Part 4

He caught hold of Cotter's limp arm and propelled him up the stairs. The atmosphere was clean and sweet now, though traces of the perfume lingered. Cotter, hanging limply from Wilfrid's arm, pointed to a door. Then he turned and fled, holding on by the balustrade. It was no time to hesitate, so Wilfrid tapped at the door. His heart was in his mouth and he waited with sickening impatience for a reply. Suppose the mischief had been done! Suppose he should be too late! He had with difficulty saved himself. Then he gave a gasp of relief as he heard the voice of Beatrice asking who was there.

"It is I, Mercer," he said. "There is no time to lose. Will you unlock the door?"

*CHAPTER IX*

*BEHIND LOCKED DOORS*

"I cannot," Beatrice replied. Her voice was low, but to Wilfrid's relief quite steady. "The door is locked on the outside. I am so thankful you have come."

Wilfrid turned the key. With a great thrill of delight he saw that Beatrice was little the worse for what she had gone through. He indulged in no idle talk, but reached out his hand in search of one of the electric switches. Beatrice grasped Wilfrid's meaning. She stretched out her hand and immediately the corridor was flooded with light.

"I cannot understand it," she murmured. "Dr. Mercer, what does it mean?"

"Perhaps you had better tell me your experience first," Wilfrid suggested. "If I can throw any light afterwards on this hideous mystery I shall be glad."

"I'll tell you as collectedly as I can," Beatrice replied. "I had almost forgotten the alarm I had in the conservatory this afternoon when I came up to bed. I sat for a while dreaming over the fire----"

Beatrice stopped and a little colour crept into her face. She wondered what Wilfrid would say if he only knew what she had been thinking about. He nodded encouragingly.

"Then I suddenly recollected that I had not seen Annette. When I reached her room I found her wide awake and as terrified as when she came back from the village. I suppose she was too upset to take your medicine, for the bottle stood unopened on the table. After I had given it to her she went off to sleep almost immediately, but not before she had told me something which disturbed me very much. As she lay with the bedroom door open, the firelight shone upon the wall on the other side of the corridor, and she declared she had seen a shadow on the wall like one of the figures that had so frightened her in the wood. I pretended to be angry and incredulous, but I confess that I was really rather startled. It seemed so strange that a quiet country house should suddenly be invested with such an atmosphere of mystery. Why did that man try to get into the conservatory? And why were those figures?--but I am wandering from the point."

"I think we had better have facts, first," Wilfrid said.

"Oh, yes. Well, I went back to my room after seeing Annette to sleep, and I fear I must own to feeling considerably frightened. It was a relief to find that somebody was still about downstairs, and to remember that there were so many dogs about the house. Then I remembered my little terrier who always sleeps on a mat at the end of the corridor. It is warm there, because I have had the place fitted with hot-water pipes and turned it into a conservatory where I grow exotic plants. It struck me as singular that the dog should give no alarm if anybody were wandering about the house, and I went out to see if he were all right. I did not turn on the lights because I would not pander to my own weakness. Besides, I could find my way about the corridor blindfolded. And then, in the darkness, I saw an amazing thing--a globe of flickering blue fire, about the size of a football. It moved in the most extraordinary way, and at first I thought the floor was alight. But I abandoned that idea when I saw a long, lean arm thrust out and a brass cup held over the flame. Oh, I must tell you that before that I noticed a peculiar scent of the most strange and overpowering description. I thought that one of my new plants had come into bloom and that this was the perfume of it. Then I saw how mistaken I was, and that the odour arose from the brass cup over the flame. After that I recollect nothing else except that I became terribly drowsy and when I recovered I was in my own room with the door locked on the outside. I cannot tell you how thankful I was to hear your voice."

"It is very strange," Wilfrid said. "Obviously you did not go back to your room by yourself. Therefore, some one carried you there. I think you may make your mind easy as far as you are personally concerned. Whoever these mysterious individuals may be, they bear no enmity to you."

