The Beetle: A Mystery

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE STRANGE STORY OF THE MAN IN THE STREET

  I have been anticipating for some weeks past, that things would becomeexciting,--and they have. But hardly in the way which I foresaw. It isthe old story of the unexpected happening. Suddenly events of the mostextraordinary nature have come crowding on me from the mostunlooked-for quarters.

  Let me try to take them in something like their proper order.

  To begin with, Sydney has behaved very badly. So badly that it seemslikely that I shall have to re-cast my whole conception of hischaracter. It was nearly nine o'clock this morning when I,--I cannotsay woke up, because I do not believe that I had really beenasleep--but when I returned to consciousness. I found myself sitting upin bed, trembling like some frightened child. What had actuallyhappened to me I did not know,--could not guess. I was conscious of anoverwhelming sense of nausea, and, generally, I was feeling very farfrom well. I endeavoured to arrange my thoughts, and to decide uponsome plan of action. Finally, I decided to go for advice and help whereI had so often gone before,--to Sydney Atherton.

  I went to him. I told him the whole gruesome story. He saw, he couldnot help but see what a deep impress the events of the night had madeon me. He heard me to the end with every appearance of sympathy,--andthen all at once I discovered that all the time papa had been concealedbehind a large screen which was in the room, listening to every word Ihad been uttering. That I was dumfoundered, goes without saying. It wasbad enough in papa, but in Sydney it seemed, and it was, suchtreachery. He and I have told each other secrets all our lives; it hasnever entered my imagination, as he very well knows, to play him false,in one jot or tittle; and I have always understood that, in this sortof matter, men pride themselves on their sense of honour being so muchkeener than women's. I told them some plain truths; and I fancy that Ileft them both feeling heartily ashamed of themselves.

  One result the experience had on me,--it wound me up. It had on me therevivifying effect of a cold douche. I realised that mine was asituation in which I should have to help myself.

  When I returned home I learned that the man whom I had found in thestreet was himself again, and was as conscious as he was ever likely tobe. Burning with curiosity to learn the nature of the connection whichexisted between Paul and him, and what was the meaning of his oracularapostrophes, I merely paused to remove my hat before hastening into hisapartment.

  When he saw me, and heard who I was, the expressions of his gratitudewere painful in their intensity. The tears streamed down his cheeks. Helooked to me like a man who had very little life left in him. He lookedweak, and white, and worn to a shadow. Probably he never had beenrobust, and it was only too plain that privation had robbed him of whatlittle strength he had ever had. He was nothing else but skin and bone.Physical and mental debility was written large all over him.

  He was not bad-looking,--in a milk and watery sort of way. He had paleblue eyes and very fair hair, and, I daresay, at one time, had been aspruce enough clerk. It was difficult to guess his age, one ages sorapidly under the stress of misfortune, but I should have set him downas being about forty. His voice, though faint enough at first, was thatof an educated man, and as he went on, and gathered courage, and becamemore and more in earnest, he spoke with a simple directness which wasclose akin to eloquence. It was a curious story which he had to tell.

  So curious, so astounding indeed, that, by the time it was finished, Iwas in such a state of mind, that I could perceive no alternative butto forgive Sydney, and, in spite of his recent, and scandalousmisbehaviour, again appeal to him for assistance. It seemed, if thestory told by the man whom I had found in the street was true,--andincredible though it sounded, he spoke like a truthful man!--that Paulwas threatened by some dreadful, and, to me, wholly incomprehensibledanger; that it was a case in which even moments were precious; and Ifelt that, with the best will in the world, it was a position in whichI could not move alone. The shadow of the terror of the night was withme still, and with that fresh in my recollection how could I hope,single-handed, to act effectually against the mysterious being of whomthis amazing tale was told? No! I believed that Sydney did care for me,in his own peculiar way; I knew that he was quick, and cool, andfertile in resource, and that he showed to most advantage in adifficult situation; it was possible that he had a conscience, of asort, and that, this time, I might not appeal to it in vain.

  So I sent a servant off to fetch him, helter skelter.

  As luck would have it, the servant returned with him within fiveminutes. It appeared that he had been lunching with Dora Grayling, wholives just at the end of the street, and the footman had met him comingdown the steps. I had him shown into my own room.

  'I want you to go to the man whom I found in the street, and listen towhat he has to say.'

  'With pleasure.'

  'Can I trust you?'

  'To listen to what he has to say?--I believe so.'

  'Can I trust you to respect my confidence?'

