A Mysterious Disappearance Part 29

"Oh, nothin', but two 'eads is better'n one, if they're only sheep's 'eads."

"Undoubtedly. The rule is all the more reliable when one of them belongs to a shrewd chap like you."

The collector grinned. He understood that he was being flattered for a purpose, yet he liked it.

"That's one w'y of lookin' at it," he said, "but if this affair's pertickler, why, all I can s'y is it's worth somethin' to somebody."

"Certainly. Here's a sovereign for a start. If you can tell me anything really worth knowing I will add four more to it."

"Now, that's talkin'. I'm off duty at eight o'clock, an' I can't 'ave a chat now because I expect the inspector any minute."

"Suppose you call and see me in Victoria Street at nine?"

"Right you are, sir."

Bruce gave the man his address and recrossed the square. Few people were abroad, so he walked straight to the first door of Raleigh Mansions and made his way to the fourth floor.

Had he been a moment later he must have seen Mrs. Hillmer, closely wrapped up, leave her residence unattended. Her carriage was not in waiting. She walked to the cabstand in the square and called a hansom, driving back up Sloane Street.

Her actions indicated a desire to be un.o.bserved even by her servants, as in the usual course of events the housemaid would have brought a cab to the door.

But the barrister, steadily climbing up the stairs, could not guess what was happening in the street. He soon opened Mensmore's door, and noted, as an idle fact, that the expected gust of cold air was absent.

There was no light on this landing, so he was in pitch darkness once he had pa.s.sed the doorway. There was no need to strike a match, however, as he remembered the exact position of the electric switchboard--on the left beyond the dining-room door.

He stepped cautiously forward, and stretched forth his hand to grope for the lever. With a quick rush, some two or three a.s.sailants flung themselves upon him, and after a fierce, gasping struggle--for Bruce was a strong man--he was borne to the floor face downwards, with one arm beneath him and the other pinioned behind his back.

"Look sharp, Jim," shouted a breathless voice. "Turn on the light and close the door. We've got him safe enough."

They had. Two large hands were clutched round his neck, a knee was firmly embedded in the small of his back, another hand gripped his left wrist like a vice, while some one sat on his legs.

He could not have been collared more effectually by a Rugby International team.

The third man found the electric light and turned it on.

"Now, get up," said some one, "and don't give us any more trouble. It's no use."

The barrister, who had had his wind knocked out of him, rose to his knees. Then, as the light fell upon the horrified face of Mr. White, he vainly essayed to keep up the pretence of indignation. Once fairly on his feet, he nearly collapsed with laughter. He leaned against the wall, and, as his breath came again, he laughed until his sides ached.

Meanwhile the detective was crimson with rage and annoyance. His two a.s.sistants did not know what to make of the affair.

"What's wrong, Jim?" said one at last. "Isn't this Corbett?"

"No, of course it's not," was his angry growl.

"Then who the ---- is it?"

"Oh, ask me another! How on earth could I guess, Mr. Bruce, that you'd come letting yourself in here with a latchkey?"

Claude was still holding his sore ribs and could not answer; but the policeman who had questioned White caught the name. He recognized it, and grinned at his companion.

"What did you want here, anyhow?" snarled the infuriated detective, as he realized that his great _coup_ would be retailed with embellishments through every police station in the metropolis.

"I w-wanted you to ar-r-rest me, W-White," roared Claude. "I s-said you would, and you have."

"Confound it, how could you know I was here?"

"You were sure to wait here for a man who probably will not return for months."

"Was I, indeed? Well, you have yourself to blame if you are hurt. I hope my mates did not treat you too badly?"

"What?" cried the one who had not yet spoken. "He gave me such a punch on the bread-basket that I've only just recovered my speech."

"I think we're about quits," said the other, surveying a torn waistcoat and broken watch-chain.

"I shall be black and blue all over to-morrow," said Bruce; "but if you are satisfied I am. Come, Mr. White, bring your friends and we will open a bottle of wine. We all want it. Corbett won't be here to-night. Just now he is in Wyoming."

"How do you know?"

"By intuition. I am seldom mistaken."

"But why didn't you call out just now when you came in?"

"I hadn't a chance. You were on me like a thousand of bricks. I must confess that if Corbett were in my shoes he would be a doomed man."

White didn't know whether to believe Bruce or not. He was genuinely angry at the incident, but the barrister did not want to convert him into an enemy, and he vaguely felt that a catastrophe was imminent, and a false move by the police might do irretrievable mischief.

"Well, inspector," he said, "I must confess that this time you have got the better of me. I did not know you were here. I looked in for the purpose of quietly studying the ground, as it were, and I was never more taken by surprise in my life. Moreover, your plan was a very clever one, in view of the fact that Corbett might return at any moment."

The detective became more amiable at this praise from the famous amateur, for Bruce's achievements were well known to his two colleagues.

"I suppose you wondered what had happened," he said with a smile.

"I thought my last hour had come. I am only sorry that Corbett himself did not have the experience."

"Do you really believe he is in the States, sir?"

"I am sure of it."

"Then he must have returned there since he wrote that letter."

"That is the only solution of the difficulty."

"Hum. It's a pity."

"Why?"

"I would sooner prefer to arrest him on this side. To get him by extradition is a slow affair, and probably means a trip across the Atlantic."