The Weapons of Mystery Part 34

"Well, I'm master of you both. Voltaire's influence over me is gone, and now he is in my power; while you--"

"Ah, Mr. Blake, have mercy," he whined. "I only did what he told me, and he has treated me like a dog."

"Yes; he intended me to kill you, while both of you tried to ruin me."

"Curse him! I know he did. Oh, I am not his friend now. Mr. Blake, forgive me. Ah, say--"

I felt that if I allowed this man to think my welfare depended on his doing my will, he would defy me. I must use means suitable to the man.

"Kaffar," I said, "had I a heart like you Egyptians, you know what I should do; but--well, I will be merciful on one condition."

"Oh, what-what?"

"That you will come back to England with me at once."

"I cannot; I dare not. He has promised to take my life-blood if I do."

"No harm shall happen to you, I promise."

"You will not allow him to touch me?"

"He shall not."

"Then I will go."

My point was gained. The man had promised to accompany me willingly, while I had expected a difficult matter in getting him to England.

Early the next day we were on our way to England, Simon and I taking turns in watching the wily Egyptian.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SECOND CHRISTMAS EVE

The skies were clear when we left Turin, and the air pure and free. We had not got far into France, however, when we found everything changed.

It was snow--snow everywhere. On ordinary occasions I should not have minded much, but now everything depended on my getting to London at a certain hour. How slowly the train seemed to creep, to be sure; and how long we stopped at the little roadside stations!

Simon did his best to cheer me, while Kaffar furtively watched us both, as if in fear. I was silent and fearful, for I felt sure the Egyptian meditated escape. The laughter of the light-hearted French people, who were preparing for Christmas festivities, grated on my ears; for, although I had succeeded almost beyond my hopes, a great fear rested upon me that I should fail even yet. Especially was this realized when I knew that our train was hours late, and I knew that did we not arrive in Paris at something like reasonable time, we should miss the express trains for England.

When we got to the French metropolis we were nearly five hours late. It was not to be wondered at, for the snow fell in blinding drifts, until, in some cases, the railways were completely blocked. The wonder was how we got to Paris so soon, when we considered what had to be contended with.

Anxiously I inquired after trains by which I could catch the boats for England, but the replies were vague. First, it was now Christmas Eve, which at all times caused the general traffic to be delayed; and, second, the weather was so bad that to state times of arrival was impossible.

It was now Wednesday morning, and I started from Paris with sixteen hours before me in which to get to London. Ordinarily I should have had time enough and to spare, but everything was delayed and confused. I had thought of going back by Dieppe and Newhaven; but a storm was blowing, and I knew that meant a longer sea-pa.s.sage, so I went to Calais, thus riding through one of the most uninteresting parts of France. It was five o'clock on Christmas Eve when we arrived at this little French seaport, and then it took us two hours to cross the straits, although we happened to be on one of the fast-sailing steamers. We had now five hours to get to Kensington. I was getting terribly anxious now. If there should be a breakdown, or if anything should happen to hinder us! We were so near, and yet so far. Once I thought of telegraphing and telling of my success, but I refrained from that. I wanted to tell of my victory in person, and thus, if needs be, destroy Voltaire's last hope.

The usual time for an express train to run from Dover to Victoria is about two hours; but it was Christmas Eve, special trains were running, and pa.s.sengers crowded on every hand, thus we were more than three hours in accomplis.h.i.+ng the journey. The train swept into Victoria at a quarter-past ten. There was one hour and three-quarters to go to Kensington.

"This way to the Custom House," shouted one of the officials. I had forgotten this part of the programme, but I determined not to wait for my luggage. I would sooner lose it a thousand times over than be late in reaching Kensington. I accordingly got the keys from Kaffar and Simon, and pointing out the portmanteaus to an official, gave him a sovereign to see them examined and sent on to my address in Gower Street.

I hailed a hansom, but the cabby refused to take the three of us, upon which Kaffar offered to go in another; but I dared not risk him out of my sight, so we got into a rumbling old four-wheeler, and I offered the cabby a sovereign if he would get me at the address I gave him in half-an-hour.

"Couldn't do it for ten sovereigns, sir," said the cabby. "The streets is as slippery as gla.s.s, and as crowded as herrin's in a barrel. I'll do it in _three-quarters_ for a quid, yer honour."

It was now nearly half-past ten; that would make it a quarter-past eleven. To me it was drawing it terribly fine, but I consented. If he were not spurred on by thought of reward, short as the distance was, there was no knowing how long he would be.

At length the cab stopped. It was a quarter-past eleven, and as I got out I noticed that we stood in front of one of those tall n.o.ble-looking mansions which are so common in Kensington.

"Wait a minute," I said to the cabby; "I want to be certain this is the right house." Meanwhile I noticed that my constant friend Simon held Kaffar by the arm.

I rang the bell violently, and a servant appeared at the door.

Did Miss Gertrude Forrest live there?

Yes.

Was she at home?

Yes.

Could I see her?

The servant was not sure, but would ascertain. Miss Forrest was then engaged.

I stopped the man, for I did not wish to appear in the way that matters seemed to promise. Meanwhile Simon had paid the cabby, and so the three of us stood together in the hall.

"I am an old friend of Miss Forrest's," I said to the man; "I want to be shown to the room where she is, without her being apprised of my presence."

"I daren't," he replied; "it would be as much as my place is worth."

"No, it would not," I replied. "You would not suffer in the slightest degree."

"But there are several people in the room," he said, eyeing a sovereign I was turning over in my hand.

"How many?"

"There's Miss Forrest, her aunt, and Miss Staggles, besides a gentleman that came early in the evening."

"That gentleman's name is Herod Voltaire," I said.

"Yes, sir, that's the name. Well, I'll do as you wish me."

I followed the servant, while Simon kept fast hold on Kaffar. The man knocked at the door, while I stood close behind him, and the moment he opened the door I entered the room.

Never shall I forget the sight. Evidently Voltaire had been claiming the fulfilment of her promise, for he was earnestly speaking when I entered, while Miss Forrest, pale as death, sat by an elderly lady, who I concluded to be her aunt. Miss Staggles also sat near, as grim and taciturn as ever.