the doctor entered with the brusqueness of a man who had no knowledge of, or at any rate no regard for, the usages of polite society. he treated lady oxted to little more than his profile and an imperceptible pause, which indulgence might construe into a bow, then walked straight up to geoffrey, with a face businesslike, concentrated.
"i had important information," he said, "which i was desirous of telling you without delay. my hansom is waiting."
geoffrey felt his heart thump riotously, a heavy repeated blow.
"we have to act immediately, you mean?" he asked.
"no, not that," said the doctor. "i only thought——" and he looked for a brief moment at lady oxted. she rose.
"how do you do, dr. armytage?" she said. "mr. langham and i were, when you entered, talking about the same business as that on which you have come. harry vail, i must tell you, is a great friend of mine; he is staying with me now. last night he told me the history of the past fortnight[pg 377] very fully. it will not therefore surprise you to learn that i came up to london to-day to see mr. langham."
"it does not surprise me in the least," he said. "i take it, then, that you wish me to speak before you. if that is so, i will send my hansom away."
he was back again immediately, and waited till the others had sat down, warming his hands at the fire, with his back turned to them. the silence, so to speak, was of his own making, and neither thought to interrupt it. then, facing them, he spoke.
"there is no need, therefore," he began, as if continuing his private train of thought, "that i should speak at any length of what has already happened. harry, i gather, has told you, lady oxted, of his three escapes; he has told you also of his quarrel with his friend here, and the reason of it."
there was something in this bald abruptness which pleased lady oxted. it looked genuine, but at the same time she made to herself the conscious reservation that it might be a piece of acting. if acting, it was a very decent performance. she gave a silent assent.
"you have asked me to speak before you," he went on, "but in doing so i am somewhat at a personal disadvantage. i have no reason to suppose that you trust me; indeed, there is no reason why you should. you know of me, probably, as an intimate friend of mr. francis, and when it appears[pg 378] that i am a traitor to him you naturally ask yourself if i am really so. but"—and he paused a moment—"but i do not think that this need much concern me. i am here to tell you in what manner mr. francis hopes to kill his nephew. it is our object, i take it, to prevent that."
there was something in his tone that smacked of the lecture, so dry and precise was it. but a clearer observer of him than either of his present audience, to whom the words he said were so much more just now than the man who said them, would have seen that an intense agitation quivered beneath the surface. the man was desperately in earnest about something.
"there is one more preliminary word," he went on. "we are dealing, so far as my observations go, with a man who is scarcely sane. in the psychology of crime we find that such patient, calculated attempts to take life are usually associated with something else that indicates cerebral disorder—some fixed idea, in short, of an insane character, which is usually the motive for the homicidal desire. that symptom is present here."
"the luck!" exclaimed lady oxted.
"precisely. the idea of owning the luck possesses our—our patient. he believes that it brings its owner dangers possibly, and risks, but compensations of an overwhelming weight. he believes, i may tell you, that it will keep off death, perhaps indefinitely. and to an old man that is a consideration of some importance, especially if he[pg 379] has such an exuberant love of life as mr. francis has. on the other hand, we must remember that before the last outbreak, if we may call it such, mr. francis procured the death of a man who stood in no relation to the luck. yes, he shot young harmsworth," he said slowly, looking at lady oxted, "for nothing more nor less than the insurance money. one may have doubts whether all crime of violent kind is not a form of insanity. but that particular form of insanity is punished with hanging."
it is by strange pathways that a woman's mind sometimes moves: she may take short cuts of the most dubious and fallacious kind to avoid a minute's traversing of the safe road, or walk a mile round in order to avoid a puddle over which she could easily step, but she at any rate knows when she has arrived, and at this juncture lady oxted got up and held out her hand to the doctor.
"i entreat your pardon," she said, "and, in any case, i trust you now."
a certain brightness shone in those dark, sad eyes, as he took her hand.
"i am glad to know that," he said, "and i advise you, if possible, to continue trusting me. you will have a trial of faith before long."
geoffrey moved impatiently; all three seemed to have forgotten their manners.
"oh, go on, man—go on!" he exclaimed.
"bear in mind, then," said the doctor, "that we may be dealing with a lunatic. this fixed idea[pg 380] inclines me to that belief; the murder of young harmsworth pulls the other way. but mr. francis has now made his plans; he told me them this morning, for i, as you will see, am to figure in them. and what he will do is this."
the doctor again paused, and adjusted his finger-tips together.
"he expects harry," he said, "to return to vail before the end of the month; he and his servant will return about the same time, or perhaps a day or two earlier, for there will be a few arrangements to make. i shall also accompany mr. francis, so he tells me, on the ground of his continued ill health."
"ah, those heart attacks!" said lady oxted; "are they genuine?"
