The Perfume of Eve
JCopyriglit).
Pnhllsbefi By- arrangement with the General Press, Ltd.
(By C N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON)
CHAPTEB XXm.— u l Have. Fallen In Love With Pan."
Both men were surprised. Each exclaimed the other's name. For the detective there was'no need to excuse his presence in the cellar, but it was different with Sir Rawdon Wells. He knew that he was under suspicion, and probably guessed if ho did not actually know, that he might have been arrested instead of remaining, in his own house '•on parade," had it not been for Dagon. "I came down her to-night because I had the most amazing dream," Wells •■ explained instantly,: as if expecting a • question. "I simply had to come. I think you'll believe, Dagon, that I'd no hidden motive—no - intention of doing snything the police would disapprove for a man in my position. I suppose ■vou're hers for a quiet look at something or other that's struck you as interesting. But if you don't mind, I'd rather like to tell you about that dream, end see what you think of it. There's nothins in it, I suppose! Still, I can't got the impression out of my head." As he spoke he touched a switch which lit the whole cellar. Dagon thought of the signals. Those S O.S, calls hadn't ben sent out for nothing. Hs might at best be a long time la finding the way to that "hidden hall" under the pool, so he had no time to waste in discussing queer dreams. "Do you know what a 'hunch' means in good American and Canadian?" Dagon asked. "It means a kind of 'flair' or m- ' spiration that you ought to do something, or that something's likely to • happen, doesn't it?" said the other. "Yes, that's about it, if it can bs •""■' put into proper language—which it : can't, exactly," returned Dagon. "Well, " I've got a 'hunch' that I'm going to do a stunt of sorts down here to-night. - " And if you don't mind, I think I ought to be alone, when I—or —start my in- •' cantations, so to speak. Not that I . don't trust you. I think you know I ■ do. But —*-" "I understand," Wells filled up the i embarrassed pause. "Unofficially you ... give me the bcnellfc of the doubt, or rather more, and I have a lqt to thank •.'" -vqu for. Yet officially you're for Scot- -- • land Yard; and Scotland Yard eyes me - . askance. I'm supposed to know some ■ dark secrets of this poor old house, and to use them for devilish ends. The , •■• theory is, if I stayed, here looking on "" while you followed' 'your star—or 'hunch' —I might hinder rather than help—what?" / ' 3 "Well, I'd like to hear the details of your dream a little later," said,Dagon evasively. "But.meanwhile —will you tell me one thing before you—er—go - upstairs?" - -•--■■ ■- ■- -'"■ Wells smiled at the hint. "Certainly. Whatever you like." , ; "Had the dream anything to do with Miss Carroll—l mean, Mrs Haste?" "No. It had to do with Pandora — Miss Haste." "Ahl" Dagon could not keep back '■'"•' the exclamation. "Did you dream " she was calling for help?" "I did dream that very thing. How did you guess?" •"I don't know. Ido guess things! I generally guess right. And I've been '• thinking a whole lot about Miss Haste lately 1" "You have?" A note of surprise,
' perhaps of resentment, sounded in • Wells' voice (This pleased Dagon. "" He had played for it.) "Why?" Wells '"' went" on. "You've never even seen her, I think?" "I've seen her photograph. And 7 Tve heard enough about her to know - —not just to think, but to know!— ■ thatsho'rau.st "be about the bravest, ■"most loyal girl this side Of—well; not ; " to' exaggerate, let's say the North Pole." "She's all of that," agreed Rawdon Wells. "You say you—a stranger—have been thinking about her a goo J deal. It i« v :'' very strange then, considering wlm;. she tried to do—what she sacrificed —for me, that I should be thinking of her —dreaming of her too—all the time." .' ;'"' "No, it seems to me it would be f. bit straDge if you didn't," agreed J)agon. '."Still, I hope you'll "forgive my- butting in ■ on-your affairs 1-V You see, I've had to make them my busi-, ness, and you've had to make, me some confidences. - You told mi- :'yourself you'd.been hard hit—over Miss Carroll's marriage. So you must lie thinking of her some of the time—eh? —to the exclusion of Miss Haste." "Not to the exclusion of Miss Haste," Wells caught him up. "I don't mind anyone knowing—especially you—that I've come to my senses these last days —these tragic days. I've seen clearly 1 —myself as I am and things as they are. If Pandora Haste were in my reach at this minute, and I weren't a suspeeied kidnapper—or worse —I should ask her to he my wife." "Well! I should say you had come to your senses with a vengeance, Sir Rawdon!'