  He was not at all abashed,--I never saw Sydney Atherton when he wasabashed. Whatever the offence of which he has been guilty, he alwaysseems completely at his ease. His eyes twinkled.

  'You can,--I will not breathe a syllable even to papa.'

  'In that case, come! But, you understand, I am going to put to the testthe affirmations which you have made during all these years, and toprove if you have any of the feeling for me which you pretend.'

  Directly we were in the stranger's room, Sydney marched straight up tothe bed, stared at the man who was lying in it, crammed his hands intohis trouser pockets, and whistled. I was amazed.

  'So!' he exclaimed. 'It's you!'

  'Do you know this man?' I asked.

  'I am hardly prepared to go so far as to say that I know him, but, Ichance to have a memory for faces, and it happens that I have met thisgentleman on at least one previous occasion. Perhaps he remembersme.--Do you?'

  The stranger seemed uneasy,--as if he found Sidney's tone and mannerdisconcerting.

  'I do. You are the man in the street.'

  'Precisely. I am that--individual. And you are the man who came throughthe window. And in a much more comfortable condition you appear to bethan when first I saw you.' Sydney turned to me. 'It is just possible,Miss Lindon, that I may have a few remarks to make to this gentlemanwhich would be better made in private,--if you don't mind.'

  'But I do mind,--I mind very much. What do you suppose I sent for youhere for?'

  Sydney smiled that absurd, provoking smile of his,--as if the occasionwere not sufficiently serious.

  'To show that you still repose in me a vestige of your confidence.'

  'Don't talk nonsense. This man has told me a most extraordinary story,and I have sent for you--as you may believe, not too willingly'--Sydneybowed--'in order that he may repeat it in your presence, and in mine.'

  'Is that so?--Well!-Permit me to offer you a chair,--this tale may turnout to be a trifle long.'

  To humour him I accepted the chair he offered, though I should havepreferred to stand;--he seated himself on the side of the bed, fixingon the stranger those keen, quizzical, not too merciful, eyes of his.

  'Well, sir, we are at your service,--if you will be so good as tofavour us with a second edition of that pleasant yarn you have beenspinning. But--let us begin at the right end!--what's your name?'

  'My name is Robert Holt.'

  'That so?--Then, Mr Robert Holt,--let her go!'

  Thus encouraged, Mr Holt repeated the tale which he had told me, onlyin more connected fashion than before. I fancy that Sydney's glancesexercised on him a sort of hypnotic effect, and this kept him to thepoint,--he scarcely needed a word of prompting from the first syllableto the last.

  He told how, tired, wet, hungry, desperate, despairing, he had beenrefused admittance to the casual ward,--that unfailing resource, as onewould have supposed, of those who had abandoned even hope. How he hadcome upon an open window in an apparently empty house, and, thinking ofnothing but shelter
from the inclement night, he had clambered throughit. How he had found himself in the presence of an extraordinary being,who, in his debilitated and nervous state, had seemed to him to be onlyhalf human. How this dreadful creature had given utterance to wildsentiments of hatred towards Paul Lessingham,--my Paul! How he hadtaken advantage of Holt's enfeebled state to gain over him the mostcomplete, horrible, and, indeed, almost incredible ascendency. How heactually had sent Holt, practically naked, into the storm-drivenstreets, to commit burglary at Paul's house,--and how he,--Holt,--hadactually gone without being able to offer even a shadow of opposition.How Paul, suddenly returning home, had come upon Holt engaged in thevery act of committing burglary, and how, on his hearing Holt make acabalistic reference to some mysterious beetle, the manhood had goneout of him, and he had suffered the intruder to make good his escapewithout an effort to detain him.

  The story had seemed sufficiently astonishing the first time, it seemedstill more astonishing the second,--but, as I watched Sydney listening,what struck me chiefly was the conviction that he had heard it allbefore. I charged him with it directly Holt had finished.

  'This is not the first time you have been told this tale.'

  'Pardon me,--but it is. Do you suppose I live in an atmosphere of fairytales?'

  Something in his manner made me feel sure he was deceiving me.

  'Sydney!--Don't tell me a story!--Paul has told you!'

  'I am not telling you a story,--at least, on this occasion; and MrLessingham has not told me. Suppose we postpone these details to alittle later. And perhaps, in the interim, you will permit me to put aquestion or two to Mr Holt.'

  I let him have his way,--though I knew he was concealing something fromme; that he had a more intimate acquaintance with Mr Holt's strangetale than he chose to confess. And, for some cause, his reticenceannoyed me.

