"I will tell you all," said Beatrice. "If we were captured I had meant to keep silence; but your generous offer compels a change of plan. You shall have a frank truthful----"
"I do not insist on truth," said Robert, stroking his nose, "but it must be interesting." He stopped, aghast at his own depravity. Then he laughed gently. "Morality is hard to achieve at this hour. But come! A good tale!"
Lionel smiled. He had faith in Beatrice as a story-teller, even if he was a little doubtful of her other qualities. He settled himself on the sofa, prepared not only to hear but criticize. As for Mr. Hedderwick, he was so eager that he laid down the revolver on the table and leaned forward on his elbows. To all appearance he might have been a boy listening to a true yarn of pirates and savages.
Beatrice, without effort or hesitation, began to speak. A second Scheherezade, she was fighting for her husband and her own freedom, and everything conspired to lend her aid. She had a thrilling story to tell at first hand; she had the dramatic instinct and an appreciative audience. Not only Mr. Hedderwick but Lionel, too, listened with rapt attention. The tale lived, as told by her, bearing the stamp of truth and humor in every syllable her lips uttered. And Lionel, keeping guard over himself with a loving suspicion, noticed that in no particulars did she depart from the original version. He cursed himself that any shred of doubt could still cling about him. Did any cling? Surely not, and yet.... Pish! it was not merely disloyal--it was ludicrous: the two stories were identical. Had the first been lies she must now have betrayed herself.
Not that she told her story in such detail as she had to Lionel: there was not time for that. The _precis_ of her life and adventures lasted no more than half an hour: all that mattered was there, but the smaller details were absent. A touch here, and the kidnaping was painted in a dozen words; a line there, and she had swept them to Constantinople: a paragraph depicted Lukos with a master hand--a few vivid sentences described the flight. Then came the stage, her meeting with Lionel (five pages to the rescue, the taxi deleted altogether, and three lines to the dressing-room), and lastly, the treachery of Mizzi. She brought her story down to the moment of their capture, not forgetting to tell how they had effected their entrance by means of skeleton keys. "And that is all," she said at last, drawing a breath of relief.
"Not quite all," said Mr. Hedderwick with rounded eyes. "Lord! what a tale! what a life! Compared with this ..."--his eyes wandered discontentedly round the room, and he did not finish the sentence. "But go on--go on! Tell me why you hid the papers here."
"Partly by chance, partly design. I meant to hide them in a stranger"s house, thinking they would be safest there. One evening as I walked this way I saw a machine in front of your door. It was a vacuum cleaner!
That decided me. It meant that after they had finished there was no likelihood of your carpets being lifted for some time."
"My carpets!" gasped Robert. "What the----"
"Oh, do _wait_!" said Beatrice pettishly; and he collapsed, as was only fitting. "I came next day and the cleaner had gone. During the morning I made discreet inquiries as to your habits and mode of life. In the evening I hired a cab, drove to Kensington to put any possible trackers off the scent, changed into another cab and drove back here. At seven-thirty I called. You were out, and your wife said you would not be back for at least half an hour. I asked if I might wait, as my business was important. She hesitated, but consented, my sables being a guarantee that I had not come with any designs on your plate.
"However, to my disgust she insisted on remaining in the room and discussing trivialities. Of course, as long as she remained I was helpless, and my well-meant hints were disregarded. I was in despair; but presently the cook burst in with a woeful tale of a scorched petticoat, and the situation was saved. Your wife darted out to survey the damage, and the next moment my precious papers were hidden beneath the carpet.
"Mrs. Hedderwick returned within a very few minutes, full of apologies and (I fear) regrets that she had left the room. I did not prolong my visit. On the plea that I could not wait further, and promising to call again, I managed to escape. If you wish for proof, look under the carpet beneath your chair."
Mr. Hedderwick sprang up like an eager schoolboy. He seized the poker, inserted it under the carpet, and with a crackling wrench prized up a yard or two. With trembling fingers he tore it back still farther, and then his face fell. He stood up, a disappointed man. "There is nothing here," he said accusingly. "This is an anticlimax to a capital tale."
Lionel did not move, but his face darkened. During the recital he had felt a warm glow of faith pervade his whole being, a glow that was not diminished by the contemplation of Beatrice. By the time she had finished he was a devout adherent, and now the shock of disillusion swung him back once more to the certainty of doubt. He did not speak, but his eyes sought hers in a question he could not put into words. The lady alone seemed unembarra.s.sed. She gave a regretful sigh.
"There is no anticlimax," she said. "Rather it is the thickening of the plot. Of course they have been taken by Mizzi. Has she been there recently--yesterday?"
"Not that I know of," he returned blankly. "It"s possible, I suppose ...
anyhow, it"s not a bad idea for ... for a story, but...."
"I see you disbelieve still," said Beatrice with a calm disdain. "I had no idea men could be so stupid. I suppose there is nothing for it but to wake Mrs. Hedderwick and ask her."
The churchwarden sat down suddenly, as if his knees had given way. "Wake Mrs. Hedderwick!" he repeated in a ghastly voice: "wake my wife! Oh, no!
