Читать книгу The Black Box - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 11

Table of Contents

The streets of New York were covered with a thin, powdery snow as the very luxurious car of Mrs. Delarey drew up outside the front of the Leeland Hotel, a little after midnight. Ella leaned over and kissed her hostess.

“Thank you, dear, ever so much for your delightful dinner,” she exclaimed, “and for bringing me home. As for the music, well, I can’t talk about it. I am just going upstairs into my room to sit and think.”

“Don’t sit up too late and spoil your pretty colour, dear,” Mrs. Delarey advised. “Good-bye! Don’t forget I am coming in to lunch with you to-morrow.”

The car rolled off. Ella, a large umbrella held over her head by the door-keeper, stepped up the little strip of drugget which led into the softly-warmed hall of the Leeland. Behind her came her maid, Lenora, and Macdougal, who had been riding on the box with the chauffeur. He paused for a moment to wipe the snow from his clothes as Ella crossed the hall to the lift. Lenora turned towards him. He whispered something in her ear. For a moment she shook. Then she turned away and followed her mistress upstairs.

Arrived in her apartment, Ella threw herself with a little sigh of content into a big easy-chair before the fire. Her sitting-room was the last word in comfort and luxury. A great bowl of pink roses, arrived during her absence, stood on the small table by her side. Lenora had just brought her chocolate and was busy making preparations in the bedroom adjoining. Ella gave herself up for a few moments to reverie. The magic of the music was still in her blood. She had made progress. That very afternoon her master, Van Haydn, had spoken to her of her progress—Van Haydn, who had never flattered a pupil in his life. In a few weeks’ time her mother and father were coming out to her. Meanwhile, she had made hosts of pleasant friends. Attentions of all sorts had been showered upon her. She curled herself up in her chair. It was good to be alive!

A log stirred upon the fire. She leaned forward lazily to replace it and then stopped short. Exactly opposite to her was a door which opened on to a back hall. It was used only by the servants connected with the hotel, and was usually kept locked. Just as she was in the act of leaning forward, Ella became conscious of a curious hallucination. She sat looking at the handle with fascinated eyes. Then she called aloud to Lenora.

“Lenora, come here at once.”

The maid hurried in from the next room. Ella pointed to the door.

“Lenora, look outside. See if any one is on that landing. I fancied that the door opened.”

The maid shook her head incredulously.

“I don’t think so, my lady,” she said. “No one but the waiter and the chambermaid who comes in to clean the apartment, ever comes that way.”

She crossed the room and tried the handle. Then she turned towards her mistress in triumph.

“It is locked, my lady,” she reported.

Ella rose to her feet and herself tried the handle. It was as the maid had reported. She, however, was not altogether reassured. She was a young woman whose nerves were in a thoroughly healthy state, and by no means given to imaginative fears. She stood a little away, looking at the handle. It was almost impossible that she could have been mistaken. Her hands clasped for a moment the necklace which hung from her neck. A queer presentiment of evil crept like a grey shadow over her.

She looked at herself in the glass—the colour had left her cheeks. She tried to laugh at her self.

“This is absurd!” she exclaimed. “Lenora, go down and ask Macdougal to come up for a minute. I am going to have this thing explained. Hurry, there’s a good girl.”

“You are sure your ladyship doesn’t mind being left?” the maid asked, a little doubtfully.

“Of course not!” Ella replied, with a laugh which was not altogether natural. “Hurry along, there’s a good girl. I’ll drink my chocolate while you are gone, and get ready for bed, but I must see Macdougal before I undress.”

Something of her mistress’s agitation seemed to have become communicated to Lenora. Her voice shook a little as she stepped into the elevator.

“Where are you off to, young lady?” the boy enquired.

“I want to go round to our quarters,” Lenora explained. “Her ladyship wants to speak to Mr. Macdougal.”

“He’s gone out, sure,” the elevator boy remarked. “Shall I wait for you, Miss Lenora?” he asked, as they descended into the hall.

“Do,” she begged. “I sha’n’t be more than a minute or two.”

