Читать книгу The Black Box - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 12
4.
ОглавлениеThere seemed to be nothing at all original in the methods pursued by the great criminologist when confronted with this tableau of death and robbery. His remarks to the Inspector were few and perfunctory. He asked only a few languid questions of Macdougal and Lenora, who were summoned to his presence.
“You had left the hotel, I understand, at the time when the crime occurred?” he asked the latter.
Macdougal, grave and respectful, made his answers with difficulty. His voice was choked with emotion.
“I brought my mistress home from the Opera, sir. I rode on the box with Mrs. Delarey’s chauffeur. After I had seen her safely in the hotel, I went up to my room for two minutes and left the hotel by the back entrance.”
“Any one see you go?”
“The door-keeper, sir, and I passed a page upon the stairs.”
“Wasn’t it rather late for you to go out?”
“My days are a little dull here, sir,” Macdougal replied, “and my attendance is not required early in the morning. I have made some friends in the city and I usually go out to a restaurant and have some supper.”
“Quite natural,” Mr. Quest agreed. “That will do, thanks.”
Macdougal turned towards the door. Lenora was about to follow him but Quest signed to her to remain.
“I should like to have a little conversation with you about your mistress,” he said to her pleasantly. “If you don’t mind, I will ask you to accompany me in my car. I will send the man back with you.”
For a moment the girl stood quite still. Her face was already ghastly pale. Her eyes alone seemed to indicate some fresh fear.
“I will go to my rooms and put on my hat,” she said.
Quest pointed through the half-open door.
“That will be your hat and coat upon the bed there, won’t it?” he remarked. “I am sorry to hurry you off but I have another appointment. You will send, of course, for the young lady’s friends,” he added, turning to Mr. Marsham, “and cable her people.”
“There is nothing more you can do, Mr. Quest?” the hotel manager asked, a little querulously. “This affair must be cleared up for the credit of my hotel.”
Quest shrugged his shoulders. He glanced through the open door to where Lenora was arranging her coat with trembling fingers.
“There will be very little difficulty about that,” he said calmly. “If you are quite ready, Miss Lenora. Is that your name?”
“Lenora is my name, sir,” the girl replied.
They descended in the elevator together and Quest handed the girl into his car. They drove quickly through the silent streets. The snow had ceased to fall and the stars were shining brightly. Lenora shivered as she leaned back in her corner.
“You are cold, I am afraid,” Quest remarked. “Never mind, there will be a good fire in my study. I shall only keep you for a few moments. I dare not be away long just now, as I have a very important case on.”
“There is nothing more that I can tell you,” Lenora ventured, a little fearfully. “Can’t you ask me what you want to, now, as we go along?”
“We have already arrived,” Quest told her. “Do you mind following me?”
She crossed the pavement and passed through the front door, which Quest was holding open for her. They stepped into the little elevator, and a moment or two later Lenora was installed in an easy-chair in Quest’s sitting-room, in front of a roaring fire.
“Lean back and make yourself comfortable,” Quest invited, as he took a chair opposite to her. “I must just look through these papers.”
The girl did as she was told. She opened her coat. The room was delightfully warm, almost overheated. A sense of rest crept over her. For the first moment since the awful shock, her nerves seemed quieter. Gradually she began to feel almost as though she were passing into sleep. She started up, but sank back again almost immediately. She was conscious that Quest had laid down the letters which he had been pretending to read. His eyes were fixed upon her. There was a queer new look in them, a strange new feeling creeping through her veins. Was she going to sleep? …
Quest’s voice broke an unnatural silence.
“You are anxious to telephone some one,” he said.
“You looked at both of the booths as we came through the hotel. Then you remembered, I think, that he would not be there yet. Telephone now. The telephone is at your right hand. You know the number.”
She obeyed almost at once. She took the receiver from the instrument by her side.
“Number 700, New York City.”
“You will ask,” Quest continued, “whether he is all right, whether the jewels are safe.”
