CHAPTER XXII.
MR. NISBET VISITS LAMB'S TERRACE
I had no doubt whatever that this person was Mr. Oliver Nisbet, who must have in his possession the means of access to the house. This being the case, the question of motive arose. It could not have been the value of the garments, which, to a man of fortune, was of small importance. The care which in the first instance had been taken to conceal them became now in my judgment of extreme significance; still more so the stealthy manner in which they had been removed. Mr. Nisbet had been in London comparatively but a few hours before he carried out a design the probable intention of which was to remove and destroy evidence which might in some way place him in peril. Likely enough he had come to London for this special purpose, fearing, as he was no longer the tenant, that the house would be let to strangers, into whose hands the clothing would naturally fall. Surely he would not have paid his stealthy visit to Lamb's Terrace if he had not cause to dread exposure!
Bob, who presented himself punctually at the time he named, agreed with me in this view, and when I told him of my coming by chance upon Mr. Nisbet, and spoke of the impression he produced upon me, he looked disturbed. I asked the reason, and he answered:
"Well, Ned, I don't mind confessing to you that I have a secret horror of Mr. Nisbet, and an unreasonable dread of him. I hardly think we two would be a match for him."
I could not help smiling as I remarked, "There is not much chance of a personal encounter, Bob."
"I am not so sure of that," he said. "I am not so sure that he is not at this moment concealed in the house, the ins and outs of which he must be much better acquainted with than we are."
"Concealed for the purpose of doing us an injury?" I inquired.
"Concealed," he replied, "first to ascertain if any persons were in occupation and had any suspicions of the last tenant-in which case he would in all probability endeavor to get rid of those persons as he got rid of his unfortunate stepdaughter."
"You forget, Bob, the gas is cut off."
"Ned," said Bob impressively, "my firm belief is that the young lady did not meet her death by asphyxiation caused by an escape of gas. True, we have no evidence of a crime having been committed; our suspicions go for nothing; your apparition of the cat goes for nothing; a third-rate lawyer would laugh them to scorn; but none the less do I believe that the lady my nephew loved was murdered by her stepfather. Your interview with Dr. Cooper strengthens these suspicions, the removal of the women's clothing confirms them in my mind. And still, legally, we are no further advanced. Everything in this house belongs to the last tenant. He paid the rent regularly while he held the lease, and if he chose to leave his property here unprotected, it was his affair; and if, after a long absence from England, he returns and pays an early visit to the house, which is still practically without a tenant, for the purpose of taking possession of part of his property, he is still fairly within his right. Even supposing that there were a law to touch him-which there is not-he could easily explain the matter, and his explanation would be accepted without question."
"Unless," I interposed, "we stepped forward with what we know."
"We know nothing, Ned, absolutely nothing. We should only bring ourselves into trouble, lay ourselves open to a criminal action for defamation, which the most skillful lawyer in the land could not successfully defend. What do you think I have done to-day?"
"I have not the least idea."
"I asked my employer for a holiday, and I have got it. I have been slaving in his office for years without a single week's vacation. He gave me the holiday, three or four weeks, at my option, and I intend to employ the time in remaining with you and assisting in the elucidation of this mystery, if it is ever to be arrived at."
"You are a real friend; but, Bob, that is a nice idea of a holiday, after years of hard work."
"Never mind. The mystery has got tight hold of me, and I don't mean to leave it unless I am compelled by circumstances to do so. You have no objection to company and assistance, I suppose?"
"I am truly grateful for it."
"You see," said Bob earnestly, "I happen to be more closely connected with it than you are. You have no human relation with the parties in the affair, who, until quite lately, were complete strangers to you. I have some sort of connection with them through my nephew Ronald, whom I have seen to-day, and who, I may tell you, is troubled by the inquiries you have made of him. He has no notion of their tendency, but he felt that something is being concealed from him which he has a right to know. It is in his interests, and for his satisfaction, that I enter into a direct partnership with you. Have you succeeded in persuading your good wife to go to the seaside?"
"I have, and she will be away for at least for a fortnight; if necessary I shall insist upon her remaining at Brighton for a longer time."
