Читать книгу The Lady in Blue - Fred M. White - Страница 6

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But Kelso was hardly listening. In his mind's eye he could see Audrey's piteous, pleading face and the look of dumb misery in her blue eyes. It came to him as a kind of shock to discover that this girl meant more to him than the average woman appealing to an honest man's protection. He knew nothing about her. She appeared to have been an absolute mystery to everybody, and he had not spent more than three hours in her company, all told. Why, then, should he be so miserably anxious about her? What was there about her that appealed to him as none of her sex had ever appealed to him before? He was asking himself these questions as the taxicab sped along in the direction of Denver's rooms, and Kelso was not the kind of man to shirk these problems. By the time that the cab stopped, he knew that Audrey Blair was the one woman in the world, so far as he was concerned. True, he knew nothing of her history, true she had mixed herself up in what promised to be a terrible scandal, but all the same he did not doubt her for a moment. A woman with a face as good and true as hers could do no wrong. So he could not bring himself to believe that Audrey had vanished in this bewildering fashion from a fear to face the consequences of her folly. Beyond doubt, she had been spirited away in some fashion, and, probably, the Grand Duke was at the bottom of the mystery.

He cursed himself for his own helplessness and lack of initiative. But, then, there was nothing to go upon; indeed, here he was striving to solve a mystery surrounding a girl whose very home was apparently known to nobody. Possibly relatives might come forward to-morrow; but Kelso was disposed to doubt it. Again, she might be without a single relation in the world—a thing that was highly probable. There was only the woman in the ivory mask, but she was both deaf and dumb, so far as Kelso knew to the contrary.

He flung himself moodily down into a chair and waited for Denver to speak. He knew that his friend was a great deal more clever and resourceful than himself, and, besides, Denver's knowledge of London was as extensive as it was peculiar.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.

"I am absolutely puzzled," Denver confessed. "The thing is beyond me altogether. When you come to think of it, there is no real reason why that poor child should be afraid of the Grand Duke. If the worst came to the worst she could tell him the truth, and, what's more, her story would be bound to carry conviction. No, there's a good deal more here than appears on the surface. If you ask me to hazard a theory, I should say that His Imperial Highness could tell us a great deal, if he liked to speak. My advice would be to watch him carefully. I dare say you might say that this is no business of ours, and that in any case——"

"I should not say anything of the kind," Kelso interrupted. "It's our bounden duty to do what we can for that poor child. Of course, if her relations come forward, it is a different matter."

"No relatives will come forward," Denver said with decision. "I feel it in my bones. I dare say you will call me quixotic, but if you feel as I do——"

"Perhaps I feel a great deal more," Kelso confessed. "My dear fellow, I have never been a woman's man, as you know. I have come to look upon myself as a confirmed bachelor, and, in the last few hours, I have changed my opinion—changed my opinion, because a pretty face and a pair of pathetic blue eyes have come between me and my self-love. I dare day you may think me an arrant fool, Mark, but I would do anything for that girl. I would gamble on the fact that she is all a woman ought to be. I don't care a hang about the mystery that surrounds her. I am not frightened by the basilisk with the ivory mask, and I am not disposed to blame the touch of girlish vanity that has been the cause of all this trouble. I am going to get to the bottom of all this mystery, and you are going to help me."

"I should have done so in any case," Denver replied. "My dear boy, we are wasting time here. Let us go on to Lady Goring's dance. I know the Grand Duke will be there, and we may pick up a clue. At any rate, we can follow him after he leaves—though, to tell you the truth, I am not keen on this amateur detective business."

Kelso rose to his feet at once. Anything was better than this miserable inaction. The hope of finding anything amongst the fashionable crowd was slender; but, still, there was no saying what fortune might have in store. They found themselves presently entangled in the stream of cabs and carriages which gradually converged upon the pavement in front of Lady Goring's magnificent house facing the Green Park. A curious crowd had gathered there watching the guests as they hurried across the strip of crimson cloth leading to the marble steps. Inside the brilliantly-lighted hall, decorated with blooms and ferns, a small regiment of footmen in blue and gold liveries stood on either side. As Denver and his companion made their way up the wide staircase they were conscious of a buzz of excitement which was going on all round them. Even Lady Goring herself, a stately, handsome figure in white and silver, and usually the most calm and collected of women, seemed for once alert and eager.

"So good of you to come," was her greeting. "I hardly expected to see you, Mr. Kelso. No, I am not going to ask you to dance, because I have plenty of young men quite ready for that sort of thing. Everybody seems to be tremendously excited over the disappearance of that pretty Miss Blair. I have just been talking to Mr. Everest, the lessee of the Sovereign Theatre, and he is as much puzzled as everyone else. He is cynical enough to think that there is an advertisement behind it all. But I don't agree with him, because I know Miss Blair very well, and I'm sure she would not lend herself to anything so vulgar. I do hope nothing has happened to her. I was quite looking forward to seeing her here this evening."

A bevy of fresh arrivals swept Denver and Kelso on the crest of a wave of silks and satins and billowy chiffons into the spacious reception-room beyond. A band was playing somewhere in the distance, and, at the end of a palm-decked corridor, Kelso could see a whirling maze of colour in the ballroom. Lady Goring was too finished a hostess to fuss over her guests. It was immaterial to her whether they danced or not, and, if they preferred any other form of amusements, they were there in plenty. Here were card-rooms and cosy corners, refreshment-rooms, and wide lounges, where people could sit and talk. In one of these stood a picturesque, grey-haired man, who came forward as he caught sight of Denver.