! almost gasped the dctcctivo, "Not that I'm at all sure she'd take me," Wells amended. ' "Of course, that's the proper spirit," said Dagon. "But we've both got brains in our heads. The girl was ready to throw away her life and everything else to save you—and without much hope of gratitude." "She's got the gratitude, though," broke out Wells. "And a thousand times morel" '•- '•'Hurrah!" cried Dagon, like a boy; then stopped, iooking confused under Rawdon WelJs' surprised stare. ' „ "You sec, I'm pleased," the detective
explained. "I like.things to work out right in this life. Don't think I'vj • got the cheek of the devil if I ask, 'Are you falling in love with Miss Haste?' Honestly, quite a lot hangs on it. I'll explain, if you'll answer." "I will answer," said Rawdon. "I'm not 'falling in love.' I have fallen in love with Pan. Since all this happened and what she did for me, I've wondered if I was ever really in love with Miss Carroll. I thought {■ was mad about her —for a while. And that's the right word, I was 'mad.!' Her eyes—that smile of hers everyone talked about—and —and the perfume which always hung about her, used to drive me half out of my senses. Every man wanted her. I thought I wanted her too. I believed that she cared. I've told yotj. we weren't actually engaged, but i thsngixt It amounted to that. And it wu a blw.v over the heart when she wrattt-r-sJie didn't tell me by word of moytJj-—that eian'd changed her mind. SJie f;itT"2'*h<v hadn't loved me. Kennedy iltt3io Was the only man she'd ever tUfft', whom she wanted to marry. The frxx 1 cwt-her back the letters she asked Uiv —just pretty little notes, nothing in them really to hurt Ken if he'd seen them!—l did feel I could kill her and h)m both. But ——" "Ahi" Dagon cut in sharply. "You never Ic-id me this before. You sent b:*ck her'lexers. ~ That's why Fanny
THE STORYTELLER |
Authors of "Princess Nat," "The Lion's Mouse," "This Woman to This Man," etc., etcu
Gillett searched in vain for them where ] she expected they could be found Did you, by the by, express those sentiments to anyone?" . "Yos, to Pan. I've been reproaching myself for it. And it wasn t only then. It was afterwards. It was on the day of the Avedding. But that time fwasn't in earnest I'd got over the worst. I said the thing—well, out of sheer-damnable idiocy, and to see how .Pan would open her big eyes Wondering why she came here that night I remembered suddenly. It burst upon, me like a bomb. The girl came because I said to her, 'Now another wicked Sir Rawdon of Hidden Hall Court will have his chance to make a bride disappear.' I believe the poor child must have taken that in earnestthought I'd asked the Hastes here for their honeymoon with a. flendisn motive. That's why she came. And that's why—on top of all the proofs against me—Pan believed me guilty—whv she took the crime—if there n been a crime—on herself. Do you wonder I've turned to her? That I see I must unconsciously have loved her since she was a child, and that I shall love her all the rest of my life —whether its short pr long?" "No, I don't wonder," said Dagon. "The wonder was always the other way round. •It wouldn't have been my business exactly, if I hadn't every reason to believe that Miss Pandora Haste and I are brother and sister. You know who it is I look like now, don't you? Well, I was a foundling and she was a foundling. I've seen the cloak she wore as a baby when she was left at the Hastes' door. A waistcoat I had on when I turned.up alono in Canada was made of the identical stuff, with the same kind