  He looked at Mr Holt in silence for a second or two.

  Then he said, with the quizzical little air of bland impertinence whichis peculiarly his own,

  'I presume, Mr Holt, you have been entertaining us with a novelty infables, and that we are not expected to believe this pleasant littleyarn of yours.'

  'I expect nothing. But I have told you the truth. And you know it.'

  This seemed to take Sydney aback.

  'I protest that, like Miss Lindon, you credit me with a more extensiveknowledge than I possess. However, we will let that pass.--I take itthat you paid particular attention to this mysterious habitant of thismysterious dwelling.'

  I saw that Mr Holt shuddered.

  'I am not likely ever to forget him.'

  'Then, in that case, you will be able to describe him to us.'

  'To do so adequately would be beyond my powers. But I will do my best.'

  If the original was more remarkable than the description which he gaveof him, then he must have been remarkable indeed. The impressionconveyed to my mind was rather of a monster than a human being. Iwatched Sydney attentively as he followed Mr Holt's somewhat luridlanguage, and there was something in his demeanour which made me moreand more persuaded that he was more behind the scenes in this strangebusiness than he pretended, or than the speaker suspected. He put aquestion which seemed uncalled for by anything which Mr Holt had said.

  'You are sure this thing of beauty was a man?'

  'No, sir, that is exactly what I am not sure.'

  There was a note in Sydney's voice which suggested that he had receivedprecisely the answer which he had expected.

  'Did you think it was a woman?'

  'I did think so, more than once. Though I can hardly explain what mademe think so. There was certainly nothing womanly about the face.' Hepaused, as if to reflect. Then added, 'I suppose it was a question ofinstinct.'

  'I see.--Just so.--It occurs to me, Mr Holt, that you are rather strongon questions of instinct.' Sydney got off the bed. He stretchedhimself, as if fatigued,--which is a way he has. 'I will not do you theinjustice to hint that I do not believe a word of your charming, andsimple, narrative. On the contrary, I will demonstrate my perfectcredence by remarking that I have not the slightest doubt that you willbe able to point out to me, for my particular satisfaction, thedelightful residence on which the whole is founded.'

  Mr Holt coloured,--Sydney's tone could scarcely have been moresignificant.

  'You must remember, sir, that it was a dark night, that I had neverbeen in that neighbourhood before, and that I was not in a condition topay much attention to locality.'

  'All of which is granted, but--how far was it from HammersmithWorkhouse?'

  'Possibly under half a mile.'

  'Then, in that case, surely you can remember which turning you took onleaving Hammersmith Workhouse,--I suppose there are not many turningsyou could have taken.'

  'I think I could remember.'

  'Then you shall have an opportunity to try. It isn't a very far cry toHammersmith,--don't you think you are well enough to drive there now,just you and I together in a cab?'

  'I should say so. I wished to get up this morning. It is by thedoctor's orders I have stayed in bed.'

  'Then, for once in a while, the doctor's orders shall be ignored,--Iprescribe fresh air.' Sydney turned to me. 'Since Mr Holt's wardrobeseems rather to seek, don't you think a suit of one of the men mightfit him,--if Mr Holt wouldn't mind making shift for the moment?--Then,by the time you've finished dressing, Mr Holt, I shall be ready.'

  While they were ascertaining which suit of clothes would be bestadapted to his figure, I went with Sydney to my room. So soon as wewere in, I let him know that this was not a matter in which I intendedto be trifled with.

  'Of course you understand, Sydney, that I am coming with you.'

  He pretended not to know what I meant.

  'Coming with me?--I am delighted to hear it,--but where?'

  'To the house of which Mr Holt has been speaking.'

  'Nothing could give me greater pleasure, but--might I point out?--MrHolt has to find it yet?'

  'I will come to help you to help him find it.'

  Sydney laughed,--but I could see he did not altogether relish thesuggestion.

  'Three in a hansom?'

  'There is such a thing as a four-wheeled cab,--or I could order acarriage if you'd like one.'

  Sydney looked at me out of the corners of his eyes; then began to walkup and down the room, with his hands in his trouser pockets. Presentlyhe began to talk nonsense.

  'I need not say with what a sensation of joy I should anticipate thedelights of a drive with you,--even in a four-wheeled cab; but, were Iin your place, I fancy that I should allow Holt and your humble servantto go hunting out this house of his alone. It may prove a more tediousbusiness than you imagine. I promise that, after the hunt is over, Iwill describe the proceedings to you with the most literal accuracy.'

