The Crimson Blind

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"A most unpleasant incident," he remarked. "But these things will happen,
you know. We have been so busy lately, and our vigilance has been
slightly relaxed. Oh, it is impossible to guard against everything, but
he is certain to be found."

"You don't think," David suggested, "that anybody secretly connected with
the man's past--"

"No, I don't," Cross snapped; "that would be impossible. The man had
something on his mind, and so far as bodily condition was concerned he
was getting quite strong again. In his dazed state he got up and dressed
himself and went away. He seems to have been seeking for somebody or
something for days. We are certain to have him again before long."

With which poor consolation David returned home again. He was restless
and desirous of human companionship. He even resented it, as a kind of
affront, that his mother had chosen at this time to go to Hassocks to
stay with an old friend for a couple of days. That Mrs. Steel knew
practically nothing of her son's trouble counted for naught. Therefore it
was with something akin to pleasure that David found Ruth Gates waiting
in the drawing-room for him when he came in from his walk on the
following afternoon. Nothing had been heard of Van Sneck in the meantime,
but thanks to Chris's telephone message late the previous night he had
got in touch with Bell, who was coming south without delay.

There was a look of shy pleasure in Ruth's eyes and a deep carmine flush
on her cheeks.

"You don't think that this is very bold of me?" she asked.

"I am pretty Bohemian in any case," David laughed, as he looked down
fondly into the shy, sweet eyes. "And I'm too overjoyed to see you to
think about anything else. I wish my mother was at home. No, I don't,
because I have you all to myself."

"David! On an occasion like this you ought to be the pink of propriety.
Do you know, I believe that I have made a great discovery?"

"Indeed, little girl! And what have you found out?"

"Well, you must tell me something before my discovery seems valuable.
David, you are a close student of human nature. Is it possible for men of
phenomenal cunning to make careless mistakes? Do the most clever
criminals ever make childish blunders?"

"My dear child, if they didn't the police would have very little chance.
For instance, I have discovered how those enemies of ours got hold of the
notepaper that lured Van Sneck here. They sent a messenger to Carter's,
in East Street, presumedly knowing that my dies were there, and ordered a
quarter of a ream of paper and envelopes. These were to be sent to an
address in East Grinstead in a hurry. Now, that was very clever and
smart, but here comes the folly. Those people, in the stress of business,
actually forgot to ascertain the cost and pay for the paper, so that it
was down yesterday in my last quarter's bill. Oh, yes, I assure you, the
most brilliant criminals do the most incredibly foolish things."

Ruth looked relieved. Her pretty features relaxed into a smile.

"Then I fancy Reginald Henson has done so," she said. "I fancy I have
solved the mystery of the cigar-case--I mean, the mystery of the one
I bought."

"And which was changed for the one purchased at Walen's, hence these
tears. But Lockharts say that _our_ case was really purchased by an
American."

"Yes, I know. And I fancy that the manager honestly thought so. But I
think I can explain that."

It was David's turn to look up eagerly.

"Do you mean it?" he exclaimed. "It will make a wonderful difference if
you can. That has been one of the most bewildering knots of the whole
puzzle. If we could only trace the numbers of those notes, I suppose
changed at the same time as the cigar-case."

"Indeed they were not," Ruth cried. "I have ascertained that the case was
changed by Henson, as you and I have already decided. Henson made the
exchange not at the time we thought."

"Not when you left the package on the table for him to see?"

"No; at least I can't say. He had the other case then, probably, passed
on to him by Van Sneck. Or perhaps he merely ascertained what I had
purchased. That was sufficient for his purpose. Of course he must have
found out all about our scheme. After I had laid my cigar-case on your
doorstep a man quietly changed it for the other purchased at Walen's. But
this is the alternate theory only. Any way, I am absolutely certain that
you got exactly the same notes that we had placed in the original case."

"That might be," David said, thoughtfully. "But that does not explain the
fact that Lockhart's sold _your_ case to an American at the Metropole."

"I fancy I can even explain that, dear. My uncle came down suddenly
to-day from London. He wanted certain papers in a great hurry. Now, those
papers were locked up in a drawer at 219 given over specially to Mr.
Henson. My uncle promptly broke open the drawer and took out the papers.
Besides those documents the drawer contained a package in one of
Lockhart's big linen-lined envelopes--a registered letter envelope, in
fact. My uncle had little time to spare, as he was bound to be back in
London to-night. He suggested that as the back of the drawer was broken
and the envelope presumably contained valuables, I had better take care
of it. Well, I must admit at once that I steamed the envelope open. I
shouldn't have done so if Lockhart's name had not been on the flap. In a
little case inside I found a diamond bracelet, which I have in my pocket,
together with a receipted bill for seventy odd pounds made out to me."

