Читать книгу The Unlawul Adventure - Aidan de Brune - Страница 5

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WITH a light laugh, Ray rose and left the room. At the door she hesitated and looked back. Beringer was staring after her, a puzzled frown on his face. She ran up to her room and, the door closed behind her, thought quickly. What should she do?

She had told Beringer that she had obtained work. That was a lie unless—She paused in her thoughts. Had she meant that she intended to go on with the game she had commenced that evening, the impersonation of the mysterious R. S. Allerson, mistress-crook?

Could she do it? Could she penetrate the secrets of this band of crooks chance had thrown across her path? Could she penetrate their schemes and bring them to failure? She might do it, if—

She had impersonated the master-mind of the gang. But, in her favour had been the fact that not one of the three crooks she had dealt with knew R. S. Allerson, personally. They recognised her only from a photograph.

In Ray's mind was the thought to go back to the Macquarie Street apartment and continue her impersonation. But, for how long could she sustain it? At any moment the true R. S. Allerson might return; then—

Ray harboured no delusions with regard to her safety. She had already penetrated too far into the crooks' secrets to be allowed to escape unscathed. She knew R. S. Allerson for a crook; leader of a dangerous gang of criminals. Then, there was Oscar Beringer.

The man held a good reputation in the city and in his profession. He was a dentist with an excellent and profitable practice. Men who knew him, believed in his integrity and honour. She could expose him—destroy his carefully built up reputation and set the police on his track.

Whatever view of her action the woman crook took, Ray knew that she could expect no mercy from Beringer. Before she had penetrated behind his mask of honesty she had wounded his vanity. In the Macquarie Street apartment that night she had struck again at his self-conceit, berating him—belittling him in the eyes of the gangsters he tried to arbitrarily rule.

Dare she return to Macquarie Street? She had told Maude Penlop to come there early the next morning. She had intended to be there to meet her; nay more, she had proposed to return to the apartment that night.

Dare she carry out her project? If she went there she would find the real owner in occupation? Involuntarily, she took the keys Maude had given her out of her bag. A ripple of laughter escaped her lips. Maude had mistaken her for the owner of the apartment and had handed over the keys. Now the woman, for whom the apartment had been prepared, could not enter, unless—

Unless she had gone to the apartment within half-an-hour of Ray's departure. Maude would be there during that time; then she would leave to join Freddie Dutton, at their rendezvous.

That short half-hour was the shoal on which the scheme slowly forming in Ray's mind might founder. If R. S. Allerson had met Maude—

A cold shiver ran down Ray's back. She dared not think of what revenge the crooks might take on her if they discovered her impersonation of their leader, if she fell into their hands. Ray knew that no pleading, no vows of secrecy, would save her. They would act ruthlessly, to safeguard themselves and their secrets.

Ray knew that her intention to return to Macquarie Street was not based on idle curiosity. That evening she had discovered a criminal plot to steal a very large amount of bullion from a financial house. She had, at present, but a hazy idea of the means by which the theft was to be accomplished—although the crooks believed the plan to be of her making. With a gay little chuckle she picked up her hat from the bed and went to the mirror. She would go back to the apartment. For the moment she held the advantage over the woman who so closely resembled herself in face, figure and name. She had the entry to the apartment—and her unknown double had not. If "Sara"—Ray had by this time come to think of the other girl by her own second name—if Sara came, well, she would be the woman in possession; and that was reputed to be nine out of a possible ten points.

As she opened her bag to replace the keys Ray saw the bank-notes she had borrowed from Maude. Here was another problem. What madness had caused her to ask the woman for money? How could she pay it back?

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Ray suddenly laughed. "I must have penetrated far under skin of her double that evening. I had borrowed from the gang!"

Why? Because she was almost penniless? Had there been, through a whole adventure, an unexpressed thought to fight the crooks using their own money against them.

She ran down the stairs and was on the street, watchful not to come within sight of Beringer. He was a problem she wanted to avoid for the present; yet she knew that she would have to face it some time. For the present she must be Ray Allerson, late secretary to the managing director of the Rayonon Hosiery Company at the Occidental Hotel and R. S. Allerson at the Macquarie Street apartment. Could she sustain the double role?

It would be terribly dangerous. One slip and—a cold shiver ran down her spine. She knew she could expect little mercy from the man. Almost she could vision his eyes lighting up with passion and greed of vengeance when he knew that she was safely in his power.

Out of sight of the Hotel she hailed a taxi, directing the driver to Taunton House. She had determined she must return openly to the apartment. By driving up to the door of the house, she would learn from the hall-porter and lift attendant if her double had been about the place.

The night porter was lounging on the steps when Ray's taxi drew up at the curb. He hastened to open the door. Ray looked frankly into his face, letting him scan her features, yet watching to discover if he gave any sign of recognition. With a little gasp of relief she saw his face remain immovable.

"Anyone call for me?" she asked, abruptly,

"Miss—Mrs—?" The man hesitated.

"Miss Allerson. Miss R. S. Allerson," Ray amended.

"Certainly, Miss Allerson. No. No inquiries or messages, Miss Allerson."