"That's John Everest, of the Sovereign Theatre," Denver explained hurriedly.

"Perhaps he will be able to tell us something. Do you see the little man, with the round shoulders and ragged moustache, talking to the lady in blue? He's not very distinguished-looking, and his clothes fit him only where they touch. But, all the same, that is our quarry—the Grand Duke Oro."

The distinguished-looking lessee of the Sovereign Theatre had very little to say. He was naturally distressed and uneasy, in regard to Audrey Blair's amazing disappearance, but he could assign no reason for it whatever.

"I've just come back from the theatre," he explained. "When I discovered what had happened I went down there with one of the Scotland Yard officials. The more we inquire into the affair the more amazing it becomes. Miss Blair was at the theatre at ten minutes to eight fully dressed for her part. You know what the dress was—a flimsy, spangled affair, bound to attract immediate attention anywhere outside the theatre. Her dresser had left her, and she was sitting in her dressing-room, waiting for her call. The boy knocked three times without getting an answer, and then he fetched the dresser. Miss Blair's room was empty, nor was there any sign of her whereabouts. The costume in which she had come down to the theatre was lying about, together with her hat and gloves and her outdoor shoes. She must have gone along the passages and stage door exactly as she was. The stage doorkeeper declares that he never left his box the whole time, and that nobody passed him either way between ten minutes to eight and the moment when he was informed that Miss Blair was no longer in the theatre. Now you are a dramatist, Denver, and this mystery should appeal to you. Can you think of any theory, however extravagant, to account for this amazing occurrence?"

"For the moment I am not going to try," Denver said. "Miss Blair has been with you for a year or so now, and I presume you know as much about her as most persons. Who are her relatives?"

"Nobody seems to know," Everest replied. "She appeared in public first in an East End music-hall, then at the Colossus, and I gave her the first engagement she ever had in musical comedy. She does not even employ an agent. I haven't the remotest notion where she lives, or even in what part of London——"

"Where does she bank, for instance?" Denver interrupted.

"Ah, that's another side of the mystery. I happen to know that she does not keep a banking account. Though she draws some scores of pounds a week in salary, she always take it in cash. You see, it is no business of mine, and I have never asked any questions. Now, is there anything else I can tell you?"

"Yes," Denver said. "What is your private opinion of the Grand Duke Oro? Do you know anything about his private life, and has he ever been behind at the Sovereign?"

"No, he hasn't," Everest said curtly. "The man is an utter scoundrel—one of the last persons in the world whom I would allow to pass the stage door, for I am very particular, as you know. But isn't yours a somewhat remarkable question?"

Denver frankly admitted that it might be, and begged to be excused from going into further details for the moment. Somebody else coming up at this instant claimed Everest's attention, so the discussion abruptly ceased. On the far side of the room, the little, bent man with the ragged moustache was still deep in earnest conversation with the lady in blue. As Denver and Kelso lounged across in the direction of the lady in blue, the Grand Duke rose.

"Very well," the two men heard him say, "I will go and get it for you. In the small conservatory at the end of the picture gallery. A feather fan with gold sticks, eh?"

The lady in blue smiled sweetly. Kelso noted the fact that she was dark and handsome, and that her black eyes held that which was more than mere amusement. It seemed to him that the glance that she threw in the Grand Duke's direction was full of menace, that the eager quiver of her lips concealed a threat. It was only in passing that he noticed this, but it came back to him afterwards.

"Who does she happen to be?" he asked.

"That I can't tell you," Denver replied. "I don't think that she matters for the moment. Let us stroll along and keep our eyes upon our friend with the ragged moustache. It is just possible that we might find something of interest in the little conservatory, at the end of the picture gallery."

They sauntered on behind, stopping to exchange a word here and there to some acquaintance; but, though they waited the best part of ten minutes, the Grand Duke did not emerge from the dimly-lighted retreat, whence he had gone in search of the fan belonging to the lady in blue. Nearly half an hour passed, and Kelso began to grow impatient. It was just possible, perhaps, that the Duke was keeping some assignation there, a suggestion that Denver was inclined to favour. He turned eagerly towards his companion.

"I'm glad you thought of that," he said. "I'll stay here and watch, while you stroll back along the corridor. You had better stand before one of those open windows, looking on to the Park, as if you were enjoying the cool evening breeze, and nobody will notice you. If you keep your head out, and your back to the people you won't be recognised. I dare say all this is a hideous waste of time, but one never can tell."

Kelso kept his vigil faithfully enough for some time, despite his feeling of restlessness and impatience. His mind was so far away that he did not heed the shouts of the newsboys down below, selling some late papers, on the strength of the latest sensational tragedy. Then out of the din a name arose that seemed to strike him like a blow between the eyes. He must be dreaming, he must be in the grip of some strange nightmare.

"Terrible tragedy in the West End!" one voice rose in a scream above the rest. "Sudden death of His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke Oro. The dead man found in a conservatory. 'Evening Herald,' special! Terrible tragedy! Special!"

Kelso straightened himself suddenly and passed his hand across his eyes. The next moment he was inclined to laugh at this startling story. Then he turned to see Denver standing behind him, together with his host, Lord Goring. The latter's face was white and ghastly, and his lips were quivering.

"Did you hear that or am I mad?" he whispered. "How do they get it? How do they know? I didn't know myself three minutes ago. I was the first to find it out."

"Is it true?" Kelso exclaimed.

"The Grand Duke is dead," Goring whispered hoarsely. "He is lying in the conservatory at this very moment."