"So that we are free to set actively to work without interruption."
"Yes, Bob. How about Barbara?"
"My landlady takes her upon trial. There will be no charge for board and lodging, and if she gives satisfaction she will get a shilling a week to commence with."
"I am glad to hear it. And now to get back to your suspicions that Mr. Nisbet may be concealed in the house even while we are talking. He might endeavor to get rid of us, you said. When, and how?"
"When? In the dead of night, when we are sound asleep. How? Well, I put together these facts: Mr. Nisbet's knowledge of dangerous chemicals, the narcotic which Ronald informed you he gave to his stepdaughter, and the significant conclusions which can be drawn from your conversation with Dr. Cooper. I propose, not this evening, to-morrow morning, that you, or we together, pay a visit to Dr. Cooper, and have an interview with him. He has a grievance against Mr. Nisbet; it might be turned to effect."
"You suspect him of being an accomplice?"
"In a certain sense. What do they call it in law? Accessory after the fact. He might have known nothing at the time; the belief that his knowledge of poisonous narcotics-bear in mind his boast-had been used to a bad end may have come afterward."
"But if he makes any admission it could be used against himself."
"It could, but he may be able to prove his innocence of a guilty intention. However, that is a point for future consideration. A visit can do no harm. He is desperately poor, and a little bribe may tempt him; if we cannot worm anything out of him, we may out of his wife. Now, Ned, before I consent to sleep in this house I intend to search it thoroughly from roof to cellar."
We carried out this proposal; we thoroughly examined every room, we made fast every door when we closed it behind us; and we discovered nothing. Our search over, we were quite convinced that we were the only persons in the house.
The following two hours were devoted to preparing supper, and while we were thus employed we discussed our movements for to-morrow. Bob insisted that Ronald Elsdale should be made acquainted with all that had transpired, and I consented. Our first visit in the morning was to be paid to the inquiry agent, our second to Dr. Cooper, our third to Ronald. Bob was thoroughly in earnest, and I perceived that his interest in the matter was now no less than my own.
I have already stated that the room we had selected was on the second floor, and that its windows faced the back garden. There were Venetian blinds to the window, and some of the slats were awry and loose from long neglect. For a reason which he did not explain Bob shaded the one candle which we had lighted, so that the fact of the apartment being occupied could not be quite clearly established from without. Several times Bob went to the window and cautiously peeped through the crooked slats.
"What for, Bob?" I asked.
"Just a fancy of mine," he replied. "Is your apparition present?"
"It is not."
The weather had suddenly changed, in fit accordance with the extraordinary vagaries of our beautiful climate. A fine night had set in, and there was a full bright moon. In the middle of a game of cribbage Bob rose once more, and stepped to the window and remained there.
"Don't touch the candle, Ned," he said, "and move cautiously. Come here quietly, so as not to give an observer outside any indication that human beings are in the room."
I obeyed him, and presently was standing motionless by his side, peeping through the slats.
The garden was bathed in light. Standing in full view I saw a man facing our window, his eyes intently fixed in our direction in the endeavor to discover whether the apartment was inhabited.
"Can you see him plainly?'
"Quite plainly, Bob."
"Who is it?"
"Mr. Oliver Nisbet."
"Ah!"
And now a strange incident occurred, visible to me, but not to Bob. In the clear moonlight I saw the skeleton cat creeping toward the man who was watching. Slowly it advanced and fastened itself upon him, and climbed upward till it reached his shoulder. And there it squatted, its yellow eyes resting ominously on Mr. Nisbet's face. He seemed to be perfectly unconscious of the presence of the apparition, but to me it was an unmistakable sign, more powerful than the strongest human proof, that the man had been guilty of a horrible crime. In silence we stood at the window for several minutes, and then Mr. Nisbet slunk away to the rear of the garden. He climbed the crumbling wall which encompassed it, and was gone.
"What do you say to that, Ned?" asked Bob.
I could not answer, so enthralled was I by the spiritual evidence of guilt of which I had been a witness. Bob looked at me inquiringly.
"Your face is as white as death," he said. "Are you ill?"
