Chapter Forty Eight. Not Counting the Cost.

The girl turned to leave, but the old man placed himself between her and the door.

She stamped her little foot angrily in command to be allowed to pass.

He saw her determination, and hesitated. Then he seemed to commence to argue, to place before her the probable result of her action in casting aside the money, but she would hear nothing. Her mind seemed fully made up. She had spoken her last word, and wished to leave him.

He saw in her decision an attitude antagonistic to himself. He was in deadly peril. Though his wealth could command all that was good and all that was bad, though it placed him above his fellow men and rendered him immune from much, yet it could not ensure her goodwill.

Both Max and Charlie realised plainly that Maud was in possession of some great secret, and that she had refused a bribe of silence. This man who had believed that his money could purchase anything had discovered, to his dismay, that it could not seal her lips. He saw himself facing an imminent peril, and was undecided how to act.

He argued. But she would not listen. He appealed. But she only smiled and shook her head.

Her mind was made up. She had decided to refuse the money. He picked it from the floor and handed it to her again, but she would not take it in her hand.

Then he crossed to his writing-table, took out his chequebook and scribbled a cheque—one for a large amount in all probability. Tearing it from its counterfoil, he gave it to her.

But with an expression of defiance she tore it into four and cast it upon the floor with a gesture of disgust. And in triumph, before he could prevent her, she opened the door, and disappeared from the room.

“We must follow her?” whispered Charlie eagerly.

“But, my dear fellow, we can’t! We’re locked in!”

Rolfe, realising the truth that they were prevented from overtaking his well-beloved, for whom they had been so long in active search, and that she must again dip from them into oblivion, gave vent to a forcible expression of despair.

“Let’s remain here,” urged Max. “We may learn something else.”

“The old man will go to bed,” was Charlie’s response. “And we will follow and explore above.”

“How?” asked Rolfe.

“That remains to be seen. We must, in this case, act discreetly, and trust to luck.”

“But Maud? I must see her.”

“That’s impossible at present. You have seen her—that’s enough for to-night. To-morrow we may discover something further—or even to-night.”

Both men, scarce daring to breathe, were watching old Sam.

After the girl had gone, he placed his hand upon his heart, and, with face white and haggard, he sank into his writing-chair. He had collapsed as though he had received a sudden blow.

Levi entered hurriedly a few moments later, and, finding his master leaning forward upon his table muttering to himself, tried to rouse him.

A glance at his face showed that he had collapsed. Levi therefore rushed across the room, poured out some brandy from the tantalus, and compelled the old man to swallow it. This, after a few moments, revived him. The faithful servant, however, stood by in wonderment. He seemed puzzled as to what had occurred.

But the fragments of the torn cheque scattered upon the carpet showed defiance on the part of the visitor whom he had just shown out into the night.

Levi stooped as far as his rheumatism would allow, and slowly, very slowly, gathered up the torn pieces of paper and placed them in the basket, his eyes the whole time upon his master.

Straightening himself again, he spoke, making inquiry as to what had occurred. But his master, with a wave of his hand, commanded his silence. Then, sinking back in his chair, he remained, staring straight before him like a man in a dream. He seemed peering into the future—and he saw only exposure and ruin!

Hands and teeth were clenched, for he realised that he had taken a false step. He had misjudged his own power and influence. He had believed that a good and truthful woman could be purchased, as he might purchase any other thing or chattel.

She had cast his gold into his face. She had insulted him, for she had spoken a truth which he could not deny. Indeed, that slim, pale-faced girl, scarce more than a child, held over him power supreme—power for life, or for death.

The scene within that room was a strange one.

Old Levi, standing statuesque at his master’s side, uttered some words. But the millionaire was silent. He only raised his grey head and sat staring at the great painting opposite—staring like a man peering into the grim unknown.

The door that divided the watchers from the watched prevented the words from being overheard. The thickness of its glass prevented the truth being known to the two men standing breathless behind it. Had it been ordinary glass they would no doubt have overheard the conversation between the old man and his fair visitor.

The anger of both men had been aroused by Statham’s attitude towards the girl. Even Charlie, faithful and devoted as he had been to the millionaire, had now become fiercely antagonistic, for he had seen by the old man’s countenance that some terrible revenge was intended upon the girl he loved so dearly.

