The Yellow Crayon

  CHAPTER XXVII

  Mr. SABIN drew a little breath, partly of satisfaction because hehad discovered the place he sought, and partly of disgust at theneighbourhood in which he found himself. Nevertheless, he descendedthree steps from the court into which he had been directed, and pushedopen the swing door, behind which Emil Sachs announced his desireto supply the world with dinners at eightpence and vin ordinaire atfourpence the small bottle.

  A stout black-eyed woman looked up at his entrance from behind thecounter. The place was empty.

  "What does monsieur require she asked, peering forward through the gloomwith some suspicion. For the eightpenny dinners were the scorn of theneighbourhood, and strangers were rare in the wine shop of Emil Sachs."

  Mr. Sabin smiled.

  "One of your excellent omelettes, my good Annette," he answered, "ifyour hand has not lost its cunning!"

  She gave a little cry.

  "It is monsieur!" she exclaimed. "After all these years it is monsieur!Ah, you will pardon that I did not recognise you. This place is acellar. Monsieur has not changed. In the daylight one would know himanywhere."

  The woman talked fast, but even in that dim light Mr. Sabin knew quitewell that she was shaking with fear. He could see the corners of hermouth twitch. Her black eyes rolled incessantly, but refused to meethis. Mr. Sabin frowned.

  "You are not glad to see me, Annette!"

  She leaned over the counter.

  "For monsieur's own sake," she whispered, "go!"

  Mr. Sabin stood quite still for a short space of time.

  "Can I rest in there for a few minutes?" he asked, pointing to the doorwhich led into the room beyond.

  The woman hesitated. She looked up at the clock and down again.

  "Emil will return," she said, "at three. Monsieur were best out of theneighbourhood before then. For ten minutes it might be safe."

  Mr. Sabin passed forward. The woman lifted the flap of the counterand followed him. Within was a smaller room, far cleaner and betterappointed than the general appearance of the place promised. Mr. Sabinseated himself at one of the small tables. The linen cloth, he noticed,was spotless, the cutlery and appointments polished and clean.

  "This, I presume," he remarked, "is not where you serve the eightpennytable d'hote?"

  The woman shrugged her shoulders.

  "But it would not be possible," she answered. "We have no customers forthat. If one arrives we put together a few scraps. But one must make apretense. Monsieur understands?"

  Mr. Sabin nodded.

  "I will take," he said, "a small glass of fin champagne."

  She vanished, and reappeared almost immediately with the brandy in aquaintly cut liqueur glass. A glance at the clock as she passed seemedto have increased her anxiety.

  "If monsieur will drink his liqueur and depart," she prayed. "Indeed, itwill be for the best."

  Mr. Sabin set down his glass. His steadfast gaze seemed to reduceAnnette into a state of nervous panic.

  "Annette," he said, "they have placed me upon the list."

  "It is true, monsieur," she answered. "Why do you come here?"

  "I wanted to know first for certain that they had ventured so far," Mr.Sabin said. "I believe that I am only the second person in this countrywho has been so much honoured."

  The woman drew nearer to him.

  "Monsieur," she said, "your only danger is to venture into such partsas these. London is so safe, and the law is merciless. They only watch.They will attempt nothing. Do not leave England. There is here nomachinery of criminals. Besides, the life of monsieur is insured."

  "Insured?" Mr. Sabin remarked quietly. "That is good news. And who paysthe premium?"

  "A great lady, monsieur! I know no more. Monsieur must go indeed. He hasfound his way into the only place in London where he is not safe."

  Mr. Sabin rose.

  "You are expecting, perhaps," he said, "one of my friends from the--"

  She interrupted him.

  "It is true," she declared. "He may be here at any instant. The time isalready up. Oh, monsieur, indeed, indeed it would not do for him to findyou."

  Mr. Sabin moved towards the door.

  "You are perhaps right," he said regretfully, "although I should muchlike to hear about this little matter of life insurance while I amhere."

  "Indeed, monsieur," Annette declared, "I know nothing. There is nothingwhich I can tell monsieur."

  Mr. Sabin suddenly leaned forward. His gaze was compelling. His tone waslow but terrible.

  "Annette," he said, "obey me. Send Emil here."

  The woman trembled, but she did not move. Mr. Sabin lifted hisforefinger and pointed slowly to the door. The woman's lips parted, butshe seemed to have lost the power of speech.