"To you?" David cried. "Do you mean to say that--"

"Indeed I do. The receipt was made out to me, and with it was a little
polite note to the effect that Messrs. Lockhart had made the exchange of
the cigar-case for the diamond bracelet, and that they hoped Miss Gates
would find the matter perfectly satisfactory."

David was too astonished to say anything for the moment. The skein
was too tangled to be thought out all at once. Presently he began to
see his way.

"Under ordinary circumstances the change seems impossible," he said.
"Especially seeing that the juggling could not have been done without
both the cases--but I had forgotten how easily the cases were changed. I
have it! What is the date of that letter?"

Ruth slowly unfolded a document she had taken from her purse.

"The day following what you call your great adventure," she said. "Henson
or somebody took the real case--my case--back to Lockhart's and changed
it in my name. I had previously been admiring this selfsame bracelet, and
they had tried to sell it to me. My dear boy, don't you see this is all
part of the plot to plunge you deeper and deeper into trouble, to force
us all to speak to save you? There are at least fifteen assistants at
Lockhart's. Of course the ultimate sale of the cigar-case to this
American could be proved, seeing that the case had got back into stock
again, and at the same time the incident of the change quite forgotten.
And when you go and ask questions at Lockhart's--as you were pretty sure
to do, as Henson knew--you are told of the sale only to the American.
Depend upon it, that American was Henson himself or somebody in his pay.
David, that man is too cunning, _too_ complex. And some of these days it
is going to prove his fall."

David nodded thoughtfully. And yet, without something very clever and
intricate in the way of a scheme, Henson could not have placed him in his
present fix.

"There is only one thing to be done," he said. "You and I must go down to
Lockhart's and make a few inquiries. With that diamond bracelet and
letter in your possession you should have no difficulty in refreshing
their memories. Will you have some tea?"

"I am too excited," Ruth laughed. "I couldn't eat or drink anything just
at present. David, what a lovely house you have."

"I'm glad to hear that you are going to like it," David said, drily.

Lockhart's received their customers in the usual courtly style. They were
sorry they had no recollection of the transaction to which madam
referred. The sale of the bracelet was clear, because that was duly and
properly recorded on the books, and as indeed was the sale of the
gun-metal cigar-case to an American gentleman at the Metropole. If madam
said that she had purchased the cigar-case, why--still the polite
assistant was most courteously incredulous.

The production of the letter made a difference. There was a passing of
confidences from one plate-glass counter to another, and presently
another assistant came forward. He profoundly regretted that there had
been a mistake, but he remembered the incident perfectly. It was the day
before he had departed on his usual monthly visit to the firm's Paris
branch. Madam had certainly purchased the cigar-case; but before the sale
could be posted in the stock ledger madam had sent a gentleman to change
the case for the diamond bracelet previously admired. The speaker had
attended to both the sale and the exchange; in fact, his cab was waiting
for him during the latter incident.

"I trust there is nothing wrong?" he asked, anxiously.

"Not in the least," Ruth hastened to reply. "The whole matter is a kind
of comedy that I wanted to solve. It is a family joke, you understand.
And who made the exchange?"

"Mr. Gates, madam. A tall gentleman, dressed in--"

"That is quite sufficient, thank you," said Ruth. "I am sorry to trouble
you over so silly a matter."

The assistant assured madam with an air of painful reproach that nothing
was counted a trouble in that establishment. He bowed his visitors out
and informed them that it was a lovely afternoon, a self-evident axiom
that the most disputatious could not well deny.

"You see how your inquiries might have been utterly baffled but for this
find of mine," Ruth said, as the two went along North Street. "We shall
find presently that the Metropole American and Reginald Henson are one
and the same person."

"And you fancy that he made the exchange at Lockhart's?"

"I feel pretty certain of it," Ruth replied. "And you will be sure later
on to find that he had a hand in the purchase of the other cigar-case
from Walen's. Go to Marley's and get him to make inquiries as to whether
or not Walen's got their case down on approval."

