Hushed Up! A Mystery of London Part 16

Suddenly, as my eyes wandered about the dingy old room, I caught sight of something shining. A golden bangle of curious Indian design was lying upon the mantelshelf. I took it up, and in a moment recognized it as one I had seen upon her wrist one evening while she sat at dinner at Gardone.

I replaced it, stood for a moment deep in thought, and then, with sudden resolve, returned to the chamber of horror, obtained my hat, and, descending the stairs, went forth into Porchester Terrace.

I had to walk as far as Bayswater Road before I could find a taxi. The sun was now shining brightly, and there were many people about in the streets. Finding a cab at last, I told the man to drive with all speed to my bank in Oxford Street.

It was just eleven when I went up to the counter to one of the paying cashiers I knew, and asked him breathlessly if a cheque of mine had been paid to a person named Reckitt. He saw by my manner that I was in hot haste.

"I've cashed it not a moment ago, Mr. Biddulph," was his reply. "Why, you must have pa.s.sed the man as you came in! He's only this moment gone out."

Without a word I dashed back to the swing-doors, and there, sure enough, only a few yards away, I caught sight of Forbes, in a smart grey flannel suit, entering a taxi. I shouted, but the taxi man did not hear me. He was facing westward, and ere I could attract his attention he was slowly moving in the direction of the Marble Arch.

The quick eyes of Forbes had, however, detected me, and, leaning out, he said something to his driver. Quickly I re-entered my cab, and told my man to turn and follow, pointing out the taxi in front. Mine was open, while that in which the a.s.sa.s.sin sat was closed.

In his pocket the scoundrel carried over a thousand pounds of my money.

My first impulse was to stop and inform a police-constable, but if I did so I saw that he must escape. I shouted to my driver to try and see the number of the cab, but there was a lot of traffic, and he was unable to see it clearly.

I suppose I must have cut a sorry figure, dishevelled as I was by my night's weird experience, and covered with the dust of that untenanted house. What the bank-clerk must have thought, I know not.

It was an exciting chase. For a moment we were held up by the police at Regent Circus, for there was much traffic, but only for a brief s.p.a.ce; then we tore after the receding cab at a pace which made many pa.s.sers-by stare. The cab in which Forbes was, being closed, the driver did not see us, but I knew that the a.s.sa.s.sin was watching us from the tiny window in the back, and was giving his driver instructions through the front window.

My man had entered fully into the spirit of the chase.

"That fellow in yonder taxi has just stolen a thousand pounds!" I told him.

"All right, sir," replied my driver, as he bent over his wheel; "we shall catch him presently, never fear. I'm keeping my eye upon him all right."

There were many taxis coming into the line of traffic from Bond Street and from the other main thoroughfares crossing Oxford Street--red taxis, just like the one in which Forbes was escaping. Yet we both kept our eyes fixed upon that particular one, the driver of which presently bent sideways, and shot back a glance at us.

Then he put on speed, and with marvellous dexterity threaded in and out of the motor-buses and carts in front of him. I was compelled to admire his driving. I could only suppose that Forbes had offered him something handsome if he got safely away.

At the Marble Arch he suddenly turned down Park Lane, where the traffic was less, and there gaining upon us, he turned into one of the smaller streets, through Upper Grosvenor Street, winding in and out the intricate thoroughfares which lay between Grosvenor Square and Regent Street. Across Hanover Square and along Hanover Street we sped, until, pa.s.sing out on to the opposite side of Regent Street, the driver, evidently believing that he had outwitted us, slowed down, and then pulled up suddenly before a shop.

Ere the fugitive could escape, indeed ere the door could be opened, we had pulled up a few yards away, and I dashed out and up to the door of the cab, my revolver gripped in my hand.

My driver had descended also, and gained the other side of the cab almost as soon as I had.

I opened the door, and met the fugitive boldly face to face.

Next second I fell back as though I had received a blow. I stood aghast.

I could utter no word. The mystery had, I realized in that second, been increased a hundredfold.

CHAPTER NINE

FACE TO FACE

On opening the door of the taxi I stood amazed to find that the occupant was not a man--but a woman.

It was Sylvia!

She started at sight of me. Her countenance blanched to the lips as she drew back and sat erect, a cry of dismay escaping her lips.

"You!" I gasped, utterly dumbfounded.

"Why--Mr. Biddulph!" she cried, recovering herself in a moment and stretching forth her small gloved hand; "fancy meeting you like this!"

What words I uttered I scarcely knew. This sudden transformation of the scoundrel Forbes into Sylvia Pennington held me bewildered. All I could imagine was that Sylvia must have been awaiting the man in another cab close to the bank, and that, in the course of our chase, we had confused the two taxis. Forbes had succeeded in turning away into some side street, while we had followed the cab of his companion.

She had actually awaited him in another cab while he had entered the bank and cashed the stolen cheque!

My taxi-driver, when he saw that a lady, and not a man, occupied the fugitive cab, drew back, returning to his seat.

"Do you know!" exclaimed the girl, with wonderful calmness, "only yesterday I was thinking of you, and wondering whether you were in London!"

"And only yesterday, too, Miss Pennington, I also was thinking of you," I said meaningly.

She was dressed very quietly in dead black, which increased the fairness of her skin and hair, wearing a big black hat and black gloves. She was inexpressibly smart, from the thin gauzy veil to the tips of her tiny patent-leather shoes, with a neat waist and a figure that any woman might envy. Indeed, in her London attire she seemed even smarter than she had appeared on the terrace beside the blue Italian lake.

"Where is your father?" I managed to ask.

"Oh!--well, he's away just now. He was with me in London only the other day," she replied. "But, as you know, he's always travelling."

Then she added: "I'm going into this shop a moment. Will you wait for me? I'm so pleased to see you again, and looking so well. It seems really ages since we were at Gardone, doesn't it?" and she smiled that old sweet smile I so well remembered.

"I'll wait, of course," I replied, and, a.s.sisting her out, I watched her pa.s.s into the big drapery establishment. Then I idled outside amid the crowd of women who were dawdling before the attractive windows, as is the feminine habit.

If it had been she who had rescued me from death and had released me, what a perfect actress she was. Her confusion had only lasted for a few seconds. Then she had welcomed me, and expressed pleasure at our re-encounter.

I recollected the bow of ribbon-velvet which reposed in my pocket, and the Indian bangle I had found. I remembered, too, those agonized, terrified cries in the night--and all the mysteries of that weird and silent house!

When she came forth I would question her; I would obtain from her the truth anent those remarkable happenings.

Was it of that most ingenious and dastardly plot she had warned me?

Was her own conviction that she must suffer the penalty of death based upon the knowledge of the deadly instrument, that venomous reptile used by the a.s.sa.s.sins?

Could it be that Pennington himself--her own father--was implicated in this shameful method of obtaining money and closing the lips of the victims?

As I stood there amid the morning bustle of Regent Street out in the broad sunshine, all the ghastly horrors of the previous night crowded thickly upon me. Why had she shrieked: "Ah! not that--_not that_!" Had she, while held prisoner in that old-fashioned drawing-room, been told of the awful fate to which I had been consigned?

I remembered how I had called to her, but received no response. And yet she must have been in the adjoining room.

Perhaps, like myself, she had fainted.

I recalled her voice distinctly. I certainly had made no mistake. She had been actually present in that house of black torture. Therefore, being my friend, there seemed no doubt that, to her, I owed my mysterious salvation. But how? Aye, that was the question.