The Great Secret

E >> E. Phillips Oppenheim >> The Great Secret

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Mr. Blumentein was a man of less than medium height, with grey hair and
beard, powerfully built and with a sleek, well-groomed appearance. Hat in
hand, and with many bows and smiles, he addressed a few remarks to the
lady, who answered him courteously, but with obvious condescension. Then
he came on to me, and his manner was very different indeed. The dapper
little clerk, who had pointed me out, slipped away.

"Mr. Courage?" he inquired; "you wished to speak to me."

I handed him the typewritten communication which I had received.

"I wish for some explanation of this," I said.

He glanced at it, and shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot permit such
proceedings as took place last night in this hotel," he said. "I can find
no trace of the two persons whom you described as having broken into your
room, and I am not at all satisfied with the explanations which have been
given."

"Indeed," I answered. "I can assure you that I find the situation equally
unsatisfactory. I come here in the ordinary way as a casual guest. My
room is broken into in the middle of the night. I myself am assaulted,
and another man, a stranger to me, is nearly murdered. If any
explanations or apologies are due at all, I consider that they are due to
me."

Mr. Blumentein edged a little away.

"You should consider yourself exceedingly fortunate," he declared, "to be
spared the inconvenience of a police inquiry. My directors dislike very
much any publicity given to brawls of this sort in the hotel, or you
might find yourself in a somewhat awkward position. I have nothing more
to say about it."

He would have moved away, but I stood directly in front of him.

"It happens that I have," I said. "I am not a thief or an adventurer, and
my bona-fides are easily established. I am a magistrate in two counties;
Sir Gilbert Hardross, who is a patron of your restaurant, is my cousin,
and I expect him here to call for me within half an hour. I am up in town
to play for my County against the M.C.C. at Lord's; I am a person who is
perfectly well known, and my word as to what happened last night will be
readily accepted. If you do not alter your tone at once, I shall take a
cab to Scotland Yard, and insist upon a complete investigation into the
affairs of last night."

There was no doubt as to the effect of my words upon Mr. Blumentein. He
was seriously perturbed, and wholly unable to conceal it.

"You can prove what you say, Mr. Courage, I suppose?" he remarked
hesitatingly.

"Absolutely!" I answered; "look in this week's _Graphic_. You will see a
photograph of me in the Medchestershire Cricket Team. Come into my room,
and I will show you as many letters and papers as you please. Do you know
that gentleman?"

"Certainly!" Mr. Blumentein answered, bowing low. "Good morning, Sir
Charles!"

A young man in a flannel suit and straw hat sauntered up to us. He nodded
condescendingly to the hotel manager, and shook hands with me.

"How are you, Courage?" he said. "I'm coming down to Lord's this
afternoon to see the match."

He passed on. Mr. Blumentein was distinctly nervous.

"Will you do me the favor to come down to my room for a moment, Mr.
Courage?" he begged. "I should like to speak to you in private."

I followed him down into his office. He closed the door, and set his hat
down upon the desk.

"I have caused the strictest inquiries to be made, and I have been unable
to obtain the slightest trace either of the man whom you say took shelter
in your room, or the two others you spoke of. Under those circumstances,
you will understand that your story did not sound very probable."

"Perhaps not," I admitted; "but I don't know what your night-porter could
have been about, if he really saw nothing of them. I can give you a
detailed description of all three if you like."

"One moment," Mr. Blumentein said, taking up pen and paper. "Now, if you
please!"

I described the three men to the best of my ability, and Mr. Blumentein
took down carefully all that I said.

"I will have the fullest inquiries made," he promised, "and let you know
the result. In the meantime, I trust that you will consider the letter I
wrote you this morning unwritten. You will doubtless prefer to leave the
hotel after what has happened, but another time, I trust that we may be
honored by your patronage."

I hesitated for a moment. It was clear that the man wanted to get rid of
me. For the first time, the idea of remaining in the hotel occurred to
me.

"I will consider the matter," I answered. "In the meantime, I hope you
will have inquiries made at once. The man who took refuge in my room was
in a terrible state of fright, and from what I saw of the other two,
I am afraid you may find this a more serious affair than you have any
idea of. By the bye, one of the two told me that they had engaged every
room in that corridor. You may be able to trace him by that."

Mr. Blumentein shrugged his shoulders.

"That statement, at any rate, was a false one," he said. "All the rooms
in the vicinity of yours were occupied by regular customers."

