Charlie had visited himafter this length of time. "I think if I had his money I should try andget some little enjoyment out of it. Other wealthy men have yachts, ormotor cars, or other hobbies. Why doesn't he?"
"Because he doesn't care for sport. He told me once that in his youngerdays abroad he was as keen a sportsman as anybody. But now-a-days he'stoo old for it, and prefers his armchair."
"And yet he isn't a very old man, is he?"
"Sometimes wealth rejuvenates a man, but more often the worry of it ageshim prematurely," Rolfe remarked. "I only got back from Glasgow againlast night, and I thought I'd look in and see you. Seen Marion lately?"
"I was with her at Earl's Court last night. She's all right."
Then a silence fell between the pair. Rolfe lit the cigar he had beenslowly twisting between his fingers. Max looked furtively into hisfriend's face, trying to read what secret thought lay behind. Charlie,however, preserved his usual easy, nonchalant air as he leaned back inhis chair, his weed between his teeth and his hands clasped behind hishead.
"Look here, Charlie," Max exclaimed at last, in a tone of confidence."I want to ask you something."
The other started visibly, and his cheeks went just a trifle paler.
"Well, go on, old chap." He laughed uneasily. "What is it?" And thenhe held his breath.
"It's about old Statham."
"About old Statham!" the other echoed, breathing freely again.
"Yes. Do you know that there are going about London a lot of queerstories regarding that house of his in Park Lane--I mean a lot morestories."
"More stories!" laughed the private secretary. "Well, what are peoplesaying now?"
"Oh, all sorts of weird and ridiculous thing."
"What is one of them? I'm interested, for they never tell me anything."
"Because they know you to be connected with the place," Max remarked."Well, just now there are about a dozen different tales going therounds, and all sorts of hints against the old man."
"Set about by those with whom he has refused to associate--eh?"
"Probably concocted by spiteful gossips, I should think. Some of thembear upon the face of them their own refutation. For instance, I'veheard that the reason lights are seen upstairs is because there's amysterious Mrs Statham and her family living there in secret. Nobodyhas seen them, and they never go out."
"Oh! And what reason is given for that?"
"Because they say she's a Turkish woman, and that he still keeps hersecluded as she has been ever since a child. The story goes that she'sa very beautiful woman, daughter of one of the most powerful Pashas inConstantinople, who escaped from her mother's harem and got away overthe frontier into Bulgaria, where Statham joined her, and they weremarried in Paris."
Rolfe laughed aloud. The idea of old Sam being an actor in such alove-romance was distinctly amusing.
"They call him Statham Pasha, I suppose! Well, really, it is the verylatest, just as though there may not be lights upstairs when the old mangoes to bed."
"Of course," said Max. "But the fact that the old man refuses to allowanybody in the house has given rise to all these stories. You reallyought to tell him."
"What shall I tell him? Is there any other gossip?"
"Yes," replied Max, looking the secretary straight in the face insuspicion that he knew more about the mysteries of that house than hereally did. "There's another strange story, which I heard two or threedays ago, to the effect that one night recently a person was seen to gothere secretly, being admitted at once. Then, after the lapse of anhour or so, old Levi came forth, signalled to a four-wheeled cab whichwas apparently loitering about on the chance of a fare. Then from outof the house was carried a long, heavy box, which was placed on the caband driven away to an unknown destination."
"A box!" gasped Rolfe in surprise, bending quickly across to thespeaker. "What do you mean--what do you suggest?"
"Well the natural suggestion is that the body of the midnight visitorwas within that box?"
Charlie Rolfe did not reply. He sat staring open-mouthed, as thoughMax's story had supplied the missing link in a chain of suspicions whichhad for a long time existed in his mind--as though he now knew theterrible and astounding truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
TRUTH OR UNTRUTH.
The two men exchanged glances, each suspicious of the other.
Max tried to imagine the motive of his friend's visit, while Rolfe, onhis part, was undecided as to the extent of the other's knowledge. Tocome there and boldly face Max had cost him a good many qualms. At onemoment he felt certain that Max suspected, but at the next he laughed athis own fears, and declared himself to be a chicken-hearted fool. Andso days had gone on until, unable to stand it further, he had at lastresolved to call at Dover Street.
"You're quite a stranger, Charlie," Max remarked at last. "I haven'tseen you since the doctor disappeared so mysteriously."
He watched Rolfe's face as he spoke, yet save a very slight flush uponthe cheeks he was in no way perturbed.
"Well, I've been away nearly the whole time," was the other's reply."The whole affair is most curious."
"And haven't you seen Maud since?"
He hesitated slightly, and in that hesitation Max detected falsehood.
"No," was his reply.
"What? And haven't you endeavoured to find out her whereabouts?" criedMax, staring at him. "If Marion had disappeared, I think I should haveleft no stone unturned in order to discover the truth."
"I have tried to solve the mystery, and failed," was his rather lameresponse.
"But where are they--where can they be? It's most extraordinary thatthe doctor should not send me word in confidence of their secrethiding-place. I was his most intimate friend."
"Well," he said. "The fact is that until this moment I believed youwere well aware of their whereabouts, but could not, in face of yourfriendship, betray them."
Max looked him straight in the face. Was he lying?
Such a statement was, indeed, ingenious, to say the least. Yet how,recollecting that he had left the empty house in secret, could hebelieve that Max knew the truth and was concealing it? Was it reallypossible that he was in ignorance? Barclay thought. Had he gone toCromwell Road expecting to find the doctor at home, just as he had done?If he had, then why had he crept out of the place and made his escapeso hurriedly?
Again, he recollected the result of the search in company with the manfrom Harmer's, and the finding of the open safe. Somebody had beenthere after his visit; somebody who had robbed the safe! That personmust have been aware of the departure of the doctor. Who was it if notthe man seated there before him?
"Well, Rolfe," Max remarked at last. "You're quite mistaken. I haven'tthe slightest notion of where they are. I've done my best to try anddiscover some clue to the direction of their flight, but all in vain.The more I have probed the affair, the more extraordinary and moremystifying has it become."
"What have you discovered?" asked Charlie quickly.
"Several strange things. First, I have found that the furniture wasremoved in vans painted with the name of Harmer's Stores, but they werenot Harmer's vans. The household goods were spirited away that night,nobody knows whither."
"And with them the Doctor and Maud."
"Exactly. But--well, tell me the truth, Charlie. Have you had nomessage of whatever sort from Maud?"
"None," he replied, his face full of pale anxiety.
"But, my dear fellow she loved you, did she not? It was impossible forher to conceal it."
"Yes, I know. That's why I can't make it out at all. I sometimes thinkthat--"
"That what?"
"Well, that there's been foul play, Max," he said hoarsely. "You knowwhat the people of those Balkan countries are--so many politicalconspirators in every walk of life. And the doctor was such a prominentpolitician in Servia."
Was he telling an untruth? If so, he was a marvellous actor.
"Then
you declare that you have received no word from either Maud or theDoctor."
"I have heard nothing from them."
"But, Charlie," he said slowly, "has it not struck you that Marion knowssomething--that if she liked she could furnish us with a clue to thesolution of the mysterious affair?"
"Yes," he said, his face brightening at once. "How curious! Thatthought struck me also. She knows something, evidently, but refuses tosay a word."
"Because she is Maud's most intimate