"Then whom do they want?" Beatrice asked.

Wilfrid was silent for a moment. He could give a pretty clear answer to the question. But Beatrice was already terrified and troubled enough without the addition of further worry. Cotter's incoherent terror and his wild speech had given Wilfrid a clue to the motives which underlay this strange business.

"We will discuss that presently," he said. "In the meantime, it will be as well to find out why your dog did not give an alarm."

The black and white terrier lay on his mat silent. He did not move when Beatrice called. She darted forward and laid her hand upon the animal's coat. Then an indignant cry came from her lips.

"The poor thing is dead," she exclaimed. "Beyond doubt the dog has been poisoned by those fumes. And look at my flowers, the beautiful flowers upon which I spent so much time and attention! They might have been struck by lightning."

Wilfrid could see no flowers. Across the great west window was a brown tangled web hanging in shreds; in the big pots was a mass of blackened foliage. But there was nothing else to be seen.

"Do you mean to say these are your flowers?" Wilfrid asked.

"They were an hour ago," Beatrice said mournfully, "some of the rarest and most beautiful in the world. They have come from all parts of the globe. It is easy to see what has happened. Oh, please take me away. I shall be stifled if I remain. It is horrible!"

Beatrice was on the verge of hysteria. Her nerves had been tried too far. It was necessary to get her into the open air without delay. In his quick, masterful way Wilfrid took her by the arm and led her downstairs into the billiard-room. Beatrice was safe, however. It was plain the visitors had no designs against her; indeed, they had proved so much by their actions. And, unworthy as he was of assistance, something would have to be done to save Samuel Flower. Wilfrid would have to act for himself. He could expect no help from the terror-stricken Cotter, who appeared to have vanished, and it would not be prudent to arouse the servants. He took Beatrice across the billiard-room and motioned her into the open air.

"I will fetch a wrap for you," he said. "I shall find some in the hall."

"Am I to stay outside?" Beatrice asked.

"It will be better," Wilfrid said as he returned with a bundle of wraps. "At any rate, you will be in the fresh air. And now I want you to be brave and resolute. Don't forget that these mysterious strangers have no grudge against you. Try to bear that in mind. Keep it before you and think of nothing else. I believe I have a fair idea what is taking place."

"But yourself," Beatrice murmured. "I should never know a moment's happiness if anything happened to you. You have been so strong and kind that--that----"

The girl faltered and tears came into her eyes. She held out her hands impulsively and Wilfrid caught them in a tender grip. He forgot everything else for the moment.

"For your sake as well as mine," he whispered. "And now I really must act. Unless I am mistaken it is your uncle who is in most danger."

Wilfrid turned and passed into the hall. The library door was shut and he seemed to hear voices from the room. Crouching behind a settee he made out the form of Cotter, who rose as he approached and came forward writhing and rubbing his hands. The fellow's abject terror filled Wilfrid with disgust.

"Where is your master?" he demanded.

"In there," Cotter whispered, "with _them_. He'll never come out again. We shall never see Samuel Flower alive. What are you going to do, sir? You wouldn't be as mad as that."

"I am going into the library," Wilfrid said curtly. As he spoke he laid his hand upon the knob, but the key was turned inside and he could make no approach. Cotter caught him round the shoulders.

"Don't do it," he whispered. "If you value your life stay where you are. And besides, it is too late to do any good. He has been locked in there with them five minutes. And five minutes with them is eternity."

Cotter's voice broke off suddenly as a feeble cry came from within the room. Wilfrid stepped back a pace or two.

"Stand clear," he said, "I am going to burst the door."

*CHAPTER X*

*"MR. WIL----"*

Wilfrid brushed Cotter aside as if he had been a fly, and flung himself against the door, heedless of its weight and strength, but it was of stout oak and he might as well have hurled himself against a brick wall. But the sullen blow echoed through the house and there were indications of alarm and confusion in the library. It was useless to bruise himself against the obstacle and Wilfrid looked hastily around for some weapon. His eyes fell upon a trophy of bill-hooks and battleaxes. He snatched one of the latter and attacked the door in earnest. The third blow smashed in a panel and a crossbar so that it was possible to crawl through into the library.

