be allbut dark when he reached the main entrance to the building and found oneof the footmen busily engaged in lighting up the huge electricchandelier which served to illuminate the broad hallway of the Grange.But neither the General nor any of the ladies was visible, all, as hecorrectly surmised, being engaged in the matter of dressing for dinner.
"Pardon me, sir," said the footman, turning at the sound of his step ashe came in, "I was just about to step out into the grounds to ascertainif you might not, by chance, have lost yourself or failed to hear thedressing gong, sir. It is quite half an hour since Miss Lorne requestedme to be on the lookout for you, and I was getting anxious."
"Extremely kind of you, I must say," said Cleek serenely. "But nevergive yourself any uneasiness upon my account so long as I remain here. Iam given to taking my time on all occasions, my man. I think out all theplots of my novels prowling about in silence and alone, and aninterruption is apt to destroy a train of thought forever." And havingthus given the man an idea that he was an author--and accountedbeforehand for any possible need for prowling about the place when theothers were asleep--he went further, and gave him half a crown to salvehis injured feelings, and won in return for it something which he wouldhave held cheaply bought at a sovereign.
"Now tell me," he went on, "why did Miss Lorne ask you to be 'on thelookout' for me? Has anything extraordinary occurred?"
"Oh, no indeed, sir," replied the footman with a full half-crown's worthof urbanity; the generosity of the gentleman had touched him on hisweakest part. "You see, sir, it being the butler's evening off, and Mr.Harry having been called away before any arrangements were made withregard to your sleeping quarters, sir, Miss Lorne requested me to saythat she had spoken to mistress, and you were to have any vacant suitein the house which might best meet your pleasure, sir. I was to waithere and conduct you through all the unoccupied ones in the house."
Cleek smiled. Oho! That was it, eh? Well, there was a thoughtful allyand no mistake! Knowing full well that it would be awkward for him to beput off into some inconvenient wing of the house, should he have causeto leave it secretly and to communicate with Dollops and Narkom at anytime, she had taken this step to serve and to assist him. What a woman!What a gem of a woman she was!
His thoughts worked rapidly, and his mind was made up in a twinkling.
"Quite so, quite so! Very kind and very thoughtful," he said composedly."I always prefer the second story of a building--it's a fad of mine,and Miss Lorne recollects it. So if there are any rooms vacant upon thesecond floor----"
"Only one, sir, and it's the least comfortable one in the house, I'mafraid, being next to that occupied by Lord St. Ulmer."
"Lord St.--oh, ah--yes! That's the gentleman who is ill, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. That's why I spoke of it as being uncomfortable. Butler sayshe's a very crochety gentleman. But sick folk are always that, sir; somaybe you'd be disturbed a deal in the night."
"Hum-m-m! Yes, that is a drawback, certainly. Might take it into hishead to get up and wander about during the night, and so keep one awake.Does he?"
"I couldn't say, sir; never set eyes on him since he arrived. Nobody inthe house has except master and butler. Don't think he would be likelyto move about much, though, sir, for I've heard his ankle's sprained andhe can't put a foot to the ground. Butler always carries up his meals;at least, he has done it so far, his lordship having arrived only thenight before last. Like as not I'll have to carry up his dinnerto-night, this being, as I've said, sir, butler's evening off."
Cleek made a mental tally. Then if none of the servants at the Grangehad seen his lordship, with the single exception of Johnston, thebutler---- Quite so, quite so! His lordship wouldn't know what the otherservants were like, so, of course---- He glanced at the footman out ofthe tail of his eye. Livery, dark bottle-green--almost black; would passfor black in anything but a brilliant light. Waistcoat, narrow black andyellow stripes. No cords, no silver buttons. Hum-m-m! With ablack-and-yellow striped waistcoat and in a none too brilliantly lightedroom--and a sickroom was not likely to be anything else unless the manwas too much of an ass to keep up the illusion by attending todetails--an ordinary suit of evening clothes would do the trick. And hewouldn't have a doctor and wouldn't see any outsiders, this Lord St.Ulmer, eh? Oh, well--you never know your luck, my lord; you never do!