of luttons, and though I've no time to explain much more to you just now, «'ll say this: I'm tracing cur origin back to your house—to your, family, Sir Rawdon Wells r '•'-■■ ■ . ■ "Good heavens! It sounds like a fairy storv!" Wells exclaimed. ' "It does" but it isn't. I haven't cleared the whole line yet, but I will clear it. Even now I see—l think j pec —that what happened to Eve Carroll in this house the other night anil what happened to my sister and me, all /those years ago, can. be traced bacK to 'the same cause. I asked if you loved Pandora, because, if you did, I a made up my mind to trust you—to tell you a thing I would not have told you otherwise—a thing that perhaps, as a dctecLive from Scotland Yard, watching you among others, I've no right to tell." T ... "Tell it, if it concerns her. I swear you can trust me I"- cried Wells. "I will. And Ido trust you," Dagon said. "You are one of my 'hunches!' But first Iwant to ask you two questions. I've asked you one of them before, in another form, and you refused to answer. ' Perhaps you won't refuse again now. .Who is the man who has schemed to ruin you, your deadly enemy who abducted or killed Ev? Haste, and kidnapped Pandora to keep her from defending you?" "You're mistaken," answered Wells. "You never asked me that question. And I'm not able to answer it. I hava no deadly enemy so far as I know." : "You may consider him an Intimate friend! I asked you for for who.S3 sake you came down to the Court on the night of the wedding. It's the same thing." "No!" Wells flung back, his impassioned Italian face suddenly hard, and obstinately English. ."No, it's not the same thing. My coming here had nothing to do with an enemy and ever, though you may prove.,to me that you're Pan's brother, I can't answer that question." "Then I'll find out myself," said Dagon. "And I may And . out tonight." "To-night!" Wells stared blankly. "Yes. Listen. I promised to trust vou. You won't trust me, but I'll not back out of my word for that. I believe Pandora Haste is imprisoned in your Hidden Hall, perhaps Eve Carroll too. I believe I know who put them there, and why. And I believe I know where that hidden hall is. If you hadn't told me you cared for the girl I'd have got you out of this cellar at any price, and I'd have done my own exploring alone. • As it is I'll let you help me if you like." , "If I like! i But I can't help fearing you arc mistaken about that hidden hall. I never " v
"Now for my second question. What precisely did you dream about Pandora?" '■£ '■:.-.. "■■'"
"That she was calling for help. That I was in my laboratory, and heard her. I knew it was nonsense. But I couldn't resist dressing myself an'J coming down."' ■>■■- "But you heard nothing?".... "Nothing." *'!'"?. '..
"You couldn't—in the laboratory But if you'd been in my ropm, you'a have seen her calling for help—light signals 5.0.5." Then, in a few words he explained to Wells what had happened. "Two heads arc better than one," he finished "I know you've never believed there was a secret room, in spite of the legend- of the bride, and all the queer rumours —in spite of the stairway that ought to mean something, and has never been accounted for. : But you may give me points at, finding the spring of a,door which must exist in that very waJl we're both facing now." CHAPTER XXIV.—A Stone With a • Hole In It. After all, it was not one of the thousand bricks that masked a spring. A stone in the flagging, close to the wall and in a corner had a tiny hole in it, so smalld that a large pea would have filled it. Having tested every brick within the reach of a tall man, the two had stood puzzled and at a loss, when suddenly Dagon burst out: "You £ee that hole in the hig corner stone there ?"-
"Yes," said Wells, "if you mean the hole about the size of my little finger nail."
"You've hit ill But it's bigger than that. I Let I could slip in my stylograph. And I believe I'll try to see what happens." "You'll probably lose your pen. That's what'll happen. What are you thinking of?" "The same thing that other fellow thought of when his eyes lit on it." "What 'other fellow'?"
