Mr. Marx's Secret

  CHAPTER XLVI. A BRUSH WITH THE POLICE.

  We could scarcely have accomplished more than a mile of our homewardjourney when, with a sudden jerk which almost threw me forward, thecarriage was brought to a standstill.

  On the opposite side of the road were two carriages, or, rather, flys,from one of which a tall, slim man was in the act of descending. Severalother men on horseback were just riding up from behind. They were all inplain clothes, but something about their _physique_ and generalappearance had an unmistakable suggestion of police.

  The man who had been descending from the nearer of the two carriagescrossed the road and approached me.

  "Sorry to detain you, sir," he said, saluting in military fashion, "but Imust ask you your name and address and where you have been this evening."

  "I don't know whether it has occurred to you that your behaviour israther strange," I remarked, looking at him steadily, "not to sayimpertinent! What the mischief do you mean by stopping my carriage inthis way on the high road and asking me questions like that? Who areyou?"

  He hesitated, and then answered with a little more respect in his manner.

  "I am deputy chief sergeant at Scotland Yard, sir, and these are my men.We have a little business at a house not far from here, and our ordersare to detain and procure the names and addresses of all persons whom wemight encounter of whom we had reasonable suspicion that they hadrecently left the house in question. You will not object to give me yourname, sir?"

  "Certainly not. My name is Philip Morton, and my general address isRavenor Castle, Leicestershire. At present I am staying at the MetropoleHotel. Are you satisfied?"

  "Perfectly, sir," he answered, after one more rapid glance around thecarriage. "I see that you are not concerned in this affair. I wish yougood-night!"

  We drove rapidly off, and I began to feel not a little dissatisfied withmyself. The Count had no right to have mixed me up in this affair.

  In my ill-temper I gave the box, which lay concealed under my feet, asavage kick, sufficient to have sent it flying to the other end of thecarriage. But there was a little surprise in store for me. To myamazement the box remained perfectly immovable, just as though it hadbeen screwed into the bottom of the carriage.

  Forgetting the Count's earnest injunctions, I threw aside the rug and,stooping down, tried to lift it by the handles. In those days I was proudof my muscles, and not altogether without reason, but it needed all mystrength to lift that small box from the ground and hold it for a momentin my arms. What could it contain? Papers, cards, gambling appliances?Surely it could be none of these! The very idea was ridiculous! The Countde Cartienne had deceived me. I had been made the catspaw of those pale,anxious men who had watched me start so eagerly and scanned me over withmany furtive glances. What it was of which I was in charge, I could nottell; but in that box lay their secret, and my first indignant impulsewas to open the carriage door and kick it out into the road.

  But are not second thoughts always better? Might not this affair shapeitself to my advantage? There need be no more obligations to the Count deCartienne. He was possessed of information which was valuable to me. Iwas possessed of this box, which, without doubt, was invaluable to him. Iwould propose an exchange--he should bring me face to face with Mr. Marxand receive his precious box; or, if he refused to do so, its destinationshould be Scotland Yard. A very equitable arrangement!