Ray nodded, and passed into the house. If Sara had been to Taunton House she had not made herself known to the porters. So far, so good.

She waited while the man swung open the gates of the elevators.

"Automatic, at nights, Miss Allerson." The man followed her into the cage. "Shall I take you up, Miss?"

Ray nodded. It would be wise to let the man see her enter the apartment. If Sara—Ray chuckled quietly—if Sara had managed to gain access to the apartment—well, fur might fly, and it might be well to have the man with her. Ray well knew the power of her deep, grey eyes and Titian red hair. The short elevator journey to the third floor was long enough to make the man her bond-servant. As she stepped into the corridor she handed him her keys.

The reception room was empty. A flashing smile, while hand touched hand in financial exchange and Ray closed the door. So far, she had succeeded. She was back again—once more R. S. Allerson, mistress-crook.

Ray passed into the bedroom and looked around her. A glance showed the room exactly as she had left it. She crossed to the further door and opened it. The room was in darkness. Ray gave a sigh of relief. Every moment she remained in undisputed possession strengthened her position.

The bathroom and kitchenette were unoccupied. Ray explored the cupboards of the latter. She found a box of confectionery—and made a cup of tea. Carrying the tray into the boudoir she went to the bedroom door and slid the panels shut.

Now she was undisputed mistress of the apartment. Lazily she established herself, picking out one of the latest novels from the bijou bookcase. If—if—why did it always happen that the honest and virtuous always sought work in vain; while—

Ray roused herself with a start. She had nearly fallen asleep. Well, what of that? She was at home! She stretched herself sensuously, then wandered into the bedroom.

Maude had accepted the office of temporary lady's maid. The covers were turned down and on the white silken sheets lay a suit of fancifully embroidered pyjamas—garments spun from fairy silk; dreams of sheer delight to the girl. Hardly had her head touched the pillow before she was fast asleep.

A SHRILL bell trilled through Ray's dreams. She sat up in bed, perplexed. Again the bell rang. Ray looked around, then understood. A concealed telephone was on the bedside table.

"Yes?"

"Will you please open the door, miss?" a girl's voice answered.

"Who are you?" Ray asked quickly

"Marie, your maid, miss."

For a moment the girl lay undecided, then slipped out of bed and flung on a robe. In the reception room she found a pleasant-looking young woman waiting.

"Who gave you the key to that door?" Ray pointed to the door to the corridor.

"Miss Penlop, miss."

"Oh!" Ray hesitated. "Miss Penlop engaged you for me, then?"

"Yes, miss."

Ray nodded and yawned. The maid slipped by her and Ray returned to bed. As she passed the dressing-table a thick packet caught her eyes. Had it been there the previous evening? Ray thought not. For a moment she hesitated, then picked it up and took it to bed with her.

She waited, while Marie brought in her morning tea and returned to the kitchenette, then opened the packet—to gasp with amazement. A number of bank-notes—red ones—fell on the coverlet. The girl stared at them, perplexedly. Where had they come from? She turned over the envelope on her hand. Now she saw, on the envelope, written beside her name, a few words:

"I admire your pluck.—Sara."

Ray gurgled, delightedly. Sara! Who could Sara be save R. S. Allerson, the owner of the apartment?

But, why the bank-notes? Ray counted them. Ten, and of ten pounds each. One hundred pounds! And but a bare twelve hours before she had not a hundred pence!

Were these notes for her? Again she studied the envelope. It was addressed to her—and to the real owner of the apartment. But, the message was signed "Sara." Ray was determined that her double was named R. Sara Allerson. In that case—

Now she could repay Maude the twenty pounds she had borrowed the previous evening. That was one difficulty solved. She could not have continued to owe the money without creating suspicion. R. S. Allerson, no doubt, had a checking account in Sydney. Sara certainly had.

"Your bath, miss." Marie stood in the doorway.

Ray went into the bathroom. With the advent of the money she felt happier. Now Sara knew of her impersonation—and by the gift of funds to sustain it, had acquiesced. For what reason?

Splashing in the warm, scented water, Ray tried to reason out the situation—but it baffled her. There were too many improbabilities; too many inconsistencies for mere logic to act as solvent. She had to believe that Sara had discovered the impersonation and had accepted it—because it fitted in with some hidden scheme she was working.

"Miss Penlop, miss." Marie was speaking from the door.

"One minute." Ray came suddenly out of her dreams and conjectures. Maude Penlop had kept her appointment. Now Ray had to face her second test. Would Maude accept her as she had but a few hours before?

In the bedroom, Maude was awaiting her, an array of frocks spread for her selection. Ray chose carefully. The apartment, the dresses and incidentals she had seen, gave her an understanding of the owner.

She tried to subordinate her own tastes to what might he expected of her.

"Lor'!" Maude sprang to her feet as Ray came into the reception room. "Why, you're beautiful!" She hesitated and blushed. "Excuse me, Miss Allerson, it just came out; but it's true. Did you get what you wanted last night?"

"Every little bit of it." Ray laughed. "Thank you for holding the fort."