David proceeded to do so without further delay. Inspector Marley was out,
but David left a message for him. Would he communicate by telephone later
on? Steel had just finished his dinner when Marley rang him up.

"Are you there? Yes, I have seen Walen. Your suggestion was quite right.
Customer had seen cigar-case exactly like it in Lockhart's, only too
dear. Walen dealt with some manufacturers and got case down. Oh, no,
never saw customer again. That sort of thing happens to shopkeepers every
day. Yes. Walen thinks he would recognise his man again. Nothing more?
Good-night, sir."

CHAPTER XLI

A DELICATE ERRAND

It looked like being a long, dull evening for Steel if he were not going
to the theatre or anything of that kind. He generally read till about
eleven o'clock, after which he sat up for another couple of hours
plotting out the day's task for to-morrow. To-night he could only wander
restlessly about his conservatory, snipping off a dead leaf here and
there and wondering where the whole thing was going to end.

With a certain sense of relief David heard the front door-bell trill
about eleven o'clock. Somebody was coming to see him, and it didn't
matter much who in Steel's present frame of mind. But he swept into the
study with a feeling of genuine pleasure as Hatherly Bell was announced.

"My dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you," he cried. "Take the big
armchair. Let me give you a cigar and a whisky and soda and make you
comfortable. That's better."

"I'm tired out," Bell said. "In London all day, and since six with Cross.
Can you put me up for the night?"

"My bachelor bedroom is always ready, Bell."

"Thanks. I don't fancy you need be under any apprehension that anybody
has spirited Van Sneck away. In the first place Henson, who seems to have
discovered what happened, is in a terrible state about it. He wanted very
badly to remain at Littimer, but when he heard that Van Sneck had left
the hospital he came down here; in fact, we travelled together. Of course
he said nothing whatever about Van Sneck, whom he is supposed to know
nothing about, but I could see that he was terribly disturbed. The worst
of it is that Cross was going to get me to operate on Van Sneck; and
Heritage, who seems wonderfully better, was going to assist."

"Is your unfortunate friend up to that kind of thing now?" David asked.

"I fancy so. Do you know that Heritage used to have a fairly good
practice near Littimer Castle? Lord Littimer knows him well. I want
Heritage to come into this. I want to get at the reason why Henson has
been so confoundedly good to Heritage. For years he has kept his eye upon
him; for years he has practically provided him with a home at Palmer's.
And when Heritage mentions Henson's name he always does so with a kind of
forced gratitude."

"You think that Heritage is going to be useful to us?"

"I fancy so. Mind you, it is only my idea--what I call intuition, for
want of a better word. And what have you been doing lately?"

David proceeded to explain, giving the events of the afternoon in full
detail. Bell followed the account with the deepest interest. Then he
proceeded to tell his own story. David appeared to be fascinated with the
tale of the man with the thumb-nail.

"So Miss Chris hopes to hypnotise the man with the thumb," he said. "You
have seen more of her than I have, Bell. Does she strike you as she
strikes me--a girl of wonderfully acute mind allied to a pluck and
audacity absolutely brilliant?"

"She is that and more," Bell said, warmly. "Now that she is free to act
she has developed wonderfully. Look how cleverly she worked out that
Rembrandt business, how utterly she puzzled Henson, and how she helped me
to get into Littimer's good books again without Henson even guessing at
the reason. And now she has forced the confidence of that rascal Merritt.
She has saved him from a gaol into which she might have thrown him at any
moment, she has convinced him that she is something exceedingly brilliant
in the way of an adventuress, with a great _coup_ ahead. Later on she
will use Merritt, and a fine hard-cutting tool she will find him."

"Where is Henson at the present moment?" David asked.

"I left him in London this afternoon," Bell replied. "But I haven't the
slightest doubt in the world that he has made his way to Brighton by this
time. In all probability he has gone to Longdean."

Bell paused as the telephone bell rang out shrilly. The mere sound of it
thrilled both of them with excitement. And what a useful thing the
telephone had proved!

"Are you there?" came the quick, small whisper. "Is that you, Mr. Steel?
I am Enid Henson."

There was a long pause, during which David was listening intently. Bell
could see him growing rigid with the prospect of something keen, alert,
and vigorous.

"Bell is here with me at this moment," he said. "Just wait a minute
whilst I tell him. Don't go away, please. Under the circumstances it
might be dangerous for me to ring you ... Just a moment. Here's a
pretty mess."

