The Best Detectives Murder Mysteries for Christmas Holidays. Эдгар Аллан По
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hid them?”
“Yes. I got uneasy. People seemed to be watching me. It scared me—badly.” She put her hand to her head. “It’s almost the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital… .”
“Go on,” said Sir James, in his quiet penetrating tones. “What do you remember?”
She turned to him obediently.
“It was at Holyhead. I came that way—I don’t remember why… .”
“That doesn’t matter. Go on.”
“In the confusion on the quay I slipped away. Nobody saw me. I took a car. Told the man to drive me out of the town. I watched when we got on the open road. No other car was following us. I saw a path at the side of the road. I told the man to wait.”
She paused, then went on. “The path led to the cliff, and down to the sea between big yellow gorse bushes—they were like golden flames. I looked round. There wasn’t a soul in sight. But just level with my head there was a hole in the rock. It was quite small—I could only just get my hand in, but it went a long way back. I took the oilskin packet from round my neck and shoved it right in as far as I could. Then I tore off a bit of gorse—My! but it did prick—and plugged the hole with it so that you’d never guess there was a crevice of any kind there. Then I marked the place carefully in my own mind, so that I’d find it again. There was a queer boulder in the path just there—for all the world like a dog sitting up begging. Then I went back to the road. The car was waiting, and I drove back. I just caught the train. I was a bit ashamed of myself for fancying things maybe, but, by and by, I saw the man opposite me wink at a woman who was sitting next to me, and I felt scared again, and was glad the papers were safe. I went out in the corridor to get a little air. I thought I’d slip into another carriage. But the woman called me back, said I’d dropped something, and when I stooped to look, something seemed to hit me—here.” She placed her hand to the back of her head. “I don’t remember anything more until I woke up in the hospital.”
There was a pause.
“Thank you, Miss Finn.” It was Sir James who spoke. “I hope we have not tired you?”
“Oh, that’s all right. My head aches a little, but otherwise I feel fine.”
Julius stepped forward and took her hand again.
“So long, Cousin Jane. I’m going to get busy after those papers, but I’ll be back in two shakes of a dog’s tail, and I’ll tote you up to London and give you the time of your young life before we go back to the States! I mean it—so hurry up and get well.”
Chapter 20
Too Late
IN the street they held an informal council of war. Sir James had drawn a watch from his pocket. “The boat train to Holyhead stops at Chester at 12.14. If you start at once I think you can catch the connection.”
Tommy looked up, puzzled.
“Is there any need to hurry, sir? To-day is only the 24th.”
“I guess it’s always well to get up early in the morning,” said Julius, before the lawyer had time to reply. “We’ll make tracks for the depot right away.”
A little frown had settled on Sir James’s brow.
“I wish I could come with you. I am due to speak at a meeting at two o’clock. It is unfortunate.”
The reluctance in his tone was very evident. It was clear, on the other hand, that Julius was easily disposed to put up with the loss of the other’s company.
“I guess there’s nothing complicated about this deal,” he remarked. “Just a game of hide-and-seek, that’s all.”
“I hope so,” said Sir James.
“Sure thing. What else could it be?”
“You are still young, Mr. Hersheimmer. At my age you will probably have learnt one lesson. ‘Never underestimate your adversary.’ “
The gravity of his tone impressed Tommy, but had little effect upon Julius.
“You think Mr. Brown might come along and take a hand? If he does, I’m ready for him.” He slapped his pocket. “I carry a gun. Little Willie here travels round with me everywhere.” He produced a murderous-looking automatic, and tapped it affectionately before returning it to its home. “But he won’t be needed this trip. There’s nobody to put Mr. Brown wise.”
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
“There was nobody to put Mr. Brown wise to the fact that Mrs. Vandemeyer meant to betray him. Nevertheless, MRS. VANDEMEYER DIED WITHOUT SPEAKING.”
Julius was silenced for once, and Sir James added on a lighter note: “I only want to put you on your guard. Good-bye, and good luck. Take no unnecessary risks once the papers are in your hands. If there is any reason to believe that you have been shadowed, destroy them at once. Good luck to you. The game is in your hands now.” He shook hands with them both.
Ten minutes later the two young men were seated in a first-class carriage en route for Chester.
For a long time neither of them spoke. When at length Julius broke the silence, it was with a totally unexpected remark.
“Say,” he observed thoughtfully, “did you ever make a darned fool of yourself over a girl’s face?”
Tommy, after a moment’s astonishment, searched his mind.
“Can’t say I have,” he replied at last. “Not that I can recollect, anyhow. Why?”
“Because for the last two months I’ve been making a sentimental idiot of myself over Jane! First moment I clapped eyes on her photograph my heart did all the usual stunts you read about in novels. I guess I’m ashamed to admit it, but I came over here determined to find her and fix it all up, and take her back as Mrs. Julius P. Hersheimmer!”
“Oh!” said Tommy, amazed.
Julius uncrossed his legs brusquely and continued:
“Just shows what an almighty fool a man can make of himself! One look at the girl in the flesh, and I was cured!”
Feeling more tongue-tied than ever, Tommy ejaculated “Oh!” again.
“No disparagement to Jane, mind you,” continued the other. “She’s a real nice girl, and some fellow will fall in love with her right away.”
“I thought her a very good-looking girl,” said Tommy, finding his tongue.
“Sure she is. But she’s not like her photo one bit. At least I suppose she is in a way—must be—because I recognized her right off. If I’d seen her in a crowd I’d have said ‘There’s a girl whose face I know’ right away without any hesitation. But there was something about that photo”—Julius shook his head, and heaved a sigh—“I guess romance is a mighty queer thing!”
“It must be,” said Tommy coldly, “if you can come over here in love with one girl, and propose to another within a fortnight.”
Julius had the grace to look discomposed.
“Well, you see, I’d got a sort of tired feeling that I’d never find Jane—and that it was all plumb foolishness anyway. And then—oh, well, the French, for instance, are much more sensible in the way they look at things. They keep romance and marriage apart——”
Tommy flushed.
“Well, I’m damned! If that’s——”
Julius hastened to interrupt.
“Say now, don’t be hasty. I don’t mean what