  "Send Emil here!" Mr. Sabin repeated slowly.

  Annette turned and left the room, groping her way to the door as thoughher eyesight had become uncertain. Mr. Sabin lit a cigarette and lookedfor a moment carefully into the small liqueur glass out of which he haddrunk.

  "That was unwise," he said softly to himself. "Just such a blunder mighthave cost me everything."

  He held it up to the light and satisfied himself that no dregs remained.Then he took from his pocket a tiny little revolver, and placing iton the table before him, covered it with his handkerchief. Almostimmediately a door at the farther end of the room opened and closed.A man in dark clothes, small, unnaturally pale, with deep-set eyes andnervous, twitching mouth, stood before him. Mr. Sabin smiled a welcomeat him.

  "Good-morning, Emil Sachs," he said. "I am glad that you have showndiscretion. Stand there in the light, please, and fold your arms.Thanks. Do not think that I am afraid of you, but I like to talkcomfortably."

  "I am at monsieur's service," the man said in a low tone.

  "Exactly. Now, Emil, before starting to visit you I left a little notebehind addressed to the chief of the police here--no, you need notstart--to be sent to him only if my return were unduly delayed. You canguess what that note contained. It is not necessary for us to revertto--unpleasant subjects."

  The man moistened his dry lips.

  "It is not necessary," he repeated. "Monsieur is as safe here--fromme--as at his own hotel."

  "Excellent!" Mr. Sabin said. "Now listen, Emil. It has pleased mechiefly, as you know, for the sake of your wife, the good Annette, to bevery merciful to you as regards the past. But I do not propose to allowyou to run a poison bureau for the advantage of the Prince of SaxeLeinitzer and his friends--more especially, perhaps, as I am at presentupon his list of superfluous persons."

  The man trembled.

  "Monsieur," he said, "the Prince knows as much as you know, and he hasnot the mercy that one shows to a dog."

  "You will find," Mr. Sabin said, "that if you do not obey me, I myselfcan develop a similar disposition. Now answer me this! You have withinthe last few days supplied several people with that marvelous powder forthe preparation of which you are so justly famed."

  "Several--no, monsieur! Two only."

  "Their names?"

  The man trembled.

  "If they should know!"

  "They will not, Emil. I will see to that."

  "The first I supplied to the order of the Prince."

  "Good! And the second?"

  "To a lady whose name I do not know."

  Mr. Sabin raised his eyebrows.

  "Is not that," he remarked, "a little irregular?"

  "The lady wrote her request before me in the yellow crayon. It wassufficient."

  "And you do not know her name, Emil?"

  "No, monsieur. She was dark and tall, and closely veiled. She was herebut a few minutes since."

  "Dark and tall!" Mr. Sabin repeated to himself thoughtfully. "Emil, youare telling me the truth?"

  "I do not dare to tell you anything else, monsieur," the man answered.

  Mr. Sabin did not continue his interrogations for a few moments.Suddenly he looked up.

  "Has that lady left the place yet
, Emil?"

  "No, monsieur!"

  Mr. Sabin smiled.

  "Have you a back exit?" he asked.

  "None that the lady would know of," Emil answered. "She must pass alongthe passage which borders this apartment, and enter the bar by a doorfrom behind. If monsieur desires it, it is impossible for her to leaveunobserved."

  "That is excellent, Emil," Mr. Sabin said. "Now there is one morequestion--quite a harmless one. Annette spoke of my life being in someway insured."

  "It is true, monsieur," Emil admitted. "A lady who also possessedthe yellow crayon came here the day that--that monsieur incurred thedispleasure of--of his friends. She tried to bribe me to blow up mylaboratory and leave the country, or that I should substitute a harmlesspowder for any required by the Prince. I was obliged to refuse."

  "And then?"

  "Then she promised me a large sum if you were alive in six months, andmade me at once a payment.

  "Dear me," Mr. Sabin said, "this is quite extraordinary."

  "I can tell monsieur the lady's name," Emil continued, "for she raisedher veil, and everywhere the illustrated papers have been full of herpicture. It was the lady who was besieged in a little town of SouthAfrica, and who carried despatches for the general, disguised as a man."

  "Lady Carey!" Mr. Sabin remarked quietly.

  "That was the lady's name," Emil agreed.

  Mr. Sabin was thoughtful for a few moments. Then he looked up.