"Well," Bell said, impatiently, "I'm only a mere man, after all."

"Henson is at Longdean; he turned up an hour ago, and at the present
moment is having his supper in the library before going to bed. But that
is not the worst part of it. Williams heard the dogs making a great noise
by the gates, and went to see what was wrong. Some poor, demented fellow
had climbed over the wall, and the dogs were holding him up. Fortunately,
he did not seem to be conscious of his danger, and as he stood still the
hounds did him no harm. Williams was going to put the intruder into the
road again when Miss Henson came up. And whom do you suppose the poor,
wandering tramp to be?"

Bell pitched his cigar into the grate full of flowers and jumped
to his feet.

"Van Sneck, for a million," he cried. "My head to a cocoanut on it."

"The same. They managed to get the poor fellow into the house before
Williams brought Henson from the lodge, and he's in the stables now in a
rather excited condition. Now, I quite agree with Miss Henson that Henson
must be kept in ignorance of the fact, also that Van Sneck must be got
away without delay. To inform the hospital authorities would be to spoil
everything and play into Henson's hands. But he must be got away
to-night."

"Right you are. We'll go and fetch him. _Et apres_?"

"_Et apres_ he will stay here. He shall stay _here_, and you shall say
that it is dangerous to remove him. Cross shall be told and Marley shall
be told, and the public shall be discreetly kept in ignorance for the
present. I'll go over there at once, as there is no time to be lost. Miss
Henson suggests that I should come, and she tells me that Williams will
wait at the lodge-gates for me. But you are going to stay here."

"Oh, indeed! And why am I going to stay here?"

"Because, my dear friend, I can easily manage the business single-handed,
and because you must run no risk of meeting Henson yonder. You are not
now supposed to know where the family are, nor are you supposed to take
the faintest interest in them. Stay here and make yourself comfortable
till I return.... Are you there? I will be at Longdean as soon as
possible and bring Van Sneck here. No, I won't ring off; you had better
do that. I shall be over in less than an hour."

David hung up the receiver and proceeded to don a short covert coat and a
cap. In the breast-pocket of the coat he placed a revolver.

"Just as well to be on the safe side," he said. "Though I am not likely
to be troubled with the man with the thumb again. Still, Henson may have
other blackguards; he may even know where Van Sneck is at the present
moment, for all I know to the contrary."

"I feel rather guilty letting you go alone," Bell said.

"Not a bit of it," said David, cheerfully. "Smoke your cigar, and if
you need any supper ring for it. You can safely leave matters in my
hands. Van Sneck shall stay here till he is fit, and then you shall
operate upon him. After that he ought to be as clay in the hands of the
potter. So long."

And David went off gaily enough. He kept to the cliffs for the first part
of the distance, and then struck off across the fields in the direction
of Longdean. The place was perfectly quiet, the village was all in
darkness as he approached the lodge-gates of the Grange. Beyond the drive
and between the thick, sad firs that shielded the house he could see the
crimson lights gleaming here and there. He could catch the rumble and
scratch in the bushes, and ever and again a dog whined. The big gate was
closed as David peeped in searching for his guide.

"Williams," he whispered; "Williams, where are you?"

But no reply came. The silence was full of strange, rushing noises, the
rush of blood in David's head. He called again and again, but no reply
came. Then he heard the rush and fret of many feet, the cry of a pack of
hounds, a melancholy cry, with a sombre joy in it. He saw a light
gleaming fitfully in the belt of firs.

"No help for it," David muttered. "I must chance my luck. I never saw a
dog yet that I was afraid of. Well, here goes."

He scrambled over the wall and dropped on the moist, clammy earth on the
other side. He fumbled forward a few steps, and then stopped suddenly,
brought up all standing by the weird scene which was being solemnly
enacted under his astonished eyes.

CHAPTER XLII

PRINCE RUPERT'S RING

Whilst events were moving rapidly outside, time at Longdean Grange seemed
to stand still. The dust and the desolation were ever there. The gloom
brooded like an evil spirit. And yet it was but the calm before the storm
that was coming to banish the hoary old spectres for good.

Still, Enid felt the monotony to be as maddening as ever. There were
times when she rebelled passionately against the solitude of the place.
There were moments to her when it seemed that her mind couldn't stand the
strain much longer.