"The chap who was looking for the hidden hall; and when he'd sampled about a million bricks, just as we have, came up against this corner—as we've done. By accident, his eyes fell on that hole, as ours have fallen. He said to himself—as I did—'Gosh!' (or mayhe something more polite!) 'I bet that's what I've been hunting!' Ho then stuck in a pen, or a slick, or anything that would lit. if lie was right in his surmise, .why, he got where he wanted to get. He hired an electrician of sorts to cajTjf on Ihis smart electric
wiring of yours into the hidden hall, and perhaps made a few other improvements, for his own benefit, in case of need. And I guess already he saw the need —made his plans, I mean, which afterwards he carried out. Now, I'm going to experiment as he did. And we shall see —what we shall see!" What they 'did see, when Dagon had pressed his stylographic pen into the hole was a sinking of the great stone, after one sharp, tell-tale "click." The stone went down a few inches and slid under another of the same size. A square opening was left, black as ink, and just big enough to admit the passage of a slender man's shoulders. "There'll be a ladder underneath," said Dagon. "I'm going down with my lantern." "Let me gol" urged Wells Wo don't know what kind of man-trap there mayn't be down below there. Besides, this is my house. It ought to be my job." "I shan't give it up to anyone," sain the detective. "If there is a man trap, I can look out for myself as well as the next chap can, I guess. Which of us two would Pandora miss morp; anyhow, if things went wrong with one of us; a brother, she never saw or heard of, or you, the man she'd have sold her life to save?" "That isn't the question," yfeUs argued. "It is for me. And here goes! Wish me luck. When I call, you can follow. Say, have you got a pistol, or anything like that handy?" "I had one," said Rawdon. "Anson took it—with apologies." "Well, nobody's taken mine—yet. I've got it on me. and if those signals down below meant a hurry call, maybe I shall need it. Maybe, too, the gentleman you and I have been playing cross purposes about, is with the ladies." "If there's a man below, I will no* believe it's the one you're hinting at," Wells insisted. "But look here, Dagon, if you think for a moment we've a chance of finding Eve Carroll, for. Heaven's sake don't move further till one of us—you or I—has called her husband. He has a right to be in this game, and would never forgive us if we didn't bring him in with us." "■Gee! You're right I didn't think of it," confessed Dagon. "I guess I was thinking of too many other things. You letch him." "Haste and I haven't been meeting or speaking," Wells demurred. ''You know he suspects me still —sometimes, I think, more than ever." "Only half heartedly," said Dagon. "And now's your chance to justify yourself with him by doing the generous thing. Tell him. I found out the secret " "It's the truth!" "That's is, as it happens. But even if it weren't, it would never do to let him think you'd found it. He'd believe you had known where to look all the time. I expect soon to be in a position to prove my theory to him,; and exonerate you for ever—but no use beginning with a prejudice. Tell him I've found the secret, and you proposed bringing him down."
"You'll wait?" "Unless something unforeseen turns up. But hurry!" Wells raced upstairs the shortest way, which was not by the secret staircase. He did not stop to think or care how much noise he made, Dagon reflected, but shrugged his shoulders. After all, it didn't matter now if the "spy" were roused. They had found the way to the hidden hall. Nothing and no one should prevent them from getting at its secret. Upstairs in the wing where Kennedy Haste slept, Wells' hurried steps slackened. He and Ken had been pals since boyhood, but since Eve Carroll had come into their lives, the friendship which had seemed to them both warranted .to wear all weathers, had been but an empty name. Since the wedding and Eve's disappearance, even that name had ceased to cover Haste's true feelings. Rawdon felt that Ken hated him, believed the worst of him, at heart gave him no "benefit of the doubt." Their forced presence in the same house had made things worse—• Rawdon's house, where Eve had vanished—the house which neither man could leave until the mystery was solved.
Wells had not stopped to settle in his mind how much he should explain to Haste when he,had waked him. The; explanation he had to give had seemed easy till he reached the dooiv and stood hesitating before he lapped. But Dagon had told him to hurry. There wasn't a moment to waste in making up his mind what to say. That must settle itself.
He tapped lightly, ready to knock again if need be. Almost instantly, however, a light was switched on. and the door opened. Haste must have been awake.
"You!" he said roughly, at sight cf Wells.
(To be Continued)
"Yes. I —that is we—Dagon and 1" (Rawdon cursed himself for stammering) "want you to come down to the cellar at once. Dagon has made a very important discovery. Ken, T know you've doubted me—unjustly, I swear to Godl —but in a few minutes you—all of us—may get hold cf the truth. Don't hope too much. But, Dagon believes we may find Eve aywell as Pandora. Someone has been signalling, but there's no time to explain all'tiiat now. Come and see for yourself."
Haste could not speak. Strength had gone out of him. His heart raced like an engine, and his hands shook as he tried to slip a dressinggown on over his pyjamas. A few moments-ago the thought of being touched- by his onc-lirne friend would have repelled him. Now, he hardly realised that he, was being helped by the man he had hated. Re thrust his bare feet into slippers, and was ready to start.