  'I daresay.--Do you think I don't know you've been deceiving me all thetime?'

  'Deceiving you?--I!'

  'Yes,--you! Do you think I'm quite an idiot?'

  'My dear Marjorie!'

  'Do you think I can't see that you know all about what Mr Holt has beentelling us,--perhaps more about it than he knows himself?'

  'On my word!--With what an amount of knowledge you do credit me.'

  'Yes, I do,--or discredit you, rather. If I were to trust you, youwould tell me just as much as you chose,--which would be nothing. I'mcoming with you,--so there's an end.'

  'Very well.--Do you happen to know if there are any revolvers in thehouse?'

  'Revolvers?--whatever for?'

  'Because I should like to borrow one. I will not conceal fromyou--since you press me--that this is a case in which a revolver isquite likely to be required.'

  'You are trying to frighten me.'

  'I am doing nothing of the kind, only, under the circumstances, I ambound to point out to you what it is you may expect.'

  'Oh, you think that you're bound to point that out, do you,--then nowyour bounden duty's done. As for there being any revolvers in thehouse, papa has
a perfect arsenal,--would you like to take them all?'

  'Thanks, but I daresay I shall be able to manage with one,--unless youwould like one too. You may find yourself in need of it.'

  'I am obliged to you, but, on this occasion, I don't think I'lltrouble. I'll run the risk.--Oh, Sydney, what a hypocrite you are!'

  'It's for your sake, if I seem to be. I tell you most seriously, that Iearnestly advise you to allow Mr Holt and I to manage this affairalone. I don't mind going so far as to say that this is a matter withwhich, in days to come, you will wish that you had not allowed yourselfto be associated.'

  'What do you mean by that? Do you dare to insinuate anythingagainst--Paul?'

  'I insinuate nothing. What I mean, I say right out; and, my dearMarjorie, what I actually do mean is this,--that if, in spite of myurgent solicitations, you will persist in accompanying us, theexpedition, so far as I am concerned, will be postponed.'

  'That is what you do mean, is it? Then that's settled.' I rang thebell. The servant came. 'Order a four-wheeled cab at once. And let meknow the moment Mr Holt is ready.' The servant went. I turned toSydney. 'If you will excuse me, I will go and put my hat on. You are,of course, at liberty to please yourself as to whether you will or willnot go, but, if you don't, then I shall go with Mr Holt alone.'

  I moved to the door. He stopped me.

  'My dear Marjorie, why will you persist in treating me with suchinjustice? Believe me, you have no idea what sort of adventure this iswhich you are setting out upon,--or you would hear reason. I assure youthat you are gratuitously proposing to thrust yourself into imminentperil.'

  'What sort of peril? Why do you beat about the bush,--why don't youspeak right out?'

  'I can't speak right out, there are circumstances which render itpractically impossible--and that's the plain truth,--but the danger isnone the less real on that account. I am not jesting,--I am in earnest;won't you take my word for it?'

  'It is not a question of taking your word only,--it is a question ofsomething else beside. I have not forgotten my adventures of lastnight,--and Mr Holt's story is mysterious enough in itself; but thereis something more mysterious still at the back of it,--something whichyou appear to suggest points unpleasantly at Paul. My duty is clear,and nothing you can say will turn me from it. Paul, as you are verywell aware, is already over-weighted with affairs of state, prettynearly borne down by them,--or I would take the tale to him, and hewould talk to you after a fashion of his own. Things being as they are,I propose to show you that, although I am not yet Paul's wife, I canmake his interests my own as completely as though I were. I can,therefore, only repeat that it is for you to decide what you intend todo; but, if you prefer to stay, I shall go with Mr Holt,--alone.'

  'Understand that, when the time for regret comes--as it will come!--youare not to blame me for having done what I advised you not to do.'

  'My dear Mr Atherton, I will undertake to do my utmost to guard yourspotless reputation; I should be sorry that anyone should hold youresponsible for anything I either said or did.'

  'Very well!--Your blood be on your own head!'

  'My blood?'

  'Yes,--your blood. I shouldn't be surprised if it comes to blood beforewe're through.--Perhaps you'll oblige me with the loan of one of thatarsenal of revolvers of which you spoke.'

  I let him have his old revolver,--or, rather, I let him have one ofpapa's new ones. He put it in the hip pocket in his trousers. And theexpedition started,--in a four-wheeled car.