A Mysterious Disappearance Part 28

Mrs. Hillmer's voice was hollow and broken. The barrister was shocked at the effect of his revelation, but he was forced to go on with the disagreeable task he had undertaken.

"Do you mean," he asked, "that you will answer my questions?"

"So far as I can."

"Would it not be better to tell me in your own words what you have to say?"

Mrs. Hillmer looked up, and the agony in her face filled him with keen pity.

"Oh, Heaven help me to do what is right!" she cried.

"Your prayer will surely be answered. I am certain of that. A great wrong has been committed by some one, and the innocent must not suffer to s.h.i.+eld the guilty."

Mrs. Hillmer bowed her head and did not utter a word for some minutes.

She appeared to be reasoning out some plan of action in a dazed fas.h.i.+on.

When decision came she said in low tones:

"You must leave me now, Mr. Bruce. I must have time. When I am ready I shall send for you."

He knew instinctively that it was hopeless to plead with her. Frivolous, volatile women of her stamp often betray unusual strength of character in a supreme crisis.

"You are adopting an unwise course," he said sadly.

"Maybe. But I must be alone. I am not deceiving you. When I have determined something which is not now clear to me, I will send for you.

It may be that I shall speak. It may be that I shall be silent. In either case I only can judge--and suffer."

"Tell me one thing at least, Mrs. Hillmer, before we part. Did you know of Lady d.y.k.e's death before to-day?"

She came to him and looked him straight in the face, and said: "I did not. On my soul, I did not."

Then he pa.s.sed into the hall; and even the shock of this painful interview did not prevent him from noting the flitting of a shadow past a distant doorway, as some one hurried into the interior of a room.

In their excitement they forgot that their voices might attract attention, and ladies' maids are proverbially inquisitive.

CHAPTER XVI

FOXEY

The keen, cold air of the streets soon restored the man to his habitual calm. He felt that a quiet stroll would do him good.

As he walked he pondered, and the more critically he examined Mrs.

Hillmer's change of att.i.tude the less he understood it.

"For some ridiculous reason," he communed, "the woman believes her brother guilty. Now I shall have endless trouble at getting at the truth. She will not be candid. She will only tell me that which she thinks will help him, and conceal that which she considers damaging.

That is a woman's way, all the world over. And a desperately annoying way it is. Perhaps I was to blame in springing this business too hastily upon her. But there! I like Mrs. Hillmer, and I hate using her as one juggles with a self-conceited witness. In future I shall trouble her no more."

A casual glance into the interior of Sloane Square Station gave him a glimpse of the barrier, and he recognized the collector who had taken Lady d.y.k.e's ticket on that fatal night when she quitted the Richmond train.

Rather as a relief than for other cause he entered into conversation with the official.

"Do you remember me?" he said.

"Can't say as I do, sir." The man examined his questioner with quick suspicion. The forgotten "season" dodge would not work with _him_.

"Maybe you remember these?" said Bruce, producing his cigar-case.

"Now, wot's the gyme?" said the collector to himself. But he smiled, and answered: "Do you mean by the look of 'em, sir?"

"Good!" laughed Claude. "Take three or four home with you. Meanwhile I am sure you remember me coming to see you last November concerning a lady who alighted here from Victoria one foggy evening and handed you a ticket to Richmond?"

"Of course I do, sir. And the cigars are _all_ right. There was a lot of fuss about that lydy. Did she ever turn up?"

"Not exactly. That is to say, she died shortly after you saw her."

"No! Well, of all the rummy goes! She was a fine-looking woman, too, as well as I rec'llect. Looked fit for another fifty year. Wot 'appened to 'er."

"I don't know. I wish I did."

"An' 'ave you been on the 'unt ever since, guv'nor?"

"Yes, ever since."

"She's dead, you s'y?"

"Yes."

"But 'ow'd you know she's dead, if you 'ain't seen 'er since?"

"I have seen her. I saw her dead body at Putney."

"At Putney! Well, I'm blowed!"

A roar from beneath, the slamming of many doors, and the quick rush of a crowd up the steps, announced the arrival of a train. "Pardon, sir,"

said the man, "this is the 5.41 Mansion House. But don't go aw'y.

There's somethin'--Tickets, _if_ you please."

In a minute the collector had ended his task. While sorting his bundles of pasteboards he said:

"n.o.body ever tell'd me that before. An' you ain't the only one on 'er track. Are you in the police?"

"No."

"I thought not. But some other chaps who kem 'ere was. None of 'em ever said the lydy was dead."

"Why; what matter?"