Читать книгу The Sentence of the Court - Fred M. White - Страница 9

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Gilray pressed a little closer to the two women, he was anxious to hear what was passing between them. He was doing now what he would have scorned to do a year or so ago. His debts and his desperate troubles were sapping the moral fibre of the man. He was so nervously eager to get to the bottom of this mystery that his gentlemanly instincts were crushed out. Apparently he stood raptly contemplating one of the pictures on the wall. Ever and again words came to him, but he could make very little of them! Then he started.

Ninon Desterre was talking. Just for a moment she seemed to forget herself, for her voice was raised eagerly.

"Your esteemed father will never have enough," she exclaimed. "It is a growing disease, this money making. He told me that when he had made a million...more than that was...a profit of fifty thousand a year! If some of my pretty boys only knew, my dear. They would not go to America to look for a rich wife. Why, if you cared to, you might be a duchess...Very well, I won't."

Gilray edged away. He had learnt all that he required for the moment. So the dainty little white beauty with the innocent face and beautiful eyes was heiress to a million. The miser of Poplar was worth that and more! It looked as if the stars in their courses were fighting on his side now.

True, there was a rival in the path, but Gilray would know how to get rid of him. He had the weapon ready to his hand, and he would not hesitate to strike when the proper time came. And nobody would know; nobody would be any the wiser. He did not see how the crime he contemplated could possibly be brought home to him.

He moved on a little further until he came to a group of people whom he recognised. A popular novelist was fighting a battle of wits with a sculptor of repute, and others stood round listening to the merry duel. Gilray put aside all his troubles for the moment and became as interested as the others.

He did not know that Ninon had watched him as he had moved off.

"That man was listening," she said. "I felt it in my bones. Now, why was he listening. What have we to do with a fashionable oculist? Does he know you?"

"Well, he does, and he does not," Enid replied. "I was rather startled when I saw him here. I thought he failed to recognise me, and I was thankful for it. Are you sure he was listening, Madame Desterre? It makes me uncomfortable to think of such a thing."

"Certain of it, little one, certain of it. I never make mistakes of that kind. But why should it make you uncomfortable?"

"Well, Dr. Gilray came to our house last night. A friend of my father's brought him. We have a—gentleman staying with us who met with an accident to his eyes. Oh, don't ask me anything about how it happened, for I don't know. I live in queer surroundings. Sometimes I feel that things are being done that will reach the ears of the police some day. I am not consulted, I have only to fetch and carry, and do as I am told without asking questions. This man with the injured eyes is lying in our house. How and when he came I don't know. I am not surprised now at anything that takes place at home. All I know is that it was necessary to have an eye specialist at once, and one was fetched near midnight. I had to see him first, for we were not quite prepared for his visit. The man was Dr. Gilray. He was to ask no questions, and in return for his services he was to have a special fee. When the operation was over my father paid him three hundred guineas."

"Who would not be a popular surgeon?" Ninon said, smilingly. "Go on."

"He took the money, and he asked no questions. He must have known that there was something strange and unusual in the circumstances. Had I been in his position I should have refused."

Again Ninon smiled. The story seemed vastly to amuse her.

"Had you been in Dr. Gilray's position you would have done nothing of the sort," she said. "On the contrary, you would have prayed for many other such unusual calls. But we must not talk any more here. Go to my room."

"Not yet," Enid pleaded. "Oh, not yet! There is somebody coming here I must see. If I were to miss him I should never forgive myself."

Ninon hesitated, against her better judgment. She had a soft spot in her heart for Enid Harley. There was danger in the delay she knew quite well, but she did not want to be hard.

"We women are never really business-like," she said. "Even the hardest of us sometimes allows her heart to get away with her head. And I never could resist a romance, Enid. Mr. Herepath is late, eh?"

"Yes, he is," Enid said innocently. Then she coloured up to the roots of her hair. "How—how did you guess?"

"Guess, my child. Guess! Am I so old a woman that I have no curiosity as to affairs of the heart? Have I not had my own little episodes? Oh, I know why that brilliant young man comes here. When his great invention is complete he will be rich, he will take you away from here, and a very good thing too. I give you another quarter of an hour. If the prince has not come by that time, you must go to my room, and wait for me there. Now, mind you have only a quarter of an hour."

There was a mock frown on Ninon's face as she flitted away in the direction of a group on the other side of the room. Someone was speaking in Enid's ear, she felt a pressure of her hand. Then she looked up into the eager, tender eyes of Geoffrey Herepath.

"Here's a fine piece of luck for me, darling," Herepath whispered.

"I heard that you were coming," Enid whispered. "And I had to be here in any case. I came on business for my father, and Madame Desterre has given me a quarter of an hour. After that I have something to give her, she has some instructions for me, and then back home I must go."

"Then my luck is not so great as I had expected," Herepath said. "A quarter of an hour? Let us not waste a precious minute of it. Let me show you the way."

The rosy flush was still on Enid's cheeks as she followed. It was not often fortune smiled on her like this. Here had been a strange romance, an hour stolen here and there, a gradual advance from mere liking to fervent love for Geoffrey Herepath even before she realised that he too cared for her.

