The Crimson Blind

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"I fancy so," Bell said, quietly. "Two nights ago, for instance, I showed
the very picture lying before you to a lady of your acquaintance, Miss
Enid Henson. I couldn't have had _your_ picture two nights ago, could I?
And Miss Henson was graciously pleased to observe that I had been made
the victim of a vile conspiracy."

"Why do you insult me by mentioning that name?" Littimer said, hoarsely.
His face was very pale, and sombre anger smouldered in his eyes. "Tell me
you showed the thing to my wife next."

"I did," said Bell, coolly. "Lady Littimer was in the room at the time."

Something like a groan escaped from Littimer's pallid lips. The
smouldering light in his eyes flashed into flame. He advanced upon Bell
with a quivering, uplifted arm. Chris slipped swiftly out of the shade
and stood between the two men.

"Dr. Bell speaks the truth," she said. "And I am going to prove it."

Littimer dropped into a chair and gave way to silent laughter. His mood
had changed utterly. He lounged there, a cynical, amused man of the
world again.

"Upon my word, I am vastly obliged to you for your comedy," he said. "I
hope your salary as leading lady in Bell's company is a handsome one,
Miss Lee."

"Let us hope that it is more handsome than your manners, my lord," Chris
said, tartly. "I beg to remark that I have never seen Dr. Bell before.
Oh, yes, I have been listening to your conversation, because I expected
something of the kind. The Rembrandt was stolen some time before Dr. Bell
arrived here, and in due course I shall show you the thief. Lord
Littimer, I implore you to be silent and discreet in this matter. Have a
little patience. Quite by accident I have made an important discovery,
but this is hardly the place to discuss it. Before daylight I hope to be
able to prove beyond question that you have greatly wronged Dr. Bell."

"I shall be glad to be convinced of it," Littimer said, sincerely. "But
why this secrecy?"

"Secrecy is absolutely necessary for the conviction of the thief."

Bell looked eagerly at the speaker.

"I have not the remotest notion who this young lady is," he said, "but I
am greatly obliged to her."

"My secretary, Miss Lee," Littimer murmured; "an American from Boston,
and evidently a great deal cleverer than I gave her credit for, which
is saying a great deal. Miss Lee, if you know anything, I implore you
to speak."

"Not here," Chris said, firmly. "Stone walls have ears. I tell you the
Rembrandt was stolen just before Dr. Bell reached the house. Also I tell
you it is imperative that nobody but ourselves must know the fact for the
present. You trust me, Lord Littimer?"

"I trust you as implicitly as I do anybody."

Chris smiled at the diplomatic response. She approached the panel of the
wall on which the Rembrandt had been fastened. She indicated the long
steel stays which had been clamped on to the iron frame. "Look at them,"
she said. "It was my suggestion that the stays should be attached to the
frame to prevent anything like this robbery. I made the stays secure
myself. And what happened to justify my prudence? Why, the very same
night somebody came here after the picture."

"Henson!" Littimer cried. "Ah! But he could have come openly."

"It is not in the nature of the man to do things openly," Chris went on.
"I know more about the man than you imagine, but that you are to keep to
yourself. He comes here in the dead of the night and he gets into the
house through an upstair window. A man of his bulk, if you please! And
he comes here hot-foot and breathless at a time when common prudence
should have kept him in bed. Why? Because he knows that Dr. Bell has the
other Rembrandt and will come to prove it, and because he knows that if
he can steal the Littimer Rembrandt he can precipitate the very impasse
that he has brought about. But he could not steal the picture because it
was fast."

"You are a very clever young lady," Littimer said, drily. "You will tell
me next that you expected Henson to try this thing on."

"I did," Chris said, coolly. "I had a telegram to warn me so."

Littimer smiled. All this mystery and cleverness was after his own heart.
He lighted his cigarette and tendered his case in the friendliest
possible manner to Bell.

"Go on," he said, "I am deeply interested."

"I prefer not to go into details," Chris resumed. "All I ask you to do is
to be entirely guided by me when you have heard my story. I have admitted
to you that I knew when Henson was coming, and why am I interested?
Because it happens that Reginald Henson has greatly injured someone I
cared for deeply. Well, I fastened up the picture--he came. He sneaked in
like the thief that he was because his accomplice and tool had failed to
save him the trouble. Lord Littimer, I will not pain you by saying who
Henson's accomplice was."

Littimer nodded gloomily.

