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Read Ebook: A Mysterious Disappearance by Tracy Louis
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Ebook has 1667 lines and 49289 words, and 34 pages
Smith let Mr. White out. The latter, halting for a moment at the door, said quietly, "Is your name Corbett?"
"No, it ain't, any more than yours is Black. See?"
Each man thought he had had his joke, so they were better friends thenceforth, but Mr. White was thoughtful as he passed into the street.
MRS. HILLMER HESITATES
Affairs had so jumbled themselves together in his brain the previous evening that he had abandoned all effort to elucidate them. He retired to rest earlier than usual, to sleep soundly, save for a vivid dream in which he was being tried for his life, the chief witnesses against him being Mrs. Hillmer, Phyllis Browne, and Jane Harding, the latter varying her evidence by entertaining the Court with a song and dance.
The weather, too, had improved. It was clear, frosty, and sunlit--one of those delightful days of winter that serve as cheerful remembrances during periods of seemingly interminable fog overhead and slush beneath.
During a quiet meal he read the news, and, with the invaluable morning smoke, settled himself cosily into an armchair to consider procedure.
In the first place he carefully weighed those utterances of Mensmore at Monte Carlo, which he could recall, and which seemed by the light of later knowledge, to bear upon the case.
Mensmore had alluded to "family troubles," to "worries," and "anxieties," that practically drove him from England.
Some of these, no doubt, referred to the Springbok speculation. Others, again, might have meant Mrs. Hillmer or some other presently unknown relative. But in Mensmore's manner there was nothing that savored of a greater secrecy than the natural reticence of a gentleman in discussing domestic affairs with a stranger.
This man had practically been snatched from death. At such a moment it was inconceivable that he could cloak the remorse of a murderer by the simulation of more honorable motives, in themselves sufficiently distressing to cause him deliberately to choose suicide as the best way of ending his difficulties.
The policeman had summarized the testimony against Corbett as insufficient to curtail the remarkable powers of endurance of a cat. But to Bruce the case against Mensmore, alias Corbett, stood in clearer perspective. Now that he calmly reasoned the matter he felt that the balance of probabilities swung away from the hypothesis that Mensmore was the actual slayer of Lady Dyke, and towards the theory that he was in some way bound up with her death, whether knowingly or unknowingly it was at present impossible to say.
The new terror to Bruce was Mr. White.
Claude uttered the last sentence aloud, startling Smith, who was clearing the table.
"Beg pardon, sir," cried Smith.
"Oh, nothing. I was only expressing an opinion."
"I thought, perhaps, sir, you was thinkin' of Mr. White."
"What of him?"
"Your remark, sir, hexactly hexpresses my hopinion of 'im."
Smith was not a badly educated man, but the least excitement produced an appalling derangement of the letter "h" in his vocabulary.
"Mr. White is a sharp fellow in his own way, Smith."
"Maybe, but why should 'e come pokin' round 'ere pryin' into your little affairs-deecur?"
"My what?"
"Sorry, sir, but that's what a French maid I once knew called 'em. Flirtations, sir. Mashes."
"Smith, have you been drinking?"
"Me, sir?"
"Well, explain yourself. I never flirted with a woman in my life."
"That's what I told 'im, sir. 'My master's a regular saint,' says I, 'a sort of middle-aged ankyrite.' But Mr. White 'e wouldn't 'ave it at no price. 'Come now, Smith,' says 'e, 'your guv'nor's pretty deep. 'E's a toff, 'e is, an' knows lots of lydies--titled lydies.' 'Very like,' says I, 'but 'e doesn't mash 'em.' 'Then what price that lydy who called for 'im in a keb afore 'e went away? An' who's 'e gone to Monte Carlo with?' This was durin' your absence, sir."
"Go on, Smith. Anything else?"
Claude laughed.
"Excellent. Mr. White has a keen nose for false scents. I have already told him to let my affairs alone. He means no harm."
But the reference to a "lydy in a keb" had suggested an immediate plan of action to the barrister. He would call to see Mrs. Hillmer. He wrote a note asking her if he might come to tea that afternoon, and sent it by a boy messenger.
In return he received this answer.
"Mrs. Hillmer will be at home at four o'clock if Mr. Bruce cares to call then."
Bruce had a set of skeleton keys in his possession.
They were in his pocket when he approached Raleigh Mansions at the appointed hour.
The same trim maid opened the door for him and ushered him into the drawing-room. On the occasion of his first visit he was taken to the dining-room. It was a small matter, but Bruce paid heed to such.
Mrs. Hillmer appeared, very stately and undemonstrative. She greeted him coldly, seated herself at a distance, and said, in a cold, well-controlled voice:
"I did not expect the honor of another visit from you, Mr. Bruce."
"Why not?"
There was a fight brewing, and he would let the enemy open fire. The glitter in her eyes showed that the batteries were ready to be unmasked. He was not mistaken.
"Why not? Because I believed you to be a gentleman. Once you had stooped to sending your myrmidons to pester me I imagined that you would keep yourself in the background."
There was an indignant ring in her words as she concluded. When a woman is angry her own speech acts as a trumpet-call and fires her blood. Mrs. Hillmer began, as she intended, in icy disdain. She ended in tremulous anger.
"You allude to Mr. White?" said the barrister, looking steadily at her.
"Brother and sister are alike. They have led queer lives," mused Bruce. Aloud he said:
"Your experience, Mrs. Hillmer, should at least lead you not to condemn any one unheard. May I explain that which is to you incomprehensible at this moment?--justly so, I admit."
"Explanations! I am a child in the hands of such as you. How can I hope to fathom your real intent? Presumably, if I accept your apologies now, it will be a prelude to further visits by impudent police officers."
"I am not here to apologize, Mrs. Hillmer."
"What then, pray?"
He was so thoroughly in earnest, so impressive in manner, that she did not know what to make of him. In her despair, she adopted a woman's chief resource--her eyes filled with tears.
But he anticipated her.
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