"perfectly; they are also dangerous. to continue: on the night appointed—that is to say, as soon as we are all there—i am to administer to harry a drug called metholycine. in all respects it is suitable for mr. francis's purpose, and a small dose produces within a very few minutes complete unconsciousness, to which, if no antidote or restorative is applied, succeeds death. it also is extremely volatile, more so even than aconite, and a very few hours after death no trace of it would be found in the stomach or other parts of the body. the drug, however, is exceedingly hard to get; no chemist would conceivably give it to any unauthorized person; but a few years ago i was experimenting with it, and it so happens that i still have some in my possession. mr.[pg 381] francis has a most retentive memory, and though i have no recollection of having ever mentioned this fact to him, he asked me this morning whether i had any left. he did so in so quiet and normal a voice that for the moment i was off my guard, and told him i had. but perhaps, after all, it was a lucky occurrence, for he seemed very much pleased, and played on his flute for a time. then he came back to me and told me what i have already told you, and what i shall now tell you."
there was something strangely grim about the composure of the doctor's manner. you would have said he spoke of danish politics; more grim, perhaps, was this mention of the flute-playing. certainly it added an extreme vividness to his narrative, and the flute-player was more horrible than the man who planned death.
"in this respect, then, first of all," continued the icy voice, "i am useful to him. in the second place, mr. francis seems to have a singular horror of doing himself—actually, and with his hands—this deed. in another way also i shall be of service to him, and here i must touch on things more gruesome, but it is best that you should know all. the drug is to be administered late at night, after the servants are out of the way. it is almost completely without taste or odour, and mr. francis's suggestion is that a whisky and soda, which he tells me harry always takes before going to bed, should be the vehicle. ten minutes after he has taken it he will be unconscious,[pg 382] but he will live for another half hour. during that time we shall carry him down to the plate closet, where the luck is kept with the rest of the plate; there sanders will be. that part will be in sanders's hands, but he will not use firearms, for fear of the noise of the report reaching the servants, and the blow that kills him, you understand, looking at the occurrence from the point of view of the coroner, must be dealt while he is still alive. otherwise, the absence of effusion of blood and other details would show a doctor that he was already dead when his skull was broken—this is the idea—by a battering blow. here, again, mr. francis anticipates that i shall be of use to him in determining when unconsciousness is quite complete, and death not yet immediate. he has a curiously strong desire that harry should feel no pain, for he is very fond of him."
lady oxted and geoffrey alike were glued to his words, both paler than their wont. as the doctor paused they sought each other's eyes, and found there horror beyond all speech.
"some of the most valuable of the plate," continued the doctor, "will be taken, and, of course, the luck. the plate will be the perquisite of sanders; the luck mr. francis will keep secretly, the presumption being that it was stolen also. why, then, you may ask, should not mr. francis simply steal the luck? for this reason: that as long as harry lives it is his; on his death it becomes mr. francis's. thus, morning will show the plate closet rifled, and harry, clubbed to[pg 383] death, on the floor. the plan is complete and ingenious; indeed, it has no weak point. it will appear that harry, after the servants had gone to bed, drank his whisky and soda, and, hearing something stirring, went downstairs. finding the door of the plate closet open, he entered, and was instantly felled by a blow on the side of the head, which killed him. the burglars did not arouse any one else in the house, and escaped (even the details are arranged) by the same way as they entered—through the window of the gun room, which looks out, you are aware, on to the garden beds which adjoin the sweep of the carriage drive. footprints of large, heavy boots will be found there; mr. francis bought a pair to-day at some cheap, ready-made shop."
again, a horror palpable as a draught of cold air passed through the auditors, seeming to each to lift the hair upon the scalp. these trivial details of boots and flute-playing were of almost more intimate touch than the crime itself; they brought it at any rate into the range of realities, to the time of to-day or next week, to a familiar setting. again the doctor spoke.
"i have already taken one precaution," he said. "i have emptied from its bottle the real metholycine and substituted common salt. i went to my house hurriedly, after seeing mr. francis, to get it, and i brought it away in my pocket. i shall be glad to dispose of it; it is not a thing to carry about."
he drew out a small packet, folded up with[pg 384] the precision of a dispensing chemist, and opened it. it contained an ounce of white coarse-grained powder, very like to ordinary salt, and, without more words, he emptied it on the fire. the red-hot coal blackened where he poured, then grew red again, and for a moment an aura of yellow flame flickered over the place.
"and mr. francis will not find it easy to get more," said the doctor.
the effect of this was great and immediate. both lady oxted and geoffrey felt as much relieved as if an imminent danger had been removed, though the logic of their relief, seeing that they both trusted dr. armytage, in whose domain the poison lay, was not capable of bearing examination. at any rate, lady oxted sat briskly up from the cramped huddling of the position in which she had listened to the doctor's story, and clapped her hands.
