The Weapons of Mystery Part 18

CHAPTER XII

A MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE

Some one was knocking at the door.

"Who's there?"

"Tom Temple."

I sprang out of bed and let him in. He looked very grave, very worried.

Instantly everything flashed through my mind in relation to our terrible meeting of the night before.

"It's nine o'clock, Justin."

"Yes, Tom, I suppose it must be," I said confusedly; "but I have only just awoke."

"I thought I must come; I want to talk with you."

"Thank you, Tom; I am glad you have come."

"How are you this morning? Is your mind clear?"

"Fairly. Why?"

"I must have some conversation with you about last night. Everything is confusion. I can explain nothing."

"Neither can I."

He looked at me keenly and sighed. "Were you with Kaffar last night after he had so abominably insulted you and left the house?"

"I do not know."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No."

"No idea whatever?"

"Not the slightest."

"Justin, my friend, this looks very strange. Everything is terribly black, terribly suspicious."

I tried to tell him all I knew; tried to tell him of my mad pa.s.sion, and the scenes through which I seemed to go; but I could not. My mind refused to think, my tongue refused to speak, when that was the subject.

"I suppose Voltaire has told every one the circ.u.mstances of last night?"

I said at length.

"No."

"No one?"

"No one that will divulge anything. Every one else thinks that Kaffar has gone back to Egypt, as he said, and especially so as Voltaire has been making arrangements for his luggage to be sent to Cairo."

"This is astounding. I do not comprehend in the least; but, tell me, who is this some one to whom you or he has related last night's affair, and why was it done?"

"I do not know whether I ought to tell or no, but you are an old friend, and I cannot refuse. After I had come down from here last night, and fancying that every one had retired, for it was quite midnight, I, knowing I was too excited to sleep, made my way to the library. I had just reached the door when I heard voices. I wondered who could be up at that time of the night, but was not left to remain long in doubt."

"'Mr. Voltaire,' said a voice, 'you have been out looking for Mr. Blake; have you found him?'"

"'Mr. Blake is safe in bed before this, Miss Forrest--probably asleep,'

was his reply."

"Miss Forrest!" I cried. "Did she go to him?"

"Evidently," replied Tom. "Indeed, I found out afterwards that she had been very anxious. She had seen you go out, and watched Voltaire and me, who went in search of you, and would not retire until she knew your whereabouts."

"Well, what then?"

"I went into the room. I could not stand and play the eavesdropper. Miss Forrest seemed very glad to see me, and said eagerly--

"'I came down to ask whether you had found Mr. Blake. I am glad he is safe.'

"'And he must remain safe!' cried Voltaire.

"'Why?' asked Miss Forrest.

"'Miss Forrest,' cried Voltaire, vehemently, 'you have been deprived of your rest to-night in order to know about one who is guilty of what you English people call a foul crime, but which I call a deed that must be avenged.'

"'I do not understand you.'

"'Ah! Miss Forrest, we Easterns are not like you English people. You are cool and considerate; we are warm and impulsive. Kaffar was not one that could be loved by you cold people; but I loved him. We were more than brothers. I know he was faulty, I know he dared the anger of your English giant, but I did not think it would come to this.'

"'Come to what?' she asked eagerly.

"'Voltaire,' I said, 'is this quite fair?'

"'No, no!' he cried; 'but I am so excited that I can scarcely master myself. I will say no more.'

"'Come to what?' repeated Miss Forrest.

"'I will not say,' replied Voltaire. 'I will not wound your tender nature; I will not tell you a tale of villainy; I will not cause a ripple on the even stream of your life. Retire to rest, sweet lady, and think that what I have said is a dream.'

"'Villainy!' cried she. 'Tell me what it is. Yes, there is villainy, I think. I will be answered! Tell me the truth!'

"Even Voltaire was cowed by her words. He stood and looked at her for a minute as if in doubt what to do. Then he burst out pa.s.sionately--