"Not that I blame that accomplice; he could not help himself. Ah, when
the whole truth comes to be told, what a black business it will be. Well,
Henson came to steal the picture and I caught him in the act. If you had
seen his fat, greasy, crestfallen face! Then he pretended that it was all
done for a jest and as a warning to Lord Littimer. And Lord Littimer, the
most cynical of men, allowed it to pass."

"I couldn't see what he had to gain," Littimer pleaded. "I don't now, as
a matter of fact."

"Neither will you for the present," said Chris. "Still, you will be so
good as to assume the same hospitality and courtesy towards Henson as you
extend at present."

"I daresay I can manage it," said Littimer, cynically. "I used to be a
society man once."

"Henson did not deceive me for a moment," Chris went on. "He was bound to
have the picture, and, being baffled one way, he tried another. Look
here, Lord Littimer. Let me assume for a moment that Dr. Bell came down
here to steal your picture, get rid of the frame, and palm off your own
engraving for another. Now, in the name of common sense, let me ask you a
single question. Could Dr. Bell have possibly known that the frame of the
Rembrandt was securely fastened to the wall and that I had attached it
quite recently? And could he in the short time at his disposal have
procured the necessary tools to cut away the stays? Again, Dr. Bell can
prove, I suppose, exactly what time he left London to-day. No, we must
look farther for the thief."

"There is something else also we have to look for," said Dr. Bell. "And
that is the frame. You say it was of iron and consequently heavy. The
thief would discard the frame and roll up the print."

"That is a brilliant suggestion," said Chris, eagerly. "And if we only
had the frame I could set Lord Littimer's doubts to rest entirely. I
happen to know that the real thief came and went by the cliff under the
terrace. If the frame was thrown into the gorse, there it--"

"Might stay for ages," Littimer exclaimed. "By Jove, I'm just in the mood
to carry this business a stage or two farther before I go to bed. Bell,
there are two or three cycle lamps in the gun-room. You used to be a
pretty fearless climber. What do you say to a hunt round for an hour or
two whilst the house is quiet?"

Bell assented eagerly. Chris waited with what patience she could command
till daylight began to show faintly and redly in the east. Then she heard
the sound of voices outside, and Littimer and Bell staggered in carrying
the frame between them.

"Got it," Littimer exclaimed, with the triumphant exultation of a
schoolboy who has successfully looted a rare bird's-nest. "We found it
half-way down the cliff, hidden behind a patch of samphire. And it
doesn't seem to be any the worse for the adventure. Now, Miss Wiseacre,
seeing that we have the frame, perhaps you will fulfil your promise of
convincing me, once and for all, that yonder Rembrandt cannot possibly
belong to me."

"I am going to do so," Chris said, quietly. "You told me you had to cut
the margin of your print by an inch or so round to fit that quaint old
frame. So far as I can see, the print before you is quite intact. Now, if
it is too large for the frame--"

Littimer nodded eagerly. Bell fitted the dingy paper to the back of the
frame and smiled. There was an inch or more to spare all round. Nobody
spoke for a moment.

"You could make it smaller, but you couldn't make it bigger," Littimer
said. "Bell, when I have sufficiently recovered I'll make a humble and
abject apology to you. And now, wise woman from the West, what is the
next act in the play?"

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE PUZZLING OF HENSON

Chris smiled with the air of one who is perfectly satisfied with her
work.

"For the present I fancy we have done enough," she said. "I want to go to
bed now, and I want you both to do the same. Also I shall be glad if you
will come down in the morning as if nothing had happened. Tell Reginald
Henson casually that you have been convinced that you have done Dr. Bell
a grave injustice, and give no kind of particulars. And please treat Mr.
Henson in the same fashion as before. There is only one other thing."

"Name it, and it is yours," Littimer cried.

"Well, cut the margin off that print, or at any rate turn the margin
down, fit it into the frame, and hang it up as if nothing had happened."

Littimer looked at Chris with a puzzled expression for a moment, and then
his features relaxed into a satyr-like grin.

"Capital," he said, "I quite understand what you mean. And I must be
there to see it, eh?--yes, I must be there to see. I would not miss it
for strawberry leaves."

The thing was done and the picture restored to its place. Bell drew Chris
aside for a moment.

"Do you rise early in the morning?" he asked, meaningly.

"Always," Chris replied, demurely. "I find the terrace charming before
breakfast. Good-night."

Bell was down betimes despite the fact that it had been daylight before
he was in bed. Along the terrace, looking over the cliffs, Chris was
already walking, a great cluster of red and yellow roses in her hand. She
looked as fresh and bright as if she and excitement were strangers. All
the same she seemed to avoid Bell's eyes.