But she had hope, that blessed legacy to the sanguine and the young. And
there were times when she would creep out and see Ruth Gates, who found
the Rottingdean Road very convenient for cycling just now. And there was
always the anticipation of a telephone message from Chris. Originally the
telephone had been established so that the household could be run without
the intrusion of tradesmen and other strangers. It had seemed a great
anomaly at the time, but now Enid blessed it every moment of the day. And
she was, perhaps, not quite so unhappy as she deemed herself to be. She
had her lover back again now, with his character free from every
imputation.

The sun straggled in through the dim, dusty panes; the monotonous voice
of Mrs. Henson droned in the drawing-room. It was what Williams called
one of the unhappy lady's "days." Sometimes she was quiet and reasonable,
at other times the dark mood hung heavily upon her. She was pacing up and
down the drawing-room, wringing her hands and whimpering to herself. Enid
had slipped into the grounds for a little fresh air; the house oppressed
her terribly to-day. The trim lawns and blazing flowerbeds were a
pleasant contrast to the misery and disorder of the house.

Enid passed on into the shadow of the plantation. A little farther on
nearer the wall the dogs seemed to be excited about something. William's
rusty voice could be heard expostulating with some intruder. By him
stood a man who, though fairly well dressed, looked as if he had slept
in his garments for days. There was a dazed, puzzled, absent expression
on his face.

"You might have been killed," Williams croaked. "If you hadn't stood
still they dogs would have pulled you to pieces. How did you get here?"

"I've lost it," the stranger muttered. "I've lost it somewhere, and I
shall have no rest till I find it."

"Well, go and look in the road," Williams suggested, smoothly.
"Nothing ever gets lost here. Just you hop over that wall and try your
luck outside."

Enid came forward. Evidently the intruder was no stranger to her.
Williams started to explain volubly. But Enid cut him short at once.

"A most extraordinary thing has happened," she said. "It is amazing
that this man should come here of all places. Williams, this is the man
Van Sneck."

"What, the chap as was wounded in the hospital, miss?"

"The same. The man is not in full possession of his senses. And if
Reginald Henson finds him now it is likely to go hard with him. He must
be taken into the house and looked after until I can communicate with
somebody I can trust. Mr. Steel, I think. He must be got back to the
hospital. It is the only place where he is safe."

Van Sneck seemed to be looking on with the vacant stare of the mindless.
He suffered himself to be led to the house, where he was fed like a
child. It was in vain that Enid plied him with all kinds of questions.
He had lost something--he would have no peace till he had found it. This
was the one burden of his cry. Enid crossed to the window in some
perplexity. The next moment she had something else to occupy her mind.
Reginald Henson was coming up the drive. Just for an instant Enid felt
inclined to despair.

"Williams," she cried, "Mr. Henson is here. On no account must he see our
unfortunate visitor. He cannot possibly know that Van Sneck is here; the
whole thing is an accident. I am going down into the hall. I shall
contrive to get Mr. Henson into the drawing-room. Without delay you must
smuggle Mr. Van Sneck into your apartments over the stable. You will be
perfectly safe if you go down the back staircase. As soon as the
drawing-room door closes, go."

Williams nodded. He was essentially a man of action rather than words.
With all the coolness she could summon up Enid descended to the hall.
She gave a little gesture of surprise and disdain as she caught sight
of Henson.

"So you came down to welcome me?" Enid said, coldly.

A sudden light of rage lit up Henson's blue eyes. He caught Enid almost
roughly by the shoulders and pushed her into the drawing-room. There was
something coming, she knew. It was a relief a minute or two later to hear
Williams's whistle as he crossed the courtyard. Henson knew nothing of
Van Sneck's presence, nor was he likely to do so now.

"You are forgetting yourself," Enid said. "How dare you touch me
like that?"

"By heavens," Henson whispered, vehemently, "when I consider how I have
been fooled by you I wonder that I do not strike the life out of you.
Where is your sister?"

Enid assumed an air of puzzled surprise. She raised her eyebrows, coldly.
But it needed no very brilliant intelligence to tell her that Henson had
discovered something.

"I had only one sister," she said, "and she is--"

"Dead! Rot. No more dead than I am. A nice little scheme you had put up
together with that scribbling ass David Steel. But Steel is going to get
a lesson not to interfere in my affairs, and you are going to get one
also. Where is your sister?"

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