present, no. You are the same Stella Keane who saw Tommie Esmond, adiscovered card-sharper, off at the Charing Cross Station, and kissedhim an affectionate farewell. If you were on such intimate terms withthat man, you are no fit wife for my friend Guy Spencer."
He had touched her at last. "How did you find that out?" she gasped,and her face for a second went livid. She was surprised beyond thepoint of denial.
And at that moment the door opened and Guy Spencer entered. Sherecovered herself immediately; went up to her husband and laid acaressing hand on his shoulder.
"A perfect tie, dearest; it was worth the time. Your friend, MajorMurchison, has been distressing me with a terrible story of some tragedythat happened when he was quartered at Blankfield."
Guy Spencer smiled cheerfully. "Dear old Hugh is good at stories. Hemust tell it me after dinner."
As she looked up into her husband's face, Hugh noticed the tender lightin her eyes. Lady Nina had said that if she was not devotedly in lovewith Guy, she must be the most consummate actress off the stage. Lovingwife or consummate actress, which was she?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
When Hugh reflected over that interview in the drawing-room beforedinner, he came to the conclusion that he had not played his cards verywell, that he had been a little too precipitate. Whether she was NorahBurton or not, she was a very clever young woman, and he had just puther on her guard by that rather indiscreet allusion to Tommy Esmond. Ifhe had no further evidence to go on than that incident, she would giveher husband a plausible explanation of it. And Hugh believed his oldfriend Guy was still deeply in love enough with his wife to believeanything she told him.
He could imagine her telling that convincing story to Guy, probably withher arms round his neck, and her pretty eyes looking up to his with thelove-light in them. Esmond had been a kind friend to her, had done hermany a good turn. Much as she deplored his baseness, she could not bearthe thought of his slinking out of the country, a branded fugitive,without a forgiving hand stretched out to him.
Backwards and forwards he revolved the matter in his mind, till he cameto the conclusion that the problem was one he could not solve himself.And then he suddenly thought of his old acquaintance, Davidson ofScotland Yard, the tall man of military aspect who had arrested GeorgeBurton on that memorable night at Rosemount.
He went round to Scotland Yard, presented his card, and inquired for MrDavidson. His old acquaintance was dead; a man named Bryant had takenhis place. Would Major Murchison care to see him?
In a few seconds Hugh was ushered into Bryant's room. To his surpriseand relief Bryant was the man who had accompanied Davidson toBlankfield. It was pretty certain he would recall to the minutestdetail the circumstances of that visit.
"Good-day, Mr Bryant. You know my name by my card, of course, but I amnot so sure you remember anything of the time and place where we lastmet."
But the detective was able to reassure him on this point.
"In our profession, sir, we remember everything and everybody, and wenever forget a face. It is some years ago, it is true, but I recall theincidents of our meeting as if they had happened yesterday. PoorDavidson and I came down to collar that slim rascal George Burton, who,by the way, got off with a light sentence. Davidson saw you in theafternoon and gave you the option of staying away. You talked it over,and came to the conclusion that, for certain reasons, you would ratherbe in at the finish. Those reasons were connected with your youngfriend Mr Pomfret, who was infatuated with the young woman."
"You remember everything as well as I do, Mr Bryant. I mustcongratulate you on your marvellous memory, for I suppose this is onlyone out of hundreds of cases."
Mr Bryant smiled, well pleased at this tribute to his capacity.
"We cultivate our small gifts, sir, in this direction. Well, we tookthe slim George. The girl fainted. You dragged Mr Pomfret out of thehouse, and he shot himself in the small hours of the morning. It cameout that he had married the young woman a day or two before, and couldnot face the exposure." Hugh paid a second tribute to the detective'smarvellous memory. "And now, Mr Bryant, have you any knowledge of whathas become of them? People like that are never quite submerged: someday or another, like the scum they are, they will be found floating onthe top again."
Bryant shook his head. "No, sir, I cannot say I have. They have notcome under our observation again. Probably they are abroad underassumed names, engaged in rascally business, of course, but doing itvery much _sub rosa_."
