The Rat Trap.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18643, 24 December 1928, Page 5

The Rat Trap.

STAR ” NEW SERIAL

By

WILLIAM LE QUEUX

Author of “ The House of Evil,” “The Scarlet Sign,” “ The Black Ore,” etc.

CHAPTER SEVEN— (Continued). And, of course, he was ! more than a little excited by his first visit to the house which sheltered the object of his affections. He wondered much at the peculiar relations which existed between Eileen and this middle-aged man who passed as her husband. Now that real love had come to her, she was naturally dissatisfied; but before this period, had she enjoyed any measure of real happiness in such an unreal existence? Perhaps for this reason—for Quentin was too intelligent not to have surmised what she was feeling—she had been rushed about from place to place in the hope of providing her with distraction. He fell into a doze presently, and then woke up with a sudden start. He lay wide awake listening. Yes, surely, there was the sound of stealthy footfalls along the corridor outside his room and down the big staircase that led into the hall. Presently, straining his ears, he heard the front door opened very softly, and apparently it was not closed. He struck a match and looked at his watch; it was a few minutes past two o’clock. He peeped into the corridor, and made out that the door of one of the bedrooms was ajar. He knew it was the one in which Quentin slept, Eileen’s room being next to it. Quickly he stepped across to the window and drew the blind a very little aside, so that he could see through to the garden. It was a very bright night, the moon shining brilliantly, and he could see as plainly as if it were day.

Three men were clustered under the shade of a big tree close to the gate which opened on to the carriage-drive. There was no mistaking those figures, dressed in the same clothes in wnich he had last seen them. They were Quentin, Dicks the butler and the man with the limp. The three were engaged in animated conversation.

CHAPTER VIII. It was evident a conference of considerable importance was taking place between this strangely assorted trio— Dicks, in his respectable butler’s dress, Quentin in the clothes he had worn at dinner and the lame man in his shabby attire. Quentin and the stranger seemed to be taking the most prominent part in the discussion, Dicks putting in a phrase now and again. The lame man appeared to emphasise his remarks with a wealth of gesture suggestive of a foreigner. For something like twenty minutes Aylmer watched this singular scene from his hiding place, but although the window was open at the top, they spoke in such low tones that he could not catch a scrap of their conversation. Then the party broke up. Dicks opened the gate, and, advancing a little way into the road, looked carefully from left to right. Having satisfied himself there was nobody about, he gave a swift signal, and the man with the limp passed out, walking very quickly in spite of his infirmity. After a brief period, during which Dicks leaned over the now shut gate, as if he were listening to the retreating footfalls of this strange guest, master and man returned to the house side by side, still talking very earnestly, their conversation inaudible. Aylmer heard the hall door softly closed and the stealthy return of Quentin to his bedroom. Dicks had presumably returned to the servants’ quarters, which were approached by a separate staircase at the rear of the building. A decidedly mysterious happening was his reflection as the young man returned to his bed. He felt sure he had been right at the start in connecting his host’s absence with the sudden appearance of the man with the limp. He understood now why he had been detained so long at the front door; it was to enable Quentin to get out of

the way. The whimsical thought came to him that the second port glass, which the host had not at first seemed to understand when Dicks brought it to him, was intended for this mysterious person secluded in some remote portion of the house, out of sight and sound of strangers. •

Whatever the nature of the secret, Dicks, the suave andj dignified butler — Dicks, of whem, in the little she had said about him, Eileen did not seem to hold a very high opinion—was in it. After a great deal of cogitation, Aylmer began to dismiss it from his mind. Perhaps it was a family secret. Perhaps the shabbily dressed man with the refined features was some disreputable connection of whom the well-to-do master of. this elegant house was, very naturally, ashamed. Perhaps the poor wretch turned up from time to time to appeal to his compassion and obtain pecuniary assistance. If such were the case he might find Dicks a valuable assistant, one who would loyally help him to keep the skeleton firmly locked up in the cupboard, even pass him off to the other servants as a broken-down connection of his own. In this class of man there is a wonderful fidelity to an employer for whom he feels respect and gratitude. Quentin, he judged, was a master out of a thousand, likely to treat a servant of long standing more as a friend than an inferior. But, above all, he wondered if Eileen had heard anything of the night’s proceedings.

In the morning, when they met at breakfast, she asked him the very usual question that a solictious hostess puts to her guest: “ Did you sleep well, Mr Aylmer?” As the young man answered, he kept his eye on Quentin to note if what he said had any effect on him. “ Quite well, thanks. Or, rather I should say, as well as I ever do. I am a very light sleeper and wake up half a dozen times in the night. The slightest thing wakes me up. The best part of it is, I soon go off again.” Quentin did not seem in the least affected by this statement, whatever his private thoughts might have been. “So you’re a light sleeper, are you?” he remarked in an indifferent voice. “I’m worse than that, I’m a very bad sleeper at the best of times. I don’t suppose I get a thorough night’s rest once in a month. Not like Eileen.” The girl laughed easily. “No, I certainly don’t suffer from insomnia. I fall off as soon as my head touches the pillow, and there I stop until the force of habit makes me wake. The result of a good digestion and a clear conscience, I expect. Perhaps you men have neither.”

Aylmer was sure she was speaking the truth, and he felt a sense of relief. She had heard nothing of this strange episode of the night. Even if she did know something of what had led up to it, her loyalty to Quentin would naturally keep her silent. As for Quentin himself, faith in the man was shaken. He might or not be suffering from insomnia as he had alleged. But Aylmer felt he would require corroboration of the fact from some impartial source before he was ready to believe him.

Quentin was not quite so jovial as he had been on the previous evening, when he had been well primed with those very excellent vintages with which his butler had plied him so assiduously, t>ut he was excessively genial. He begged his guest not to hurry away directly, to defer his departure till after lunch, and Eileen seconded the request. The young man could hardly refuse, as he felt from the manner of both that he was not outstaying his welcome. “That’s all right, then. Now, I have

got to put in an hour or two of work. I owe several letters. Suppose you and Eileen take a stroll this beautifu morning, and we three will join each other later,” was the suggestion of this exceedingly urbane and agreeable host. No arrangement could have pleased Aylmer better. It did occur to him, as Eileen went upstairs to prepare for the excursion, that Mr Quentin was not such an idle man as he represented himself to be. He had said he owed several letters. Was it not a little strange that a recluse should have such a large correspondence? Aylmer remembered that at Ostend he had spent a goodly portion of each day at the writing-table. There was something contradictory about the m*vn. Eileen came down presently, dressed in a pretty frock and picturesque hat that suggested Paris as their place of manufacture. They strolled along till they found themselves at the charming highway known as the Spaniards Road, surely one of the most pleasant spots about London. Presently Aylmer ventured to press her to arrange with him a second meeting. In the hurry of parting on the first occasion, no referenca had been made to the future. (To be continued.)