A Queen's Error Part 3

"What key?" I asked, though I had a pretty shrewd idea as to the key he wanted.

"The key which dropped out of your pocket this afternoon."

"I don't keep it in bed with me," I replied. "I'll get out and fetch it for you, you are quite welcome to it."

I temporised with him, but I was perfectly determined in my own mind that he should never have it while I lived.

I slipped out of bed and he still held the pistol pointed towards me but in a careless way. I think he was thrown off his guard by my apparent acquiescence.

The clock of the Abbey struck five and he involuntarily turned his head at the first stroke; in that moment I made a sweeping blow with my left arm and knocked the revolver out of his hand; it fell with a crash on the floor. Then I seized him by the throat and tried to hold him. He was, however, like an eel; he wriggled himself free and struck me a heavy blow on the chest which sent me backwards, then he turned and darted towards the window, but as he did so I heard something fall on the floor. For one second his hand went down on the floor groping for it, then, with a curse, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the revolver, which lay near, and darted out of the window on to the balcony. It all occurred in a few moments, and I followed him as quickly as I could, but when I reached the window I saw him flying along the balcony; he had already cleared several of the little divisions railing off one apartment from another, and I could see it would be useless to follow him.

As I turned and re-entered the bedroom something lying on the floor caught my glance and I stooped and picked it up.

It was the man's gla.s.s eye, it had dropped out!

"Now," I said to myself, surveying the bloodshot counterfeit orb as I held it under the electric light. "_Now_ I shall be able to trace him by means of his missing eye and hand him over to justice."

I was fated to be disappointed.

Late the next morning when, having pa.s.sed the remainder of the night sleeplessly, I came down the main staircase into the hall, almost the first person I met was my friend of the gla.s.s eye coming in at the front door. He had apparently just left a cab from which the hotel porters were removing some luggage. He came straight to me, and, looking me in the face, had the impudence to bid me "Good morning."

"Went over to Bristol last night," he explained, "for a ball, and have only just got back. Had awful fun!"

I returned his look for some time without speaking; he had another gla.s.s eye stuck in which was the counterpart of the other. I saw now clearly that he had two or more gla.s.s eyes for emergencies.

"Bristol!" I repeated. "Did you not come into my room last night and----?"

"And what?" he asked innocently.

"And threaten me?" I added.

He seemed highly amused.

"Do you mean before I went?" he asked.

"No, about four o'clock this morning."

This time he burst out laughing.

"My dear fellow," he said with impertinent familiarity, "at four o'clock this morning I was dancing like mad with some of the prettiest girls in Bristol!"

Liar! It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him whether his gla.s.s eye had fallen out during his terpsich.o.r.ean efforts! It was, however, perfectly evident to me that he intended to deny that he had been in the hotel during the night, and probably had had time to establish some sort of an _alibi_. I therefore decided to move cautiously in the matter.

I turned on my heel and went into the dining-room to breakfast without another word.

But I made it my business during the morning to inquire of the hall porter, who I found had been on duty up to eleven o'clock on the previous night, whether Mr. Saumarez--for that I discovered was the name he had entered in the hotel visitors' book--had left the hotel on the previous evening.

The porter unhesitatingly informed me that he had to go to a ball at Bristol!

Really, when I left this man I began to wonder whether I had been dreaming, until I recollected the gla.s.s eye which was securely locked up in my dressing-case, such things not being produced in dreams and found under the pillow in the morning wrapped in an old telegram as this had been.

I went next to the chambermaid who presided over the corridor in which Mr. Saumarez' room was.

Being a good-looking girl I gave her half-a-crown and chucked her under the chin.

"Look here, Maria," I said, "just tell me whether 340, Mr. Saumarez, was in or not last night. I'm rather curious to know and have got a bet on about it with a friend."

She looked at me knowingly and giggled.

"Why, _out_, sir, of course," she replied; "he came in at half-past ten this morning with his boots unblacked. We all know that _that_ means."

This evidence to me appeared conclusive. I gave the chambermaid a parting chuck under the chin--no one being about--and dismissed her.

Then, it being a fine morning, I went out for a walk.

I went right over the hills by Sham Castle and across the Golf Links, being heartily sworn at--in the distance--by sundry retired officers for not getting out of the way. But I was trying to have a good think over Mr. Saumarez, his duplicate gla.s.s eyes, and the reason why he wanted the key of the old lady's safe.

I so tired myself out with walking and thinking, with no result, that when I got back and had lunched late all by myself in the big dining-room, I went into the smoking-room, which this time was quite empty, and fell asleep in front of the great fire.

My sleep was curiously broken and unrestful, and full of that undefined cold apprehension which sometimes attacks one without any apparent reason during an afternoon nap.

I awoke at last to hear the old Abbey clock striking five, and then I nearly jumped out of my seat, for I recollected my promise to the unknown old lady in Monmouth Street to visit her again that day at that very hour.

I hurried through the hall to the coat room, and, seizing my hat, rushed out and just caught a tram which was gliding past in the direction of the upper town where Monmouth Street stretched its length along the slope of the hill.

It was only three minutes past five when the gaily lighted tram deposited me at the end of my old lady's street, and I set off for Number 190, which was at the other extremity of the long, badly lighted thoroughfare, looking, with its interminable rows of oblong windows, like an odd corner of the eighteenth century which had been left behind in the march of time.

I found the house practically as I had left it; there was no fog that evening, and I had a better opportunity of observing its general appearance in the yellow flare of the old-fashioned gas lamp opposite.

The house on one side of it was to be let, with a large staring board announcing that fact fixed to the railings; the house on the other side was a dingy looking place with lace curtains shrouding the dining-room windows and a notice outside concerning "Apartments."

I drew out the latch-key, blew in it to cleanse it from any dust, then, with very little difficulty, opened the door and entered Number 190.

CHAPTER III

THE SECOND VISIT AND ITS RESULT

The first thing which caught my attention was the wax candle with its gla.s.s shade standing on the raised flap which did duty for a hall table.

I at once lit the candle from the box of matches by it, and then, when it had burned up a little, proceeded at once to the kitchen staircase.

The old lady had given me the latch-key with such a free hand that I felt myself fully justified in walking in; in fact, I rather wanted to take her by surprise if possible.

Nevertheless I made a little noise going downstairs to give her knowledge of my approach, and it was then that I thought I heard a window open somewhere at the back of the house.

I walked towards the end of the pa.s.sage, and there I saw the glow of the fire reflected through the open door of the handsome sitting-room in which I had sat with the old lady on the previous day. It played upon the opposite wall as I advanced with a great air of comfort.