CHAPTER V
AT THE JOLLITY THEATRE
By tacit consent, Claude and his fair companion dropped for the hour theroles of inquisitor and witness.
They were both excellent talkers, they were mutually interested, andthere was in their present escapade a spice of that romance not solacking in the humdrum life of London as is generally supposed to be thecase.
Bruce did not ask himself what tangible result he expected from thisquaint outcome of his visit to Sloane Square. It was too soon yet. Hemust trust to the vagaries of chance to elucidate many things nowhidden. Meanwhile a good dinner, a bright theatre, and the society of asmart, nice-looking woman, were more than tolerable substitutes forprogress.
As a partial explanation of his somewhat eccentric behavior, hevolunteered a lively account of a recent _cause celebre_, in which hehad taken a part, but the details of which had been rigidly kept fromthe public. He more than hinted that Mr. Sydney Corbett had figuredprominently in the affair; and Mrs. Hillmer laughed with unrestrainedmirth at the unwonted appearance of her brother in the character of aLothario.
"Tell me," said Bruce confidentially, when a couple of glasses of Moet'89 had consolidated friendly relations, "what sort of a fellow is thisbrother of yours?"
"Not in any sense a bad boy, but a trifle wild. He will not live anordinary life, and at times he has been hard pressed to live at all. Asa matter of fact, it is this scrape he blundered into with Messrs. Dodge& Co. that induced him to masquerade temporarily under an assumed name."
"Then what is his real name?"
"Ah, now you are pumping me again. I refuse to tell."
"But there are generally serious reasons when a man disguises himself insuch fashion."
"The reason he gave me was that he dreaded being writted for liabilityregarding the shares I mentioned to you. It was good enough. Now youcome with this story of meddling with somebody else's wife. Surely thisis an additional reason. I supplied him with funds until we quarrelled,and then he went off in a huff."
"What did you quarrel about?"
"That concerns me only." Mrs. Hillmer was so emphatic that Bruce droppedthe subject.
When they drove to the theatre Mrs. Hillmer, on alighting at theentrance, said to her coachman, "You may return home now, and bringDobson to meet me at 11.15."
"May I venture to inquire who Dobson is?" said Claude.
"Certainly. Dobson is my maid."
This woman puzzled him the more he saw of her. He was now quite positivethat she lived on the fringe of Society. Her status was, at the best,dubious. Yet he had never heard of her before, nor met her in public.None of his friends were known to her, and she mentioned no onebeyond those popular personages who are _connu_ of all the world.She was obviously wealthy and refined, with more than a spice ofunconventionality. At times, too, beneath her habitual expressionsof lively and vivacious interest, there was a touch of melancholy.
For an instant her face grew sad when her eyes rested on a typicalfamily party of father, mother, and two girls who occupied seats in therow of stalls directly in front of her.
For some reason Bruce felt sorry for Mrs. Hillmer. He regretted that theexigencies of his quest forced him to make her his dupe, and he resolvedthat, if by any chance her scapegrace brother were concerned in LadyDyke's death, Mrs. Hillmer should, if possible, be spared personalhumiliation or disgrace.
Indeed, he had formed such a favorable opinion of her that he had madeup his mind to conduct his future investigations without causing her toassist involuntarily in putting a halter around her relative's neck.
Nevertheless, it was impossible to avoid getting some furtherinformation, as the lady herself paved the way for it. Her commentsbetrayed such an accurate acquaintance with the technique of the stagethat he said to her, "You must have acted a good deal?"
"No," she said, "not very much. But I was stage struck when young."
"But you have not appeared in public?"
"Yes, some six years ago. I worked so hard that I fell ill, andthen--then I got married."
"Do you go out much to theatres, nowadays?"
"Very little. It is lonely by oneself, and there are so few plays worthseeing."
Bruce wondered why she insisted so strongly upon the isolation of herexistence. In his new-found sympathy he forebore to question, and shecontinued:
"When I do visit a theatre I amuse myself mostly by silent criticism ofthe actors and actresses. Not that I could do better than many of them,or half so well, but it passes the time."
"I hope you do not regard killing time as your main occupation?"
"It is so, I fear, however hard I may strive otherwise." And again thatshadow of regret darkened the fair face.
Some one in front turned round and glared at them angrily, for thefamous comedian, Mr. Prospect Ricks, was singing his deservedly famoussong, "It was all because I buttoned up her boots," so the conversationdropped for the moment.