As far as he could see the place was empty. One of the windows was wide open, which was perhaps fortunate, for the overpowering scent hung on the air and the odour of it was keen upon Wilfrid's nostrils. Beyond doubt one of those mysterious fireballs had been lighted here. But there was no time to inquire into this. What had become of Samuel Flower? He must have been there a few minutes ago. Certainly somebody had been in the library. Flower's peril now seemed as great as ever. Wilfrid strode across towards the window past the mahogany writing-table where Flower's letters were scattered about. One letter with little more than a name and address lay on the blotting pad with a wet pen upon it, as if it had fallen suddenly from the writer's hand. Eager and excited as he was, Wilfrid noted this casually. His search was finished now. As he strode past the table he blundered over a figure lying at his feet which he recognized at once as that of Samuel Flower. He had to call twice, and the second time sternly, before Cotter wriggled through the broken panel and came dazed and frightened into the room.

"There is no danger now," Wilfrid said contemptuously. "For the present, at any rate, those mysterious people have gone. Now help me to get your master on to this sofa."

"He's dead," Cotter muttered. "Of course he's dead. If you had been through what he has the last few minutes----"

Wilfrid did not deign to argue the point. He curtly motioned Cotter to Flower's feet, and between them they managed to raise the body of the ship-owner on to the couch. Examination proved that Cotter was wrong. Flower lay still and white and breathless, but Wilfrid could see that he breathed and that some faint tinge of colour was coming back into his pendulous cheeks. At a command from Wilfrid, Cotter went out and returned with a brandy decanter. Wilfrid moistened the blanched lips with the stimulant, and after a little while Flower opened his eyes in a dull way and gazed stupidly about. For the present he was safe, though it was some time before he showed anything like real consciousness. There was an ugly bruise on his forehead, doubtless the result of a fall.

"I daresay you can give me what I want," Wilfrid said to Cotter. "Is there such a thing in the garden as a house leek? You know the herb I mean--it grows in clumps on the walls. It is capital stuff for bruises and swellings. Go and get me some."

"I know where it is to be found," Cotter muttered. "But as to going out into the garden, or in the dark----"

"Fetch it at once," Wilfrid said imperiously. "There is nothing to be frightened of. Go and bring it, or I will kick you out of the window."

Cotter shambled off into the darkness. He came back presently with a handful of the thick, fleshy leaves, and under Wilfrid's direction began to mash them into pulp. The man's manner was so strange that Mercer asked the reason.

"I am mad," Cotter exclaimed. "We are all mad. There was never anything like this since the world began. I tell you those men have gone. I saw them in the garden--with my own eyes I saw them. And they were as much afraid of the other one as we are of them. What does it mean, sir?"

Just for a moment it occurred to Wilfrid that Cotter had really taken leave of his senses, but his speech was coherent enough and the look of absolute terror had faded from his eyes.

"What other one?" Wilfrid asked.

"Why, the big man in the livery," Cotter replied. "But I forgot--you didn't see him. He came up to the other two with a whip in his hand and lashed them as if they had been dogs. A great nigger, nearly seven feet high."

"A nigger!" Wilfrid exclaimed. "What bosh!"

"I assure you it's true, sir," Cotter said earnestly. "It was on the other side of the lawn and the light from the window fell full upon his face. I tell you he is a pure-blooded negro. When those other two saw him coming they bolted and he after them. And he used his whip upon them vigorously. Don't ask me what it all means, sir. I am not going to stay here. I should be afraid to spend another night under this roof."

Wilfrid gave the thing up as hopeless for the present. Probably this new phase of the maddening puzzle would solve itself in time. And meanwhile there was Beatrice to be thought of. In a few curt words Wilfrid sent Cotter into the garden to bring Miss Galloway back to the house. He was to wait in the drawing-room till Wilfrid was at liberty again. He was glad to be alone so that he could concentrate attention upon his patient.

