Читать книгу The Man Who Was Nobody - Edgar Wallace - Страница 6

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AT VANCE'S suggestion she had stayed on until late in the afternoon. There was no work for her to do, but she supposed that sooner or later her services would be requisitioned, and in this surmise she was right. At five o'clock her bell rang and she went into Mr Vance's office. He was sealing a large envelope which evidently contained the results of his work that afternoon, for he had spent his time writing. He had sealed the flap and was dipping his pen into the ink preparatory to writing the address, when he paused irresolutely "H'm!" he said. "That is awkward." Then he wrote the name. "Sir James Tynewood, Bart.," she read over his shoulder, with a sense of dismay because she guessed that she was to be the bearer of this letter, and she had not forgotten her experience of the previous night. Then, to her surprise, he took from his stationery rack a still larger envelope and put the first within, sealing it again. This time he wrote a name which was strange to her—"Dr Fordham, Tynewood Chase, Tynewood." He sat for a moment deep in thought and then raised his spectacled face to hers with a little smile.

"Miss Stedman," he said, "I want you to take a journey into the country Do you know Tynewood?" She nodded.

"It is in Droitshire," he explained. "You can get a train from Paddington at five forty-five, and you should be there before eight. The nearest station is about three miles from Tynewood Chase, but I will telegraph to the Red Lion Inn to have a fly—I suppose that up-to-date establishment has motorcars for hire now" he smiled. "At any rate, you'll have no difficulty in getting to the Chase, and you should be back in town at eleven o'clock tonight. There is a good train leaving the junction at nine. You understand, you are to place this letter in the hands of Dr Fordham?" She nodded.

"There is one more thing I want to say, Miss Stedman," said Vance, a little uneasily "Since you have been my confidential secretary you have heard a great many ugly secrets which I am sure are safe with you. But the secret of Sir James Tynewood is uglier than any" he said. "I can only hope," he added, "that you will not make any discovery without my assistance. But if you do, Miss Stedman, I ask you to treat all you see and hear tonight, and all you saw and heard when I entrusted you with the previous commission, as a secret inviolable and unbetrayable."

"Of course, Mr Vance," she said. "But—" she hesitated.

"But what?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, it's nothing to do with the business," she said. "I wondered whether I could get a message to mother telling her that I shall not be home until late. She expected me at two o'clock."

"I'll send a messenger boy—or why not telegraph?"

The girl laughed. "A telegram always worries mother," she said.

She did not explain that the doleful Mrs Stedman was of such a sanguine temperament that she expected miracles at every rat-tat of the door, and was correspondingly depressed when the message which came brought no roseate news. The journey to Dilmot junction seemed unending, though she had provided herself with a book and papers, and she stepped out on the rain-drenched platform at Dilmot, relieved to find her journey over. Mr Vance had evidently telegraphed, for an ancient and wheezy motor car was waiting for her. Happily it was a closed car, for heavy rain was falling. As the antiquated machine rattled and coughed through the dark lanes, it occurred to the girl that it was within a few miles of this place that she would be living in a month's time. Despite the unwillingness of the old car to ascend hills, and the alarming rapidity with which it descended them, it made a good steady progress, and presently it bumped through the main street of a village. She looked through the rain-splashed windows, noted half a dozen shops, and then the car ran into the darkness again. "That must be Tynewood," she thought, and in this she was correct. Presently the car stopped, and, lowering the window she saw tall iron gates to which, in response to the furious summons of the cabman's motor-horn, came a dark figure in a mackintosh.

"Who is there?" it shouted. "I can't let you into the Park."

The girl leant out of the window. "I am from Mr Vance the lawyer, and I have an important letter for Dr Fordham," she said.

Without further parley the gate was opened and the car sped up a long, winding drive, flanked on either side by tall trees, and presently stopped again.

The girl looked out. The big house was in darkness, and the only light came through a semicircular transom above the wide doorway at which they had stopped.

She got out of the cab, bidding the man wait, and had to requisition one of the car's lights to discover the old-fashioned bell-pull. The clang of the bell came faintly, but it was a long time before anybody answered. Then she heard quick steps within the stone-flagged hall, there was a rattle of chains, a click of a lock, and the door opened a foot.

The man who stood there was a stranger to her.

"Who is it?" he asked brusquely.

"I'm from Mr Vance," said Marjorie Stedman. "I have an important letter for Dr Fordham."

"I am he," said the man. "Will you come in?"

He closed the door behind her and took the letter from her hand.

"Sit down for a moment, please," he said, and she found a seat on one of the big oaken chairs which stood on either side of the hall.

"This is for Sir James," he said as he opened the first envelope. "Just one moment."

He was halfway up the hall when he turned back.

"You don't mind waiting here? It is not very comfortable, but I'm sorry I can't for the moment do any better for you. I hope you have had your dinner, because there is nobody here to give you food. None of the servants are in the house."

Marjorie had not had dinner and was beginning to feel the need for that meal, but smilingly she shook her head.

"It doesn't matter at all; I'm not hungry" she said untruthfully

"You won't move from here?" he asked again.

"Of course not," said the girl, a little piqued. "I can go back to the junction now, can't I? I have a cab outside."

"Wait a moment," said Dr Fordham, and hurried along the hall and into a room which led from it.

He closed the door behind him, but apparently the lock did not catch. From where she sat she could see the door opening slowly and there came to her distinctly the sound of voices.

"I'm ruined anyway," said one bitterly and she knew it was Sir James Tynewood who was speaking. "Oh, my God, what a fool I have been, what a fool!"

"You've a chance to get right," said another voice, and the voice seemed familiar. "I've given you a chance, and you're a fool if you don't take it."

"How can I?" almost screamed the voice of Sir James. "Do you think I can go to London and face that crowd? Do you think I can tell them—"

There was a muttered interruption, evidently that of the doctor. She heard the tearing of the envelope she had brought and the rustle of papers. Silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the leaves as they were turned; and then a voice:

"You madman, you madman!" it said.

There was no reply for a second. "What is it?" asked Sir James in a low voice and there was another silence.

She guessed that the letter had been handed to the other, for no word was spoken for fully two minutes. Then it was the drawling voice she heard:

"I'm going to settle with you—"

There was the deafening report of a shot, and the girl sprang to her feet, white as death. A silence; then the voice said: "My God! I've killed him!"

She ran to the door and pushed it open. Sir James Tynewood lay upon the floor in a pool of blood and a man was leaning over him, holding a revolver in his hand. At the sound of the opening door he sprang to his feet—it was Pretoria Smith!