The Weapons of Mystery Part 33

I shall not try and relate what happened the next two days, except to say that I set Simon to watch every train that came into Turin station, while I did all I could to discover whether he were hiding in Turin.

Neither of us saw Kaffar, nor did we hear anything of him.

Monday night came. I had received no message from the lodging-house keeper, neither had I heard any news. The suspense was becoming terrible.

Six o'clock! Seven o'clock, and no news!

"Simon," I said, "go to that lodging-house and ask whether any message has been received."

The willing fellow, still with a smile on his face and a cheery look, started to do my bidding. I do not know how I should have borne up during those two terrible days, but for my faithful friend.

He had not been gone above half a minute before he came bounding back to my room.

"A message jist 'a come, yer honour!" he cried.

Eagerly I s.n.a.t.c.hed it, and read--"_Expect me home to-night by the midnight train.--KAFFAR._"

I caught up a time-table and anxiously scanned it. The telegram was from _Nice_. There was a train due from this fashionable seaport at 12.30.

The lodging-house keeper had kept his word, and Kaffar would be safe. It was become intensely real, intensely exciting!

Five hours to wait--five hours! Only those who have felt as I did can know what they meant.

At twelve o'clock I sent Simon to the station, while I went to the lodging-house to await Kaffar's arrival.

"Mr. Kaffar will have supper, I suppose?" I said to the proprietor of the house.

"Yes, I shall prepare supper."

"Where?"

"In his own room."

"Just so. Could you manage to put me in a room where I can see him at supper without being observed? I should like to enter quietly and give him a surprise."

"You mean nothing wrong?"

"On my honour, I do not."

"It is said," mused the Italian, "that an English gentleman's honour is like English cloth; it can always be depended on. The adjoining room is empty, sir."

"Thank you," I replied, while he led the way to the room.

I had not been there long before I heard some one enter with the landlord. The two rooms, like many we find in French hotels, could easily be made one, as a doorway led from one to the other. I had arranged my door to be slightly ajar, so was able to see.

The man with the landlord was Kaffar!

I found that Kaffar could not speak Italian. He spoke French enough to make himself understood, and, as his host was proficient in that language, French was the tongue in which they conversed.

"Has any one been asking for me?" asked Kaffar.

"Yes, sir."

"Who?"

"A gentleman from England."

"From England! What kind of a man?"

"A giant, with brown hair."

"A giant, with brown hair! Man, where is he now?"

"How can I say?" said the Italian.

Kaffar held down his head for a minute, and then said hastily, "And his message?"

"Something to your advantage, sir."

"My advantage? Can it be he? Did he give his name?"

"Herod Voltaire!"

"Voltaire! Never! He dare not come near me; I'm his master for many reasons--he dare not come! But--"

He checked himself, as if he were telling the Italian too much. The host then left the room, while Kaffar went on with his supper.

I opened the door noiselessly and went into the room, and said distinctly, "Good evening, Mr. Kaffar."

He looked up and saw me. Never, I think, did I see so much terror, astonishment, mingled with hate, expressed on a human face before.

He made a leap for the door. I caught him, and held him fast.

"No, Mr. Kaffar, you must not escape," I said, leading him back to his chair.

"You cannot--kill me--here!" he gasped. "I mean no wrong--to you. I--Ah, you've followed me for revenge."

For an answer I went to the door and locked it.

"Have mercy!" he said. "Don't kill me. I--you don't know all! Voltaire's your enemy, not I."

"You knew I was following you, did you?" I said.

"Yes. Voltaire said you were mad for my life; that you swore to be revenged; that you would pull me limb from limb! Ah, you do not know."

Surely I had found out the man's nature. He was a coward, and stood in deadly fear of me. He had been Voltaire's tool, who had frightened him to do his every bidding. Now I must use his fear of me to make him do my will.

"Well, I have found you out," I said. "You thought you would master me, didn't you?"