A Mysterious Disappearance Part 26

Each man thought he had had his joke, so they were better friends thenceforth, but Mr. White was thoughtful as he pa.s.sed into the street.

"This is a funny business," he communed. "There isn't enough evidence against Corbett to hang a cat, yet I _think_ he's the man. And Bruce is a queer chap. Was he cut up about me finding the letter, or has he got some notion in his head. He's as close as an oyster. I wonder if he _did_ dine at Hampstead on the evening of the murder, as he said at the inquest? I must inquire into it."

CHAPTER XV

MRS. HILLMER HESITATES

"I wonder if I shall have such exciting times to-day as I had yesterday," said Bruce to himself, as he unfolded his _Times_ next morning at breakfast.

Affairs had so jumbled themselves together in his brain the previous evening that he had abandoned all effort to elucidate them. He retired to rest earlier than usual, to sleep soundly, save for a vivid dream in which he was being tried for his life, the chief witnesses against him being Mrs. Hillmer, Phyllis Browne, and Jane Harding, the latter varying her evidence by entertaining the Court with a song and dance.

The weather, too, had improved. It was clear, frosty, and sunlit--one of those delightful days of winter that serve as cheerful remembrances during periods of seemingly interminable fog overhead and slush beneath.

During a quiet meal he read the news, and, with the invaluable morning smoke, settled himself cosily into an armchair to consider procedure.

In the first place he carefully weighed those utterances of Mensmore at Monte Carlo, which he could recall, and which seemed by the light of later knowledge, to bear upon the case.

Mensmore had alluded to "family troubles," to "worries," and "anxieties," that practically drove him from England.

Some of these, no doubt, referred to the Springbok speculation. Others, again, might have meant Mrs. Hillmer or some other presently unknown relative. But in Mensmore's manner there was nothing that savored of a greater secrecy than the natural reticence of a gentleman in discussing domestic affairs with a stranger.

This man had practically been s.n.a.t.c.hed from death. At such a moment it was inconceivable that he could cloak the remorse of a murderer by the simulation of more honorable motives, in themselves sufficiently distressing to cause him deliberately to choose suicide as the best way of ending his difficulties.

The policeman had summarized the testimony against Corbett as insufficient to curtail the remarkable powers of endurance of a cat. But to Bruce the case against Mensmore, alias Corbett, stood in clearer perspective. Now that he calmly reasoned the matter he felt that the balance of probabilities swung away from the hypothesis that Mensmore was the actual slayer of Lady d.y.k.e, and towards the theory that he was in some way bound up with her death, whether knowingly or unknowingly it was at present impossible to say.

The new terror to Bruce was Mr. White.

"Why, if that animated truncheon knew what I know of this business he would arrest Mensmore forthwith. If he did, what would result? A scandal, a thorough exposure, possibly the ruin of Mensmore's love-making if he be an innocent man. That must be stopped. But how, without forewarning Mensmore himself?--and he may be guilty. Chance may favor White, as it favored me, in disclosing the ident.i.ty of the missing Corbett. And what of the _real_ Corbett? What on earth has _he_ got to do with it, and why has Mensmore taken his name? If ever I get to the bottom of this business I may well congratulate myself. The sole result of all my labor thus far may be summed up in a sentence--I have not yet come face to face with the man whom I can honestly suspect as Lady d.y.k.e's murderer. Not much, my boy!"

Claude uttered the last sentence aloud, startling Smith, who was clearing the table.

"Beg pardon, sir," cried Smith.

"Oh, nothing. I was only expressing an opinion."

"I thought, perhaps, sir, you was thinkin' of Mr. White."

"What of him?"

"Your remark, sir, hexactly hexpresses my hopinion of 'im."

Smith was not a badly educated man, but the least excitement produced an appalling derangement of the letter "h" in his vocabulary.

"Mr. White is a sharp fellow in his own way, Smith."

"Maybe, but why should 'e come pokin' round 'ere pryin' into your little affairs-deecur?"

"My what?"

"Sorry, sir, but that's what a French maid I once knew called 'em.

Flirtations, sir. Mashes."

"Smith, have you been drinking?"

"Me, sir?"

"Well, explain yourself. I never flirted with a woman in my life."

"That's what I told 'im, sir. 'My master's a regular saint,' says I, 'a sort of middle-aged ankyrite.' But Mr. White 'e wouldn't 'ave it at no price. 'Come now, Smith,' says 'e, 'your guv'nor's pretty deep. 'E's a toff, 'e is, an' knows lots of lydies--t.i.tled lydies.' 'Very like,' says I, 'but 'e doesn't mash 'em.' 'Then what price that lydy who called for 'im in a keb afore 'e went away? An' who's 'e gone to Monte Carlo with?'

This was durin' your absence, sir."

"Go on, Smith. Anything else?"

"Well, sir, that rather flung me out of my stride, as the sayin' is, as I _'ad_ seen the lydy in question. An' Mr. White 'as a nasty way of putting you on your oath, so to speak. But I never owned up."

Claude laughed.

"Excellent. Mr. White has a keen nose for false scents. I have already told him to let my affairs alone. He means no harm."

But the reference to a "lydy in a keb" had suggested an immediate plan of action to the barrister. He would call to see Mrs. Hillmer. He wrote a note asking her if he might come to tea that afternoon, and sent it by a boy messenger.

In return he received this answer.

"Mrs. Hillmer will be at home at four o'clock if Mr. Bruce cares to call then."

"Whew!" he whistled. "What's in the wind there? This is an uncommonly stiff invitation. That rascal White has upset her, I'll be bound. I _must_ choke him off somehow. Suppose he were to find that damaged bracket! He would have Mensmore under trial at the Old Bailey in double-quick time. After I leave Mrs. Hillmer I must visit No. 12 again, and carry off that pair of brackets before White discovers them, as he will haunt the place in future."

Bruce had a set of skeleton keys in his possession.

They were in his pocket when he approached Raleigh Mansions at the appointed hour.

The same trim maid opened the door for him and ushered him into the drawing-room. On the occasion of his first visit he was taken to the dining-room. It was a small matter, but Bruce paid heed to such.

Mrs. Hillmer appeared, very stately and undemonstrative. She greeted him coldly, seated herself at a distance, and said, in a cold, well-controlled voice:

"I did not expect the honor of another visit from you, Mr. Bruce."

"Why not?"

There was a fight brewing, and he would let the enemy open fire. The glitter in her eyes showed that the batteries were ready to be unmasked.

He was not mistaken.

"Why not? Because I believed you to be a gentleman. Once you had stooped to sending your myrmidons to pester me I imagined that you would keep yourself in the background."