The Lost Million Part 33

"And tell the police not to worry any further over the burglary. Tell them I will see the inspector in Newport Pagnell on my return."

"All right, sir."

And then I hung up the receiver and rang off.

Asta was at Bournemouth! My first impulse was to start at once to see her, but recollecting the reason I had come there to Bath, I managed to curb my impatience, eat my dinner in the quiet, old-fashioned coffee-room, and afterwards wait until darkness fell.

I had no fixed plans, except to approach the Manor-House un.o.bserved. I longed to call boldly upon the woman whom I knew to be an adventuress, but I could not see what benefit would accrue from it. If any conspiracy were in progress, she would, of course, deny all knowledge of Shaw's whereabouts.

Therefore I bought some cigars, which I placed in my case, and when the autumn twilight had deepened into night I put on my motor-cap, and taking my stick, set out again to cover the three miles or so which lay between the hotel and the residence of the wealthy widow.

I did not hurry, and as I approached the village and pa.s.sed the inn with the red blinds I kept a wary eye, fearing lest Tramu might be in the vicinity.

That it was he who had been making inquiry of the landlord there was no doubt. In what manner the French police had gained knowledge of the woman Olliffe's address I knew not, and why he was in England watching her, was equally a mystery. One fact was evident--namely, that the Paris Surete had some serious charge against her; and further, that she must be all unconscious of the presence of the renowned police-agent.

Should I discover any hint or gain anything by giving her warning? I asked myself.

No; she was far too clever for that. If, as I had suspected, she had had any hand in poor Guy's death, then it was only right that the inquiries and action of the police should not be interfered with.

Again, was it not a highly suspicious circ.u.mstance that, with her husband--the man King, who posed as her brother--together with a stranger, she had returned home at that early hour in a car, a few hours after a car had left the King's Wood, half a mile from my own house?

I pa.s.sed through the village un.o.bserved, and out again up the steep hill, until I came to that low wall behind which lay the part surrounding Ridgehill Manor--that same wall from which a few weeks before I had obtained my first sight of the house of the adventuress.

Fortunately, the night had become cloudy, threatening rain, and the moon was hidden. So, mounting the wall, I entered the park and walked across towards the broad lawn in front of the manor. A dry ditch separated the lawn from the park to prevent cattle from approaching, and this I presently negotiated, at last standing upon the lawn itself. Near by, I saw a weeping ash, and beneath its bell-like branches I paused and there waited.

From where I stood I could see into the big lighted drawing-room, the blinds of which were up, but there was no one within, though the French windows stood open.

I could hear voices--of the servants, most probably--and the clatter of dishes being washed after dinner. But the night was very still; not a leaf stirred in the dark belt of firs which lay on my left, and which presently afforded me better shelter, allowing me to approach nearer the house.

The night-mists were rising, and the air had become chilly. Certainly this woman of many adventures, even though she were a convicted criminal, managed to live amid delightful surroundings.

As the evening wore on I caught a glimpse of her crossing the room in a black low-cut dinner-dress edged with silver--a truly handsome gown.

She swept up to the piano, and next moment there fell upon my ear the music of one of the latest waltzes of musical comedy.

Then her husband, cigar in hand and in well-cut evening-dress, came to the French window, looked out upon the night, and retired again.

But after that I saw nothing until an hour later, when the butler closed the window carefully and bolted it, and then one by one the lights in the lower portion of the fine mansion disappeared and those upstairs were lit. Two windows, evidently the double windows of a corner-room opposite me, were lit brilliantly behind a green holland blind, but half an hour later they also were extinguished.

I glanced at my watch. It was then half-past eleven, and the house was in total darkness. Yet I still waited, wondering vaguely if Tramu were still in the vicinity.

I found an old tree-stump, and sitting upon it, waited in watchful patience, wondering if the agent of French police would make his appearance. Suddenly, however, a bright stream of light, evidently from an electric torch, shot from one of the upstairs windows, and continued for some seconds. Then it was shut off again, only to be renewed about a minute later.

It was a signal, and could be seen from the high road!

My curiosity was now thoroughly aroused, and I moved cautiously across the lawn to such a position that I could see any one leaving or approaching the house by the drive.

Again I waited for fully twenty minutes, when a slight movement caused me to turn, and I saw the figure of a woman hurrying along the side of the lawn in the shadow of the belt of firs. At first I was puzzled as to who it might be, but presently, when she was compelled to pa.s.s out of the shadow into the grey light cast by the clouded moon, I saw that it was the woman who called herself Olliffe. She wore a dark dress with a dark shawl thrown over her head.

In her eager hurry she had not noticed my presence as I stood there in the shadow; therefore, when she had pa.s.sed out into the misty park with its dark clump of trees, I quickly followed with noiseless tread over the dewy gra.s.s.

She had evidently signalled to somebody, unknown to her husband!

Straight across the wide gra.s.s-lands I followed until she gained a spot where a stile gave entrance to a dark wood on the opposite side of the park. There she halted, and I was only just in time to draw back in the shadow and hide myself.

I watched, and a few minutes later I was startled at hearing that peculiar whistle of Shaw's, and next moment he emerged from the wood and joined her.

"Well, what's the fear?" I heard him ask her quickly. "I had your wire this morning, and got to Bath by the last train. Couldn't you have written?"

"No; it was highly dangerous," was her low response; and then she uttered some quick explanation which I could not catch.

Was it possible that she had learnt of Tramu's visit, for I distinctly heard him cry--

"You fool! Why did you bring me here? Why weren't you more wary?"

But in her reply she turned her back upon me, so that I could not distinguish her words.

They stood close together in the darkness, conversing in low tones, as though in earnest consultation, while I, holding my breath, strove in vain to catch their words.

The only other sound was the mournful hooting of an owl in the trees above; for the dead stillness of the night was now upon everything.

"Exactly," I heard the woman say. "My own opinion is that he suspects.

Therefore you must act quickly--as before."

"I--I am hesitating," the man's voice replied. "I can't bring myself to do it. I really can't!"

"Bosh! Then leave it to me," she urged, in a hard, rasping voice.

"You're becoming timid--chicken-hearted. It isn't like you, surely."

"I'm not timid," he protested. "Only I foresee danger--great danger."

"So do I--if you don't act promptly. Get her away from Bournemouth. Go anywhere else you like."

They were speaking of Asta! I strained my ears, but her further words were inaudible.

In a moment, however, I became conscious of a slight stealthy movement in the bushes near where I was standing, and turned my head quickly.

The next second I realised that only a few yards distant from me the dark figure of a man had come up through the undergrowth, but so carefully that he had made no noise.

He stood ten yards away, peering out at the pair, but all unconscious of my presence there. He was watching intently, and by his silhouette in the darkness I recognised the bearded face of none other than the great agent of the Paris Surete, Victor Tramu!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

IN THE NIGHT.

Fearing lest his quick eye should detect my presence, I stood there motionless as a statue.

The pair, in earnest conversation, suddenly strolled away over the fallen leaves at the edge of the wood, whereupon Tramu emerged silently from his hiding-place and crept after them, I being compelled to remain where I was.

So the French police had traced Shaw to his place of concealment!

I longed to give him warning, but was unable. What should I do? How should I act?