The City of Masks Part 36

The next afternoon, the man from Scotland Yard paid a visit to Deborah's. Not at all abashed at finding himself in a place where all save angels fear to tread, he calmly asked to be conducted into the presence of Mrs. Sparflight. He tactfully refrained from adding "alias Deborah, Limited. London, Paris and New York." He declined to state his business.

"Madam," said he, coming straight to the point the instant he was ushered into the presence of the white-haired proprietress, "I sha'n't waste your time,--and mine, I may add,--by beating about the bush, as you Americans would say. I represent--"

"If you are an insurance agent or a book agent, you need not waste any time at all," began Mrs. Sparflight. He held up his hand deprecatingly.

"--Scotland Yard," he concluded, fixing his eyes upon her. The start she gave was helpful. He went on briskly. "Last night you were at a certain restaurant. You departed during the thunder-storm in a limousine driven by a young man whose face is familiar to me. In short, I am looking for a man who bears a most startling resemblance to him. May I prevail upon you to volunteer a bit of information?"

Mrs. Sparflight betrayed agitation. A hunted, troubled look came into her eyes.

"I--I don't quite understand," she stammered. "Who--who did you say you were?"

"My name is Chambers, Alfred Chambers, Scotland Yard. In the event that you are ignorant of the character of the place called Scotland Yard, I may explain that--"

"I know what it is," she interrupted hastily. "What is it that you want of me, Mr. Chambers?" She was rapidly gaining control of her wits.

"Very little, madam. I should very much like to know whose car took you away from Sprinkler's last night."

She looked him straight in the eye. "I haven't the remotest idea," she said.

He nodded his head gently. "Would you, on the other hand, object to telling me how long James has been driving for her ladys.h.i.+p?"

This was a facer. Mrs. Sparflight's gaze wavered.

"Her ladys.h.i.+p?" she murmured weakly.

"Yes, madam,--unless my hearing was temporarily defective," he said.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Your companion was a young lady of--"

"My good man," interrupted the lady sharply, "my companion last night was my own private secretary."

"A Miss Emsdale, I believe," said he.

She gulped. "Precisely."

"Um!" he mused. "And you do not know whose car you went off in,--is that right?"

"I have no hesitancy in stating, Mr. Chambers, that the car does not belong to me or to my secretary," she said, smiling.

"I trust you will pardon a seemingly rude question, Mrs. Sparflight. Is it the custom in New York for people to take possession of private automobiles--"

"It is the custom for New York chauffeurs to pick up an extra dollar or two when their employers are not looking," she interrupted, with a shrug of her shoulders. She was instantly ashamed of her mendacity. She looked over her shoulder to see if Mr. Thomas Trotter's sweetheart was anywhere within hearing, and was relieved to find that she was not. "And now, sir, if it is a fair question, may I inquire just what this chauffeur's double has been doing that Scotland Yard should be seeking him so a.s.siduously?"

"He has been giving us a deuce of a chase, madam," said Mr. Chambers, as if that were the gravest crime a British subject could possibly commit.

"By the way, did you by any chance obtain a fair look at the man who drove you home last night?"

"Yes. He seemed quite a good-looking fellow."

"Will you glance at this photograph, Mrs. Sparflight, and tell me whether you detect a resemblance?" He took a small picture from his coat pocket and held it out to her.

She looked at it closely, holding it at various angles and distances, and nodded her head in doubtful acquiescence.

"I think I do, Mr. Chambers. I am not surprised that you should have been struck by the resemblance. This man was a soldier, I perceive."

Mr. Chambers restored the photograph to his pocket.

"The King's Own," he replied succinctly. "Perhaps your secretary may be able to throw a little more light on the matter, madam. May I have the privilege of interrogating her?"

"Not today," said Mrs. Sparflight, who had antic.i.p.ated the request. "She is very busy."

"Of course I am in no position to insist," said he pleasantly. "I trust you will forgive my intrusion, madam. I am here only in the interests of justice, and I have no desire to cause you the slightest annoyance.

Permit me to bid you good day, Mrs. Sparflight. Thank you for your kindness in receiving me. Tomorrow, if it is quite agreeable to you, I shall call to see Miss Emsdale."

At that moment, the door opened and Miss Emsdale came into the little office.

"You rang for me, Mrs. Sparflight?" she inquired, with a quick glance at the stranger.

Mrs. Sparflight blinked rapidly. "Not at all,--not at all. I did not ring."

Miss Emsdale looked puzzled. "I am sure the buzzer--"

"Pardon me," said Mr. Chambers, easily. "I fancy I can solve the mystery. Accidentally,--quite accidentally, I a.s.sure you,--I put my hand on the b.u.t.ton on your desk, Mrs. Sparflight,--while you were glancing at the photograph. Like this,--do you see?" He put his hand on the top of the desk and leaned forward, just as he had done when he joined her in studying the picture a few moments before.

A hot flush mounted to Mrs. Sparflight's face, and her eyes flashed. The next instant she smiled.

"You are most resourceful, Mr. Chambers," she said. "It happens, however, that your cleverness gains you nothing. This young lady is one of our stenographers. I think I said that Miss Emsdale is my private secretary. She has no connection whatever with the business office. The b.u.t.ton you inadvertently pressed simply disturbed one of the girls in the next room. You may return to your work, Miss Henry."

She carried it off very well. Jane, sensing danger, was on the point of retiring,--somewhat hurriedly, it must be confessed,--when Mr. Chambers, in his most apologetic manner, remarked:

"May I have a word with you, your ladys.h.i.+p?"

It was a bold guess, encouraged by his discovery that the young lady was not only English but of a cla.s.s distinctly remote from shops and stenography.

Under the circ.u.mstances, Jane may be forgiven for dissembling, even at the cost of her employer's honour. She stopped short, whirled, and confronted the stranger with a look in her eyes that convicted her immediately. Her hand flew to her heart, and a little gasp broke from her parted lips.

Mr. Chambers was smiling blandly. She looked from him to Mrs.

Sparflight, utter bewilderment in her eyes.

"Oh, Lord!" muttered that lady in great dismay.

The man from Scotland Yard hazarded another and even more potential stroke while the iron was hot.

"I am from Scotland Yard," he said. "We make some mistakes there, I admit, but not many." He proceeded to lie boldly. "I know who you are, my lady, and--But it is not necessary to go into that at present. Do not be alarmed. You have nothing to fear from me,--or from Scotland Yard.

I--"

"Well, I should hope _not_!" burst out Mrs. Sparflight indignantly.