There was a brief silence, then the girl’s voice.
“Are you there, James? … Yes, I am Lenora. Are you safe? Have you the jewels? … Where? … You are sure that you are safe. … No, nothing fresh has happened.”
“You are at the hotel,” Quest said softly. “You are going to him.”
“I cannot sleep,” she continued. “I am coming to you.”
She set down the receiver. Quest leaned a little more closely over her.
“You know where the jewels are hidden,” he said. “Tell me where?”
Her lips quivered. She made no answer. She turned uneasily in her chair.
“Tell me the place?” Quest persisted.
There was still no response from the girl. There were drops of perspiration on her forehead. Quest shrugged his shoulders slightly.
“Very good,” he concluded. “You need not tell me. Only remember this! At nine o’clock to-morrow morning you will bring those jewels to this apartment. … Rest quietly now. I want you to go to sleep.”
She obeyed without hesitation. Quest watched, for a moment, her regular breathing. Then he touched a bell by his side. Laura entered almost at once.
“Open the laboratory,” Quest ordered. “Then come back.”
Without a word or a glance towards the sleeping figure, she obeyed him. It was a matter of seconds before she returned. Together they lifted and carried the sleeping girl out of the room, across the landing, into a larger apartment, the contents of which were wrapped in gloom and mystery. A single electric light was burning on the top of a square mirror fixed upon an easel. Towards this they carried the girl and laid her in an easy-chair almost opposite to it.
“The battery is just on the left,” Laura whispered.
Quest nodded.
“Give me the band.”
She turned away for a moment and disappeared in the shadows. When she returned, she carried a curved band of flexible steel. Quest took it from her, attached it by means of a coil of wire to the battery, and with firm, soft fingers slipped it on to Lenora’s forehead. Then he stepped back. A rare emotion quivered in his tone.
“She’s a subject, Laura—I’m sure of it! Now for our great experiment!”
They watched Lenora intently. Her face twitched uneasily, but she did not open her eyes and her breathing continued regular. Quest bent over her.
“Lenora,” he said, slowly and firmly, “your mind is full of one subject. You see your mistress in her chair by the fireside. She is toying with her diamonds. Look again. She lies there dead! Who was it entered the room, Lenora? Look! Look! Gaze into that mirror. What do you see there?”
The girl’s eyes had opened. They were fixed now upon the mirror—distended, full of unholy things. Quest wiped a drop of perspiration from his forehead.
“Try harder, Lenora,” he muttered, his own breath labouring. “It is there in your brain! Look!”
Laura for the first time showed signs of emotion. She pointed towards the mirror. Quest was suddenly silent. He seemed to have turned into a figure of stone. For a single second the smooth surface of the mirror was obscured. A room crept dimly like a picture into being, a fire upon the hearth, a girl leaning back in her chair. A door in the background opened. A man stole out. He crept nearer to the girl—his eyes fixed upon the diamonds, a thin, silken cord twisted round his wrist. Suddenly she saw him—too late! His hand was upon her lips—his face seemed to start almost from the mirror—then blackness!
Lenora opened her eyes. She was still in the easy-chair before the fire.
“Mr. Quest!” she faltered.
He looked up from some letters which he had been studying.
“I am so sorry,” he said politely. “I really had forgotten that you were here. But you know—that you have been to sleep?”
She half rose to her feet. She was perplexed, uneasy.
“Asleep?” she murmured. “Have I? And I dreamed a horrible dream! … Have I been ringing anyone up on the telephone?”
“Not that I know of,” Quest assured her. “As a matter of fact, I was called downstairs to see one of my men soon after we got here.”
“Can I go now?” she asked.
“Certainly,” Quest replied. “To tell you the truth, I find that I shall not need to ask you those questions, after all. A messenger from the police-station has been here. He says they have come to the conclusion that a very well-known gang of New York criminals are in this thing. We know how to track them down all right.”
