CHAPTER XXV.
WHO KILLED JOSEF SIEBEL.
While Van Vernet was following after the two women, the carriage withthe restless horses moved slowly past the Warburton dwelling.
An observer might have noted that the face of the crape-draped occupantwas pressed close against the oval window, in the rear of the vehicle,watching the direction taken by Van Vernet. Then, suddenly, thisindividual leaned forward and said to the driver:
"Around the corner, Jim, and turn."
The order was promptly obeyed.
"Now back, Jim," said this fickle-minded person. Then as the carriageagain rounded the corner: "You see that fellow in policeman's uniform,Jim?"
"Yes, sir."
"Follow him."
Slowly the carriage moved along, picking its way across crowdedthoroughfares, for many blocks, the occupant keeping a close watch uponthe movements of Van Vernet, this time through the window in front.
Finally, leaning back in the carriage with a muttered, "That settles it;he's going to track them home," he again addressed the driver:
"Turn back, Jim."
"All right, sir."
"Drive to Warburton Place, side entrance."
Leslie Warburton, her vigil being over, was alone in her room, pacingrestlessly up and down, a look of dire foreboding on her face, and inher hand a crumpled note.
At the sound of an opening door she turned to confront her maid, whoproffered her a card.
Leslie took it mechanically and then started as she read thereon:
MADAM STANHOPE, Modeste.
And written in the corner of the card, the underlined word,_Imperative_.
There was a look of relief upon the face she turned to the servant.
"Where is the--lady?"
"In the little drawing-room, madam."
Holding the card in her hand, Leslie hastened to the littledrawing-room.
A tall, veiled woman advanced to meet her; it was the occupant of thecarriage.
Leslie came close to this sombre-robed figure and said, almost in awhisper: "Mr. Stanhope?"
"It is I, Mrs. Warburton. Need I say that only the most urgent necessitycould have brought me here at such a time?"
"It is the right time, sir."
She held up before him the crumpled note.
"It is from _them_?" he asked.
Leslie nodded.
"It contains the secret of their present whereabouts, and bids you cometo them?"
"Yes."
"You will not go?"
"How can I, now?"--her voice almost a wail--"and yet--"
"You are safe to refuse, Mrs. Warburton. You need not comply with anyinstructions they may give you henceforth. Let me have that note."
"But--"
"I must have it, in order to save you. I must know where to find thesepeople."
She looked at him inquiringly, and put the note into his hand.
"Thank you," he said. "Has Van Vernet visited this house, to yourknowledge?"
"He has."
"And he saw--"
"No one. I obtained my information from a servant. He sent up his cardto Alan, who refused to meet him."
"Ah!" Stanhope turned toward the door, putting the note in his pocket ashe did so. Suddenly he paused, his eyes resting upon the portrait ofAlan Warburton.
"That is very imprudent," he said.
"I--I don't understand."
"That picture. It must be removed." Then turning sharply toward her:"Are there other pictures of Mr. Alan Warburton in this house?"
"No; this is the only recent portrait."
He sat down and looked at the picture intently.
"Van Vernet has been here, you tell me. Can he have seen _that_?"
Fully alive now to the delicacy and danger of the situation, Leslielifted her hand and turned toward the door. "Wait," she said, and wentswiftly out.
"So," muttered Stanhope, as he again contemplated the picture, "a squarefoot of canvas can spoil all my plans. If Van has seen _this_, my workbecomes doubly hard, and Warburton's case a desperate one."
While he pondered, Leslie came softly back, and stood before him.
"It is as bad as you feared," she said, tremulously. "Van Vernet wasreceived in this very room, the servant tells me. He saw the picture,examined it closely, and asked the name of the original."
"Then," said Stanhope, rising, "the picture need not be removed. It hasdone all the mischief it can. To remove it now would only make asuspicion a certainty. Listen, madam, and as soon as possible reportwhat I tell you to Alan Warburton. A short time ago, Mamma Francoise andone of her tools left the note I hold, at your basement-door. VanVernet, who was watching near here, saw them and followed them."
"Oh!"
"He has seen that picture. Tell your brother-in-law that Van Vernet hasseen it and, doubtless, has traced the resemblance between it and thefugitive Sailor; tell him that Vernet is now on the track of theFrancoises, who, if found, will be used to convict him of murder."