Levi bent and placed his hand tenderly upon his master’s shoulder.

But Statham shook him off, and, straightening himself, staggered to his feet and paced the room in a frenzy of despair.

Charlie recollected his agitation after the unexpected discovery of Jean Adam lounging outside the park railings. This repetition of his apprehension showed him to be in terror of exposure and denunciation.

Maud, so slim, sweet-faced, and innocent, had defied him. She held him, the man whose power in every European capital was recognised and feared, in the hollow of her hand.

Why? Ay, to that question there was no answer. They had witnessed the scene, but they had caught no sound of one single word.

At last Levi succeeded in calming his master. He mixed him another brandy and soda and handed it to him. The old man seized it with unsteady hand, and tossed it off at a single gulp.

Then he walked slowly from the room, followed by Levi.

An instant later the old servant turned the switch, and the room, and with it the neglected conservatory, were plunged in darkness.

The two intruders listened. Voices sounded, and then died away. A moment later they heard a thud, and knew that the old man had passed beyond the white-enamelled door and had closed it behind him.

For another few minutes they remained in silence, then Max whispered:

“What shall we do?”

“We must get out of here,” answered his friend promptly. “We’re caught like a rat in a trap. To open either of the doors leading into the house is impossible. We must try and make our exit by the back,” and, groping his way, he moved to the door, which opened on to a small, paved backyard.

But it had been secured. Levi, indeed, kept it always locked, and the key was not there.

“To break this open will create a noise, and arouse somebody,” Max remarked.

“Well, we must get out at all hazards. We can’t stay here till morning and court discovery,” Rolfe argued. “If we only had a little light we might see what we’re doing. By Jove! You’ve got a pocket-lamp, Max. Where is it?”

“Is it safe yet to show a light?” Barclay asked dubiously. “It may be seen from outside, you know!”

“It can’t. There’s a blank wall opposite.”

“But will not the reflection be seen by Levi from below?” asked Max.

Rolfe saw that, after all, there was some danger of detection, and admitted it.

“Then let’s wait a bit,” his companion whispered. “By patience we may be able to escape without detection. Don’t let us act indiscreetly.”

So the pair, leaning against one of the stands of dead flowers, waited in silence, their ears strained to catch every sound. The moments seemed hours, until at last, all being quiet, Max, at his friend’s suggestion pressed the electric button of the little hand-lamp and showed a light upon the door.

It was half of glass, with strong lock and double bolts. To escape meant to break away a hole large enough for a man’s body to pass. Max suggested that they might find the key hanging somewhere upon a nail, as conservatory keys are often kept, in that manner. But though they searched the whole place, treading lightly as they went, they were unable to discover it.

“Levi keeps it upon his bunch, I expect,” Charlie remarked. “I’ve never seen this door open in my life.”

“That’s why the flowers are all dead, perhaps,” Max remarked grimly with a low laugh.

“Flowers! Old Sam declared that they were no use to him, therefore he forbade Levi to give them any water, and they all died. The old man isn’t fond of flowers. Says they’re only useful at weddings and funerals.”

“There won’t be many at his obsequies!” laughed Max beneath his breath, as he made another examination of the door.

Both agreed that to open it was impossible, while to break out the glass was far too risky a proceeding, for some of it must fall upon the paving outside.

Rain had begun to fall, pattering heavily upon the glass roof above; and as they were both searching about blindly for some other mode of egress Max suddenly exclaimed:

“Why, look here!” and pointed to a portion of the glass side of the conservatory which had opened outwardly upon a hinge, but which had been securely screwed up.

“Excellent!” cried Charlie, realising that an exit lay there, and, quickly drawing from his pocket a serviceable-looking screwdriver, set to work upon the screws.

They were long, and hard to withdraw, but ten minutes later all six of them were taken out, and, pushing back the movable frame upon its hinges, they found themselves outside in the narrow backyard.

Once free, Max turned his face upwards to the dark windows of the first floor of the mysterious mansion, saying: “We must get up there, Charlie, somehow or other. I’m not going from this place until I’ve learnt its secret.”

“No,” responded his friend. “Neither am I.”