Claude focussed his opera-glasses on the stage. While his eyes wanderedidly over the pretty faces and shapely limbs of the coryphees his brainwas busy piecing together all that he had heard. The odd coincidence ofthe dates of Lady Dyke's murder and the speedy departure of theself-styled Sydney Corbett for the Riviera would require a good deal ofexplanation by the latter gentleman.
True, it was not the barrister's habit to jump at conclusions. Theremight be a perfectly valid motive for the journey. If the man did notdesire his whereabouts to be known, why did he leave his address at thepost-office?
And, then, what possible reason could Lady Dyke have in visiting himvoluntarily and secretly at his chambers in Raleigh Mansions? Thisvirtuous and high-principled lady could have nothing in common with acareless adventurer, taking the most lenient view of his sister'sdescription of him. And as Bruce's subtle brain strove vainly to matchthe queer fragments of the puzzle, his keen eyes roved over the stage inaimless activity.
Suddenly they paused. His power of vision and mental analysis werealike inadequate to the new and startling fact which had obtrudeditself, unasked and unsought for, upon his sight.
Among the least prominent of the chorus girls, posturing and moving withthe stiffness and visible anxiety of the novice, who is not yetaccustomed to the glare of the footlights upon undraped limbs, was onein whose every gesture Bruce took an absorbing interest.
He was endowed in full measure with that prime requisite in thedetection of criminals, an unusually good memory for faces, togetherwith the artistic faculty of catching the true expression.
Hence it was that, after the whirl of a dancing chorus had for a fewseconds brought this particular member of the company close to theproscenium, Bruce became quite sure of having developed at least onebranch of his inquiry within measurable distance of its conclusion.
The girl on the stage was Jane Harding, Lady Dyke's maid.
When her features first flashed upon his conscious gaze he could hardlycredit the discovery. But each instant of prolonged scrutiny placed thefact beyond doubt. Not even the make-up and the elaborate wig couldconceal the contour of her pretty if insipid face, and a slight trickshe had of drooping the left eyelid when thinking confirmed him in hisbelief.
So astounded was he at this sequel to his visit to the theatre, that heutilized every opportunity of a full stage to examine still further theappearance and style of this strange apparition.
When the curtain fell and Jane Harding had vanished, he was brought backto actuality by Mrs. Hillmer's voice.
"Fie, Mr. Bruce. You are taking altogether too much notice of one ofthe fair ladies in front. Which one is it? The tall standard bearer orthe little girl who pirouettes so gracefully?"
"Neither, I assure you. I was taken up by wondering how a young womanmanages to secure employment in a theatre for the first time."
"I think I can tell you. Influence goes a long way. Talent occasionallycounts. Then, a well-known agent may, for a nominal fee, get an openingfor a handsome, well-built girl who has taken lessons from eitherhims
elf or some of his friends in dancing or singing, or both."
"Is such a thing possible for a domestic servant?"
"It all depends upon the domestic servant's circle of acquaintances. Asa rule, I should say not. A theatre like this requires a higher averageof intelligence."
This, and more, Bruce well knew, but he was only making conversation,while he thought intently, almost fiercely, upon the latest phase of hisstrange quest.
During the third act he devoted more time to Mrs. Hillmer. If thatsprightly dame were a little astonished at the celerity with which heconducted her to her carriage and the waiting Dobson, it was banished bythe nice way in which he thanked her for the pleasure she had conferred.
"The enjoyment has been mostly on my side," she cried, as he stood nearthe window of her brougham. "Come to see me again soon."
He bowed, and would have said something if an imperious policeman hadnot ordered the coachman to make way for the next vehicle. So Mrs.Hillmer was whisked into the traffic.
From force of habit, he glanced casually at the crowd struggling throughthe exit of the theatre, and he caught sight of Mr. White, who, toolate, averted his round eyes and strove to shield his portly form inthe portico of a neighboring restaurant.
He did not want to be bothered by the detective just then. He lit acigarette, and Mr. White slid off quietly into the stream of traffic,finally crossing the road and jumping on to a Charing Cross 'bus.
"So," said Claude to himself, "White has been watching Raleigh Mansions,and watching me too. 'Pon my honor, I shouldn't wonder if he suspectedme of the murder! I'm glad I saw him just now. For the next couple ofhours I wish to be free from his interference."
Waiting a few moments to make sure that White had not detailed anaide-de-camp to continue the surveillance, he buttoned his overcoat tothe chin, tilted his hat forward, and strolled round to the stage doorof the Jollity Theatre.