"But--Alan is not guilty."
"Are you _sure_ of that?"
"I--I--" She faltered and was silent.
"Mrs. Warburton," he asked, slowly, "do you know _who_ struck thatblow?"
She trembled violently, and her face turned ashen white.
"I can't tell! I don't know!" she cried wildly. "It was a moment ofconfusion, but--it was not--oh, no, no, it was _not_ Alan!"
Not a little surprised at this incoherent outburst, Stanhope looked herkeenly in the face, a new thought taking possession of his mind.
Could it be that she, in the desperation of the moment, in her strugglefor safety, had stricken that cruel blow? Such things had been. Women asfrail, in the strength born of desperation, had wielded still moresavage weapons with fatal effect.
The question, who killed Josef Siebel? was becoming a riddle.
"Let that subject drop," said Stanhope, withdrawing his eyes from herface. "Tell your brother-in-law of his danger, but do not make use of myname. He knows nothing about me. For yourself, obey no summons like thisyou have just received. You need not make use of my newspaper-telegraphnow. What I saw this morning, showed me the necessity for instantaction. There is one thing more: tell Alan Warburton that now, withVernet's eye upon him, there will be no safety in flight. Let him remainhere, but tell him, above all, to shun interviews with strangers, betheir errand what it will. Let no one approach him whom he does not knowto be a friend. After your husband's funeral, you too had better observethis same caution. Admit _no strangers_ to your presence."
"But you--"
"I shall not apply for admittance; I am going away. Before you see meagain, I trust your troubles will have ended."
"And little Daisy?"
"We shall find her, I hope. Mrs. Warburton, time presses; remember myinstructions and my warning. Good-morning."
He moved toward the door, turned again, and said:
"One thing more; see that you and your household avoid any movement thatmight seem, to a watcher, suspicious. Vernet keeps this house undersurveillance, night and day. He is a foe to fear. Once more, good-by."
* * * * *
It was long past noon when Van Vernet, weary but triumphant, reappearedupon the fashionable street where stood the Warburton mansion.
He had been successful beyond his utmost expectations. Not only had hesucceeded in tracking the two women to their hiding-place, for it couldscarcely be called their home, but he had also satisfied himself thatthe elder woman was indeed and in truth Mamma Francoise; and that PapaFrancoise was also sheltered by the tumble-down roof under which theold woman and her companion had passed from his sight.
Vernet was tired with his long promenade at the heels of the two shambeggars, and he resolved to give the mansion a brief reconnoitringglance and then to turn the watch over to a subordinate.
Accordingly he sauntered down the street, noting as he walked theunchanged aspect of the shut-up house. He was still a few paces away,when a
vehicle came swiftly down the street, rolling on noiselesswheels.
It was an undertaker's van, and it came to a halt before the door of theWarburton mansion. Two men were seated upon the van, and as one of themdismounted and ascended the stately steps, the other, getting down inmore leisurely fashion, opened the door in the end of the vehicle,disclosing to the view of Vernet, who by this time was near enough tosee, a magnificent casket.
In another moment, the man who had gone to announce their arrival camedown the steps, accompanied by a servant, and together the threecarefully drew the casket from the van.
Vernet's quick eye detected the fact that it was heavy, and his quickerbrain caught at an opportunity. Stepping to the side of the man whoseemed to hold the heaviest weight, he proffered his assistance. It waspromptly accepted, and, together, the four lifted the splendid casket,and carried it into the wide hall.
What is it that causes Van Vernet's eyes to gleam, and his lips totwitch with some new, strange excitement, as they put the casket down?His gaze rests upon it as if fascinated.
Archibald Warburton, the man in the black and scarlet domino, the manwho had employed him to watch the movements of Leslie Warburton, wassix-foot tall. And this casket--it was made for a much shorter, a muchsmaller man!
If _this_ were intended for Archibald Warburton, who, then, was thesix-foot masker?
With eyes aglow, and firmly-compressed lips, Van Vernet cast a lastglance at the casket and the name, Archibald Warburton, on the plate.Then turning away, he followed the two undertakers from the house.
At the foot of the steps he paused, and looked up at the closed windowswith the face of a man who saw long-looked-for daylight through a cloudof mist.
"Ah, Alan Warburton," he muttered, "_I have you now_!"