Now, in all probability, if Mr. Blumentein had looked me in the face
when he made this last statement, I should have left the hotel within
half an hour or so for good, and the whole episode, so far as I was
concerned, would have been ended. But I could not help noticing a
somewhat unaccountable nervousness in the man's manner, and it flashed
into my mind suddenly that he knew a good deal more than he meant to tell
me. He was keeping something back. The more I watched him, the more I
felt certain of it. I determined not to leave the hotel.

"Well," I said, "we will look upon the whole affair last night as a
misunderstanding. I will keep on my room for to-night, at any rate. I
shall be having some friends to dine in the restaurant."

The man's face expressed anything but pleasure.

"Just as you like, Mr. Courage," he said. "Of course, if, under the
circumstances, you preferred to leave us, we should quite understand it!"

"I shall stay for to-night, at any rate," I answered. "I am only up for a
day or two."

He walked with me to the door. I hesitated for a moment, and then asked
him the question which had been in my mind for some time.

"By the bye, Mr. Blumentein," I said, "if it is a permissible question,
may I ask the name of the young lady with whom you were talking in the
hall just now--a young lady with a French maid and a Japanese spaniel?"

Mr. Blumentein was perceptibly paler. His eyes were full of suspicion,
almost fear.

"Why do you ask me that?" he inquired sharply.

"Out of curiosity, I am afraid," I answered readily. "I am sorry if I
have been indiscreet!"

The man made an effort to recover his composure. I could see, though,
that, for some reason, my question had disquieted him.

"The lady's name is Miss Van Hoyt," he said slowly. "I believe that she
is of a very well-known American family. She came here with excellent
recommendations; but, beyond her name, I really know very little about
her. Nothing more I can do for you, Mr. Courage?"

"Nothing at all, thank you," I answered, moving towards the door.

"They have just telephoned down to say that a gentleman has called for
you--Sir Gilbert Hardross, I believe."

I nodded and glanced at the clock.

"Thanks!" I said, "I must hurry."

"I will reserve a table for you in the restaurant to-night, sir," Mr.
Blumentein said, bowing me out.

"For three, at eight o'clock," I answered.

CHAPTER IV

A MATCH AT LORD'S

My cousin, Gilbert Hardross, was eight years older than I, and of
intensely serious proclivities. He was, I believe, a very useful member
of the House, and absolutely conscientious in the discharge of what he
termed his duty to his constituents. We drove down together to Lord's,
and knowing him to be a person almost entirely devoid of imagination, I
forbore to make any mention of the events of the previous night. One
question, however, I did ask him.

"What sort of an hotel is the Universal supposed to be, Gilbert? Rather a
queer lot of people staying there, I thought."

My cousin implied by a gesture that he was not surprised.

"Very cosmopolitan indeed," he declared. "It is patronized chiefly, I
believe, by a certain class of Americans and gentlemen of the sporting
persuasion. The restaurant, of course, is good, and a few notabilities
stay there now and then. I should have thought the Carlton would have
suited you better."

I changed the subject.

"How are politics?" I asked.

He looked at me as though in reproach at the levity of my question.

"You read the papers, I suppose?" he remarked. "You know for yourself
that we are passing through a very critical time. Never," he added,
"since I have been in the House, have I known such a period of anxiety."

Considering that Gilbert represented a rural constituency, and that his
party was not even in office, I felt inclined to smile. However, I took
him seriously.

"Same old war scare, I suppose?" I remarked.

"It has been a 'scare' for a good many years," he replied seriously.
"People seem inclined to forget that behind the shadow all the time there
is the substance. I happen to know that there is a great deal of tension
just now at the Foreign Office!"

"Things seem pretty much as they were six months ago," I remarked. "There
is no definite cause for alarm, is there?"

"No definite cause, perhaps, that we know of," my cousin answered; "but
there is no denying the fact that an extraordinary amount of apprehension
exists in the best informed circles. As Lord Kestelen said to me
yesterday, one seems to feel the thunder in the air."

I was thoughtful for a moment. Perhaps, after all, I was inclined to envy
my cousin. My own life was a simple and wholesome one enough, but it was
far removed indeed from the world of great happenings. Just then, I felt
the first premonitions of dissatisfaction.

"I believe I'm sorry after all, that I didn't go in for a career of some
sort," I remarked.

My cousin looked gratified. He accepted my regret as a tribute to his own
larger place in the world.

