Professor Braithwaite at the Royal Institution and askhis opinion of the scientific apparatus found in the laboratory. I wentdown to Patterson, got permission to remove it from the house, and tookthe whole affair in a cab to the Royal Institution."
"Well, what's the result?" I inquired breathlessly.
"The result?" he answered. "Why, the old Johnnie, when he saw theparaphernalia, stood dumbfounded, and when he put it together andcommenced experimenting seemed speechless in amazement. The discovery,he declared, was among the greatest and most important of those madewithin the last twenty years. He sent messengers for a dozen otherscientific men, who, when they saw the arrangement, examined it withgreat care and were equally amazed with old Braithwaite. All wereextremely anxious as to the identity of the discoverer of this mode ofliquefying almost the last of the refractory gases, but I, of course,held my tongue for a most excellent reason--I did not myself know. Imerely explained that the apparatus had fallen into my handsaccidentally and I wished to ascertain its use."
"Then quite a flutter has been caused among these dry-as-dust oldfossils," I observed, laughing.
"A flutter!" Dick echoed. "Why, the whole of the scientific world willbe in a state of highest excitement to-morrow when the truth becomesknown. Old Braithwaite declared that the discoverer deserves animmediate knighthood."
"Let's be off," Boyd said. He took no interest in the discovery. Likemyself, his only object was to solve the mystery.
"Then I'm not to go?" Dick said inquiringly.
"No," the detective replied. "I'm sorry, but a crowd of us will queerthe thing. You shall have all the details later. Patterson haspromised that you shall publish first news of the affair."
Dick was sorely disappointed, I saw it in his face; nevertheless, with alight laugh he wished us goodbye when we emerged into Fleet Street, andhurried away back to the offices of the _Comet_, while Boyd and myselfjumped into a hansom outside St. Dunstan's Church, and drove along PallMall as far as St. James's Palace, where we alighted and entered thepark. The detective explained his tactics during the drive. They werethat we should separate immediately on entering the park, and that heshould go alone to the spot indicated by the mysterious voice, while Iidled in the vicinity. I was to act just as I pleased, but we were notto recognise one another either by look or sign.
I own, therefore, that it was with considerable trepidation that I leftthe detective on entering the Mall and wandered slowly along beneath thetrees, while he crossed and entered the park himself. In thatthoroughfare, which forms a short and pleasant cut for taxis goingeastward from Victoria station, there was considerable traffic at thathour. The sky was blue, and the June sun shone warmly through thetrees, giving the Londoner a foretaste of summer, and causing him tothink of straw hats, flannels and holiday diversions. A bright day in aLondon park at once arouses thoughts of the country or the sea. With myface set towards the long, regular facade of Buckingham Palace--a greypicture with little artistic touches of red, the scarlet coats of theGuards--I wondered what would be the outcome of this attempt to obtain aclue. That thin squeaky voice sounded in my ear as distinctly at thatmoment as it had done on the previous night, a weird summons from oneunknown.
At last, just as Big Ben, showing high across the trees, chimed andboomed forth the hour of noon, I entered one of the small gates of thepark and strolled along the gravelled walk down to the edge of theornamental water, where, for some minutes, I stood watching a group ofchildren feeding the water-fowl.
Though trying to look unconcerned, my eyes were ever on the alert. Ihad expected to see Boyd, but there was no sign of him, therefore Istrolled along, passing the end of the water, the exact spot indicated.There was no one there beyond half a dozen school children feeding thebirds with portions of dinners brought with them from distant homes.
Undecided whether to halt there, I kept my attention fixed upon thechildren, then, fearing to annoy Boyd by remaining at that point, Istrolled slowly along the shore in the direction of Birdcage Walk. Thedetective had certainly concealed himself successfully, for although Ikept my eyes on the watch I could discover no sign of him.
The hour of the appointment had passed, but, not daring to turn back tolook, I kept straight on, until, at some distance beyond, I came to aseat beside the path and there I rested, drawing a newspaper from mypocket and pretending to read. Unfortunately, from where I sat, at apoint opposite the Wellington Barracks, I could obtain no view of themeeting-place, and although Big Ben struck the quarter I was compelledto remain there inactive, watching furtively the few passers-by.