"Mind you, at present I have very little to go on," said Hugh. "I mayhave been deceived by a chance resemblance. But I have a strongintuition I am on their track."
Bryant's attitude became alert at once. "You say you have no evidence.Well, tell me your suspicions, and I will tell you what weight I attachto them."
"First of all, before I do that, let me know if you would recogniseNorah Burton and George Burton again, in spite of the passage of years.Norah had fair hair; the one I am on the track of has dark hair. Theman I have not seen; this time he is a cousin, not a brother."
"Ah!" Mr Bryant drew a deep breath. "If they are the people youthink, sir, and I once saw them, no disguises would take me in. Nowtell me all you know."
Thus exhorted, Murchison launched into a copious narrative. Heexplained that on the night of the dinner with the Southleighs atCarlton House Terrace, he had met for the first time the wife of his oldfriend Guy Spencer, that he had detected in her an extraordinarylikeness to Norah Burton. The marriage had been hastily contracted;next to nothing wap known about the young woman's antecedents, apartfrom the very vague details with which she furnished them.
In the background was a cousin, by all accounts a very common fellow,who had never visited the house since the marriage. Then there was theepisode of Tommy Esmond being found cheating at cards at the L'Estrangeflat, and Stella Keane's farewell meeting with him at Charing CrossStation.
Mr Bryant made copious notes. When the narrative was finished he madehis comments.
"There are, of course, coincidences that may mean nothing or a greatdeal, Major Murchison. However, assuming that the lady in question isnot our old friend Norah Burton, she is evidently not a very estimablemember of society. She was in a shady set at Mrs L'Estrange's, andTommy Esmond must have been a pretty close pal."
"Well, I want you to take this case on for me, and find out what youcan."
But Bryant shook his head. "Sorry, sir, but in my position I can't takeon private business. It is not a public matter, you see, unless you canaccuse them of anything." Hugh's face fell. "I forgot that. What am Ito do? Can you recommend me to a private detective?"
"Half a dozen, sir, all keen fellows. But you can't stir very muchwithout me, in the first instance. You want me to identify them. Well,I will go so far as that, in memory of the time when we were together inthe original job. Mrs Spencer, you say, lives in Eaton Place. I willkeep a watch on that house till I see her coming out or going in. If Iagree that she was Norah Burton, we have got the first step. Now, whatdo you know about this cousin, Dutton?"
"Only that he is an outside stockbroker, with an office, or offices, inthe City."
"Good." Mr Bryant opened a telephone book and rapidly turned over thepages. "Here he is, right enough--George Dutton--George, mark you--share- and stockbroker, Bartholomew Court. Well, sir, to oblige you, Iwill run down to the City and get a peep at Mr George Dutton. If myrecollection agrees with yours, I will put you on to one of my friends,and you can have the precious pair watched. If they are the persons youthink they are, you may depend upon it they won't keep long apart; theywill make opportunities of meeting each other. Anyway, they must bepretty thick together, or he would not put up with being excluded fromthe house."
Hugh left with a great sense of relief. He felt that the matter was invery capable hands. If Bryant told him that he was following awill-o'-the-wisp, then the whole matter could drop. The fact of MrsSpencer's relations with Tommy Esmond were hardly
important enough tojustify him in disturbing his friend's domestic felicity.
At the end of three days the detective rang him up. The message wasbrief: "Come and see me."
Bryant received him in his room. "Well, Major Murchison, yoursuspicions are quite correct. I have been very close to the interestingpair. Mrs Spencer has camouflaged herself very well, but beyond doubtshe is Norah Burton. Our gaol-bird, George Burton, has been lessparticular. He has not disguised himself at all; the few years havemade little or no impression on him. He has hid himself in the City,trusting that nobody he ever knew would come across him."
"Then I was right, after all, Mr Bryant. And now what would you adviseme to do? This woman is the worst type of adventuress card-sharper allthrough--at least a confederate, in