"A moment, Bob," I replied; and when I was sufficiently recovered I explained to him what I had seen. It stirred him as deeply as it had stirred me.
"If a shadow of doubt was in my mind," he said, "it is dispelled. The villain must be brought to justice."
"He shall be, if human effort can accomplish it. I will not rest till his guilt is brought home to him."
We slept but little that night, and did not take our rest together. Fearful of consequences to which we could give no name, we slept and watched in turn, Bob's pistol being handy for any emergency. Nothing further, however, occurred to disturb us. Early in the morning we breakfasted, and took our way to Mr. Dickson's office.
"You received my message, then?" were his first words to me.
"What message?" I inquired.
"The one I sent to your house an hour ago. I knew it was safe to leave it, because your wife was in the country. Oh, we find out things without being told. It belongs to our business."
"I did not sleep at home last night; I received no message."
"It does not matter, now you are here. I have news for you. Yesterday Mr. Oliver Nisbet paid two visits to the house in Lamb's Terrace."
"You discovered that, did you?"
"I should be a bungler if I had not. We have never left him, and I will stake all I am worth that he had not the slightest suspicion that he was being watched. His first visit was made at two o'clock. He let himself into the house with a key, and remained there about an hour. He went in with his hands empty; he came out with his hands full. He carried a large parcel with him wrapped in brown paper, and this evidently was the motive for his first visit. We do not know what was in the parcel; he took it to his room in the Métropole, and left it there. His second visit was paid in the night, at half-past nine. He did not enter by the front door; indeed, he did not enter at all. He climbed over the back wall of the garden, and stood there, watching the back windows, for half an hour or so. Then he returned the same way as he came. From Lamb's Terrace he went to Theobald's Row, South Lambeth, and had an interview with a disreputable apothecary there of the name of Cooper. He calls himself a doctor, but I doubt whether he has a diploma. From Theobald's Row, Mr. Nisbet returned to the Métropole, and left instructions to be called early. If you went to the hotel now you would not find him there."
"He has fled!" I exclaimed.
"I do not know about that," said Mr. Dickson, with a smile. "We will call it a departure. He has taken his departure."
"Gone to another hotel?"
"Not in this country. He left for the Continent this morning by the early train."
I stamped my foot impatiently. "Then he has escaped us!" I cried.
"He has not gone alone," said Mr. Dickson calmly. "One of my officers went by the same train. I am right in my understanding that you do not mind a little extra expense?"
"Quite right."
"The question of expense is frequently a puzzling matter with us, movements requiring an unauthorized expenditure of money sometimes occurring suddenly, when there is not time to consult our clients. If I had allowed Mr. Nisbet to leave the country unaccompanied he might have slipped through your fingers; in any event it would have been a great trouble, and have necessitated the expenditure of much more money, to pick up the broken threads. Many a good case has been spoiled by parsimony."
"I understand that. Where has Mr. Nisbet gone to?"
"I cannot inform you yet. As far as Paris, certainly; but my impression is he goes farther. My officer will telegraph me from Paris, and will not leave him till he has reached his destination."
I considered a moment, and then took Bob aside. "Will you accompany me to Paris?" I asked.
"With pleasure."
I turned to Mr. Dickson. "Your officer will telegraph to you from Paris?"
"Yes."
"If I wait here for information I shall lose a day. You could telegraph to me in Paris the address you receive from your officer?"
"There is no difficulty. You intend to follow?"
"I do. Give me the name of some central hotel in Paris where I can put up till I receive your telegram."
"Hôtel de Bade, Boulevard des Italiens."
"That will do. I have something to do here in London before I can start. I can get through my business in about an hour, perhaps a few minutes more. Bob, run out and bring two hansoms with smart horses." Bob vanished. "Now, the best train, Mr. Dickson?"
"Let me see. It is not yet nine. Your business say an hour and twenty minutes. A train from Victoria, another from Charing Cross, at eleven. Could you catch one of these, whichever is the nearest for you?"
"Yes."
"You arrive in Paris at seven this evening. Our man will reach there two hours and a half earlier. You may get a telegram from me at the Hôtel de Bade within an hour or so of your arrival."