Mental processes are more rapid in the action than in the recording. Notten seconds had passed from the time the footman ceased speaking whenCleek answered him.
"Oh, well, if it's a case like that, and his lordship isn't likely todisturb me by wandering round his room in the night, I dare say I canrisk the rest, as I'm a very sound sleeper. The room's on the secondfloor; that's the main thing," he said offhandedly. "So you may show meto it at once."
"Very good, sir; this way if you please, sir," the footman replied, andforthwith led him to the room in question.
It was one immediately adjoining that occupied by Lord St. Ulmer, butunfortunately, having no connection with it, the wall which divided thetwo was quite solid. Had there been a door---- But there was not. Cleeksaw at a glance that matters were not to be simplified in that way;whoever might wish to see into that room must first _get_ into it: therewas no other way.
"All right, this will do; you may go," he said as soon as he was shownto the place he had chosen; and taking him at his word, the footmangently closed the door and disappeared. Cleek gave him but a minute ortwo to get below stairs, then slipped out on tiptoe and followed,getting out of the house unseen and running at all speed in thedirection of the stables.
At the angle of the wall he stopped suddenly, and began to whistle"Kathleen Mavourneen." He hadn't rounded off the third bar before thewall door clicked and swung open, and Dollops was beside him.
"Kit bag--quick!" whispered Cleek. "Need an evening suit, and the chapwho was going to lend me one went off and forgot all about it. Movesharp, I'm in a hurry."
"Right ho!" said Dollops, and vanished like a blown-out light. In half aminute's time he was back again, and the kit bag with him.
"Here you are, gov'ner. Shall I get out the evenin' clothes, and put thebag back under the hedge, or will you take it with you?"
"I'll take it. There are other things I shall want. Where's Mr. Narkom?"
"Gone back to town, sir--to the Yard. Want him?"
"No, not yet; maybe not to-night at all. Nip off and get yourselfsomething to eat and be back here by nine o'clock at the latest. I shallvery likely need you. Cut along!" Then he caught up the kit bag, whiskedaway with it into the darkness, and five minutes later stood again inthe room which he had so recently left.
Accustomed to rapid dressing, he got into his evening clothes in lesstime than it would have taken most men to unpack and lay them out readyfor use when required; and then, taking the half-burnt labels from hispocketbook, carried them to the light and studied them closely. None wasso big as the one which he had first inspected nor bore so much printedmatter; but fortunately one was a fragment of the exactly opposite side,so that by joining the two together he was able to make out the greaterpart of it.
Clearly, then, the original label, making allowance for what had beentotally destroyed by the flames, must have read:
JETANOLA
AN UNRIVALLED PREPARATION
FOR BOOTS, SHOES, AND ALL LEATHER
GOODS
MANUFACTURED SOLELY BY
FERDINAND LOVETSKI
63 ESSEX ROW
SOHO
After all, the imaginative reporter had not been so far out when hefigured those mysterious markings upon the dead man's shirt bosom toread "63 Essex Row," an address where one Ferdinand Lovetski once didmanufacture a certain kind of blacking for boots, shoes, etc. Not thatthey really did stand for that, of course, or that this ingenious personhad done anything more than work out as a solution to the riddle of themarks a name and an address that were eventually to come into thecase--as they now had done--but in a totally different manner from whatthe author of the theory intended or supposed.
Of two things Cleek was certain beyond all question of error. First:that the dead man was not Ferdinand Lovetski--not in any way connectedwith Ferdinand Lovetski to be precise; second: that the markings on theshirt were not made with "Jetanola" or any other kind of blacking; andingenious as the theory was, he was willing to stake his life that thosemarks no more stood for 63 Essex Row than they did for 21 Park Lane. Forone thing, what would be the sense of smearing them on the dead man'sshirt bosom if they merely stood for that? It was all very well for thatimaginative reporter to suggest that it was a sign given by the assassinto the whole anarchistical brotherhood that a debt of vengeance had beenpaid and a traitor punished; but the brotherhood did not need any suchsign. If the man were Lovetski it would know of his death without anysuch silly nonsense as that. It knew the men it "marked," and it knewwhen those men died, and by whose hand, too; and it did not go aboutplacarding its victims with clues to their identity or signs of whosehands had directed the exterminating blow.