  "Emil Sachs," he said sternly, "you have given out at least one portionof your abominable concoction which is meant to end my days. Whether Ishall escape it or not remains to be seen. I am forced at the best todischarge my servant, and to live the life of a hunted man. Now you havedone enough mischief in the world. To-morrow morning a messenger willplace in your hands two hundred pounds. A larger sum will await you atBaring's Bank in New York. You will go there and buy a small restaurantin the business quarter. This is your last chance, Emil. I give it toyou for the sake of Annette."

  "And I accept it, monsieur, with gratitude."

  "For the present--"

  Mr. Sabin stopped short. His quick ears had caught the swish of woman'sgown passing along the passage outside. Emil too had heard it.

  "It is the dark lady," he whispered, "who purchased from me the otherpowder. See, I open gently this door. Monsieur must both see and hear."

  The door at the end of the passage was opened. A woman stepped out intothe little bar and made her way towards the door. Here she was met bya man entering. Mr. Sabin held up his forefinger to stop the terrifiedexclamation which trembled on Emil's lips. The woman was Lucille, theman the Prince. It was Lucille who was speaking.

  "You have followed me, Prince. It is intolerable."

  "Dear Lucille, it is for your own sake. These are not fit parts for youto visit alone."

  "It is my own business," she answered coldly.

  The Prince appeared to be in a complaisant mood.

  "Come," he said, "the affair is not worth a quarrel. I ask you noquestions. Only since we are here I propose that we test the cooking ofthe good Annette. We will lunch together."

  "What, here?" she answered. "Absurd."

  "By no means," he answered. "As you doubtless know, the exterior of theplace is entirely misleading. These people are old servants of mine. Ican answer for the luncheon."

  "You can also eat it," came the prompt reply. "I am returning to thecarriage."

  "But--"

  Mr. Sabin emerged through the swing door. "Your discretion, my dearLucille," he said, smiling, "is excellent. The place is indeed betterthan it seems, and Annette's cookery may be all that the Princeclaims. Yet I think I know better places for a luncheon party, and theventilation is not of the best. May I suggest that you come with meinstead to the Milan?"

  "Victor! You here?"

  Mr. Sabin smiled as he admitted the obvious fact. The Prince's face wasas black as night.

  "Believe me," Mr. Sabin said, turning to the Prince, "I sympathiseentirely with your feelings at the present moment. I myself havesuffered in precisely the same manner. The fact is, intrigue in thiscountry is almost an impossibility. At Paris, Vienna, Pesth, howdifferent! You raise your little finger, and the deed is done.Superfluous people--like myself--are removed like the hairs from yourchin. But here intrigue seems indeed to exist only within the pages of ashilling novel, or in a comic opera. The gentleman with a helmet there,who regards us so benignly, will presently earn a shilling by calling mea hansom. Yet in effect he does me a far greater service. He standsfor a multitude of cold Anglo-Saxon laws, adamant, incorruptible,inflexible--as certain as the laws of Nature herself. I am quite awarethat by this time I ought to be lying in a dark cellar with a gag in mymouth, or perhaps in the river with a dagger in my chest. But here inEngland, no!"

  The Prince smiled--to all appearance a very genial smile.

  "You are right, my dear friend," he said, "yet what you say possesses,shall we call it, a somewhat antediluvian flavour. Intrigue is no longera clumsy game of knife and string and bowl. It becomes to-day a game offinesse. I can assure you that I have no desire to give a stage whistleand have you throttled at my feet. On the contrary, I beg you to use mycarriage, which you will find in the street. You will lunch at the Milanwith Lucille, and I shall retire discomfited to eat alone at my club.But the game is a long one, my dear friend. The new methods take time."

  "This conversation," Mr. Sabin said to Lucille, "is interesting, butit is a little ungallant. I think that we will resume it at some futureoccasion. Shall we accept the Prince's offer, or shall we be trulydemocratic and take a hansom."

  Lucille passed her arm through his and laughed.

  "You are robbing the Prince of me," she declared. "Let us leave him hiscarriage."

  She nodded her farewells to Saxe Leinitzer, who took leave of them witha low bow. As they waited at the corner for a hansom Mr. Sabin glancedback. The Prince had disappeared through the swing doors.

  "I want you to promise me one thing," Lucille said earnestly.

  "It is promised," Mr. Sabin answered.

  "You will not ask me the reason of my visit to this place?"

  "I have no curiosity," Mr. Sabin answered. "Come!"