Читать книгу The Secret of the Sands - Fred M. White - Страница 6

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It required an effort on Ronald's part to control himself and turn his gaze casually elsewhere. He was annoyed to find the nervous little man in the blue spectacles was regarding him suspiciously. But he was sure of his facts, and he was certain as to that magnificent ring. At the risk of incurring further suspicion he must have another look at the stranger. The ring was the same undoubtedly, but the hand was different. This was no long, slim white hand with perfectly manicured nails, pink and white and rounded, but a hand brown and sinewy, the knotted veins standing out from the hairy back like cords. Still, Ronald was far from satisfied.

He was not at all taken with the stranger. The man's manner was easy; he was accustomed to good society; he was cultured and polished. But he was a little too friendly and plausible, and his eyes were those of a wolf. It was singular that a man of this type should view with a favourable eye such a desolate and dreary place as the Red House. His boast as to the aeroplane might be true, or it might be a blind to conceal something sinister. It was significant, too, that the foreigner should be enamoured of the place at the moment when it was imperative that the movements of Dick Amory should be kept secret.

Ronald rose and strode casually into the hall, and thence to the bar. The steward was idle.

"Who is the dark visitor with the eyeglass, Salmon?" Ronald asked.

"Gentleman of the name of De Lava sir—Count Henri De Lava," the steward explained. "He came with Sir George Lumley's card. The other gentleman is an invalid and they are both staying at the Grand. They only joined this afternoon."

"Did they dine here, Salmon?"

"Yes, sir. They came in about half-past six after a long walk. The gentleman in the spectacles seemed very tired and done up, and the count suggested dinner here, if we did that sort of thing. Mr. Sexton said he was too worn out to think of dressing for dinner, and I got them a chop, sir."

"So that they could have a stroll upon the parade afterwards?"

"I don't know about that, sir. They didn't. As a matter of fact, they went into the billiard-room, and had their coffee and cigarettes there. After that they adjourned to the smoking-room."

Ronald went back to his seat satisfied to a certain extent, and yet more perplexed than ever. It was impossible to see his way. Still, he would keep his eye upon these strangers; he felt sure that in some way they meant mischief so far as Dick Amory was concerned. For the present they must not see the inside of the Red House. It would take some time to get the key from Sir Horace's agent, and Dick would, at any rate, be safe for another day.

Ronald turned the problem over in his mind until he fell asleep, but no solution came to him. Directly after breakfast he examined the London papers. Most of them were full of the mysterious affair in Ivy Court, and many ingenious theories were advanced. It seemed almost impossible that a solicitor, together with all his papers, and most of his office furniture, should vanish in this way, but there was the hard fact, and there was no possibility of getting away from it. The police were inclined to think that Mr. Bowen had been enticed away, and had returned unexpectedly before the thieves had finished their work. He had then been stunned or murdered outright, and his body conveyed from the office in the van. The removal of Bowen was intended to baffle the authorities, and make it impossible to fix the direct charge of murder on anybody. In the absence of the body, it was not positively certain that he was dead.

Bastable went off presently towards the Red House. With the events of the previous night uppermost in his mind it behoved him to be cautious. But no living soul was in sight as he strode along the marshes, nothing but sea-birds wheeling overhead, calling to one another like lost spirits in torment. The tide was out again, and the whole stretch of grey sands quivered and bubbled as if some unseen hand stirred their horrible depths; they churned and seethed round the flat stepping stones in a wickedly suggestive fashion.

"So you've come at last," Amory said, none too graciously. "What a time you've been!"

"It's barely eleven o'clock," Ronald replied.

"Isn't it? It seems like afternoon to me. I had to pawn my watch to raise the money to get here, and I haven't a notion what the time is. Got the cigarettes?"

"I've got enough to last you a week. The food difficulty is my great trouble. But, in any case, you'll have to find some other hiding-place. From what I could gather last night, there's a possibility of this house being let at once."

Amory broke out passionately. "I wish I was dead!" he cried. "I wish I had never been born. Of course, by this time the police are looking for me everywhere."

"I don't fancy so," Ronald said, soothingly. "It's an ill wind that brings nobody luck, and you've got your turn, though it's at the expense of your friend Bowen. But I put a newspaper in my pocket so that you could read for yourself."

Amory snatched at the paper eagerly. Ronald watched him with a feeling of contempt. It was clear Dick Amory cared for nobody but himself. Whatever might happen, his personal safety was the first consideration. There was something like a smile on his face as he finished the report.