"Capital. Good-morning."
The cabs were at the door, and I told Bob to drive with speed to my house, to pack up a bag for both of us expeditiously, and to meet me at Ronald Elsdale's house at a little after ten. The cab was to remain there, and he was to detain his nephew till I joined him there. Pending my arrival he was to tell Ronald everything. I gave him a line to my servant, authorizing him to take what clothes were necessary for the journey.
"Double fare," I said to both the cabmen, "if you drive at your fullest speed."
The next moment Bob was driving to my house and I was on my way to Dr. Cooper.
CHAPTER XXIII.
ON THE TRACK
Theobald's Row was as depressing in the morning as it had been in the evening, and looked as if a bath would do it good. The workingmen's lodging houses bore even a more striking resemblance to prisons, and the men and women I passed looked as if they had been up all night, and had hurried out to their depressing occupations without having had recourse to soap and water. On the doorstep of Dr. Cooper's shop the same half dozen children were playing the same games with pieces of broken crockery and dry mud, and bore no appearance of having been washed since I last set eyes on them. One of the children, catching sight of me, jumped up and ran into the shop, screaming:
"Here's the gentleman, mother!" At which summons the slatternly woman immediately presented herself. It struck me that there was something aggressive in her aspect.
"Oh," she said, in no amiable tone, "it's you!"
"Yes," I replied, "it is I."
"And you call yourself a workingman," she exclaimed.
"I am not aware that I have done so."
"So my husband told me last night; you are the man who called last night, and went to seek my husband at the Britannia. Don't deny it."
"I have not the least intention of doing so. You gave me the information where to see him."
"So I did, and he said you pretended to be a workingman. Now, a workingman wouldn't say, 'it is I'; he'd say 'it's me.' I have been brought pretty low, but I had fair schooling when I was young, and I know a workingman from a gentleman."
"Well," I observed, "say that I am a gentleman; is that anything against me?"
"It is everything against you. I heard from my husband all that passed between you-as nearly as he could remember, in the state he was. When he's in his cups his tongue runs too free, and you gave him rope enough. Perhaps you're not a gentleman, after all. What do you say to detective?"
"I am not a detective," I answered, with, I confess, a rather guilty feeling, for if I was not doing the work of a detective, what else was I doing? "For what reason on earth should a detective be running after your husband?"
"An admission!" she cried, and I saw that I had to do with a sharp woman. "Then you are running after him." She folded her arms defiantly. "Now, what for?"
I smiled rather feebly as I said, "You would not believe me if I told you I have come to put something in his way."
"You are right there. I should not believe you."
"But it is the truth, nevertheless, and it will not serve me to talk it over with you. Can I see your husband?"
"You cannot see him."
"Is he not at home?"
"He is not at home."
"Will he be in soon?"
"He will not be in soon."
There was no mistaking her meaning; she regarded me as an enemy, and it was her intention to be personally offensive.
"You do not wish me and your husband to meet?"
"You shan't meet if I can help it."
"Then you must have something to fear."
This thrust, which I gave involuntarily-for I had no desire to hurt the poor woman's feelings-drove the color from her face. She retreated a step, and stumbled over a child that was playing on the floor. The slight accident seemed to infuriate her; she angrily pushed the child away with her foot, and turned upon me like a tigress.
"What are you hunting us down for?" she cried. "Do you think I have not had trouble enough in my life? Driven here and there, with a pack of hungry children in rags, and tied to a man who expects me to keep a home and a family upon ten shillings a week! But he's my husband for all that, and I'm not going to help you bring a deeper disgrace upon us. You came here yesterday to set a trap for him, with a lying story that you owed him a few pence which you were anxious to pay. God knows what you wormed out of him, for, clever as he is, he's a fool when he pours the drink down his throat. I've warned him over and over again to be careful what he says; but I might as well have talked to a stone. He's out of your reach now, at all events, and you'll have a job to find him. I wish you joy of your task, you cowardly sneak!"
The passion of her defiance of me was wonderful to witness; but underlying this defiance was a terror which did not escape my observation.
