The Mission of Poubalov

  CHAPTER XII.

  LITIZKI BREAKS HIS APPOINTMENT.

  In the brief interval that elapsed between the time when she turnedfrom Poubalov and the moment she entered the library, Clara reflectedthat while her loyal heart would rebel at the story to be told byBillings, she must hear him patiently, and not permit her distrust ofhim to manifest itself. One can think to good purpose in even so shorta time as it takes to walk across a room. Clara was fully resolved tobe guided by her reason alone in dealing with Billings, and not topermit herself to doubt his story if it should prove, as was probable,that what he had to say tended to corroborate the detective's theory.

  Yet, when she looked at him, all her woman's intuition rebelled.She saw a man perhaps twenty-five years old, with nothing whateverremarkable in his appearance; but in his eyes and attitude there seemedto be a consciousness of antagonism, as if he expected to be doubted,sharply cross-examined, and as if he were determined that nothingshould shake his story. His sullen, dogged expression was a help toClara in conquering her immediate aversion to him, and she began thecritical interview with a move that surprised and embarrassed him.

  He was sitting, holding his hat on his knees, at the farther side ofthe room. Clara crossed directly to him with outstretched hand, saying:

  "I am Miss Hilman. You are Mr. Billings, I believe. I cannot tell youhow glad I am to see you. Mr. Bowker may have told you how I hunted thecity over to find you. Sit down, please; let me take your hat."

  Billings had risen awkwardly as he saw that she was coming towardhim, and, quite unaware of how she managed it, he found that she hadtaken one of his hands in her own. In his confusion he let his hatfall, picked it up hastily, and at last sat down again, feeling stillthe warm clasp of Clara's hand, while with bewildered eyes he saw thisself-possessed, queenly young woman place his battered hat upon a tableand draw up a chair opposite to him. He had not said a word. If he hadcome with any set phrases for beginning his story, they were completelydriven from his mind.

  Clara looked at him for a moment, and he averted his eyes.

  "Were you acquainted with Mr. Strobel?" she asked presently, speakingin low tones that needed no art to color with the sadness that weighedupon her heart.

  "No'm, I wasn't," replied Billings, with a quick glance at her.

  "I am sorry for that," said Clara, "and yet it shows how kind you areto come here and tell me about this matter. I suppose you had to come along way."

  "I live in the North End," said Billings, uneasily. "Bowker told me tocome."

  "The North End is a long way off," she declared, "and I thank you justthe same. I suppose you may have told Mr. Bowker so carefully aboutthis that you are tired of the matter, but I should like very much tohear you myself. Do you mind telling me just what you told him?"

  "That's what I come for," and Billings seemed to be considerablyrelieved. "I was driving down Park Street," he began, "when I saw thatthe coupe just in front of me had got into trouble. I went slow becausepeople got around thick, and, besides, I wanted to see what was thematter. As I was looking, the man in the coupe clumb out and askedme was I engaged. I told him no, and he got in. He seemed to be in ahurry."

  "One moment," interposed Clara, gently. The narration struck her asdistinctly parrot-like, and if it were something that he had learnedto recite, she preferred to break the thread of his story before hehad come to the important part, rather than give him the advantageof establishing a statement in smooth order. If he were telling thetruth, no manner of interruption could prevent him from eventuallymaking himself understood; if he were lying, she must involve him incontradictions. So, without premeditation, Clara said:

  "You are going just a little too fast for me, and I hope you willforgive me. Every detail, you know, seems important to me. Where hadyou been that morning, Mr. Billings?"

  "Been to a funeral, miss," he answered promptly.

  "Yes, so I understood; but where?"

  "Out to Mount Auburn."

  "That is quite a long way from Park Street, isn't it? It must be fourmiles."

  "Yes'm, 'bout that."

  "It was about eleven o'clock, or a little after, when Mr. Strobel'scoupe broke down, and you had been to Mount Auburn and had just gotback. I see. Where did you leave your passengers, the persons you tookto the funeral, I mean?"

  With a glance of sullen resentment Billings answered:

  "At their house."

  "Yes, Mr. Billings," and Clara smiled as if she were not in the leastannoyed, "but that isn't telling where. I didn't ask for the street andnumber. Why should I? It was in Cambridge, was it not?"