"If only Fanny would come back!" was the prayer in Mrs Gillett's heart as she wandered ghost-like to the room of ghosts—the tapestry boudoir which always fascinated her because she feared and hated it. Fanny's bedroom was next to hers, and she had heard the girl steal out. There was no tiny noise she did not hear at night. for she slept as little as a human being can sleep and live. For a time the woman had lain still, listening, hoping. Then, when all was silent she could no longer bear the suspense. She dressed herself and flitted downstairs with a candle. At the sound of Dagon's footsteps she had pressed her hand over the flami to extinguish it, and prevent there being any smell of smoke. Then she had stooped low behind a high-hacked Queen Anne chair, and Dagon had not seen her. The faint rustling he hud put down lp his own exeited fancy, or to the sounds there always are in very old houses at night. "What is he doing at this hour opening the secret door?" she wondered uneasily. The deleclive had a,busi-ness-like air, as if he were making for some definite goal; She had not scon him like that before, in any search he made, when she had quietly watched, not appearing to watch. "What can he have found out?" she asked herself. "Nothing, surely. It is not possible." And yet, she knew that Fanny feared his getting upon the right track. As for her, what did H mailer? Nothing mattered in this World. But, Fanny—Fanny was so mad about Kennedy Haste. She would do anything to keep him from hi? wife. And if the detective, should "get on the right track" before all the plans had
1 been carried out, Mrs Gillett actually feared her daughter. The whole affair was ghastly. Heaven knew how she loathed it, how she would have kept out of it if she could. But she had been forced into the tangle for Fanny's sake. She had hoped at first when she heard Fanny's door creak lightly that the girl had gone to look again for those letters which obsessed her. Several time she had sought them in different places. By day, in Rawdon Wells' own room, when she was sure he was not there, and her mother was on guard. By night, after he'd gone to bed, in his study. But she wa? not in the study to-night. Mrs Gillett had looked. She had not dared try to follow to that other place she suspected. Now, even if she had dared, it was too late. The detective was on his way to the ceUar, with that air of meaning to do something definite 1
If he should accomplish a miracle, and —if Fanny should be caught! "What can I do?" Mrs Gillett wondered miserably. "Shaß I Tell him?" Presently, after some nervous fluttering and indecision, she answered her own question by returning upstairs, aad knocking at a'certain door It was not quite an ordinary knock that she gave. There'were three taps; an interval ;and again three, as if a preconcerted warning were intended. "It is the one you know; don't bo alarmed," the discreet signal seemed to saySoon the door was opened a few inches. No one looked out and the only light was that of the moon streaming through a large uncurtained window at the end of a corridor. But Mrs Gillett had no doubt as to who It was silently awaiting her words: ' "I'm frightened," she whispered. "The detective has gone down to the cellar."
"What of that?" a voice answered with a note of irritation. "He has been there many times. He'll have no more luck than others. He likes to prowl at night It makes him feel his importance, poor wretch. Need you have disturbed me for that? I get little enough rest."
"I —am sorry," Yaltered Mrs Gillett. "I hardly knew whether to wake you or not. Only—l think Fanny is there. Did you give her a key?" "No," said the voice. "But there's no key to the room she's interested in. There arc two bolts. She has no right to go there without mc. Why should she go? The girl's illness.is past. She is not needed as a nurse. And there's no other excuse for her "
"I told you I was frightened," Mrs Gillett repeated. "And Dagon looked different to-night. I saw him. He didn't see mc'. I believe—l feel—he thinks that he has found out something." "He may think so. Ido not," the voice replied. "But your daughter should not be there. lam angry with her."
"What can you do?" "I wil', so down." "But—if you meet Dagon?" "I shall have no excuse. I will get him away. You can trust mc to do that When lio's got rid of, I'll deal with your daughter. Get back to your own room now. I must make myself ready to be seen." The woman flitted along the hall like a shadow. The door shut.
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Bibliographic details
Waikato Times, Volume 100, Issue 16712, 30 January 1926, Page 12 (Supplement)
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4,157The Perfume of Eve Waikato Times, Volume 100, Issue 16712, 30 January 1926, Page 12 (Supplement)
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