The Ashiel Mystery by Mrs. Charles Bryce (mini ebook reader TXT) 📕

he might not want to see.

 

So it was Higgs who opened the door and ushered out the last visitor, at

the same time admitting the newcomer.

 

This proved to be a small, slight woman dressed in deepest black and

wearing the long veil of a widow, who was standing with her back to the

door, apparently watching the rapid descent of the lift which had brought

her to the landing of No. 7.

 

She did not move when the door behind her opened, and Lord Ashiel,

emerging from it in a hurry to catch the lift before it vanished, nearly

knocked her down. She gave a startled gasp and stepped hastily to one

side into the dark shadows of the passage as he, muttering an apology,

darted forward to the iron gateway and applied his finger heavily to the

electric bell-push. But the liftboy had caught sight of him with the tail

of his eye, and was already reascending.

 

His anxiety allayed, Lord Ashiel turned again to express his regrets to

the lady he had inadvertently collided with, but she had disappeared into

the flat, of which Higgs was even then closing the door.

 

Ashiel stepped into the lift and sat down rather wearily on the

leather-covered seat.

 

Although, to some extent, the relief of having unburdened his mind of

secrets that had weighed upon it for so many years produced in him a

certain lightness of heart to which he had long been a stranger, yet

the very charm of the impression made upon him by Juliet Byrne, during

his first meeting with her that morning, led him to suspect uneasily

that his hopes of her proving to be his child were due rather to the

pleasure it gave him to anticipate such a possibility than to any more

logical reason.

 

He was so entirely engrossed in an honest endeavour to adjust correctly

the balance of probabilities, as to remain unconscious that the lift had

stopped at the ground floor, and it was not until the boy who was in

charge had twice informed him of the fact, that he roused himself with an

effort and left the building.

 

Still absorbed in his speculations and anxieties, he walked rapidly away,

and, having narrowly escaped destruction beneath the wheels of more than

one taxi, wandered down Northumberland Avenue on to the Embankment. He

crossed to the farther side, turned mechanically to the right and walked

obliviously on.

 

It was not until he came nearly to Westminster Bridge that he remembered

the cipher that he had prepared for Gimblet, and that he had, after all,

finally left without giving it to him. It was still in his pocket, and

the discovery roused him from his abstraction.

 

He took a taxi and drove back to the flats. A motor which had been

standing before the door when he had come out was still there when he

returned; so that, thinking it probably belonged to the lady he had met

on the landing, and guessing that if so the detective was still occupied

with her, he did not ask to see him again, but handed the envelope over

to Higgs when he opened the door, with strict injunctions to take it

immediately to his master.

CHAPTER V

 

The lady, whose visit to Gimblet dovetailed so neatly with the departure

of his other client on that summer afternoon, was unknown to him.

 

He had scarcely re-entered the room and resumed his accustomed seat by

the window when Higgs announced her.

 

"A lady to see you, sir."

 

The lady was already in the doorway. She must have followed Higgs from

the hall, and now stood, hesitating, on the threshold.

 

"What name?" breathed Gimblet; but Higgs only shook his head.

 

The detective went forward and spoke to his visitor.

 

"Please come in," he said. "Won't you sit down?"

 

And he pushed a chair towards her.

 

"Thank you," said the lady, taking the seat he offered. "I hope I do not

disturb you; but I have come on business," she added, as the door closed

behind Higgs.

 

"Yes?" said Gimblet interrogatively. "You will forgive me, but I didn't

catch your name when my man announced you."

 

"He didn't say it," she replied. "I had not told him. I am sure you would

not remember my name, and it is of no consequence at present."

 

"As you wish," said the detective.

 

But he wondered who this unknown woman could be. When she said he would

not remember her name, did she mean to imply that he had once been

acquainted with it? If so, she was right in thinking that he did not

recognize her now; but, if she did not choose to raise the thick crape

veil that hid her face, she could hardly expect him to do so.

 

He wondered whether she kept her veil lowered with the intention of

preventing his recognizing her, or whether in truth she were anxious not

to expose grief-swollen features to an unsympathetic gaze.

 

Her voice, which was low and sorrowful, though at the same time curiously

resonant, seemed to suggest that she was in great trouble. She spoke, he

fancied, with a trace of foreign accent.

 

For the rest, all that he could tell for certain about her was that she

was short and slender, with small feet, and hands, from which she was now

engaged in deliberately withdrawing a pair of black suede gloves.

 

He watched her in silence. He always preferred to let people tell their

stories at their own pace and in their own way, unless they were of those

who plainly needed to be helped out with questions.

 

And about this woman there was no suspicion of embarrassment; her whole

demeanour spoke of calmness and self-possession.

 

"I believe," she said at last, "that you are a private detective. I come

to ask for your help in a matter of some difficulty. Some papers of the

utmost importance, not only to me but to others, are in the possession of

a person who intends to profit by the information contained in them to do

myself and my friends an irreparable injury. You can imagine how anxious

we are to obtain them from him."

