The Seven Secrets

  CHAPTER XXI.

  WOMAN'S WILES.

  "Look sharp!" cried the black-bearded ruffian who had feigned illness."Give him a settler, 'Arry. He wants his nerves calmin' a bit!"

  The fellow had seized my wrists, and I saw that one of the men who hadsprung from his place of concealment was pouring some liquid from abottle upon a sponge. I caught a whiff of its odour--an odour toofamiliar to me--the sickly smell of chloroform.

  Fortunately I am pretty athletic, and with a sudden wrench I freed mywrists from the fellow's grip, and, hitting him one from the shoulderright between the eyes, sent him spinning back against the chest ofdrawers. To act swiftly was my only chance. If once they succeeded inpressing that sponge to my nostrils and holding it there, then allwould be over; for by their appearance I saw they were dangerouscriminals, and not men to stick at trifles. They would murder me.

  As I sent down the man who had shammed illness, his two companionsdashed towards me with imprecations upon their lips; but withlightning speed I sprang towards the door and placed my back againstit. So long as I could face them I intended to fight for life. Theirdesire was, I knew, to attack me from behind, as they had alreadydone. I had surely had a narrow escape from their bullets, for theyhad fired at close range.

  At Guy's many stories have been told of similar cases where doctors,known to wear valuable watches, diamond rings or scarf pins, have beencalled at night by daring thieves and robbed; therefore I always, asprecaution, placed my revolver in my pocket when I received a nightcall to a case with which I was not acquainted.

  I had not disregarded my usual habit when I had placed my thermometerand stethoscope in my pocket previous to accompanying the girl;therefore it reposed there fully loaded, a fact of which my assailantswere unaware.

  In much quicker time than it takes to narrate the incident I was againpounced upon by all three, the man with the sponge in readiness todash it to my mouth and nostrils.

  But as they sprang forward to seize me, I raised my hand swiftly, tookaim, and fired straight at the holder of the sponge, the bulletpassing through his shoulder and causing him to drop the anaesthetic asthough it were a live coal, and to spring several feet from theground.

  "God! I'm shot!" he cried.

  But ere the words had left his mouth I fired a second chamber,inflicting a nasty wound in the neck of the fellow with the blackbeard.

  "Shoot! shoot!" he cried to the third man, but it was evident that inthe first struggle, when I had been seized, the man's revolver haddropped on the carpet, and in the semi-darkness he could not recoverit.

  Recognising this, I fired a pot shot in the man's direction; then,opening the door, sprang down the stairs into the hall. One of themfollowed, but the other two, wounded as they were, did not care toface my weapon again. They saw that I knew how to shoot, and probablyfeared that I might inflict a fatal hurt.

  As I approached the front door, and was fumbling with the lock, thethird man flung himself upon me, determined that I should not escape.With great good fortune, however, I managed to unbolt the door, andafter a desperate struggle, in which he endeavoured to wrest theweapon from my hand, I succeeded at last in gripping him by thethroat, and after nearly strangling him flung him to the ground andescaped into the street, just as his associates, hearing his cries ofdistress, dashed downstairs to his assistance.

  Without doubt it was the narrowest escape of my life that I have everhad, and so excited was I that I dashed down the street hatless untilI emerged into Lisson Grove. Then, and only then, it occurred to methat, having taken no note of the house, I should be unable torecognise it and denounce it to the police. But when one is in perilof one's life all other thoughts or instincts are submerged in the onefrantic effort of self-preservation. Still, it was annoying to thinkthat such scoundrels should be allowed to go scot free.

  Breathless, excited, and with nerves unstrung, I opened my door withmy latch-key and returned to my room, where the reading-lamp hadburned low, for it had been alight all through the night. I mixedmyself a stiff brandy and soda, tossed it off, and then turned to lookat myself in the glass.

  The picture I presented was disreputable and unkempt. My hair wasruffled, my collar torn open from its stud, and one sleeve of my coathad been torn out, so that the lining showed through. I had a nastyscratch across the neck, too, inflicted by the fingernails of one ofthe blackguards, and from the abrasion blood had flowed and made amess of my collar.

  Altogether I presented a very brilliant and entertaining spectacle.But my watch, ring and scarf-pin were in their places. If robbery hadbeen their motive, as no doubt it had been, then they had profitednothing, and two of them had been winged into the bargain. The onlymode by which their identity could by chance be discovered was in theevent of those wounds being troublesome. In that case they wouldconsult a medical man; but as they would, in all probability, go tosome doctor in a distant quarter of London, the hope of tracing themby such means was but a slender one.