"Isn't it lovely here?" she exclaimed. "And these roses with the dew
still upon them. Well, Dr. Bell, have you made fresh discoveries?"

"I have discovered that Henson is going to take his breakfast in bed,"
Bell said gravely. "Also that he requires a valet at half-past ten. At
that time I hope to be in the corridor with Lord Littimer and yourself.
Also I have made a further discovery."

"And what is that, Dr. Bell?"

"That you and I have met before--once before when I attended you in a
kind of official capacity, and when I behaved in a distinctly
discreditable professional manner. Dr. Walker was present. Dr. Walker
seems to have been singularly short-sighted."

The roses fell from Chris's hands on to the path. Her face had grown very
pale indeed; there was a frightened, appealing look in her eyes.

"Dr. Bell," she gasped, "do you suppose that anybody else knows--Henson,
for instance? And I imagined that I had utterly deceived him!"

Bell smiled meaningly.

"I don't think you need have the slightest anxiety on that score," he
said. "You see, Henson is comfortably assured that you are dead and
buried. Whereas I know all about it. Fortunately for me, I became mixed
up in this strange business on behalf of my friend, David Steel;
indeed, but for Steel, I should probably have given you away to our
friend Walker."

"But surely you guessed that--"

"Not for the moment. You see, it was only a few minutes before that a
flood of interesting light had been let in upon Henson's character by
your sister to me, and my first idea was that Henson was poisoning you
for some purpose of his own. Subsequently Steel told me all about that
side of the story on our way back to Brighton."

"How did you penetrate my disguise?"

"My dear young lady, I have not penetrated your disguise. Your disguise
is perfect--so quaint and daringly original--and would deceive even
Henson's eyes. I guessed who you were directly I found that you were
taking a philanthropic interest in our friend. It came to me by a kind of
intuition, the knack that stood me in such good stead in my professional
days. When you said that you had been warned of Henson's coming by
telegram I was certain."

"Then perhaps you guessed that Enid sent me the telegram?"

"That was obvious. Also it was obvious that Henson brought Frank
Littimer along."

"Oh, he did. It was Frank's mission to steal the picture. I confronted
him with a revolver and locked him in one of the bedrooms. It took all my
courage and good resolutions to prevent me from betraying myself to the
poor fellow."

"Rather cruel of you, wasn't it?"

"Well, yes. But I wanted to make the exposure as complete as possible.
When the time comes to strip Reginald Henson of his pretentions and flog
him from the family, the more evidence we can pile up the better. But
Frank is not bad; he is merely weak and utterly in the power of that
man. If we can only break the bonds, Frank will be a powerful factor on
our side."

"I daresay. But how was the Rembrandt stolen? Littimer's, I mean."

"It was worked through an accomplice," Chris explained. "It had to be
done before you arrived. And there was no better time than night for the
operation. I guessed that when Henson drew the fact from me that I liked
the terrace after dinner. By a bit of good luck I found the accomplice
and himself together in the day; in fact, I forced Reginald's hand so
that he had to introduce me to the man."

"In which case you would know him again?"

"Of course. Presently I am going to show you a little more of the comedy.
Well, I was on the terrace pretty late when I heard dear Reginald down
the cliff calling for assistance. He pretended that he had slipped down
the cliff and could not get up again. By the aid of a rope that
fortunately happened to be close at hand I saved our dear friend's life.
I have learnt from one of the gardeners just now that Reginald placed the
rope there himself--a most effective touch, you must admit."

"Very," Bell said, drily. "But I quite fail to see why--"

"I am coming to that. Don't you see that if anything happened Reginald
could prove that he was not near the house at the time? But just before
that I saw his accomplice come up the cliff; indeed, he passed quite
close to me on his way to the house. Reginald quite overlooked this fact
in his heed for his own safety. When I had effected my gallant rescue I
heard an owl hoot. Now, there are no owls about here.

"I guessed what that meant--it was a signal of success. Then I went back
to the corridor and the Rembrandt was gone. The stays had been cut away.
At first I was dreadfully upset, but the more I thought of it the more
sure I was that it was all for the best."

"But you might have raised an alarm and caught the thief, who--"

"Who would have been promptly disclaimed by Reginald. Let me tell you,
sir, that I have the thief and the lost Rembrandt in the hollow of my
hands. Before the day is out I shall make good my boast. And there's the
breakfast bell."

It looked quite natural some time later for the three conspirators to be
lounging about the gallery when Henson emerged from his bedroom. He
appeared bright and smiling, and most of the bandages had been removed
from his throat. All the same he was not pleased to see Bell there; he
gazed uneasily at the doctor and from him to Littimer.

