Just as the faint dawn began to show through the c.h.i.n.ks of the closed shutters, and Pickering was giving his men instructions before returning to the station, we distinctly heard another key rattle in the latch.
We were all on the alert in an instant.
"We"ll let him go upstairs if that"s his intention," whispered the inspector with satisfaction.
Again the newcomer had the same difficulty with the latch, but at length the door opened, letting in a flood of grey light into the hall, and then closed again. We had drawn back behind the half-closed door of the room wherein we had kept our night vigil, and standing there scarcely daring to breathe, we watched a dark-haired young man in a brown tweed suit ascend the stairs. He wore a thick travelling coat, a flat cloth cap, and carried a well-worn brown handbag. Evidently he had just come off a night journey, for he sighed wearily as humming to himself he ascended those fatal stairs.
Fortunately we had removed the settle back to its place, but on arrival on the first landing we heard him halt and pull a creaking lever somewhere--the mechanism by which the six stairs were held fast and secure. Then he went on up to the top and entered that well-furnished little sitting-room.
For ten minutes we allowed him to remain there undisturbed--"Just to allow him to settle himself," as Pickering whispered grimly. Then one by one the officers crept noiselessly up until we had a.s.sembled on the landing outside the closed door.
Then, of a sudden, Pickering drew his revolver, threw open the door, and the sleek-haired newcomer was revealed.
He fell back as though he had received a blow.
"We are police officers," explained Pickering, "and I arrest you."
Then we saw that from his bag he had taken out a suit of clothes and some linen, which were flung upon a chair, while upon the table were two packets of German bank-notes, amounting to a considerable sum. A third packet he still held in his hand, for he had been in the act of counting them when surprised.
His dark eyes met mine, and the fellow started.
"I know you!" he cried to me. "You are not a detective at any rate.
You are Wilfrid Hughes."
"I have, I regret, not the pleasure of your acquaintance," was my quick answer, somewhat surprised at his declaration.
"That woman has betrayed us--that woman, Sybil Burnet," he cried angrily, his eyes flashing at us. "She shall pay for this--by heaven, she shall! She defied me, but I have not yet said my last word. Arrest me to-day, and to-morrow she will be arrested also," he laughed, triumphantly.
"My name"s Ralph Vickers--if you must know," he said to Pickering in reply to a question.
"And you"re just back from Germany--eh? Arrived by the night mail _via_ the Hook of Holland."
"Well, what of that?"
"And you"ve been to Germany to dispose of stolen property, and this money is the price you received for it. Am I not correct?"
"Find out," was the smooth-haired young man"s insulting response.
"Take him to the station, Edwards, and ask Inspector Nicholls to step round here with two plain-clothes men. I"ll wait for him. Search the prisoner, and I"ll charge him--when I come round."
And the young man, without a word, was conducted down the stairs. Then the inspector began counting the German notes rapidly, taking a note of the number in each of the packets secured by pins.
"We"ve done a good night"s work, I think, Mr Hughes," he said afterwards, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "Thanks to you we"re on the track of one of the biggest criminal conspiracies that London has known for years. But," he added, "who"s the woman that fellow mentioned--Sybil Burnet? He seems to know something against her-- alleges that she"s also a member of the gang. I think we"d better arrest her, or in any case keep her under observation, for the instant she hears of the arrests she"ll, of course, fly."
I held my breath, and I think I must have turned pale at this unforeseen result of my information against the malefactors. I recollected the affair in Charlton Wood. What could I reply?
"It is true, Inspector Pickering, that I am acquainted with Miss Sybil Burnet, but I have reason for being confident of her innocence."
"As you are confident of the innocence of your friend Domville--eh?" he asked dubiously with a sarcastic smile.
"Well," I said, desperately, "I am going now, at once, to see her. And if you leave the matter in my hands and promise that I shall not be followed, I, on my part, will promise that later she shall reply to any questions you may put to her."
He was only half-convinced.
"You take a great responsibility upon yourself, Mr Hughes," he remarked. "Why are you so anxious that this woman"s whereabouts should not be known?"
"To avoid a scandal," I said. "She is a gentlewoman."
Pickering smiled again.
"Well, Mr Hughes," he said with great reluctance, "that man Vickers has made a direct charge against her, and it must be investigated, as you quite understand, whether she be a gentlewoman or not. But I leave you to question her, on the understanding that you prevent her from warning the other two men still at liberty--Parham and Winsloe. Probably they will come here to-day to meet Vickers on his return from Germany--at any rate, we shall be here in waiting for them."
What might not this terrible exposure mean to Sybil?
CHAPTER THIRTY.
IN WHICH SYBIL SPEAKS.
Sybil saw me from the window as I walked up Neate Street at ten o"clock that morning. Then, letting myself in with the latchkey, I ascended the stairs, finding her as usual, fresh and dainty, although she was engaged in the prosaic operation of dusting the room.
"Why, Wilfrid!" she gasped, "what"s the matter? You"re not well, surely!" she cried in anxiety, coming forward towards me.
I threw my cap upon the couch, and halting upon the hearthrug, said in a low, serious voice,--
"Sybil, I think I may speak to you plainly, without preamble. I want to ask you a simple question. Who is Ralph Vickers?"
The light died out of her face in an instant. She went pale and her white lips trembled at mention of that name.
She was silent. She made no response. The blow that she had so long dreaded had fallen!
"Tell me, Sybil," I urged in a low, kindly tone. "Who is this man?"
"Ah! no, Wilfrid!" she gasped at last, her face cast down as though in shame. "Don"t ask that. How--how can I, of all women, tell you?"
"But you must," I said firmly. "All is known. The brutal devilish conspiracy of those men Parham, Winsloe and Vickers is exposed."
"Exposed! Then they know about that--about that awful house in Clipstone Street?" she gasped, her eyes starting from her head in abject terror.
"The horrible truth has been discovered. The police went to the house last night."
"The police!"
"Yes, and Vickers, who is under arrest, has denounced you as one of their accomplices. Tell me," I cried hoa.r.s.ely, "tell me, Sybil, the real honest truth."
"I knew he would denounce me," she cried bitterly. "He has been my bitterest enemy from the very first. To that man I owe all my sorrow and degradation. He and his friends are fiends--veritable fiends in human shape--vampires who have sucked the blood of the innocent, and cast them away in secret in that dark house in Clipstone Street without mercy and without compunction. He carried out his threat once, and denounced me, but he did not succeed in effecting my ruin. And now, when arrested he has told the police what--what, Wilfrid, is, alas! the truth."
"The truth!" I gasped, drawing away from her in horror. "The truth, Sybil. Then you are really guilty," I wailed. "Ah! Heaven--I believed you were innocent!"