She walked quickly to the back part of the hotel and ascended in another elevator to the wing in which the servants’ quarters were situated. Here she made her way along a corridor until she reached Macdougal’s room. She knocked, and knocked again. There was no answer. She tried the door and found it was locked. Then she returned to the elevator and descended once more to the floor upon which her mistress’s apartments were situated. She opened the door of the suite without knocking and turned at once to the sitting-room.

“I am sorry, my lady,” she began—

Then she stopped short. The elevator boy, who had had a little trouble with his starting apparatus and had not as yet descended, heard the scream which broke from her lips, and a fireman in an adjacent corridor came running up almost at the same moment. Lenora was on her knees by her mistress’s side. Ella was still lying in the easy-chair in which she had been seated, but her head was thrown back in an unnatural fashion. There was a red mark just across her throat. The small table by her side had been overturned, and the chocolate was running in a little stream across the floor. The elevator boy was the first to speak.

“Holy shakes!” he exclaimed. “What’s happened?”

“Can’t you see?” Lenora shrieked. “She’s fainted! And the diamonds—the diamonds have gone!”

The fireman was already at the telephone. In less than a minute one of the managers from the office came running in. Lenora was dashing water into Ella’s still, cold face.

“She’s fainted!” she shrieked. “Fetch a doctor, some one. The diamonds have gone!”

The young man was already at the telephone. His hand shook as he took up the receiver. He turned to the elevator boy.

“Run across to number seventy-three—Doctor Morton’s,” he ordered. “Don’t you let any one come in, fireman. Don’t either of you say a word about this. Here, Exchange, urgent call. Give me the police-station—yes, police-station! … Don’t be a fool, girl,” he added under his breath. “You won’t do any good throwing water on her like that. Let her alone for a moment. … Yes! Manager, Leeland Hotel, speaking. A murder and robbery have taken place in this hotel, suite number forty-three. I am there now. Nothing shall be touched. Send round this moment.”

The young man hung up the receiver. Lenora was filling the room with her shrieks. He took her by the shoulder and pushed her back into a chair.

“Shut up, you fool!” he exclaimed. “You can’t do any good making a noise like that.”

“She said she saw the door handle turn,” Lenora sobbed. “I went to fetch Macdougal. He’d gone out. When I came back she was there—like that!”

“What door handle?” the manager asked.

Lenora pointed. The young man crossed the room. The lock was still in its place, the door refused to yield. As he turned around the doctor arrived. He hurried at once to Ella’s side.

“Hands still warm,” he muttered, as he felt them. … “My God! It’s the double knot strangle!”

He bent over Ella for several moments. Then he rose to his feet. The door from outside had been opened once more. A police inspector, followed by a detective, had entered.

“This is your affair, gentlemen, not mine,” the doctor said gravely. “The young lady is dead. She has been cruelly strangled within the last five or ten minutes.”

The Inspector turned around.

“Lock the outside door,” he ordered his man. “Has any one left the room, Mr. Marsham?”

“No one,” the manager declared.

“Who discovered her?”

“The maid.”

Lenora rose to her feet. She seemed a little calmer but the healthy colour had all gone from her cheeks and her lips were twitching.

“Her ladyship had just come in from the Opera,” she said. “She was sitting in her easy-chair. I was in the bedroom. She looked toward the handle of that door. She thought it moved. She called me. I tried it and found it fast locked. She sent for Mr. Macdougal.”

“Macdougal,” Mr. Marsham explained, “is a confidential servant of Lord Ashleigh’s. He was sent over here with Lady Ella.”

The Inspector nodded.

“Go on.”

“I found Mr. Macdougal’s door locked. He must have gone out. When I came back here, I found this!”

The Inspector made a careful examination of the room.

“Tell me,” he enquired, “is this the young lady who owned the wonderful Ashleigh diamonds?”

“They’ve gone!” Lenora shrieked. “They’ve been stolen! She was wearing them when I left the room!”

The Inspector turned to the telephone.

“Mr. Marsham,” he said, “I am afraid this will be a difficult affair. I am going to take the liberty of calling in an expert. Hello. I want Number One, New York City—Mr. Sanford Quest.”