Читать книгу Flat 2 - Edgar Wallace - Страница 7

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'My dear Kate, not'ing will give me greater pleasure than to relieve you of my short-comings. I beg you not to distress yourself about them any more.'

She looked up at him dully, inured to the sneer on his lips, the oily mockery of his voice. Even the insulting glance, the open contempt in his bold eyes, had long since ceased to make her wince.

Only she waited with parted lips to know the meaning of his last words, apprehensive of fresh indignities. The light banter of his tone, his good spirits, boded her no good, following-upon his brutally unconcealed weariness of her, his coarse ill-humours; particularly upon his anger of only an hour ago.

'I have had the misfortune to be unable to please you for some time past,' he went on, and made an airy gesture. 'It pains me! But I hope I shall always put a lady's happiness before my own.' He lit a cigar carefully, throwing the match out into the dim garden. There was no light in the room except that which came through the long open windows. She had fled away from the garish lighted rooms, where Louba pursued his old methods of enriching himself at other people's expense, to the small private room at the back of the house, sitting there until the light faded and the summer night closed in.

'You were not when you made me look on just now, while you cheated that young American,' she said.

'We will not speak of that, my dear Kate,' he rejoined, an ominous note in his voice. 'Your behaviour was...indiscreet, and might have been disastrous, but for my own quick wits. We will not go into details at all; I t'ink it better not. It is sufficient that you are not even of use to me in my business. If I had asked you to dance in the cabaret, you might have suggested it was a great departure from your habits, but I have done no more than to ask you to preside at the tables, and look pretty.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'It may no longer be your fault if you do not look pretty, but t'ere seems no reason why you should not look pleasant.'

'Well?' she asked. She knew all this was mere preliminary.

'I have decided that as I can no longer make you happy, I had better pass you over to one who may.'

'Pass me...!' She half rose from her seat, her white face clear in the gloom. He put up his hand.

'Do not do me the injustice of misunderstanding, Kate. It is a husband I am speaking of, and I will myself see you safely married.'

She put her hand up to her throat, but could not speak.

'Such an old friend, too—Mr. Charles Berry. Is he not?' asked Louba smoothly.

'Marry Charles Berry?' she gasped. 'Never as long as I live!'

'Oh, yes you will, my dear Kate. You certainly will. I say it.'

'I will not!'

'And I doing my best for you, as your guardian!' he ejaculated reproachfully. 'How could I ever go back to England again, if I knew I had left you here unprotected! Really, do you t'ink I have no conscience?'

He was thoroughly enjoying himself but, before he could continue, the door behind them opened, showing a lighted passage and a brilliant and crowded room beyond, before it was quickly closed upon the newcomer.

'Louba, are you there?' asked a hoarse breathless voice.

'Yes. Who is it?'

'Vacilesco. Will you hide something for me?—just until I have thrown them off.'

He stopped, listening. Hurried feet could be heard thudding down the passage from the great lighted room. 'They followed me in! They were too close. Hide this—you shall have your share, Louba!'

As the door behind him was flung open, he sprang away from it, thrust something into Louba's outstretched hands, jumped over the low sill of the window and ran across the dark garden towards the narrow lane running at the bottom. Louba thrust the object behind the nearest cushion, before he spoke to the intruders. 'What is this? Who are you?'

He moved to the switch and put the light on. Turning her head, Kate beheld three men of villainous aspect, panting like the man they pursued.

'Someone came in here—he's got stolen property. Have you seen him?'

'He's just entered with the same delightful unceremoniousness as yourselves, gentlemen. You pushed him away from the J door as you came in.'

Louba pointed down the garden, and without waiting for more they leapt forward, and were lost in the darkness.

'Stay here and see no one touches that!' ordered Louba, before she went after the men. Vacilesco had promised him a share, but he had never cared for the sharing system.

The others had jumped over the low wall into the lane, but Louba, careful of his immaculate clothes, stayed to open the wooden door. He followed the sound of the steps over the rough path leading along the backs of the gardens. He could hear the men's feet slipping over the stones.