Flower was rapidly coming to himself and by and by would be able to give an account of what had happened. He opened his eyes from time to time and recognized Wilfrid with a flicker of his eyelids. There was nothing, however, but to wait, and Wilfrid sat down by the side of the table where the letters were scattered about. Without wishing to be curious he did not fail to notice the unfinished letter on which the wet pen was still lying. It was addressed as he saw to a firm called Darton & Co. Then followed the words:--

"Dear Sirs, _Re_ Mr. Wil----"

Here the letter stopped abruptly as if the writer had been interrupted. It struck Wilfrid as a coincidence that Darton & Co. was the firm from which he had borrowed the money to set himself up in business. But doubtless there were other firms of Darton & Co., and in any case the matter was not worth thinking about. Besides, Flower was sitting up now and holding his hands to his temples.

"What does it all mean?" he whispered. "And what is the matter with the door? Why is the window open? Ah, I begin to recollect. Cotter had given me some information which he had got from London by telephone and I was just writing a letter.... It was a most extraordinary smell, Mercer. I don't think I ever smelt anything like it. I rose to open the window and after that I remember nothing till I came to my senses on the sofa and you were bending over me. What can it mean?"

"I think you know as much about it as I do," Wilfrid said guardedly. "Beyond question, a determined attempt to murder you has been made by some person or persons whom you know just as much about as I do. But I had better tell you what has happened in another part of the house."

Wilfrid told his tale briefly, not forgetting to touch upon Cotter's terror and the admissions which had come from the confidential clerk in a moment of peril.

"It is not for me to say anything about it," Wilfrid concluded, "but seeing that I have already met the men who manipulate these kind of things through the symbol of the knotted string, why, naturally, I must draw my own inferences. I will not ask you for your confidence, and you may tell me as little or as much as you like. It seems only fair to conclude that you have somehow incurred the displeasure of these people. If I can help you----"

Flower shook his head despondently. Evidently he was in no mood to be communicative.

"I don't think I'll trouble you," he said. "That this sort of thing should go on in England in the twentieth century is outrageous. Fortunately no one knows anything about it but yourself and my niece and Cotter, and you will see that the less said the better. I'll place the matter in the hands of a detective, and before the end of the week we shall be safe from a repetition of outrages of this kind."

Flower spoke rationally, but he was terribly shaken. The ship-owner rose to his feet as if the interview were ended.

"You wouldn't care for me to stay all night, I suppose?" Wilfrid asked. "I will if you like."

"Not the least occasion, my dear sir. I have a revolver, and Cotter and I can sit up till daylight. I am ashamed to have given you all this trouble. Don't let me detain you longer."

There was nothing more to be said and Wilfrid walked out into the hall. He would have left the house, but hearing his step Beatrice came to the door of the drawing-room. At the same time Flower's voice was heard demanding Cotter.

"I should like to speak to you before you go," Beatrice said.

*CHAPTER XI*

*ON THE WAY HOME*

"I was just going," Wilfrid replied. "But, of course, if there is anything that I can do for you----"

"I want to know if anything serious has happened," Beatrice went on. "I could get nothing out of Cotter. The man is paralyzed with fright. All I could learn was that my uncle's life is in danger. What does it mean?"

"I only wish I could tell you," Wilfrid replied, "but I will not rest till I get to the bottom of it. Beyond question, your uncle's life was in danger, and I have no hesitation in telling you so. And I fear you are going to have more trouble before the danger is removed. But there is one thing you must bear in mind--you are perfectly safe yourself. And as far as your uncle is concerned, he seems to be himself again, because you heard him call for Cotter just now."

Wilfrid might have said more, but he had no desire to alarm Beatrice further. He did not want her to know that if he had been less prompt in breaking in the library door the career of the ship-owner would have been at an end by this time. He tried to close the incident with a smile.

