Roden's Corner Part 27

"Yes; I have seen him once."

"So have I--only once. But for a woman once is often enough--is it not so?--to enable one to judge. I wish we had him here."

"He is coming," answered Dorothy. "I think he is coming to-morrow. When I saw Mr. Cornish yesterday, he told me that he expected him. I believe he wrote for him to come. He also wrote to Mr. Wade, the banker, asking him to come."

"Then he found things worse than he expected. He has, in a sense, sent for reinforcements. When does Major White arrive--in the morning?"

"No; not till the evening."

"Then he comes by Flushing," said Mrs. Vansittart, practically. "You are thinking of something. What is it?"

"I was wondering how I could see some of the malgamite workers to-morrow. I know some of them, and it is from them that the danger may be expected. They are easily led, and Herr von Holzen would not scruple to make use of them."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Vansittart, "you have guessed that, too. I have more than guessed it--I know it. You must see these men to-morrow."

"I will," answered Dorothy, simply.

Mrs. Vansittart rose and held out her hand. "Yes," she said, "I came to the right person. You are calm, and keep your head; as to the other, perhaps that is in safe-keeping too. Good night and come to lunch with me to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXII.

GRAt.i.tUDE.

"On se guerit de la bienfaisance par la connaissance de ceux qu'on oblige."

"Can you tell me if there is a moon to-night?" Mrs. Vansittart asked a porter in the railway station at The Hague.

The man stared at her for a moment, then realized that the question was a serious one.

"I will ask one of the engine-drivers, my lady," he answered, with his hand at the peak of his cap.

It was past nine o'clock, and Mrs. Vansittart had been waiting nearly half an hour for the Flushing train. Her carriage was walking slowly up and down beneath the gla.s.s roof of the entrance to the railway station.

She had taken a ticket in order to gain access to the platform, and was almost alone there with the porters. Her glance travelled backwards and forwards between the clock and the western sky, visible beneath the great arch of the station. The evening was a clear one, for the month of June still lingered, but the twilight was at hand. The Flushing train was late to-night of all nights; and Mrs. Vansittart stamped her foot with impatience. What was worse was Dorothy Roden's lateness.

Dorothy and Mrs. Vansittart, like two generals on the eve of a battle, had been exchanging hurried notes all day; and Dorothy had promised to meet Mrs. Vansittart at the station on the arrival of the train.

"The moon is rising now, my lady--a half-moon," said the porter approaching with that leisureliness which characterizes railway porters between trains.

"Why does your stupid train not come?" asked Mrs. Vansittart, with unreasoning anger.

"It has been signalled, my lady; a few minutes now."

Mrs. Vansittart gave a quick sigh of relief, and turned on her heel.

She had long been unable to remain quietly in one place. She saw Dorothy coming up the slope to the platform. At last matters were taking a turn for the better--except, indeed, Dorothy's face, which was set and white.

"I have found out something," she said at once, and speaking quickly but steadily. "It is for to-night, between half-past nine and ten."

She had her watch in her hand, and compared it quickly with the station clock as she spoke.

"I have secured Uncle Ben," she said--all the ridicule of the name seemed to have vanished long ago. "He is drunk, and therefore cunning.

It is only when he is sober that he is stupid. I have him in a cab downstairs, and have told your man to watch him. I have been to Mr.

Cornish's rooms again, and he has not come in. He has not been in since morning, and they do not know where he is. No one knows where he is."

Dorothy's lip quivered for a moment, and she held it with her teeth.

Mrs. Vansittart touched her arm lightly with her gloved fingers--a strange, quick, woman's gesture.

"I went upstairs to his rooms," continued Dorothy. "It is no good thinking of etiquette now or pretending----"

"No," said Mrs. Vansittart, hurriedly, so that the sentence was never finished.

"I found nothing except two torn envelopes in the waste-paper basket.

One in an uneducated hand--perhaps feigned. The other was Otto von Holzen's writing."

"Ah! In Otto von Holzen's writing--addressed to Tony at the Zwaan at Scheveningen?"

"Yes."

"Then Otto von Holzen knows where Tony is staying, at all events. We have learnt something. You have kept the envelopes?"

"Yes."

They both turned at the rumble of the train outside the station. The great engine came clanking in over the points, its lamp glaring like the eye of some monster.

"Provided Major White is in the train," muttered Mrs. Vansittart, tapping on the pavement with her foot. "If he is not in the train, Dorothy?"

"Then we must go alone."

Mrs. Vansittart turned and looked her slowly up and down.

"You are a brave woman," she said thoughtfully.

But Major White was in the train, being a man of his word in small things as well as in great. They saw him pushing his way patiently through the crowd of hotel porters and others who had advice or their services to offer him. Then he saw Mrs. Vansittart and Dorothy, and recognized them.

"Give your luggage ticket to the hotel porter and let him take it straight to the hotel. You are wanted elsewhere."

Still Major White was only in his normal condition of mild and patient surprise. He had only met Mrs. Vansittart once, and Dorothy as often.

He did exactly as he was told without asking one of those hundred questions which would inevitably have been asked by many men and more women under such circ.u.mstances, and followed the ladies out of the crowd.

"We must talk here," said Mrs. Vansittart. "One cannot do so in a carriage in the streets of The Hague."

Major White bowed gravely, and looked from one to the other. He was rather travel-worn, and seemed to be feeling the heat.

"Tony Cornish has probably written to you about his discoveries as to the malgamite works. We have no time to go into that question, however," said Mrs. Vansittart, who was already beginning to be impatient with this placid man. "He has earned the enmity of Otto von Holzen--a man who will stop at nothing--and the malgamiters are being raised against him by Von Holzen. Our information is very vague, but we are almost certain that an attempt is to be made on Tony's life to-night between half-past nine and ten. You understand?" Mrs.

Vansittart almost stamped her foot.