It is impossible--quite out of the question!"
"Not at all. She will know whether any one has called here, and in justice to my veracity you must ask her. I insist! Remember our freedom is at stake."
Mr. Hedderwick rose, pale but determined.
"I beg your pardon," he said politely. "Will you please go at once? I have not the least intention of prosecuting, and I swear that I believe your story. Only will you _please_ go at once?"
Lionel chuckled, amused and grateful.
"This is hardly fair, sir," he said. "You forget that we want information as to where those papers may have gone. If your wife could tell us whether any one has called and what his or her appearance----"
"No, no!" quavered the unhappy Robert. "I can not consent! You must find out elsewhere. I can not have my wife roused! I--I would not have her here for a thousand pounds!"
"Indeed, Robert!" said a deep voice from the door. The churchwarden leaped round in a trice. He saw his wife, in the majesty of a dressing-gown, a poker in her right hand, standing in the doorway. His bowels turned to water. "Alicia!" he groaned.
"Yes," she said with a pleasurable severity. "What does this mean?" Her eye roved austerely and there was a dead silence. Robert was temporarily annihilated, Beatrice serenely impa.s.sive, Lionel amusedly dividing his attention between the two ladies. Presently Mrs. Hedderwick"s brow cleared, as if a light had dawned upon her. She began to speak again in a voice that was almost cheerful. "I see!" she said: "it is a new idea, Robert. I suppose these are some of your friends, and this is a kind of breakfast party. I am very sorry that you did not give me earlier warning, or I would have had the dining-room ready. My husband," she said, turning confidentially to Beatrice, "is a man, and naturally does not realize that bacon can not be fried in a moment, and that eggs will not cook themselves. Toast, again, needs a little care; and coffee I always say is worthless unless one looks after it one"s self."
"Alicia!" interposed the miserable Robert, "I do wish you"d be reasonable. For heaven"s sake----"
"Kindly do not swear, Robert," said his wife, turning ferociously on him. "If I have made a mistake, I am sure it was but natural. If this is not a breakfast-party, pray what is it? A man of your age would not indulge in _suppers_"--she gave the word an emphasis that insinuated Cremorne--"so what can I think? I hear an unusual noise--I come down-stairs and find my husband hobn.o.bbing with a strange gentleman and his ... friend ... whom I _have_ met, but----"
Lionel rose, but Beatrice was wiser and forestalled him.
"Your surprise and indignation are only natural, Mrs. Hedderwick," she said coolly, "but they will be abated when you learn that our untimely visit is in connection with a police affair."
Her instinct was right. Curiosity conquered the churchwarden"s wife, where an appeal to pity or kindred emotions would have failed. She relaxed her frigid att.i.tude and said, "Indeed?"
"Yes," pursued Beatrice. "I can not tell you all at present, but be a.s.sured that if it ever comes into court your evidence will be of value." Mrs. Hedderwick smoothed her dressing-gown and determined to appear in the witness-box in mauve. "Will you just tell us this: did any stranger call here this evening?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Hedderwick, divided between resentment and a thirst for knowledge. "A lady, or at least a female, called and inquired for my husband."
"A lady!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Hedderwick. "This promises well----"
His wife"s eye compelled him again to his seat. "I think, Robert, if you evinced less interest in such a subject it would be more seemly. The female in question asked if she might wait, as she wished to beg a subscription for an anti-suffragist league. I am in sympathy with such an object and allowed her to remain. In the course of our conversation she referred to an article on dress in one of the women"s papers. I happened to have the journal and offered to fetch it; she agreed, thinking that the plate of a new blouse might suit my style."
"So you left her alone!" broke in Lionel.
"For a bare two minutes. When I returned she was still there. We discussed the blouse for a while, and presently she said that she must go, but would return later."
"Plagiarist!" said Beatrice with a smile. "Did you happen to notice how she was dressed?"
"I never notice such things," said Mrs. Hedderwick with dignity. "Dress is not one of my foibles. But after she had gone I picked up a handkerchief which I suppose she had dropped. It was marked----"
"Wait!" said Mr. Hedderwick suddenly. "What is her name?" he asked, turning to Beatrice.
"Whose, Robert?" queried his wife.
"Oh, bother!" he said, irritation lending him courage. "Your maid"s."
"Mizzi Schmidt."
"And the initials, Alicia?"
"M. S."
Mr. Hedderwick, his head full of romantic notions of chivalry, forgetting the urgent need of circ.u.mspection, rose. He advanced toward Beatrice, raised her hand, and, to the horror of his wife, kissed it solemnly. "I beg your pardon," he said; "there is no anticlimax. Now that you know Mizzi is the thief you will want to be off. Good-by and good luck."
They took him at his word and rose.
"Good-by," said Beatrice in the most ordinary voice. "Thank you so much for your help--and yours, too, Mrs. Hedderwick. So sorry we had to break into your house. Good-by. Now, Mr. Mortimer!"
"Good-by," said Lionel; "thanks most awfully. I felt you were a sportsman as soon as I saw you."
They were in the hall by this time, and the magnanimous churchwarden was already opening the door.