CHAPTER XVIII CREATES ANOTHER PROBLEM

The queer-looking old man sitting there before me, fidgeting slightly in his chair, was indeed a very grotesque figure. From what he had said, I could no longer doubt that he was aware of the whole of the curious circumstances at Nice, and was likewise well acquainted with the manner in which my relations with Ernest had been broken off.

How he had accomplished his manifestly clever espionage in Nice I knew not. Certainly I had never noticed his presence, either in Nice or in the Rooms at Monte Carlo. Besides, if he had presented himself at the bureau of the Casino in such clothes as he wore at that moment he would have been refused admission. A man is not allowed to enter if his trousers are turned up in wet weather, while the cycling tourist in knickerbockers is promptly shown the door by the semi-military janitors. Yet from words he had let drop, he showed himself intimate with all the features of the play of both Ulrica and Ernest Cameron, and must have been present in the crowd around the table.

The mystery surrounding the affair increased each moment. And now this dwarfed old man, of whose name I was unaware, desired me to combine my efforts with his.

With that end in view he settled to talk with me seriously, pointing out that poor Reggie had been murdered secretly, and that it was my duty to discover the truth, and bring his assassin to justice. I admitted this, of course, but failed entirely to see what connection the old fellow could have with it. To me, in my ignorance of the truth, he appeared to have entered into a matter which did not in the least concern him.

"From what I have already told the signorina, I think she will be convinced that our interests are really identical," he said presently, after we had been talking some time. "My own inquiries have been independent of yours, but the result has been the same. To put it plainly, neither of us has discovered any clue whatsoever. Is not that the truth?"

"Unfortunately so," I exclaimed. "All my efforts have been unavailing."

"That is the reason we must combine," he urged. "A woman cannot hope to elucidate such a mystery unaided. It is impossible."

He was a crafty old fellow, this dwarfed person, with the grotesque features. He eyed me strangely, and more than once I entertained misgivings that he was not acting altogether straightforwardly. Somehow, his surroundings did not strike me as those of a man who had sufficient money to travel hither and thither in order to take up a task in which the police had ignominiously failed. From his rather reluctant admissions, I gathered that he was acting at the instigation of poor Reggie's friends; yet he was not altogether explicit upon that point, and a good deal of doubt existed in my mind.

"Well," I said at last, in order to bring matters to a point, "and how do you suggest that we should combine our forces, Signor——" and I hesitated purposely, in order to give him an opportunity of telling me his name.

"Branca—Francesco Branca," he exclaimed, concluding my sentence.

"Well, Signor Branca, I am ready to listen to any suggestions you may make in order successfully to trace the assassin."

"We must first understand each other perfectly," responded the queer old man. "You have not yet told me the full extent of your inquiries, or whether you entertain any suspicion of any person. You have been yachting these past five weeks. Has nothing occurred to arouse suspicion during that period? If we are to combine, we must know the extent of each other's investigations, and the result," he added. "What has been the nature of your life on board the Vispera?"

"Pleasant, on the whole," I responded.

"Has nothing occurred?" he inquired, looking at me with a straight and searching glance.

"You speak as though you already have knowledge of something," I said, endeavouring to smile.

"I simply ask the question," he squeaked, in his high-pitched voice.

At first I hesitated whether to tell him the truth; yet when I reflected upon his statement that he was acting in the interests of Reggie's family, I became induced to tell the old fellow the truth regarding my discovery in the deck-house, and the plot I had overheard.

Contrary to my expectations, my statement did not disturb him in the least. He only raised his grey brows with an expression of surprise, and said:

"Then I was correct in my surmise that certain persons on board the yacht are not your friends, signorina. Was I not?"

"You were," I admitted. "But it is Mr. Keppel himself who will be responsible for the blowing up of the vessel, because he has acquiesced in a suggestion made by a person unknown."

"You never saw the man who was speaking with this Mr. Keppel? You are certain of that?"

"Quite. He was very careful not to come within range of the open ventilator."

"A wary person, evidently," grunted the old fellow. "Depend upon it, he has some very strong motive for the vessel being sent to the bottom with all on board. The captain suspects nothing, I take it?"

"Absolutely nothing. Ought we to warn him?"

"Warn him!" cried the old man. "Why, certainly not. We must remain quite quiet, and be extremely careful not to show our hand. Their secret is ours. For us that is sufficient at the present juncture," he added, with an air of contentment.

"But delay may result in the catastrophe," I said. "The yacht may sail at any moment when it pleases her owner to cast her away."