  Feeling a trifle faint I sat in my chair, resting for a quarter of anhour or so; then, becoming more composed, I put out the study lights,and after a refreshing wash went to bed.

  The morning's reflections were somewhat disconcerting. A deliberateand dastardly attempt had been made upon my life; but with whatmotive? The young woman, whose face was familiar, had, I recollected,asked most distinctly whether I was Doctor Boyd--a fact which showedthat the trap had been prepared. I now saw the reason why she wasunable to describe the man's sham illness, and during the morning,while at work in the hospital wards, my suspicions became aroused thatthere had been some deeper motive in it all than the robbery of mywatch or scarf-pin. Human life had been taken for far less value thanthat of my jewellery, I knew; nevertheless, the deliberate shooting atme while I felt the patient's pulse showed a determination toassassinate. By good fortune, however, I had escaped, and resolved toexercise more care in future when answering night calls to unknownhouses.

  Sir Bernard did not come to town that day; therefore I was compelledto spend the afternoon in the severe consulting-room at Harley Street,busy the whole time. Shortly before six o'clock, utterly worn out, Istrolled round to my rooms to change my coat before going down to theSavage Club to dine with my friends--for it was Saturday night, and Iseldom missed the genial house-dinner of that most Bohemian ofinstitutions.

  Without ceremony I threw open the door of my sitting-room and entered,but next instant stood still, for, seated in my chair patientlyawaiting me was the slim, well-dressed figure of Mary Courtenay. Herwidow's weeds became her well; and as she rose with a rustle of silk,a bright laugh rippled from her lips, and she said:

  "I know I'm an unexpected visitor, Doctor, but you'll forgive mycalling in this manner, won't you?"

  "Forgive you? Of course," I answered; and with politeness which Iconfess was feigned, I invited her to be seated. True to the promisemade to her husband, she had lost no time in coming to see me, but Iwas fortunately well aware of the purport of her errand.

  "I had no idea you were in London," I said, by way of allowing her toexplain the object of her visit, for, in the light of the knowledge Ihad gained on the Nene bank two nights previously, her call was ofconsiderable interest.

  "I'm only up for a couple of days," she answered. "London has not thecharm for me that it used to have," and she sighed heavily, as thoughher mind were crowded by bitter memories. Then raising her veil, andrevealing her pale, handsome face, she said bluntly, "The reason of mycall is to talk to you about Ethelwynn."

  "Well, what of her?" I asked, looking straight into her face andnoticing for the first time a curious shifty look in her eyes, such asI had never before noticed in her. She tried to remain calm, but, bythe nervous twitching of her fingers and lower lip, I knew that withinher was concealed a tempest of conflicting emotions.

  "To speak quite frankly, Ralph," she said in a calm, serious voice, "Idon't think you are treating her honourably, poor girl. You seem tohave forsaken her altogether, and the neglect has broken her h
eart."

  "No, Mrs. Courtenay; you misunderstand the situation," I protested."That I have neglected her slightly I admit; nevertheless the neglectwas not wilful, but owing to my constant occupation in my practice."

  "She's desperate. Besides, it's common talk that you've broken off theengagement."

  "Gossip does not affect me; therefore why should she take any heed ofit?"

  "Well, she loves you. That you know quite well. You surely could nothave been deceived in those days at Kew, for her devotion to you wasabsolute and complete." She was pleading her sister's cause just asCourtenay had directed her. I felt annoyed that she should thusendeavour to impose upon me, yet saw the folly of betraying the factthat I knew her secret. My intention was to wait and watch.

  "I called at the Hennikers' a couple of days ago, but Ethelwynn is nolonger there. She's gone into the country, it seems," I remarked.

  "Where to?" she asked quickly.

  "She's visiting someone near Hereford."

  "Oh!" she exclaimed, as though a sudden light dawned upon her. "Iknow, then. Why, I wonder, did she not tell me. I intended to call onher this evening, but it is useless. I'm glad to know, for I don'tcare much for Mrs. Henniker. She's such a very shallow woman."

  "Ethelwynn seems to have wandered about a good deal since the sadaffair at Kew," I observed.

  "Yes, and so have I," she responded. "As you are well aware, the blowwas such a terrible one to me that--that somehow I feel I shall neverget over it--never!" I saw tears, genuine tears, welling in her eyes.If she could betray emotion in that manner she was surely a wonderfulactress.