"Can't stand that fellow, Oscar," Maude rattled on. "You put him in his place, sure—and he asked for it." She paused. "Look here, Miss Allerson, now you're over here you're our leader, see. Well, I'm going to have my say, even if you don't like it."

"But I shall." Ray laughed lightly. "I promise you that you shall say what is in your mind, always."

The woman heaved a deep sigh of relief.

"That's good. It will be quite a treat. Oscar sits on us so. One mustn't have opinions. His lord-most-highest tells one what to do, and, if one doesn't obey orders—phut!"

"Am I supposed to obey orders?" Ray asked lightly.

"If you do you'll be swallowed up!" Maude spoke dramatically. "Oscar told us—that's Freddie and me—all about you when your first letter arrived. I didn't think much about it then. Then I met you last night and—well, I was sorry!"

Ray stared. "Sorry about what?" she asked.

"About your engagement."

"My what?"

"Your engagement to Oscar." Maude stared blankly. "Don't tell me it isn't true. Why, he said it was all settled and that when we'd pulled off this stunt you and he were going to match up."

Ray gasped. So far as she could gather, Oscar Beringer had not seen R. S. Allerson before the previous evening. Yet he was announcing their forthcoming marriage! She wondered what the real Sara would have said, and done, had she been there that moment.

"I don't think that Mr. Beringer is quite—exact." The girl hesitated. "I may say, between, ourselves, that this is the first I have heard of such an arrangement."

"I thought he was a liar." Maude spoke directly. "Before I knew you I didn't worry, of course. But I'd hate it for you, now, m'dear. Oscar's a brute—a big, dirty brute. Any girl who married him—"

"I certainly shall not," Ray interrupted decidedly. "You heard what I said to him last night? About that typist where he is staying—"

"She's some goods and as like you as two peas in a pod." The woman crook spoke animatedly.

"You've seen her?" Ray's heart missed a beat. She knew that in the future her main problem would be to prevent her two identities becoming mixed.

"Not me. Freddie has, though," Maude rattled on. "And I'll take Freddie's word for anything. He's no fool, Miss Allerson. He tracked his lordship last night. Saw him meet the girl in the lounge of the Occidental. He was quite startled at the likeness. Says you must be something alike in the brainwheels, too, for you both dress alike. He really thought it was you, at first. But then he knew you were with me."

Ray flushed. Another escape. If she had not asked Maude to remain at the apartment she would have been with Dutton. A woman's trained eyes would have seen exactitude, not similarity, in the dress. Discovery would have been inevitable The girl hesitated. What could she say to disarm any suspicions that might arise later out of this incident? She must leave the Occidental. With Beringer living there it was too dangerous to stay.

"Miss Allerson." Ray turned quickly to the maid. "The telephone, please."

Beckoning Maude to follow, Ray went to the instrument in the bedroom.

"Yes?"

"Oscar Beringer, here. Miss Allerson speaking? Good. I thought I recognised your voice. May I trouble you to come up to my office?"

"You certainly may not," Ray answered coldly. "I do not imagine this telephone is tapped. It is automatic and there are no operators to listen in."

"Yet dangerous." The suave voice laughed lightly. "Now a visit to your dentist. Much can be said between dentist and patient—while the patient is seated in the operating chair."

Ray started. If she had fallen into the trap and gone up to the man's rooms! But a few days before one of her teeth had troubled her. Beringer had insisted on examining it and rectifying the trouble, at the hotel. He would recognise his handiwork—and her secret would be revealed.

"I don't like dentists'—chairs." Ray made a lengthy pause between the last two words. "If the matter is so secret you may perhaps be able to spare the time to descend two flights of stairs."

"That's the stuff!" Maude applauded. "Wants you to run after him, does he? Treat him rough, Miss Allerson, and he'll crawl to you."

"Oh, well!" Beringer's voice showed he was disconcerted by her attitude. "The private part will have to wait—then. May I remind you that there is a general meeting of our—organisation, to-night? In my office, up here. We shall be delighted to welcome you."

"I don't think my presence will be necessary." Ray spoke quickly. "And consultations between you and your—your friends are of little concern to me."

"But—but our mutual adventure! We must talk over our plans." The crook's voice was full of surprise.

"Is it necessary?" Yet, in speaking Ray know that she was closing the door on much valuable information. "You are aware of what Melbourne expects from you."

"Of course." Beringer laughed to conceal his embarrassment. "There are difficulties, however—"

"If there are difficulties and your—er—consultations do not solve them, then I shall be glad to advise you." Ray paused. "I think that is all, Mr. Beringer."

Without waiting for the man's reply, Ray hung up the receiver. She turned to face Maude's ecstasic admiration.

"Treat 'em rough!" the woman crook murmured. "I'll say it! Lor'! Oscar'll crawl on his hands and knees if you go on like that. Treat 'em rough! My!"

Ray laughed, almost hysterically.

Again she had avoided a pitfall. How many more lay before her on this path she had chosen to tread?

"If you please, miss." Marie spoke from the reception-room door. "A lady to see you."

"Did she give a name, Marie?" Ray was suspicious.

"Well, miss, no." The girl hesitated. "Leastways, not a proper name. She said you would see her if I told you 'Sara'."