Читать книгу The Woman from the East - Edgar Wallace - Страница 9

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He had promised secrecy but there was one person that he had to tell and that for an excellent reason. If he had felt embarrassed at the interview in the morning, he felt more embarrassed that afternoon as he strolled with Dora Mead through Green Park. It was a glorious sunny Saturday and the park was filled with people, but for all he knew or saw there was only one other but himself, and that the flushed girl who walked by his side.

"You see," he was saying, "we have an excellent precedent. I am going to start another business. Covent has been very prompt and sent me his cheque today and I have finished with the firm—and I want somebody with me, to work with me, somebody who will put my interests first."

He felt he was growing incoherent, and the girl who was surprisingly cool, for all the fluttering at her heart, nodded gravely.

"So you see, dear," said Tom more awkwardly than ever, "the least you can do is to marry me right away."

"Isn't this—" she faltered, "a little quick?"

"Sudden is the word you wanted," he murmured, and they both laughed.

If the next few days were dream days for the two people who had lately been members of the firm of Covent Brothers they were hectic days for Martin Covent. Something had happened to the market. A rumour of trouble in Persia had changed the government in Roumania, shares had wobbled and collapsed and even gilded securities had lost some of their auriferous splendour.

One morning Martin Covent went the round of his bank, and methodically and carefully collected large sums or money, and these had been changed in an American bank in Lombard Street into even more realisable security. In the afternoon he called Miss Drew into his private office and locked the door.

"Agnes, my dear," the said flippantly though his voice shook, "you may pack your bag and get ready for a quick move to Italy."

"What has happened?" she asked.

"I am catching the Italian mail from Genoa to Valparaiso. All the passports are in order—"

"So it has come to that, has it?" she asked, biting her lips thoughtfully.

"It has come to that," he repeated.

"And we are to be married when?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders'

"My dear girl, we shall have to postpone the marriage for a little while, there is no time now."

"You expect me to go with you—unmarried?" she asked.

He took her by the shoulders and smiled down into her face.

"Can't you trust me?" he asked.

"Oh yes, I can trust you," she replied and there was no tremor in her voice. "What train do we catch?"

"The train leaving Waterloo and connecting with the Havre boat," said he. "Will you meet me on the platform at nine?"

She nodded.

"What of your clients?" she said.

He laughed.

"I'm afraid we'll have to take liberties with their accounts. The unfortunate Ranee of Butilata is going to suffer another injustice at the hands of the firm," he chuckled.

"But suppose it is found out that you have bolted," said the girl.

"How can it be? It is Friday today, I am never at the office on Saturday, by Sunday I shall be on the boat and it will be difficult for even the most skilful firm of accountants to discover that the firm has gone bust, for a week. No, my dear, I've thought it out very carefully. You will meet me tonight at nine o'clock?"

She nodded and went back to her work, as though the firm of Covent Brothers stood still high in the stable traditions of the City.

It was all so very simple. The plans went so smoothly that it was a very high-spirited Martin Covent who stepped into the boat-train as it was moving and sat down by the girl's side. They were the only occupants of the compartment.

"Well, darling," he said exuberantly, "we're off at last. You're looking pale."

"Am I?" she said indifferently. "If I am, is it extraordinary?"

He laughed and took out of his inside pocket a bulky black leather portfolio.

"Feel the weight of that," he said putting it into her hand. "There's happiness and comfort for all the days of our lives, Agnes."

She took the portfolio and put it down between them.

"And a great deal of unhappiness for other people," she said. "What about the Ranee of Butilata. She will be ruined."

"That doesn't worry me a great deal," smiled the man. "People of that kind can always get money."

She took a little silver cigarette-case from her bag, opened it and chose a cigarette.

"Give me one," he asked and she obeyed. She struck a match and held it for him, then lit her own, and slipping away from the arm which sought to hold her, she took a place facing him on the opposite seat.

"Now you're to be good for a little while," she said, "You've got to keep your head clear."

He puffed away at the cigarette and she watched him.

"After all," he said, "the firm is fairly solvent. We have a lot of outstanding debts and I suppose they'll call in Tom Camberley to straighten out the mess. I'm only taking my own money."

"That's a comforting way of looking at it," said the girl "It seems to me that you've taken some of your customers' money too."

"And that doesn't worry me either. Now, my dear, the object of life is to find as much happiness as one can and—"

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at it.

"What weird stuff you smoke, Grace," he said.

"Get up!" Her voice was sharp and peremptory and in his surprise he attempted to obey her, but his legs would not support him and it seemed that no muscle of his body was under control.

"What the devil is this?" he asked stupidly.

"Dracena," she said coolly. "You have never heard of Dracena. That is because you have never been to India."

"Dracena?" he repeated.

"It is a very simple drug. It paralyses the muscles and renders its victim helpless. In a quarter of an hour you will sink into a condition of insensibility."

She spoke in such a matter of fact tone that he could hardly grasp the import of her words.

"This train will stop at a little wayside station," she went on. "You would not think it was possible to stop a boat express but I have fixed it. One of my servants, the one who used to masquerade as the Ranee of Butilata, has arranged to board the train at that station and I have arranged to get out. My car will be waiting and I hope to be back at Newbury in the early hours of the morning."

"At Newbury?" he gasped. "Then you—you—"

"I am the Ranee of Butilata," said the girl. "I am the woman your father sold into captivity, into a life which by every standard and by every test was hell! I was sold to a drunkard and a brute and an Indian at that, to save the firm of Covent Brothers and when my husband died I had to steal the money to bring me to England.

"I did not waste my time as the wife of Butilata," she went on quietly, but with a hardness in her voice which brought a twinge of terror to the paralysed man. "I learnt bookkeeping because I thought one day I would come back to the firm of Covent Brothers and worm my way into its confidences. Butilata made no secret of the part your people played."

"You are the Ranee of Butilata! You lived a double life!" he said slowly as though in order that he should hear and understand.

"I lived a double life," she said. "By day I was your clerk. In the evening I was the Ranee of Butilata who gave parties to the countryside. My car was always waiting round the corner for me and brought me back the next morning. Once I was nearly betrayed. Dora Mead came to Newbury unexpectedly and would have recognized me but I switched out the lights and had her removed from the house. By day I slaved for you for three pounds a week, using my position to rob your firm systematically and consistently. Yes I robbed you," she went on. "All the thousands standing to the credit of my account were transferred from the profits of the firm. I came into your business to ruin you," she said, "and to ruin Tom Camberley too, but he was a decent man. And because he expressed his pity for the poor girl who had been sent out to Butilata, I persuaded you to buy him out and save his money from the wreck."

"You—you!" hissed Covent. He made an attempt to lurch forward, but fell backward and the girl rising to her feet lowered him to the seat. She covered him with a travelling rug and presently the train began to slow down.

It was a dark and rainy night and when the train came a stop at the little platform she slipped out, closing the door behind her and disappeared into the gloom.

They found Martin Covent at Southampton and brought him back to town to face his outraged clients and the inexorable vengeance of the law. But the stout black wallet that carried the proceeds of his robbery was never recovered and the Ranee of Butilata vanished as though the earth had opened and swallowed her.