  After the slightest perceptible hesitation, Billings answered:

  "No; 'twas in the West End."

  "Ah, then you had come over Beacon Hill on your way somewhere. Wherewere you going, Mr. Billings?"

  As Billings hesitated more noticeably, she continued:

  "Do you have some regular place where you wait for passengers, or doyou drive about picking them up where you find them?"

  "I was going to the Old Colony Depot," said Billings, huskily.

  "I see. Is it customary, Mr. Billings, for cabmen to leave the curtainsof their carriages closely drawn after they leave a funeral party?"

  "No, 'tain't, not long, but you wouldn't have me stop in front of thehouse to pull 'em up, would you?"

  "Certainly not. You did quite right, doubtless. When did you first seethe coupe?"

  "At the corner of Beacon. It turned into Park Street just ahead of me."

  "Where did Mr. Strobel tell you to take him?"

  "To Dr. Merrill's church, Parker Avenue, Roxbury."

  Billings didn't know it, but his examiner came very near to breakingdown at this point. There was nothing as yet to show that the driverwas not telling the truth, although Clara had prepared a trap for himthat she intended to spring a little later, and the mention of thechurch where she was to be married brought up such a flood of emotionsthat it seemed as if she would choke. Then, too, whether Billings werepracticing deceit or not, it was certain that for this moment at leastshe was following her lover's journey correctly, and she had arrivedat that critical point where the change in his intentions, or in hispower to act, occurred. So, it was in a very faint voice that she toldBillings to go on. He immediately resumed his parrot-like narration:

  "He seemed to be in a hurry, for he spoke quick. I closed the door onhim, and got into my seat as fast as I could and whipped up. I wantedto get along myself, you see, 'cause it was quite a long drive, and Ihad to get back to the depot."

  This last sentence sounded like a fresh thought interjected on the spurof the moment, for Billings spoke it slower than the rest, and glancedinquiringly at Clara, as if to see how she took it. She noticed thedifference, but simply nodded, and Billings went on.

  "Nothing happened till we got to Elliot Street. Then the gentlemanopened the door and hollered 'Driver!' I pulled up a bit and turnedround to see what he wanted. 'Driver!' says he, 'I've changed my mind.Take me to the Park Square Station.' 'All right, sir,' says I, and heclosed the door again. So I druv 'im to the station, and he got out andgive me a dollar and went inside, and that's all there is to it."

  "I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Billings," said Clara; "I supposeyou went directly to the Old Colony Depot after that?"

  "Yes'm. That's where I went."

  He rose as if there could be nothing more for him to say, but Clara wasnot done with him.

  "Just one more question," she said; "sit down again, please. Did yousee Mr. Strobel speak or bow to anybody at the station?"

  "No'm. There wasn't many people about, and he hurried inside like as ifhis train was just going."

  "Was there anybody there whom you knew?"

  "Yes'm, and you can ask him. A feller named O'Brien, who works there,was just at the door as we drew up, and he says 'Hello' to me. He'lltell you he saw me land my passenger there, for he came forward,thinking to get the gentleman's bag to carry."

  "Mr. O'Brien may have no
ticed where Mr. Strobel went after going intothe station," mused Clara.

  "Yes'm, he might. You might ask him."

  "Thank you; I presume I shall. Now, Mr. Billings, I want to show youin some way that I appreciate your kindness in coming here to tell methis. I have had to drive about a great deal for two days, and shallhave to use a carriage to-morrow. I shall be glad to employ you."

  Billings flushed and shifted about uneasily.

  "I can't, miss," he muttered.

  "Why not, Mr. Billings?"

  The driver stole a glance at her earnest face, and saw nothing therebut sad surprise.

  "Why not?" Clara gave the man no help by suggesting a possible excuse.

  "My carriage is engaged--that is," he blurted, "I haven't got anycarriage that would be fit for you."

  "What is the matter with the one in which you took Mr. Strobel?"

  "It got smashed up and is being repaired. You see," and he mumbled hiswords so that they were almost unintelligible, "the same day a partyof toughs hired it; they were kind o' swell toughs, and they got on aracket, and the carriage was damaged. 'Tain't fit to use."