"You know Bell," the latter said, carelessly. "Fact is, there's been a
great mistake."

Bell offered him his hand heartily. It cost him a huge effort, but the
slimy scoundrel had to be fought with his own weapons. Henson shook his
head with the air of a man extending a large and generous meed of
forgiveness. He sought in vain to read Bell's eyes, but there was a
steady, almost boyish, smile in them.

"I indeed rejoice," he said, unctuously. "I indeed
rejoice--rejoice--rejoice!"

He repeated the last word helplessly; he seemed to have lost all his
backbone, and lapsed into a flabby, jellified mass of quivering white
humanity. His vacant, fishy eyes were fixed upon the Rembrandt in a kind
of dull, sleepy terror.

"I'm not well," he gasped. "Not so strong as I imagined. I'll--I'll go
and lie down again. Later on I shall want a dogcart to drive me to
Moreton Wells. I--"

He paused again, glanced at the picture, and passed heavily to his room.
Littimer smiled.

"Splendid," he said. "It was worth thousands just to see his face."

"All the same," Chris said, quietly; "all the same, that man is not to
leave for Moreton Wells till I've had a clear hour's start of him. Dr.
Bell will you accompany me?"

CHAPTER XXXV

CHRIS HAS AN IDEA

Lord Littimer polished his rarely used eye-glass carefully and favoured
Chris with a long, admiring stare. At the same time he was wondering why
the girl should have taken such a vivid interest in Reginald Henson and
his doings. For some years past it had been Littimer's whim to hold up
Henson before everybody as his successor, so far as the castle went. He
liked to see Henson's modest smirk and beautiful self-abasement, for in
sooth his lordship had a pretty contempt for the man who hoped to succeed
him. But the will made some time ago by Littimer would have come as a
painful shock to the philanthropist.

"It is a very pretty tangle as it stands," he said. "Miss Lee, let me
compliment you upon your astuteness in this matter. Only don't tell me
you schemed your way here, and that you are a lady detective. I read a
good many novels, and I don't like them."

"You may be easy on that score," Chris laughed. "I am not a lady
detective. All the same, I have defeated Mr. Reginald Henson."

"You think he is at the bottom of the mystery of the other Rembrandt."

"I am certain of it; unless you like to believe in the truth of his
charming scheme to give you a lesson, as he called it. As a matter of
fact, Mr. Henson discovered the existence of the other print; he
discovered that Dr. Bell possessed it--the rest I leave to your own
astuteness. You saw his face just now?"

"Oh, yes. It was a fine study in emotions. If you could find the other
picture--"

"I hope to restore it to you before the day has passed."

Littimer applauded, gently. He was charmed, he said, with the whole
comedy. The first two acts had been a brilliant success. If the third was
only as good he would regard Miss Lee as his benefactor for ever. It was
not often that anybody intellectually amused him; in fact, he must add
Miss Lee to his collection.

"Then you must play a part yourself," Chris said, gaily. "I am going into
Moreton Wells, and Dr. Bell accompanies me. Mr. Henson is not to know
that we have gone, and he is not to leave the house for a good hour or so
after our departure. What I want is a fair start and the privilege of
bringing a guest home to dinner."

"Vague, mysterious, and alluring," Littimer said. "Bring the guest by all
means. I will pledge my diplomacy that you have a long start. Really, I
don't know when I have enjoyed myself so much. You shall have the big
waggonette for your journey."

"And join it beyond the lodge-gates," Chris said, thoughtfully. "Dr.
Bell, you shall stroll through the park casually; I will follow as
casually later on."

A little later Henson emerged from his room dressed evidently for a
journey. He looked flabby and worried; there was an expression very like
fear in his eyes. The corridor was deserted as he passed the place where
the Rembrandt hung. He paused before the picture in a hesitating,
fascinated way. His feet seemed to pull up before it involuntarily.

"What does it mean?" he muttered. "What in the name of fate has happened?
It is impossible that Merritt could have played me a trick like that; he
would never have dared. Besides, he has too much to gain by following my
instructions. I fancy--"

Henson slipped up to the picture as a sudden idea came to him. If the
picture had not been removed at all the stays would still be intact. And
if they were intact Merritt was likely to have a bad quarter of an hour
later on. It would be proof that--

But the stays were not intact. The heads had been shaved off with some
cutting instrument; the half of the stays gleamed like silver in the
morning light. And yet the Rembrandt was there. The more Henson dwelt
upon it the more he was puzzled. He began to wonder whether some deep
trap was being laid for him.