"In some respects," he admitted, "it is regrettable. Yet you must
remember that you are practically the head of the family. I have the
title, but you have the estates and the money. You should find plenty to
do!"

I nodded.

"Naturally! That isn't exactly what I meant, though. Here we are, and by
Jove, I'm late!"

My cousin cared for cricket no more than for any other sports, but
because he represented Medchestershire, he made a point of coming to see
his County play. He took up a prominent position in the pavilion
enclosure, and requested me to inform the local reporters, who had come
up from Medchester, of his presence. I changed into my flannels quickly,
and was just in time to go out into the field with the rest of the team.

The morning's cricket was not particularly exciting, and I had hard work
to keep my thoughts fixed upon the game. Our bowling was knocked about
rather severely, but wickets fell with reasonable frequency. It was just
before luncheon time that the most surprising event of the day happened
to me. The captain of the M.C.C., who had just made his fifty, drove a
full pitch hard towards the boundary on the edge of which I was fielding.
By fast sprinting, and a lot of luck, I brought off the catch, and,
amidst the applause from the pavilion within a few feet of me, I heard my
cousin's somewhat patronizing congratulations:--

"Fine catch, Jim! Very fine catch indeed!"

I glanced round, and stood for a moment upon the cinder-path as though
turned to stone. My cousin, who had changed his seat, was smiling kindly
upon me a few yards away, and by his side, talking to him, was a young
lady with golden-brown hair, a French maid dressed in black, and a
Japanese spaniel. Her eyes met mine without any shadow of recognition.
She looked upon me from her raised seat, as though I were a performer in
some comedy being played for her amusement, in which she found it hard,
however, to take any real interest. I went back to my place in the field,
without any clear idea of whether I was upon my head or my heels, and my
fielding for the rest of the time was purely mechanical.

In about half an hour the luncheon bell rang. I made straight for my
cousin's seat, and, to my intense relief, saw that neither of them had as
yet quitted their places. Gilbert seemed somewhat surprised to see me!

"Well," he remarked, "you haven't done so badly after all. Five wickets
for 120 isn't it? You ought to get them out by four o'clock."

He hesitated. I glanced towards his companion, and he had no alternative.

"Miss Van Hoyt," he said, "will you allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr.
Hardross Courage?"

She bowed a little absently.

"Are you interested in cricket, Miss Van Hoyt?" I asked inanely.

"Not in the least," she answered. "I have a list somewhere--in my purse,
I think--of English institutions which must be studied before one can
understand your country-people. Cricket, I believe, is second on the
list. Your cousin was kind enough to tell me about this match, and how to
get here."

"We are staying at the same hotel, I think," I remarked.

"Very likely," she answered, "I am only in London for a short time. Is
the cricket over for the day now?"

I hastened to explain the luncheon arrangements. She rose at once.

"Then we will go," she said, turning to her maid and addressing her in
French. "Janette, we depart!"

The maid rose with suspicious alacrity. The spaniel yawned and looked at
me out of the corner of his black eye. I believe that he recognized me.

"Dare I ask you to honor us by lunching with my cousin and myself here,
Miss Van Hoyt?" I asked eagerly.

She smiled very slightly, but the curve of her lips was delightful.

"And see more cricket?" she asked. "No! I think not--many thanks all the
same!"

"I will put you in a hansom," my cousin said, turning towards her and
ignoring me.

She looked over her shoulder and nodded. The maid looked at me out of her
great black eyes, as though daring me to follow them, and, was it my
fancy, or did that little morsel of canine absurdity really show me its
white teeth on purpose? Anyhow, they strolled away, and left me there. I
waited for Gilbert.

He reappeared in about five minutes, with a hateful smirk upon his
well-cut but somewhat pasty features. I laid my hand upon his arm.

"Where did you meet her, Gilbert?" I asked. "Who is she? Where does she
come from? How long have you known her?"

"Gently, my dear fellow!" he answered calmly. "I met her at Lady
Tredwell's about a fortnight ago. I really know very little about her,
except that she seems a charming young lady."

"Where does she come from?" I asked--"what country, I mean? She speaks
like a foreigner!"

"Oh! she's American, of course," he told me--"a young American lady of
fortune, I believe."

"American," I repeated vaguely, "are you sure?"

"Perfectly!" he answered.

"Any relatives here?" I asked.

"None that I know of," he admitted.

"Any connection with the stage?"