"I came here," I said gently, for her despair and her poverty inspired me with genuine pity, "in the hope that he would assist me in the discovery of a crime which has not been brought to light. If he is not implicated in it he would have earned a few pounds; if in any way he is involved in it, all I can say is, Heaven pity him-and you!"
My time was too precious to waste further words upon her, and I left the shop, and entered the cab which was waiting for me. Before I could close the door a man accosted me.
"I heard what passed inside the shop," he said. "Make it worth my while, and I'll tell you something about Dr. Cooper."
"Jump in," I answered; "I have no time to stop talking here." I gave the driver Ronald Elsdale's address, and we sped thitherward. "Now, what have you to say?"
"You want to know where the doctor is?" he commenced.
"I do."
"Well, I can't tell you that exactly, but I can put you on his track. It's worth, I should say," – he deliberated, and looked at me covertly to decide what he would be likely to screw out of me-"not less than half a crown."
"I will give you that if you keep nothing back."
"All right. Where's the coin?"
"No, my friend," I said, "I'll have the goods before I pay for them."
"You're a sharp old file, but I'm out of work; It's capital and labor, and we know who's the grinder. Here was I, at six this morning, looking for work and not getting it. The doctor's shop shut, it's not the likes of him that catches worms. Back I come home at a quarter past seven, and there's a telegraph boy banging at the doctor's door. I help him bang, and out comes the doctor, doing up his buttons; takes the telegram, reads it, turns red and white, rushes into the house, rushes out in a brace of shakes, and scuds off. 'What's up?' thinks I, and off I scuds after him; he's too excited to notice. At St. George's Hospital, walking up and down in a fume, and looking as if he'd knock everything and everybody into a cocked hat if he had his way, there's a gentleman waiting for him, and a four-wheeler, with trunks atop, waiting for both of 'em. They have a hurried talk; I'm not near enough to hear what passes, but I get up to the cab as they step in. 'Charing Cross Station,' cries the gentleman to cabby. 'Break your horse's neck if you like; if I don't catch the Continental train I'll break yours.' Off goes the cab, and then, what do you think? off goes another cab that I hadn't noticed, after the first. I've got no money to pay for cabs, but having nothing better to do, and looking upon the move as a rum sort of move, I foots it to the station, and gets there at five minutes to eight. There they are, Dr. Cooper and his gentleman friend, as busy as bees, and there's the bell ringing and porters shouting, and everything hurry scurry. Away they go through the gate, and off goes the train; and if all that aint worth half a dollar I'd like to know what is."
"You shall have the money," I said; "are you sure they both went away in the train?"
"I'm sure they didn't comeback. I asked one of the porters what train that was. 'Train for Paris,' he said."
"Did you see the man who went after them in the second cab?"
"Never caught sight of him in the cab or out of it."
"But you saw the gentleman who met Dr. Cooper at the hospital."
"Of course I did."
"Was there anything peculiar in his appearance that you noticed particularly?"
"I noticed he had a red beard and mustache."
"Did he wear spectacles?"
"He had a pair of gold eyeglasses that he was continually putting on and off."
"You have earned the money. Here it is."
He took the half crown, bawled to the driver to stop, jumped out of the cab, and was off.
At five minutes past ten my cab drew up at Ronald Elsdale's house. Bob had been expeditious, and was there before me; he had even found time to tell Ronald everything. He informed me of this as he himself admitted me into the house.
"How did he take it?" I inquired.
"Very quietly," Bob answered. "He did not interrupt me once, nor did he ask a single question. When I finished he said, 'I must write letters to my pupils, telling them that there must be an unavoidable interruption in their lessons for a short time-'"
I did not follow Ronald's excellent example of listening quietly, but interrupted Bob excitedly. "For what reason?" I asked.
"He intends to accompany us. I did not argue with him. When my nephew makes up his mind to a thing he is not to be turned from it. His mother is packing his bag now. I had no difficulty at your house. The maid showed me where your clothes were, and I bundled a lot of them into the Gladstone. Here is Ronald. Don't oppose him; it will be quite useless."
"Good-morning, Mr. Emery," said the young man. "My uncle has related to me all the particulars of this strange affair, which we have not time to talk over now. You have heard of my intention to accompany you."