And Ferdinand Lovetski it never had "marked"--never had issued anydeath sentence against, never had sought to punish, never, indeed, hadtaken any interest in--for the simple reason that, as Cleek knew, theman had been in his grave these seven years past! He knew that beyondall question; for in those dark other times that lay behind himforever--in his old "Vanishing Cracksman" days, in those repented yearswhen he and Margot had cast their lot together and he had been thechosen consort of the queen of the Apaches--in those wild timesLovetski, down on his luck, bankrupt through dissipation, a thief bynature, and a lazy vagabond at heart, had joined the Apaches and becomeone of them. Not for long, however. Within six months word had come tohim of the death of a relative in his native Russia, and of a littleproperty that was now his by right of inheritance; and he was for sayinggood-bye to his new colleagues and journeying on to Moscow to claim hislittle fortune. But the law of the Apaches is the law of thecommonwealth, and Margot and her band had demanded the usual division.Lovetski had rebelled against it; he had sworn that he would not share;that what was his should remain his only as long as he lived and--itdid. But five days later his knife-jagged body was fished out of theSeine and lay in the morgue awaiting identification; Margot went thriceto see it before it went into the trench with others that were set downin the records as unknown.
That was seven years ago; and now here was Lord St. Ulmer, or some onein his room, burning labels that had to do with the days when that deadman was in honest business, and had lost it simply through dissipationafter the police had discovered that 63 Essex Row was used in part as ameeting place for several "wanted" aliens, and had raided it and closedit up.
Lovetski had never belonged to the brotherhood; he had never even knownthat they met under that roof until the time of the raid; but he hadbeen arrested with every other inmate of the house, held as a suspect toawait examination at the hands of a magistrate, and in the meantime hisbusiness had gone to the dogs. After that drink got him, andacquaintances made in the place of detention became associates and pals.It was only a step from that to the Apaches, and from the Apaches to theSeine and the trench; and the little fortune in Russia was neverclaimed.
And now this Lord St. Ulmer was burning labels that once had been theproperty of that man, was he? And burning them at this particularperiod, of all others, when somebody, who evidently had some undesirableknowledge regarding him, had been mysteriously done to death and theYard was out on the trail of the crime!
What did that mean? How did Lord St. Ulmer come into possession of thoselabels? And having come into possession of them, why had he suddenlybecome anxious to get rid of them?
What few paltry effects Lovetski had possessed when he joined theApaches were left in the room he hired from old Marise--Madame Serpice'smother--at the inn of the "Twisted Arm." The Apaches had gone throughthem, and voted them not worth ten sous the lot--and very probably theywere not. Still there might have been letters, and there might have beensome unused labels; fellows of that sort would be apt to keep things ofthat kind merely to back up maudlin boasts of former standing. And ifthere had been, if this Lord St. Ulmer had come into possession ofthings that were left in the secret haunts of the Apaches---- Decidedlyit would be an advantage to get a look at his lordship, and that, too,as expeditiously as possible.
A footman's waistcoat--merely that. He had one, that he knew; but was itin the kit bag? He went over and reopened the bag, and examined itscontents. Good old Dollops! What strokes of inspiration the chapsometimes had! There it was, the regulation thing--the stripes, perhaps,a trifle broader than those the General's servants wore, but quite nearenough to pass muster with a stranger. Now, then, upon what pretext?How? When? Hullo! What was that? The dinner gong, by Jupiter!
Certainly! The very thing. "Master wishes to know if there is anyespecial dish your lordship fancies, or shall I bring up just what cookhas prepared?" That would do the trick to a turn; and he need be onlyfour or five minutes late in going down to join his host and the ladies.
He whisked off his coat, waistcoat, and necktie, and made the change ina twinkling. Another and more subtle "change"--yet made evenquicker--altered his countenance so completely that not one trace oflikeness to Mr. Philip Barch remained. A moment later he had passedswiftly out of the room and was tapping upon Lord St. Ulmer's door.