  "Mr. Billings!" Clara spoke with a sudden energy that startled thedriver, "was Mr. Strobel in the carriage when it was damaged?"

  "No'm, no'm, he wan't," stammered Billings.

  The explanation suggested an entirely new thought to Clara. Before hermental vision there came swiftly a picture of her lover struggling withsomebody--might it not be Poubalov?--in the carriage itself. She seemedto see a violent conflict in which seats and fixtures gave way as men'sbodies fell heavily. And Ivan was overpowered, his enemies triumphed,he was motionless, unconscious--perhaps fatally injured, and they hadhidden him away somewhere lest their crime come to the light!

  This was wholly unlike the vision she had seen on the evening of whatshould have been her wedding day; it had none of the aspects of anhallucination; for as the alarming details shaped themselves in herthoughts, she was conscious that Billings sat before her, lookingfrightened, and that he rose again to go. In this instance she was butfollowing the suggestions brought out by her inquiry to what might betheir logical, natural conclusion.

  "I am sorry you cannot drive me to-morrow," she said, recovering andwithdrawing her eyes, which had been fixed in a strained stare uponBillings for a very brief period. "Before you go, tell me the names andaddresses of the persons you took to the funeral, please."

  "I don't remember," replied Billings, uneasily. "I shall have to lookup my book; 'tain't here."

  "Will you do so?" asked Clara, pleasantly, convinced now that theman was lying; "and send the names to me, please. Will you do thatto-night?"

  "Yes'm," replied Billings reaching for his hat.

  "And what is your address?"

  Billings told her, and she laid her hand gently on his arm. An ideathat had occurred to her vaguely when his name was announced as shestood before Poubalov, now recurred to her in the shape of a plan.She would have Billings confront the Russian, and watch their facesnarrowly for some sign of recognition, or alarm.

  "Will you come into the next room a moment?" she said, "I havesomething to show you."

  There seemed to be a shade of suspicion in his eyes, but he made noobjection, and Clara conducted him to the drawing-room. It was dark.With a premonition of disappointment, Clara found a match on the manteland lit the gas. After a hasty glance around she opened the door to thedining-room.

  "Lou!" she whispered eagerly, "have you seen Mr. Poubalov?"

  "No," replied Louise, coming forward and entering the parlor; "has hegone? Then it must have been he!"

  "Who? What have you seen? Wait, come into the hall. Will you sit downjust a minute longer, Mr. Billings? I shall be but a moment."

  Billings complied, and the young ladies passed quickly into the hall,where the first thing that Clara saw were Poubalov's hat and sticklying upon a table. She turned in the utmost wonderment upon her cousin.

  "All I can say," said Louise, "is that I saw a man leap over thehedge into Mr. Jordan's grounds a short time after you went into thedrawing-room to meet Poubalov. I couldn't tell who it was, couldn'teven see that he had no hat on. I feared he might be a tramp, butthought then that he had been frightened away, and that there was nodanger."

  "He was frightened away?" murmured Clara, feeling her blood run cold;"he dared not face his man Billings!"

  "I supposed," continued Louise, in agitation, "that Poubalov was withyou. I heard no voices, but thought perhaps that you had gone into thelibrary with him, for a door closed once."

  "Yes, when Billings came. Oh! if Litizki were only here!"

  "Why! what could he do?"

  "I would have him follow Billings. Oh, I could cry! it is the oneopportunity for solving this mystery that we have found, and now we aregoing to lose it!"

  Louise was greatly distressed.

  "Isn't there some way that you can detain Billings," she suggested,"until Litizki arrives?"

  "No. He's been trying to get away for several minutes. It is justpossible that Litizki may be near. I'll go out with Billings, as if tocall at a neighbor's, and if I see Litizki will put him on the track atonce."

  She went upstairs for her hat, lingering over the preparation in orderto give Litizki all possible opportunity to keep his appointment, andwhen she came down again Billings was in the hall.

  "I can't wait no longer," he said gruffly.

  "Very well," replied Clara; "I thank you again for calling. I am goingas far as the next house, and you can escort me."

  Billings scowled with disagreeable surprise. At the gate he waited tosee which way she would turn.

  "I'm not going that way, miss," he said, and started off at a rapidpace in the opposite direction.