With a diligence perhaps unworthy of a journalist I read and re-read mynewspaper for nearly half an hour, and in the course of that time thepeople who went along did not number a dozen. Of none of these did Ientertain any suspicion. They included a couple of soldiers, two orthree old women, a lady with a small child, a couple of nurses withchildren, a park-keeper, and a bank clerk with his wallet chained to hisbelt.
Secreted somewhere in the vicinity, Boyd was watching, but where I knewnot. His surmise had unfortunately proved correct, I reflected, as thehalf-hour chimed. The man, whoever he was, was no fool.
For five minutes longer I remained, when a sudden impatience seized me,and I folded my paper and rose.
As I did so there came round the bend of the path, from the direction ofthe spot the mysterious voice had indicated, a slim figure in deepmourning, evidently a lady. She walked with an even swinging gait, notas one who was idling there, but as though with some fixed purpose. Onher approach I saw that she was attired entirely in black, wearing adress of the latest mode, the wide skirt of which rustled as she walked;a large hat with swaying feathers which at that moment struck me assomewhat funereal, and a thick spotted veil. Her black silk sunshadeshe carried on her arm, and as she came nearer I could not help beingstruck by her neatness of figure, her small waist, wide hips andwell-moulded bust.
I lingered at the seat to brush the dust from my coat, so that she mightpass and allow me a glance of her face.
She went by with a loud frou-frou of silken underskirt, and at that sameinstant I turned my gaze upon her and looked into her face.
Next second I drew back, startled and aghast.
Her hair was fair, her eyes large and blue, her features familiar. Eventhat thick veil could not conceal her marvellous beauty.
I looked again, believing it to be some chimera of my disorderedimagination.
No. There was no mistake. It was an astounding, inexplicable truth.
She was the woman I had discovered cold and dead in that house inKensington on the previous night--the woman whose body had so strangelydisappeared.
For a few moments I stood rooted to the spot. The discovery held mepetrified.
Then, with sudden resolve, I moved forward and followed her.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
EVA GLASLYN.
I glanced behind me, but saw no sign of Boyd. Of a sudden it crossed mymind that he had not been present at our first discovery; therefore,expecting a man to keep the appointment, he had allowed her to pass thespot unnoticed.
The appearance of that neat figure before me, the figure of the womanover whose beauty I had mourned as dead, was in itself a most startlingfact, adding still another feature to the already dark and inscrutablemystery. I wanted to have a word with Boyd and ask his advice, for Iknew not how to act in such unexpected circumstances. One of thevictims was actually keeping an appointment with an accomplice of theassassin, for there seemed no doubt that murder had been committed bysome secret means.
When she passed me I noticed the queer, half-suspicious glance she castat me with those large blue eyes of hers, a glance in which anxiety wasmingled with terror and despair. Evidently she had sought some one whomshe had not been able to find, and was disappointed in consequence.With the silhouette of her figure before me like some phantom which Iwas endeavouring to chase in vain, I strolled on at a respectabledistance, endeavouring to look unconcerned. I saw
what a strikinglysmart figure hers was; how slim the waist, how wide and well-rounded thehips, and how through the bodice of her dress was shown the outline ofthose narrow French corsets, mere bands for the waist which only womenwith superb figures ever dare to wear. Her skirt of fine black clothhung in folds unusually graceful, for London skirts are always more orless "bunchy," dragging behind and rising in front, unless made by thefirst-class houses in Regent Street or Bond Street. London dressmakerscannot cut a skirt well. But her gown was a model of simplicity andgood fit, evidently the "creation" of some expensive ladies' tailor.
Her hair, in the full light of day, was not golden brown as I hadbelieved it to be, but really auburn, and her black hat suited heradmirably. From moment to moment I feared lest she should glance backand discover me following her, but fortunately she kept straight on atthe same even pace, passing out of the park by Storey's Gate, andcontinuing along Great