"You must go to bed and sleep," he said. "Your uncle and Cotter will sit up all night, and I understand that to-morrow the case is going to be placed in the hands of a detective. It is a good thing that the servants know nothing about the matter. I suppose you saw nothing to alarm you when you were in the garden?"

"No, I was not afraid," Beatrice said simply, "but I did see a thing which puzzled me exceedingly. I saw two of those strange little figures run along the drive closely followed by a gigantic negro, who was plying a whip about their shoulders unmercifully. They didn't seem to resent it in the least; in fact, they behaved just like refractory hounds who had been misbehaving themselves. They passed out of sight in a flash, and then I saw them no more. If you had not known so much I should have been almost ashamed to tell you this, for fear you should laugh at me."

Wilfrid did not laugh. He did not even smile. So the thing that he had put down as a figment of Cotter's diseased brain really was a fact. It was as well to know this, too. The small figures might be illusive. They might even obliterate themselves, but a stalwart negro, standing six feet six in his stockings, was another matter altogether.

"I am glad you told me this," Wilfrid said thoughtfully, "because here we have something like a tangible clue. And now I must be going. I will see your uncle again to-morrow."

Beatrice held out her two hands impulsively.

"How can I thank you for all your kindness?" she said. "How good and brave and patient you are!"

Wilfrid carried one of the hands to his lips.

"I would do anything for you," he said, "and you know it, Beatrice. Perhaps the time may come some day when I can speak more freely. But I feel convinced that there is no occasion to tell you----"

Wilfrid might have said more but for the heightened colour on Beatrice's face, and the way in which she shrank suddenly from him. A little dismayed and chilled he followed the direction of her eyes, and noticed Flower standing in the doorway. The latter betrayed nothing on his face. He merely inquired somewhat coldly if it would not be better for Beatrice to retire. His expression changed when the big hall door closed finally upon Wilfrid Mercer.

"That young man will get on," he said grimly. "He has the necessary assurance. But I should have thought that a stranger would hardly venture to go so far----"

"Mr. Mercer is not exactly a stranger," Beatrice said confusedly. "I saw a good deal of him when I was in London. I should have told you this before only I had no opportunity."

"Oh, really! Quite a romance. He is a clever young man, but I think he must be taught his place. You will not ask him here again, after he has done with me."

"I promised to call upon his mother," Beatrice protested.

Flower was on the verge of an angry retort, but checked himself and smiled in his own sinister fashion.

"As you please," he said. "It really doesn't matter either way. Before many weeks have passed--but it is late to be talking here like this. Go to bed, child."

Meanwhile Mercer was making his way back to Oldborough, his mind full of the events of the evening. The more he thought over them, the more puzzling and bewildering they became. He emerged upon the high road presently, and went on steadily until he reached the cross-roads leading to Oldborough on the one hand, and Castlebridge on the other. Then he became aware that a group of people were standing in the road close by the sign-post. They were gesticulating and talking so fast as to be utterly unconscious of the newcomer. Wilfrid came to an abrupt standstill, then suddenly stepped off the road into the shadow of the hedge. He had ocular proof now that Beatrice and Cotter had been speaking the truth. Here were the two small figures, no doubt the very same he had seen over their incantations in the woods, and towering above them was a gigantic individual with a face black and shining as ebony. For some time the controversy went on until it was broken at length by the thud of a horse's hoofs and the jingling of a bell. Presently a flashy-looking dogcart drove up, driven by a still more flashy-looking driver. The horse was pulled up, and the man in the cart hailed the negro in tones of satisfaction.

"So you've got them at last, Gordon," he said.

"Indeed, I have, mister," the negro said, "and a nice dance they've led me. I never expected to see Castlebridge before morning. What shall I do with them, sir?"

"Tie them up behind and let them run," the man in the cart said brutally. "A gentle trot won't do them any harm. You can ride yourself. Now then, hurry up!"