  "Time will efface your sorrow," I said, in a voice meant to besympathetic. "In a year or two your grief will not be so poignant, andthe past will gradually fade from your memory. It is always so."

  She shook her head mournfully.

  "No," she said, "for in addition to my grief there is the mystery ofit all--a mystery that grows each day more and more inscrutable."

  I glanced sharply at her in surprise. Was she trying to mislead me, orwere her words spoken in real earnest? I could not determine.

  "Yes," I acquiesced. "The mystery is as complete as ever."

  "Has no single clue been found, either by the police or by yourfriend--Jevons is, I think, his name?" she asked, with keen anxiety.

  "One or two points have, I believe, been elucidated," I answered; "butthe mystery still remains unsolved."

  "As it ever will be," she added, with a sigh which appeared to me tobe one of satisfaction, rather than of regret. "The details were socleverly arranged that the police have been baffled in everyendeavour. Is not that so?"

  I nodded in the affirmative.

  "And your friend Jevons? Has he given up all hope of any satisfactorydiscovery?"

  "I really don't know," I answered. "I've not seen him for quite a longtime. And in any case he has told me nothing regarding the result ofhis investigations. It is his habit to be mute until he has gainedsome tangible result."

  A puzzled, apprehensive expression crossed her white brow for amoment; then it vanished into a pleasant smile, as she asked inconfidence:

  "Now, tell me, Ralph, what is your own private opinion of thesituation?"

  "Well, it is both complicated and puzzling. If we could discover anyreason for the brutal deed we might get a clue to the assassin; but asfar as the police have been able to gather, it seems that there is anentire absence of motive; hence the impossibility of carrying theinquiries further."

  "Then the investigation is actually dropped?" she exclaimed, unable tofurther conceal her anxiety.

  "I presume it is," I replied.

  Her chest heaved slightly, and slowly fell again. By its movement Iknew that my answer allowed her to breathe more freely.

  "You also believe that your friend Jevons has been compelled, owing tonegative results, to relinquish his efforts?" she asked.

  "Such is my opinion. But I have not seen him lately in order toconsult him."

  In silence she listened to my answer, and was evidently reassured byit; yet I could not, for the life of me, understand her manner--at onemoment nervous and apprehensive, and at the next full of an almostimperious self-confidence. At times the expression in her eyes wassuch as justified her mother in the fears she had expressed to me. Itried to diagnose her symptoms, but they were too complicated andcontradictory.

  She spoke again of her sister, returning to the main point upon whichshe had sought the interview. She was a decidedly attractive woman,with a face rendered more interesting by her widow's garb.

  But why was she masquerading so cleverly? For what reason had oldCourtenay contrived to efface his identity so thoroughly? As I lookedat her, mourning for a man who was alive and well, I utterly failed tocomprehend one single fact of the astounding affair. It staggeredbelief!

  "Let me speak candidly to you, Ralph," she said, after we had beendiscussing Ethelwynn for some little time. "As you may readilyimagine, I have my sister's welfare very much at heart, and my onlydesire is to see her happy and comfortable, instead of pining inmelancholy as she now is. I ask you frankly, have you quarrelled?"

  "No, we have not," I answered promptly.

  "Then if you have not, your neglect is all the more remarkable," shesaid. "Forgive me for speaking like this, but our intimateacquaintanceship in the past gives me a kind of prerogative to speakmy mind. You won't be offended, will you?" she asked, with one ofthose sweet smiles of hers that I knew so well.

  "Offended? Certainly not, Mrs. Courtenay. We are too old friends forthat."

  "Then take my advice and see Ethelwynn again," she urged. "I know howshe adores you; I know how your coldness has crushed all the life outof her. She hides her secret from mother, and for that reason will notcome down to Neneford. See her, and return to her; for it is athousand pities that two lives should be wrecked so completely by somelittle misunderstanding which will probably be explained away in adozen words. You may consider this appeal an extraordinary one, madeby one sister on behalf of another, but when I tell you that I havenot consulted Ethelwynn, nor does she know that I am here on herbehalf, you will readily understand that I have both your interestsequally at heart. To me it seems a grievous thing that you should beplaced apart in this manner; that the strong love you bear each othershould be crushed, and your future happiness be sacrificed. Tell meplainly," she asked in earnestness. "You love her still--don't you?"

  "I do," was my frank, outspoken answer, and it was the honest truth.