"Yes."
"I have taken it upon myself to send to my uncle's house for the poor child, Barbara, and she will go with us, too. She has no clothes for such a trip, I understand, but my mother has found a few things that will do for her, and when we are in Paris we can buy whatever else she requires. She will not be an additional expense to you; I will pay for her."
"We can arrange that when we are on the road," I said, somewhat amazed at this unexpected addition to our party. "Do you really consider it necessary that she should accompany us?"
"Otherwise," he replied, "I should not have ventured to send for her. Mr. Emery, we must not allow a chance to escape us; we must take advantage of everything that suggests or presents itself that is likely to assist us. I am blind; if Mr. Nisbet stood before me I should not know it. My uncle has not seen him; you are under the impression that you would be certain to recognize him, but there are thousands of men with red hair and gold eyeglasses. The only one of us who can be positive is Barbara."
I saw that he was resolved, and that it would be useless to remonstrate. What struck me, also, was that he seemed already to have assumed the command of the expedition, and to have placed himself at the head of it. Undoubtedly he had the right to take the initiative, for if a foul deed had been committed it was the lady he loved who had been the victim.
"Mr. Elsdale," I said, "I am satisfied with what you have done."
"Thank you, Mr. Emery," was his response. "There is here a mystery to be solved, a horrible wrong to be righted, a criminal to be brought to the bar of justice. I do not pretend to say that in so short a time I have reduced to order the terrible suggestions and possibilities that have presented themselves to my mind, but a man's duty is before me, and I will perform it faithfully and inexorably. Mere worldly considerations do not weigh in the scale. Though I lived to be an old man with this mystery still unsolved, I would not relinquish it. I will pursue it unflinchingly to the end, if I walk the earth barefoot. To you has come a spiritual sign and a spiritual mandate, and, through you, it has come to me." He drew me aside. "Is the apparition that first appeared to you in that ill-fated house visible to you? Is it here with us in the room?"
"It is not."
"It will appear again; be sure that it will appear again; and when justice is satisfied it will disappear, and you will no longer be troubled by it." He turned to Bob, and included him in the conversation. "Another reason why it is necessary and right that the little girl, Barbara, should accompany us is that we go not only to seek Mr. Nisbet, but to seek her sister. The young woman may have fallen under the spell of Mr. Nisbet's evil influence; he may have made her his slave. If that is the case, the efforts of strangers like ourselves to enlist her on our side would be futile; the love she bore her sister may help us here."
"You have entirely convinced me, Mr. Elsdale," I said, honestly and sincerely. "Little Barbara's aid may be invaluable to us."
As I made this remark the child knocked at the door, and as the maid-servant admitted her, Ronald's mother entered the room and said that all was ready. I looked at my watch.
"We have barely time to catch the eleven o'clock train," I said.
"Wot d'yer want of me, sir?" asked Barbara, whose appearance denoted that she had been summoned from household duties, without having had a moment given to her to tidy herself.
"We are going to take you for a trip, Barbara."
"A trip! Where to, sir?"
"To Paris, Barbara." The child gasped, and almost fell to the ground in her astonishment. "Don't be frightened. A brave little girl like you will be glad to see foreign countries."
Ronald's mother was busy with the little girl, smoothing her hair and arranging her poor clothes. She had a child's mantle, which she put on the girl, and a hat which made her look quite presentable. It was surprising what a few skillful touches achieved in poor little Barbara's appearance.
"Foring countries, sir!" she exclaimed, making no resistance to what was being done. "But I can't go, sir; I can't go! I must wait in London for Molly."
"We are going to try and find Molly, my dear."
"To find Molly! Oh-oh!"
Her joy was so profound that she could not utter another word. And when Ronald Elsdale, after embracing his mother fondly, took Barbara's hand and led her to the door, she yielded unresistingly. Away flew the cabs, and landed us at the railway station just in time to catch the eleven o'clock train. It was fortunate that we had only hand baggage with us, or we should have missed it. Within a few moments of our seating ourselves in the carriage we were speeding to Dover pier.