A little farther along there was a high wall and on the opposite side one or two trees stretched their arms across the narrow path, shutting out the light.

It was at this point that the pursuers came up with their quarry, making a desperate effort to do so. Louba stood still, his keen eyes and ears taking in the struggling mass of figures, the scuffling of feet, the murmur of voices; then a choked sound, a smothered scream, and unbroken silence.

In case they came back the same way, he stepped softly over to the blackness under the tallest tree—standing on the little hillock surrounding it.

He could guess what they were doing over there by the high wall. He could even hear a few whispered curses and queries as their search proved futile.

After a while they moved into the middle of the path, where he could distinguish their three figures against the paler sky. They hesitated, evidently debating amongst themselves, after which they took to their heels and ran off in the opposite direction to Louba's house.

He waited for a minute or two, then crossed over to the prone figure they had left, stooped and touched him carefully. With a light step he returned to his house.

Kate was sitting where he had left her. He looked at his fingers and gleaming shirt-front when he came into the light. They were spotless.

'What has happened?' she asked quickly, roused by the significant inspection.

'I'm afraid they've stabbed Vacilesco, but it has not'ing to do with us. You understand?' he asked threateningly. 'We know not'ing.'

'You have what they were after.'

'I have not'ing. He left not'ing here. Do not make any mistake about that, my dear Kate. I shall be very annoyed if you do. Have you looked at it?' he queried, stepping to the cushion behind which he had concealed Vacilesco's abandoned treasure.

She shook her head.

He closed the windows and pulled the curtains across before he examined his booty.

It was a casket, covered with beads of all colours, worked in a crude but effective design, having imitation jewels in the centre of the largest pattern. He opened it eagerly, and paused in disappointment at the sight of its empty interior.

'It seems Vacilesco made off with it too late,' he remarked. '...Yet it was not locked. He would surely look inside.'

The casket was lined with white kid, but the bottom was encrusted with beads and coloured glass like the outside. Examining it both inside and outside, Louba gave a grunt of hopefulness, and began running his fingers over the bottom of the inside. He was rewarded by finding the spring which released the false bottom.

An exclamation of pleasure was followed quickly by one of anger, as he saw that the space beneath was quite empty.

He regarded the basket with a scowl for a moment or two before he conquered his chagrin, and shrugged his shoulders.

'Well, it is Vacilesco who has paid for it,' he observed. 'Not I.'

'Will you go on with what you were saying?' asked Kate. 'What do you mean by saying I am to marry Charles Berry?'

'Just that. We part company, you and I, but I will see you married to him first. Flat 2, Braymore House, London, where you have spent such pleasant hours is still mine, and I shall shortly return. For reasons which you will readily guess, it is convenient for me to have you Mrs. Charles Berry.'

'But you can't mean this! It's too bad even for you!' she burst out.

'Bad? The ingratitude! My dear Kate, just think how I might have left you! Why...' He paused with his eyes on the casket, which apparently put her and her affairs out of his thoughts. 'Now I remember!' he exclaimed. 'I have seen this t'ing before. Yes! It was at—'

'I don't want to hear about it!' she cried. 'Will you keep to the subject?'

'Oh, but this was at a time which you would like to hear about,' he mocked. 'A time of tender memories! Do you not remember once, in those precious early days, someone gave an incredible price for a worthless casket? It was once when we were in the bazaar—'

'Oh, don't!' She made a gesture of intolerable pain.

He laughed. 'I said they were tender memories! What a pity such times do not last forever.'

'I was not regretting the times,' she rejoined bitterly. 'I was thinking of a man who warned me...whose advice I despised...that day...' She turned her face away from his cruel eyes.

'That day? I cannot remember anyone who could give you advice; but it does not matter. I must go back to my guests—well, my victims, if you like it better.' His gaze wandered again to the casket. 'I will keep it in memory of you, dear Kate...a memento of our very charming idyll.'

He turned to the door to throw one last gibe. 'You, of course, will need no reminder! I flatter myself to that extent.'

He laughed again, and the door closed behind him.