"Well," he said, after a few moments of hesitation, "what you have told me certainly increases the mystery, and is deeply interesting. You have, I suppose, no suspicion that any of the yacht's officers are aware of the plot?"

"The unseen originator of the conspiracy may have been an officer, for aught I know," I said. "I have related the occurrence to you just as it took place. I know exactly nothing more."

"But you must discover more," he declared anxiously. "The matter must not rest here. If what you say is really true, then there has been murder done on board. The mysterious passenger is a perplexing feature, to say the least. Describe her to me as fully as you can."

I acted upon his suggestion. Unfortunately, however, suspended as I had been in that tearing wind on the night of my discovery, I had been unable to take in every detail of her features. But I gave him a description as minute as was possible, and it apparently satisfied him.

"Strange," he murmured, "very strange! To me it seems as though your discovery leads us into an entirely different channel of inquiry. Surely Keppel himself had nothing to do with the assassination of young Signor Thorne!" he added slowly, as though the startling theory only that moment occurred to him.

More than once already had that same suspicion crossed my mind, but I had always laughed it to scorn. There was an utter absence of motive, that convinced me of its impossibility.

And yet, had I not actually heard with my own ears Keppel confess to a murder which he himself had committed?

"Do you think that the lady could have come on board at Algiers?" he inquired.

"I cannot tell," was my answer. "The deckhouse has been kept closed and curtained during the whole cruise. It was that fact which aroused my feminine curiosity."

"If the fact caused you to investigate, it may also have induced others to make inquiry," he remarked. "Do you think it has?"

"How can I tell? One fact is certain, namely, that I am the only person who was a witness of the crime, or who overheard the unseen man's suggestion."

"You would be unable to recognise the voice of that person?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded. "In that wild hurricane it was difficult to distinguish the tone of voice."

He remained thoughtfully silent for a long time. The muscles of his grotesque face worked strangely, and in his eyes was a crafty look which somehow gave me the impression that he was aware of more than he had told me.

"Well," he exclaimed at last, shifting his position slightly and looking me straight in the face, "and what is your present suggestion?"

"It seems very plain that if the yacht sails she is doomed, with all on board," I said, "therefore, she must not leave Leghorn."

"I quite grant that," responded my companion; "but how can you prevent it? Her owner is a person of many eccentricities. This morning he says he will remain here a week, yet to-night, when you are all calmly asleep, he may order his captain to put to sea. Who is to prevent him? Neither you nor myself."

"My intention is to keep a strict watch upon his movements, and ascertain where he goes, and whether any explosive is taken on board," I said.

"A most laudable intention, but I fear it is one that you will find very difficult to execute," he said. "If I may be permitted to advise, you should leave that matter to me, and turn your attention rather to the locked deck-house. By some means you must gain an entry, and see what is really concealed there."

"I am well aware of what secret is hidden there, without gaining an entrance," I responded.

"You tell me that the woman is dead," he observed. "Well, I do not doubt you; but I nevertheless consider it strange that if she is dead, and the persons concerned in her decease wished to get rid of the body, they have not already dropped it overboard. Such a matter would not be at all difficult in the night. Why would Keppel, a parsimonious man, consent to the total destruction of a yacht of the costly character of the Vispera? It is utterly unreasonable."

"From one point of view I quite agree with you," I argued; "but there may be further reasons why the yacht should be cast away—reasons of which we are ignorant."

"But is it reasonable that the owner of a yacht would enter the port of Leghorn with a body on board?" he queried. "No. The officials are too prying. Depend upon it, the body is no longer on board. They've got rid of the evidence of the crime—Keppel and this unknown accomplice of his."

"Then if such is the truth, why should they plot to cast the vessel away?"

"That is exactly my argument. I am convinced that although the question of blowing up the Vispera may have been mooted, the project has now been abandoned. At first it appeared to me more likely that Keppel and his associate would place some explosive on board and make an excuse for not sailing in the vessel. But on reflection it seems obvious that the body cannot now be on board, and therefore no end would be gained by casting the ship away. No, there is no danger in returning on board—none whatever. True, Keppel is very eccentric, like many man of great wealth, and may sail again at any moment; but it is equally certain that the dastardly project is not to be put into execution."

"Then you believe that all is quite safe on board?"

"I am quite convinced of it. Your best plan of action, if you agree to combine your efforts with my own, is to return and use every means to gain an entrance to the deck-house. I have not the slightest expectation that you will discover any actual trace of the crime, but I somehow feel confident that what it contains will give us some clue."

"A clue to the mystery in Nice?" I inquired eagerly.