But, no, he had seen no signs of it. In some way or another Bell had
managed to ingratiate himself with Littimer again, but not necessarily
for long, Henson told himself, with a vicious grin. Nor was Littimer the
kind of man who ever troubled himself to restrain his feelings. If he had
got to the bottom of the whole business he would have had Henson kicked
out of the house without delay.

But Littimer suspected nothing. His greeting just now showed that Bell
suspected nothing, because he had shaken hands in the heartiest manner
possible. And as for Miss Lee, she was no more than a smart Yankee girl,
and absolutely an outsider.

Still, it was dreadfully puzzling. And it was not nice to be puzzled at a
time when the arch-conspirator ought to know every move of the game.
Therefore it became necessary to go into Moreton Wells and see Merritt
without delay. As Henson crossed the hall the cheerful voice of Littimer
hailed him.

"Reginald," he cried, "I want your assistance and advice."

With a muttered curse Henson entered the library. Littimer was seated
at a table, with a cigarette in his mouth, his brows drawn over a mass
of papers.

"Sit down and have a cigar," he said. "The fact is I am setting my
affairs in order--I am going to make a fresh will. If you hadn't come
down last night I should probably have sent for you. Now take my
bank-book and check those figures."

"Shall we be long?" Henson asked, anxiously.

Littimer tartly hoped that Henson could-spare him an hour. It was not
usual, he said, for a testator to be refused assistance from the chief
benefactor under his will. Henson apologized, with a sickly smile. He had
important business of a philanthropic kind in Moreton Wells, but he had
no doubt that it could wait for an hour. And then for the best part of
the morning he sat fuming politely, whilst Littimer chattered in the most
amiable fashion. Henson had rarely seen him in a better mood. It was
quite obvious that he suspected nothing. Meanwhile Chris and Bell were
bowling along towards Moreton Wells. They sat well back in the roomy
waggonette, so that the servants could not hear them. Chris regarded Bell
with a brilliant smile on her face.

"Confess," she said, "confess that you are consumed with curiosity."

"It would be just as well to acknowledge it at once," Bell admitted. "In
the happy old days your sister Enid always said that you were the clever
and audacious one of the family. She said you would do or dare anything."

"I used to imagine so," Chris said, more quietly. "But the life of the
last few years tried one's nerves terribly. Still, the change has done me
a deal of good--the change and the knowledge that Reginald Henson regards
me as dead. But you want to know how I am going to get the Rembrandt?"

"That is what is consuming me at present," Bell said.

"Well, we are going to see the man who has it," Chris explained, coolly.
"I have his address in Moreton Wells at the present moment, and for the
rest he is called the Rev. James Merritt. Between ourselves he is no more
a reverend than you are."

"And if the gentleman is shy or refuses to see us?"

"Then he will be arrested on a charge of theft."

"My dear young lady, before you can get a warrant for that kind of thing
you have to prove the theft, you have to swear an information to the
effect that you believe the property is in the possession of the thief,
and that is not easy."

"There is nothing easier. I am prepared to swear that cheerfully."

"That you actually know that the property is in the possession of
the thief?"

"Certainly I do. I saw him put it in his pocket."

Bell looked at the speaker with blank surprise. If such was the fact,
then Chris's present statement was exactly opposed to all that she had
said before. She sat opposite to Bell, with a little gleam of mischief in
her lovely eyes.

"You saw that man steal the Rembrandt?" Bell gasped.

"Certainly not. But I did see him steal my big diamond star and put it in
his pocket. And I can swear an information on _that_."

"I see that you have something interesting to tell me," Bell said.

"Oh, indeed, I have. We will hark back now to the night before last,
when Reginald Henson made his personal attempt to obtain the Rembrandt
and then played the trick upon you that was so very near to being a
brilliant success."

"It would have been but for you," Bell murmured.

"Well, really, I am inclined to think so. And perhaps Lord Littimer would
have given you in custody on a second charge of theft. If he had done so
it would have gone hard with you to prove your innocence. But I am
wandering from the point. Henson failed. But he was going to try again. I
watched him carefully yesterday and managed to see his letters and
telegrams. Then I found that he had telegraphed to James Merritt, whose
address in Moreton Wells I carefully noted down. It did not require much
intellect to grasp the fact that this Merritt was to be the accomplice in
the new effort to steal the picture, Mr. Merritt came over and saw his
chief, with whom he had a long conversation in the grounds. I also forced
myself on Mr. Merritt's notice.

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