"ha! check number one," she said. "and what next, dr. armytage?"
"that depends on what end you have in view," said he. "is harry's safety all?"
"yes, but his safety must be certain," she said. "i must see that man in a criminal lunatic asylum, or in penal servitude. harry will never be safe till he is behind bars."
"i agree with you," said geoffrey.
dr. armytage left the fireplace, where he had been standing since the beginning of the interview, and sat down.
"do you realize what that demands?" he[pg 385] said. "it means that mr. francis must be allowed to make the attempt."
"which we have already frustrated," said lady oxted, pointing to the fireplace.
dr. armytage shook his head.
"if the idea is to catch him red-handed, that is not sufficient," he said. "harry takes whisky and soda and salt one night, very little salt, for the drug is potent. he may or he may not notice the salt. what then? sanders, meantime, is waiting in the plate closet. no doubt we can thus catch sanders. but that is all."
lady oxted rang the bell.
"we can do nothing," she said, "except go straight to scotland yard and put the whole matter in the hands of the police. you will please come with me, dr. armytage—geoffrey too. to us, of course, the evidence is overwhelming: look at it, from the harmsworth case onward—" and she stopped suddenly and looked at the doctor. "good heavens! i never thought of that!" she said.
the doctor rose.
"i, as you may imagine, have thought a good deal of that," he said.
"is it possible by any means to get hold of this man sanders?" asked lady oxted at length.
"get me a hansom," she said to the man who answered the bell.
"i should prefer to try that first," said the doctor, "and i will see what i can do. it may be possible to buy the man; he may be scamp[pg 386] enough to be venal. but if we have to go to scotland yard, we have to go to scotland yard. but for the moment we need not; harry is safe with you for ten days more, and mr. francis is not thinking of leaving london for ten days. something, perhaps, may turn up in the interval. if not, i am ready."
lady oxted felt that no words could meet the situation, and did not make the attempt.
"then the hansom shall take me to the station instead," she said. "i have just time to catch my train.—drive with me there, geoffrey."
she stood up, drawing on her gloves.
"please let me hear from you, dr. armytage," she said, "or if you have any communication to make which had better not be written, come down to oxted, or wire for me to come up. at present, then, there is nothing more to be said."
she shook hands, and the three went out through the hall and across the broad pavement to where the hansom was waiting. lady oxted got in first, and geoffrey was already on the step to follow, when a man crossing the road came from behind the hansom and stepped on to the pavement close to where the doctor was standing.
"dear fellow," said a very familiar voice, "what a glorious afternoon!"
the thing was so sudden that the doctor had literally no time to lose his nerve.
"get in and don't look round," he said very low to geoffrey.
[pg 387]
but he was too late. at the sound of that voice, geoffrey had already looked round, and he and mr. francis for one stricken moment stared at each other. but the pleasant smile did not fade from the old man's face; rather, it seemed fixed there.
simultaneously, from inside the hansom came lady oxted's voice.
"get in, geoff," she said; "we haven't too much time."
mr. francis advanced a step, so that he could see into the hansom.
"ah, and lady oxted too!" he remarked gently.—"drive on, cabman."
the horse broke into a rapid trot, and he and the doctor were left standing together.
mr. francis stood looking after the diminishing vehicle for a moment, still smiling.
"and lady oxted, and lady oxted," he continued to murmur to himself. then he turned briskly to his companion and in gentle, low-modulated tones and without haste:
"a charming woman—one whom one is delighted to call friend," he said. "and dear geoffrey too—dear geoffrey, harry's great friend. how nice to have even so short a glimpse of him! what good fortune to meet you all together like this! well, well, i must go on. good-bye, for the present, my dear man."
he turned from him, walked three paces away, then stopped and faced round again. for the moment the doctor thought his eye or his brain[pg 388] had played him some inexplicable trick; he could barely credit that the face now looking at him was the same as that which two seconds ago had been so smiling a show of sunlit urbanity. now it was scarce human; a fiend or a wild beast, mad with passion and hate, glared at him. the iris of the eye seemed to have swelled till the white was invisible; from each, a pin-point of a pupil was focused on him. great veins stood out on his forehead and neck, blue and dilated; the lips were drawn back from the mouth till the gums appeared, showing two rows of white and very even teeth. the pleasant rosiness of the face was blotched and mottled with patches of white and purple, the forehead and corners of the quivering mouth were streaked with corrugations so deeply cut that the dividing ridges of flesh cast shadows therein. the stamp of humanity was obliterated.
he stood there for perhaps five seconds, his lower jaw working gently up and down as if chewing, and a little foam gathered on his lips. each moment the doctor expected him either to fall senseless on the pavement or to spring upon him, for it seemed impossible that any human frame could contain so raging an energy of emotion, and yet neither break nor give it outlet. then the horrible chewing of the jaw ceased, and the man or beast wiped the froth from his lips.