"It's very odd, Bastable," he said. "But Bowen was mixed up with a shady lot. Well, this gives me breathing-time. No steps can be taken against me until it comes out that Bowen is a defaulter, and they can't prove that till his papers are produced. Still, one can never tell how far Bowen had committed himself. I think I'll stay here for——"

"But you can't," Bastable interrupted. "The thing is impossible. I met a man in the club last night who is exceedingly anxious to take this place. He is a foreigner who wants a quiet practise ground for a flying-machine he has invented. He has been over the marshes, and says the place will suit him admirably. He may get hold of the keys to-day, and if he does he is certain to be here to-morrow."

"What sort of chap was he?" Amory asked at random.

"A foreigner—a tall, slim man with a dyed moustache and an eyeglass. I fancy he calls himself De Lava or some such name—Count De Lava. He has a friend named Sexton, who appears to be somewhat of an invalid."

Amory began to pace impatiently up and down the dingy sitting-room. He puffed nervously at his cigarette. Then he turned abruptly to Ronald.

"You must manage to keep those chaps away a bit longer," he said. "I've been trying to think out a plan for getting this money. After all, I may not have to find it; at least I shan't be asked to do so until the police get to the bottom of the Bowen business. It's long odds that the thing remains a mystery altogether, in which case I stand on velvet."

"But that's downright rascality," Ronald said, coldly. "You have robbed those people of this money, and you and Bowen have spent it between you. If those ruffians have made an end of Bowen, then you are responsible for it all."

"Why should I interfere?" Amory asked. "If Bowen is dead, there is an end to the matter. He won't know that he has had all the blame, and I shall be free."

Bastable turned away in silent disgust. "Let us assume," he said presently, "that Bowen isn't dead. Say that he comes back again. What will be your position then? It will be no excuse for Bowen to say that he has been robbed by a gang of scoundrels. He will have to produce the money all the same, and he will look for your share."

"If he does, then I fancy I can see my way to find my half."

"There will be no question as to half. If Bowen is penniless, as I expect, you will have to find the lot. You don't seem to realise how deeply you are plunged in this trouble. If you can see any way clear I shall be glad to hear what it is."

"Well, there is my aunt, or my great-aunt, Lady Amory," Dick said. "She's queer, as you know. Some people think she is quite mad, but she's got more about her than folk imagine. And she's fond of me."

"Is that a sign of sanity?" Ronald asked.

"You needn't rub it in," Amory said, sullenly. "She's been fond of me from a child. I can get more out of her than anybody else. She's got money, though she has always been very close on that score. People of weak intellects generally are. Did you ever see her when she's dressed for a big party?"

"I have never had the pleasure," Ronald said, drily.

"You should, my boy—that is, if you admire beautiful jewellery. The old lady has some of the finest diamonds and rubies in the country. Goodness only knows what they are worth. And she keeps them in a safe in her cottage. Now, if I could get hold of these——"

"What, you're not suggesting the possibility of a further——"

"Of course not," Amory went on. "My idea was to get the chance of a few words with the old lady and let her know how things are with me. If I pitched it pretty strong she might consent to pawn some of the gems to get me out of the present hole. She's staying at Oversands just now, and she generally has a lot of stuff with her. Of course, I don't want you to mention this to Vera, but you might ask her to arrange an interview with Lady Amory for me."

There was no objection to this course as far as Ronald could see. He would lay the proposal before Vera, and afterwards discuss further arrangements for Dick Amory's safety.

Vera was waiting impatiently in the new avenue. Her pale face lighted up and a splash of colour came into her cheeks as she saw Ronald, but in the bright sunshine she looked tired and worn.

"I hope you have good news for me," she whispered.

"I have no bad," Ronald replied. "On the contrary, there is a respite that may enable us to tide over matters. But perhaps I had better explain."

Vera listened eagerly to all that Ronald had to say. It was a relief to know that the blow was not to fall yet. "It is very, very kind of you," she said, gratefully. "We may find some way of stopping this terrible scandal altogether. I haven't a notion what Dick expects to gain by seeing Lady Amory, though she is fond of him; indeed, he is the one creature that she cares for. But I will try to make her understand. She is in the garden at the present moment. If you'll stay here, I'll go and speak to her."

Ronald waited patiently. He could hear voices close by, Vera's soft and persuasive, and Lady Amory's vague and incoherent. They passed along a grass path so close to Ronald on the other side of the hedge that he could almost have touched them. Lady Amory was leaning on an ebony stick with a crutch ivory handle; her bare hand was clasped upon it.

"Have patience," she said. "I shall understand presently. Now say it slowly. I never can think of anything when the tide is low on the quicksands."

Ronald started, but not at these strange words. His gaze was fixed on Lady Amory's hand. It was the very hand and the very ring that he had seen on the door jamb at the Red House the night before.

"What does it all mean?" he asked himself. "In heaven's name, what does it all mean?"