 

"Do I understand that this person threatens you with blackmail?"

asked Gimblet.

 

The lady hesitated.

 

"Something of the kind," she replied after a moment's pause.

 

"And you have so far given in to his demands?"

 

"Yes," admitted the visitor. "Up till now we have been obliged to

submit."

 

"Has he proposed any terms on which he will be willing to return you the

papers?" asked the detective.

 

"No," she replied. "I do not think any terms are possible."

 

"How did this person obtain possession of the papers?" Gimblet asked

after a moment. "Did he steal them from you?"

 

"No."

 

"From your friends?"

 

She hesitated.

 

"No--not exactly."

 

"From whom, then?" asked Gimblet in surprise. "I suppose they were yours

in the first place?"

 

"He has always had them," she said reluctantly; "but they must not

remain his."

 

"Do you mean they are his own?" exclaimed Gimblet. "In that case it is

you who propose to steal them!"

 

"No," replied the strange lady calmly. "I want you to do that."

 

"I'm sorry," said Gimblet; "that is not in my line of business. I'm

afraid you made a mistake in coming to me. I cannot undertake your

commission."

 

"Money is no object; we shall ask you to name your own price," urged

his visitor.

 

But the detective shook his head.

 

"It is a matter of life and death," she said, and her voice betrayed an

agitation which could not have been inferred from her motionless shrouded

figure. "If you refuse to help me, not one life, but many, will be

endangered."

 

"If you can offer me convincing proof of that," said Gimblet, "I might

feel it my duty to help you. I don't say I should, but I might. In any

case I can do nothing unless you are perfectly open and frank with me.

Expect no assistance from me unless you tell me everything, and then only

if I think it right to give it."

 

For the first time she showed some signs of confusion. The hand upon her

lap moved restlessly and she turned her head slowly towards the window as

if in search of suitable words. But she did not speak or rise, though she

gradually fidgeted round in her chair till she faced the writing-table;

and so sat, with her head leaning on her hand, in silent consideration.

 

It was clear she did not like Gimblet's terms; and after a few minutes

had passed in a silence as awkward as it was suggestive he pushed back

his chair and stood up. He hoped she would take the hint and bring an

unprofitable and embarrassing interview to an end.

 

But she did not appear to notice him, and still sat lost in her

own thoughts.

 

Suddenly the door opened and Higgs appeared.

 

Gimblet looked at him with questioning disapproval.

 

It was an inflexible rule of his that when engaged with a client he was

not to be disturbed.

 

Higgs, well acquainted with this rule, hovered doubtfully in the

doorway, displaying on the salver he carried the blue, unaddressed

envelope Lord Ashiel had told him to deliver at once.

 

"It's a note, sir," he murmured hesitatingly. "The gentleman who was with

you a little while ago came back with it. He asked me to be sure and

bring it in at once."

 

He avoided Gimblet's reproachful eye and stammered uneasily:

 

"Put it down on that table and go," said the detective. He indicated a

little table by the door, and Higgs hastily placed the letter on it and

fled, with the uncomfortable sensation of having been sternly reproved.

 

As a matter of fact Gimblet would have shown more indignation if he

had not at heart felt rather glad of the interruption. His visitor had

decidedly outstayed her welcome; and, though she stirred his curiosity

sufficiently to make him wish he could induce her to raise her veil

and let him see what manner of woman it was who had the effrontery to

come and make him such unblushing proposals, he far more urgently

desired to see the last of her. She was wasting his time and annoying

him into the bargain.

 

As the door shut behind the servant he made a step towards her.

 

"If, madam, there is nothing else you wish to consult me about," he

began, taking out his watch with some ostentation--"I am a busy man--"

 

The lady gave a little laugh, low and musical.

 

"I will not detain you longer," she said, also rising from her chair. "I

am afraid I have cut into your afternoon, but you will still have time

for a game if you hurry."

 

She laughed again, and moved over to the writing-table, where, among a

litter of papers and writing materials, a couple of golf balls were

acting as letter weights. A putter lay on the chair in front of the desk,

and she took it up and swung it to and fro.

 

"A nice club," she remarked. "Where do you play, as a rule? There are so

many good links near London; so convenient. Well, I mustn't keep you."

She laid down the putter and fingered the balls for a moment. "Where have

I put my gloves?" she said then, looking around to collect her

belongings.

 

Gimblet was slightly put out at her inference that his plea of business

was merely an excuse to dismiss her in order that he might go off and

play golf. Heaven knew it was no affair of hers whether he played golf

that day or not! But as a matter of fact he had no intention of leaving

the flat that afternoon, and had merely been practising a shot or two on

the carpet after lunch before Lord Ashiel's arrival. Still it was true

that he had made business a pretext for getting rid of her, and this made

the injustice of the widow's further inference ruffle him more than it

might have if she had been entirely in the wrong. He was the most

courteous of men, and that anyone should suspect him of unnecessary

rudeness distressed him.

 

He made no reply, however, in spite of the temptation to defend himself;

but stooped