"Yes," he responded, not without some hesitation. "I believe that we shall gain knowledge from that carefully-guarded cabin."

"But it is always locked," I protested, "and Keppel keeps the key upon his chain."

"You must exercise your woman's ingenuity," he laughed. "Already you have proved yourself to be as keen and resourceful as any professional detector of crime. Continue, and we shall succeed."

"If, as you appear to anticipate, we sail to-night, we may not meet again," I remarked. "Shall I address you here in case of necessity?"

"No. Do not write to me. We know not into whose hands the letter might fall," he answered quickly. "We shall meet again, signorina, never fear—in Leghorn, or in some other city. I shall travel by land, you by sea."

"But what causes you to anticipate that the Vispera will leave to-night?" I demanded, for he spoke with such authority that I was puzzled.

"I read certain telegrams which Keppel sent off to-day. I followed him to the telegraph-office, and watched him write. He probably believed that I could not read English. From the messages, it appeared that the Vispera is to go direct from here to Ragusa, in the Adriatic, and thence to Venice."

"Then we are turning back again!" I cried in dismay. "It was understood that we were on our way to Marseilles, where the party was to break up."

"Exactly, but the Vispera's itinerary appears to have now been altered by its eccentric owner, and as soon as possible you will leave for the Adriatic."

"Well," I said frankly, "to tell the truth, I have no desire to go on board again."

"But it is imperative," the old fellow declared quickly; "absolutely imperative! You must not drop your inquiries at this the most critical moment. You must find means to enter that deck-house. Spare no pains, and use every endeavour and every wile to gain your end. We must know what is hidden there."

"Shall you go to Venice and meet me there?" I inquired anxiously.

"Ah, I cannot tell! So much depends upon the inquiries I am making, and upon future occurrences. But we shall meet soon, never fear!"

Certainly it was curious to find in that Italian port, into which, as far as I could gather, we had put on mere chance, a man who had the whole mystery at his fingers' ends, and who, like myself, was sparing no pains to elucidate it. But had we put into Leghorn by mere chance; or had it all been cunningly prearranged?

"Then I am not to write to you?" I said, somewhat dissatisfied.

"No, decidedly not," was his response. "We must in this affair exercise every precaution in order to make certain that our intentions are not discovered by the guilty parties. Return on board, remain ever watchful, allow nothing to escape you, and make Keppel himself your especial study, at the same time seeking for means by which to enter the forbidden deck-house."

"I take it, Signor Branca, that this apartment is not your own?" I said, as I glanced round the place.

"Mine!" he laughed. "Oh, dear no! I am only here temporarily, in order to meet you. In an hour I leave here—whither I know not. I was in Rome last night, I am here to-night; to-morrow night I may be in Milan, or Turin, or Nice—who knows?"

He spoke in French for the first time, and I saw by his excellent accent that, so far from my first estimate of him being correct, he was a thorough cosmopolitan. It seemed a pity that his personal appearance was sufficiently ugly to be remarkable.

I glanced at the watch in my bangle and saw that as it was already past eleven o'clock, it was high time for me to return on board. Therefore I rose to bid my strange host "Addio."

He bowed to me with a courtly grace which rendered his dwarfed figure more than usually grotesque, bending so low that his fringe of grey beard almost touched his knees.

"Addio, signorina," he said. "Do not relax your efforts for a single moment. Accompany the Vispera on the remainder of its cruise, and seek to obtain all the knowledge you can. For my part, I shall do my best; and I have much to do—very much, I assure you. But I am confident that before we meet again we shall both have obtained a clue to the mysterious death of the young Signor Thorne."

"One moment," I said, after some hesitation, for I was reluctant to approach a subject which preyed ever upon my mind. "Answer me truthfully. Do you entertain suspicion that Mr. Thorne's assassin was the man who once loved me—Ernest Cameron?"

He regarded me in profound surprise.

"No," he responded promptly. "I am convinced of the contrary. There could have been no motive, and besides——"

He paused, not finishing the sentence.

"Well?"

"Besides, the inquiries I made in Nice and Monte Carlo gave a result identical with those made by the police, namely, that Signor Cameron was innocent."

"If you have no suspicion of him, then I am content," I declared, breathing more freely.

My dwarfish companion smiled knowingly, for he was aware that I still loved the man who had abandoned me. Yet there was a strange look in his keen dark eyes that I had not before noticed. As I drove back through the silent streets of the Italian city, down to the port, his sinister countenance, with its indescribable expression of craftiness, haunted me incessantly. Why that final glance of his had produced such an impression upon me I was, even after many hours spent in wonderment, utterly at a loss to explain.