Nobody besides Madame Desterre suspected the existence of this affection. This was not the first time she had given the lovers one of their golden opportunities. Doubtless she had found out that Enid was coming here tonight, doubtless also, she had known of it for some considerable time before Enid had been made aware that she was to pay her a visit. It was all very fortunate and pleasant, but at the same time disturbing.

The lovers were seated in the loggia, which they had all to themselves. In a dimly-lit cosy corner behind a bolt of palms they nestled side by side. Geoffrey's arm was about her waist, and her red-gold head drooped on his shoulder. The world was a long way off just then.

"You are silent to-night, dear," Herepath whispered.

"I generally am when I am happy," Enid answered softly. "It is so delightful to get away from that horrible old house of ours. You know it, you discovered all those electric appliances to keep burglars away. Not that any of them are in the least likely to visit us. My father poses as a poor man——"

"Don't you think that he may be a poor man, Enid? Men of his temperament have strange delusions."

"Possibly, Geoffrey. I don't know what to think. Madame Desterre says he is rich. They have a good many business transactions together. I have been here many times with art treasures. I have some to-night. I know my father better than most people, or at any rate as far as it is possible for anyone to really know him. And when he dies I have a feeling that he will leave nothing."

"Then I shall get a poor wife, after all," Geoffrey said banteringly.

"I think so. Will it make any difference, Geoffrey?"

Herepath took the pretty, inquiring face between his hands and kissed the red lips.

"Nothing could make any difference," he said. "You only ask the question because you know I should answer it in this way. As for money, I shall have enough for two."

"Then you are still prospering with the new invention, dear? But your eyes. Remember what you told me about them. Remember that you promised to get assistance with those drawings, that you would not work at night."

"Oh, yes, yes." Herepath said a trifle impatiently. "I know. I engaged an assistant who proved too clever for me. He took a too intelligent interest in his work. He was learning the heart of things. A little longer and my secret would have been his. He was a spy in the pay of a firm in the north. I managed to lead him into a kind of blind alley, and then dismissed him. My dearest girl I had to do my own work. And my eyes have been very queer lately."

"Geoffrey. You frighten me. You must go to some good oculist at once.

"My dearest little girl, I have already done so. I saw Gilray, who, by the way, is here tonight. I am to call upon him again in a day or two."

"And what did he say? Was he at all doubtful? Geoffrey, you don't know how anxious I am."

"Well, he pronounced no judgment. He said it was too early to be definite. But he told me that I was not to do any more drawing just now, and that I was to spare my eyes as much as possible till he saw me again. He did not say that there is really anything serious."

But Enid was not so easily satisfied. She was pondering over the matter after Herepath had gone. It occurred to her as strange that Geoffrey should have consulted Gilray. In a way Gilray was coming into her life. She seemed to be meeting him now at every turn. And, in some strange, uneasy fashion, she had a feeling that he was watching her. She felt an impulse to get out of his sight. Anyway she was anxious to finish her business now and get back home. She waited impatiently for the best part of half an hour in Madame Desterre's boudoir, but the mistress of the house did not come. Something was evidently detaining her. Surely Enid had not misunderstood her instructions. She crept timidly down into the hall again, where a little knot of people were discussing some subject with a good deal of interest. Enid could see that Gilray was one of the group.

A small man was speaking, a little man with a fat, flat face, out of which, on either side of an aggressively hooked nose, gleamed a black eye hard as a diamond. Gilray moved round and stood by Enid's side. His own eyes were only a shade less hard and brilliant than those of the man who was talking so rapidly.

"That is Mr. Van der Knoot," Gilray whispered. "The man whose house was burgled."

Gilray, as he spoke, was startled to see the colour fade from Enid's cheeks. Her hand went involuntarily to her side, her lips parted in a sudden gasp. She stood there white and rigid.

"There is no clue," the German financier was saying. "There never will be a clue. The police expect to do great things with that torn scarf, but I cannot see how they can use it. By this time it will be that the other part has been destroyed. I shall my miniatures see never again. And I paid—it was three thousand guineas for them."

"But what use can they be to anybody?" a guest asked eagerly. "Stolen property like that is so easily identified, it is property with a history——"

"Ah, my young friend," said the German sententiously, "you but little know of the hardened collector. He no honesty has when on his hobby, no moral sense. He anything would take, and gloat over it in secret. He would the price pay for his own private gratification, and never let a soul know what he had got. Why, there are collectors who to see my treasures come, well-known men and quite honourable in other ways, that I would not leave by themselves in my galleries for a single moment. No, no," he said regretfully, "I shall look upon my beautiful Cosways never any more."

"I am not so sure of that," Gilray said. "Now what would you give me if I could put you in the way of getting them back once more? If I told you exactly where they were——"

Gilray paused and glanced at Enid. He saw her hand once more go to her left side, he caught in her eyes a look of terror and entreaty. She was imploring him to be silent.

"Oh, you mock me, you make fun of my misfortune," sighed Van der Knoot. "It is to me, alas, a certainty, that I shall my treasures never see again."

Enid swayed a little and Gilray caught her hand in a firm grasp. None of the others seemed to notice them. They could not hear the girl's quivering whisper in Gilray's ear:

"It you are a gentleman you will say no more."

"It is a compact," was Gilray's answer. "A compact between us. You shall give me my reward later on."