"you black, treacherous scoundrel!" he said, very softly. "do you think i am the sort of man to be thwarted by a faithless subordinate?"
he came a step nearer; his mouth still seemed[pg 389] to be forming words, but it was as if the human nature of the man had been so effaced as to preclude speech, and he stood chattering and gesticulating like some angry ape. yet the resemblance roused in the doctor no sense of the ludicrous, but only a deep-seated horror at this thing which had doffed its humanity like a cloak and become part of the brute creation. he summoned all his courage to his aid—an empty effort, for he knew within himself that if this travesty of a man came but one step nearer he would, in spite of himself, simply turn tail and run from it.
but mr. francis came no nearer, nor did he speak again, and before the lapse of another five seconds he turned away and walked quickly down toward the corner of the square without looking back. the doctor followed him with his eye, and saw him hail a hansom at the end of upper grosvenor street, get in, and drive northward. he himself stood there, his brain a tumult of bewildered conjecture, and did not see who it was rapidly approaching him till the figure was by him, and he heard his own name called.
"i got down as soon as i could stop the cab," said geoffrey. "he has gone? where? what has happened?"
"he knows i have betrayed him," said the doctor. "that is all. and for the moment he was no longer human. in this mood he will not stop to weigh risks or consequences. before anything else we must find out where he is going—probably to his own flat, where we must watch[pg 390] him—possibly first to my house—ah! yes, for the metholycine. thank god, that is harmless!"
there were no cabs about, so they started to walk northward in the direction mr. francis had taken. at the corner of green street they found a disengaged hansom, and drove to 32 wimpole street. here the doctor got out.
"drive on to his flat in wigmore street," he said to geoffrey, "and ask the porter if he has come in. then come back here."
three minutes later geoffrey returned.
"he came in a minute or two before me," he said. "he has kept his cab."
the doctor pointed to a row of bottles on a shelf in his cabinet.
"the metholycine is missing," he said. "he came here, where he is known to the servants, told the man he had instructions from me to take a certain bottle from my cases, and was allowed. i asked if he appeared in any way strange or excited. not a bit of it; he had a smile and a joke as usual. come on!"
"where?" asked geoffrey.
"to see where his cab goes. by the way, what of lady oxted?"
"she went on to catch her train. it is far better she should be with harry. i told her i would telegraph all that happened."
"quite so. here is wigmore street. we will wait in this entry. there is his cab still at the door. ah! we must have a cab waiting too."
he stepped out of the entry, hailed a cab from[pg 391] a rank a little way down the street, and said a few words to the man, pointing out to him the hansom he was to keep in sight. he drew up at the curb opposite their place of observation. not forty yards in front was mr. francis's hansom.
the sober, respectable street dozed in the haze of the afternoon sun with the air of a professional man resting for a little from his work. vehicles were but few, the pavements only sparsely populous, and the roadway nearly empty. the driver of mr. francis's cab had got down from his perch, and was talking to the hall porter of the house of flats and pulling at a laggard pipe. then suddenly both porter and cabman looked up as if they had been called from within, and disappeared into the entry, to come back with various small pieces of luggage. then the cabman mounted his box, and with the other's assistance drew up a portmanteau on to the roof. at that moment mr. francis stepped across the pavement and entered the cab. he had on a straw hat, in his hand was the morocco flute case, on his mouth a smile and thanks to the porter. sanders followed, and, after a word, got in after him. at the same instant of time the doctor and geoffrey had sprung into their places, and the two cabs started together.
the passage of half a dozen streets was sufficient to make their destination tolerably certain, and when mr. francis's cab turned into the steep decline leading to the departure platform at paddington, the matter was practically beyond[pg 392] doubt. here the doctor stopped the cab, and they got out.
"it is certain," said geoffrey, though no word had passed between them. "look! it is ten minutes past five; the fast train to vail will start in seven minutes. now what are we to do?"
"harry is at oxted," said the doctor, as if speaking to himself. "yes, we only want to be perfectly certain that mr. francis goes to vail."
"i will find that out," said geoffrey.
he walked down the incline, past sanders, who was busy with the luggage, and into the booking office. there was a considerable number of passengers waiting, but mr. francis was already high up in the queue. geoffrey waited with his back turned till he heard him speak to the clerk.
"one first and one second single to vail," he said.
with this their information was complete, and he rejoined the doctor.
harry at oxted, mr. francis with luggage for a prolonged stay at vail, here was the sum of it, and the movements were duly telegraphed to lady oxted. so far all was well, in such degree as anything could be well in this dark business, and by mutual consent they determined to leave all further deliberations till the morrow. they were fully informed and prepared for all moves. to-morrow, it might be, mr. francis would show for what reason he had gone to vail.