"Certainly not! I told you that I met her at Lady Tredwell's."

We walked into the luncheon room in silence. Presently my cousin showed
signs of irritation.

"What the mischief are you so glum about?" he asked.

I looked up.

"I am not glum," I answered. "I was just thinking that the Hotel
Universal seemed rather a queer place for a young lady with a French
maid, a Japanese spaniel, and--no chaperon."

"You are an ass!" my cousin declared.

* * * * *

It was not until the evening that Gilbert unbent. When, however, he
studied the menu of the dinner which I had ordered for his delectation,
and learned that I had invited his particular friend, Lord Kestelen, to
meet him, he invited me to descend below to the American bar and take a
cocktail while we waited for our guest.

"By the bye, Jim," he remarked, slipping his arm through mine, "I thought
that Miss Van Hoyt was particularly inquisitive about you this morning."

"In what way?" I asked, at once interested.

"She wanted to know what you did--how you spent your time. When I told
her that you had no profession, that you did nothing except play cricket
and polo, and hunt and shoot, she seemed most unaccountably surprised.
She appeared almost incredulous when I told her that you seldom came to
London, and still more seldom went abroad. I wonder what she had in her
head?"

"I have no idea," I answered thoughtfully. "I suppose it was only
ordinary curiosity. In America all the men do something."

"That must be so, no doubt," my cousin admitted, "but it didn't sound
like it. I wonder whether we shall see her this evening?"

I did not wonder at all! It seemed to me that I knew!

CHAPTER V

ON THE TERRACE

It was not until after my guests had departed, and I had almost given up
hope, that I caught sight of her. She was seated at a table in the
writing-room, and was in the act of sealing a letter. She looked up as I
entered, and, after a second's hesitation, bowed coldly. I summoned up
all my pluck, however, and approached her.

"Good evening, Miss Van Hoyt!" I said.

"Good evening, Mr. Courage!" she answered, proceeding to stamp her
envelope.

"Have you been to the theatre?" I asked.

"Not this evening," she replied; "I have been to a meeting."

"A meeting!" I repeated; "that sounds interesting!"

"I doubt whether you would have found it so," she answered dryly.

Her manner, without being absolutely repellent, was far from encouraging.
I found myself in the embarrassing position of having nothing left to
say. I gave up all attempt at conversational philandering.

"May I talk to you for a few minutes, Miss Van Hoyt?" I asked.

She raised her head and looked at me meditatively. Her eyes were the
color of early violets, but they were also very serious and very steady.
She appeared to be deliberately taking stock of me, but I could not
flatter myself that there was anything of personal interest in her
regard.

"Yes!" she answered at last, "for a few minutes. Not here though. Go
through the drawing-room on to the terrace, and wait for me there. Don't
go at once. Go downstairs and have a drink or something first."

I could see her looking through the glass doors, and divining her wishes,
I turned away at once. Mr. Blumentein was standing there, looking upon
us. His smile was almost ghastly in its attempted cordiality. He took off
his hat as I passed, and we exchanged some commonplace remark. I went
downstairs and strolled up and down. The minutes passed ridiculously
slowly. I looked at my watch a dozen times. At last I decided that I had
waited long enough. I ascended the stairs, and made my way through the
drawing-room on to the terrace. The place was deserted, but I had
scarcely walked to the farther end, before I heard the soft trailing of a
woman's skirt close at hand. I looked up eagerly, and she stepped out
from the drawing-room. For a moment she hesitated. I remained motionless.
I could do nothing but look at her. She wore a black evening dress--net I
think it was, with deep flounces of lace. Her neck and arms were
dazzlingly white in the half light; her lips were a little parted as she
stood and listened. Her whole expression was natural, almost childlike.
Suddenly she dropped the curtain and came swiftly towards me.

"Well," she said softly, "now that I am here, what have you to say to
me?"

I was horribly tempted to say things which must have sounded unutterably
foolish. With an effort I restrained myself. I addressed her almost
coldly.

"Miss Van Hoyt," I said, "I want to know whether you are the only woman
in this hotel who uses--that perfume."

She took out her handkerchief. A little whiff of faint fragrance came
floating out from its crumpled lace.

"You recognize it?"

"Yes!"

"So much the better!" she declared. "Let me tell you this at once. I have
not come here to answer questions. I have come to ask them. Are you
content?"

"I am content--so long as you are here," I murmured.

