The Yellow Crayon Part 53

"I thank you, Saxe Leinitzer," the Duke said coldly, "but it is beginning to occur to me that I have had enough of your explanations.

It seemed natural enough to me, and I must say well conceived, that some attempt should be made to modify the views of, if not wholly convert, Reginald Brott by means of the influence of a very charming woman. It was my duty as a member of the Order to a.s.sist in this, and the shelter of my house and name were freely accorded to the Countess. But it is news to me to find that she was brought here practically by force.

That because she was an inner member and therefore bound to implicit obedience that she was dragged away from her husband, kept apart from him against her will, forced into endeavours to make a fool of Brott even at the cost of her good name. And now, worst of all, I am told that a very deeply laid plot on the part of some of you will compel her to leave England almost at once, and that her safety depends upon her inducing Reginald Brott to accompany her."

"She has appealed to you," the Prince muttered.

"She has done nothing so sensible," the Duke answered drily. "The facts which I have just stated are known to every one in this room. I perhaps know less than any one. But I know enough for this. I request, Saxe Leinitzer, that you withdraw the name of myself and my wife from your list of members, and that you understand clearly that my house is to be no more used for meetings of the Society, formal or informal. And, further, though I regret the apparent inhospitality of my action, my finger is now, as you see, upon the bell, and I venture to wish you all a very good-morning. Groves," he added to the servant who answered the door, "the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer's carriage is urgently required."

The Prince and Lady Carey descended the broad steps side by side. She was laughing softly but immoderately. The Prince was pale with fury.

"Pompous old a.s.s," he muttered savagely. "He may have a worse scandal in his house now than he dreams of."

She wiped her eyes.

"Have I not always told you," she said, "that intrigue in this country was a sheer impossibility? You may lay your plans ever so carefully, but you cannot foresee such a contretemps as this."

"Idiot!" the Prince cried. "Oh, the dolt! Why, even his wife was amazed."

"He may be all those pleasant things," Lady Carey, said, "but he is a gentleman."

He stopped short. The footman was standing by the side of Lady Carey's victoria with a rug on his arm.

"Lucille," he said thoughtfully, "is locked in the morning-room. She is prostrate with fear. If the Duke sees her everything is over. Upon my word, I have a good mind to throw this all up and cross to Paris to-night. Let England breed her own revolutions. What do you say, Muriel? Will you come with me?"

She laughed scornfully.

"I'd as soon go with my coachman," she said.

His eyebrows narrowed. A dull, purple flush crept to his forehead.

"Your wit," he said, "is a little coa.r.s.e. Listen! You wish our first plan to go through?"

"Of course!"

"Then you must get Lucille out of that house. If she is left there she is absolutely lost to us. Apart from that, she is herself not safe.

Our plan worked out too well. She is really in danger from this Duson affair."

The laughter died away from Lady Carey's face. She hesitated with her foot upon the step of her carriage.

"You can go back easily enough," the Prince said. "You are the Duke's cousin, and you were not included in his tirade. Lucille is in the morning-room, and here is the key. I brought it away with me. You must tell her that all our plans are broken, that we have certain knowledge that the police are on the track of this Duson affair. Get her to your house in Pont Street, and I will be round this afternoon. Or better still, take her to mine."

Lady Carey stepped back on to the pavement. She was still, however, hesitating.

"Leave her with the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess," the Prince said, "and she will dine with her husband to-night."

Lady Carey took the key from his hand.

"I will try," she said. "How shall you know whether I succeed?"

"I will wait in the gardens," he answered. "I shall be out of sight, but I shall be able to see you come out. If you are alone I shall come to you. If she is with you I shall be at your house in an hour, and I promise you that she shall leave England to-night with me."

"Poor Brott!" she murmured ironically.

The Prince smiled.

"He will follow her. Every one will believe that they left London together. That is all that is required."

Lady Carey re-entered the house. The Prince made his way into the gardens. Ten minutes pa.s.sed--a quarter of an hour. Then Lady Carey with Lucille reappeared, and stepping quickly into the victoria were driven away. The Prince drew a little sigh of relief. He looked at his watch, called a hansom, and drove to his club for lunch.

Another man, who had also been watching Dorset House from the gardens for several hours, also noted Lucille's advent with relief. He followed the Prince out and entered another hansom.

"Follow that victoria which has just driven off," he ordered. "Don't lose sight of it. Double fare."

The trap-door fell, and the man whipped up his horse.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

Mr. Sabin received an early visitor whilst still lingering over a slight but elegant breakfast. Pa.s.smore seated himself in an easy-chair and accepted the cigar which his host himself selected for him.

"I am glad to see you," Mr. Sabin said. "This affair of Duson's remains a complete mystery to me. I am looking to you to help me solve it."

The little man with the imperturbable face removed his cigar from his mouth and contemplated it steadfastly.

"It is mysterious," he said. "There are circ.u.mstances in connection with it which even now puzzle me very much, very much indeed. There are circ.u.mstances in connection with it also which I fear may be a shock to you, sir."

"My life," Mr. Sabin said, with a faint smile, "has been made up of shocks. A few more or less may not hurt me."

"Duson," the detective said, "was at heart a faithful servant!"

"I believe it," Mr. Sabin said.

"He was much attached to you!"

"I believe it."

"It is possible that unwittingly he died for you."

Mr. Sabin was silent. It was his way of avoiding a confession of surprise. And he was surprised. "You believe then," he said, after a moment's pause, "that the poison was intended for me?"

"Certainly I do," the detective answered. "Duson was, after all, a valet, a person of little importance. There is no one to whom his removal could have been of sufficient importance to justify such extreme measures. With you it is different."

Mr. Sabin knocked the ash from his cigarette.

"Why not be frank with me, Mr. Pa.s.smore?" he said. "There is no need to shelter yourself under professional reticence. Your connection with Scotland Yard ended, I believe, some time ago. You are free to speak or to keep silence. Do one or the other. Tell me what you think, and I will tell you what I know. That surely will be a fair exchange. You shall have my facts for your surmises."

Pa.s.smore's thin lips curled into a smile. "You know that I have left Scotland Yard then, sir?"