"The man whom you protected last night--whose life you probably saved--on
your honor, was he a stranger to you?"

"On my honor he was," I answered gravely.

"You have never seen him before?"

"To my knowledge--no!"

"You have never spoken to him before?"

"Never!"

She drew a little sigh.

"Your defence of him then," she said, "was simply accidental?"

"Entirely!" I answered.

"Has he communicated with you since?"

"Not in any way," I assured her.

She drew a little away from me. Her eyes were still fixed eagerly upon my
face.

"Are you inclined to believe in me--to believe what I say?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I answered.

"Then listen to me now," she said. "That man, never mind his name, is one
of nature's criminals. He is a traitor, a renegade, a malefactor. He has
sinned against every law, he has written his own death-warrant. He
deserves to die, he will die! That is a certain thing. He would have been
dead before now, but for me! Do you know why I have made them spare his
life?"

"No!" I answered. "Who are they? and who is to be his executioner?
Surely, if he is all that you say there are laws under whose ban he must
have come. It is not safe to talk like this of life and death here. All
those things are arranged nowadays in the courts."

She smiled at me scornfully.

"Never mind that," she said. "You speak now of things which you do not
understand. I want to tell you why I would not let them kill him."

"Well?"

"It is because if he is killed the secret goes with him. Never mind how
he came by it, or who he is. It is sufficient for you to know that he has
it. Up to now, he has resisted even torture. You remember the color of
his hair? It went like that in a night, but he held out. Now he knows
that he is going to die, and he is seeking for some one to whom he may
pass it on."

"What is this secret then?" I asked, perplexed.

"Don't be absurd," she answered. "If I knew it, should I be likely to
tell it to you? I have an idea of the nature of it, of course. But that
is not enough."

"But--who is he then?" I asked. "How came he to obtain possession of it?"

"Now you are asking questions," she reminded me. "Believe me, you are
safer, very much safer knowing nothing. If I were your friend--"

She hesitated. All the time her eyes were fixed upon me. She seemed to be
trying to read the thoughts which were passing through my brain.

"If you were my friend," I repeated--"well?"

"I would give you some excellent advice," she said slowly.

"I am ready to take it!" I declared.

"On trust?"

"I believe so," I answered. "At least, you might give me the chance." She
sank down upon the settee at the extreme end of the terrace. There was
little chance here of being overheard, as we had a clear view of the only
approach.

"After all," she said, "I do not think that it would be worth while. You
belong to a class which I do not understand--which I do not pretend to
understand. The things which seemed reasonable to me would probably seem
banal to you. I am sure that it would be useless!"

"But why?" I persisted. "You have said so much, you must say more. I
insist!"

A little wearily she pushed back the masses of hair from her forehead.
Her head rested for a moment upon her fingers. Her eyes deliberately
sought mine.

"Let me warn you," she said; "I am not the sort of woman whom you know
anything about. The usual things do not attract me; I have never been in
love with a man. I hope that I never shall be. And yet I think that I
find my way a little further into life than most of my sex."

"You have other interests," I murmured.

"I have! What they are it is not for you to know. I am only interested in
your sex so far as they are useful to me. You, if you were a different
sort of man, might be very useful to me."

"At least give me the chance," I begged.

She shook her head.

"This morning," she said, "it seemed to me that I saw in one moment an
epitome of your life. I saw every nerve of your body strained, I saw you
wound up to a great effort. It was to catch a ball! You succeeded, I
believe."

I laughed a little awkwardly.

"Yes! I caught it!" I remarked. "Success is something after all, isn't
it?"

"I suppose so," she admitted. "Afterwards I spoke to your cousin about
you. He told me that you lived on your estates, that you played games
well, that you shot birds and rabbits, and sent to prison drunken men
and poachers. 'But about his life?' I asked. 'This is his life,' your
cousin answered. 'He has never gone in for a career!'"

"I suppose," I said slowly, "that this seems to you a very unambitious
sort of existence!"

"Existence!" she answered scornfully, "it does not seem like existence at
all! Your joys are the joys of a highly trained animal; your sorrows and
your passions and your disappointments--they are at best those of the
yokel. What has life to do with games and sports? These things may have
their place and their use, but to make them all in all! The men whom I
have met are not like that!"

"I am sorry," I said. "You see the other things have not come my way!"

"You mean that you have not been out to seek them," she declared. "The
pulse of the world beats only for those who care to feel it."

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