Okewood of the Secret Service Part 42

He gently impelled her towards the ladder up which Bellward and Nur-el-Din had already disappeared. At the top, he took the lead and conducted Barbara into the taproom. A single candle stood on the table, throwing a wan light into the room. Ra.s.s lay on his back in the centre of the floor, one hand doubled up under him, one knee slightly drawn up.

Barbara started back in horror.

"Is he... is he..." she stammered, pointing at the limp still form.

Strangwise nodded.

"A spy!" he said gravely, "we were well rid of him. Go over there in the corner where you won't see it. Stay!" he added, seeing how pale the girl had become, "you shall have some brandy!"

He produced a flask and measured her out, a portion in the cup.

Suddenly, the door leading from the bar opened and a woman came into the room. Her black velvet dress, her gray hair and general air of distinction made her a bizarre figure in that squalid room lit by the guttering candle.

"Time we were off!" she said to Strangwise, "Bellward's just coming down!"

"There's the maid..." began Strangwise, looking meaningly at Barbara.

The woman in black velvet cast a questioning glance at him.

Strangwise nodded.

"I'll do it," said the woman promptly, "if you'll call her down!"

Strangwise went to the other door of the tap-room and called:

"Marie!"

There was a step outside and the maid came in, pale and trembling.

"Your mistress wants you; she is downstairs in the cellar," he said pleasantly.

Marie hesitated an instant and surveyed the group.

"Non, non," she said nervously, "je n'veux pas descendre!"

Strangwise smiled, showing his teeth.

"No need to be frightened, ma fille," he replied. "Madame here will go down with you!" and he pointed to the woman in black velvet.

This seemed to rea.s.sure the maid and she walked across the room to the door, the woman following her. As the latter pa.s.sed Strangwise he whispered a word in her ear.

"No, no," answered the other, "I prefer my own way," and she showed him something concealed in her hand.

The two women quitted the room together, leaving Strangwise and Barbara alone with the thing on the floor. Strangwise picked up a military great-coat which was hanging over the back of a chair and put it on, b.u.t.toning it all the way up the front and turning up the collar about the neck. Then he crammed a cap on his head and stood listening intently.

A high, gurgling scream, abruptly checked, came through the open door at the farther end of the room.

Barbara sprang up from the chair into which she had sunk.

"What was that" she asked, whispering.

Strangwise did not reply. He was still listening, a tall, well set-up figure in the long khaki great-coat.

"But those two women are alone in the cellar," exclaimed Barbara, "they are being murdered! Ah! what was that?"

A gentle thud resounded from below.

A man came in through the door leading from the bar:

He had a fat, smooth-shaven face, heavily jowled.

"All ready, Bellward?" asked Strangwise carelessly.

Barbara stared at the man thus addressed. She saw that he was wearing the same clothes as the man who had come down into the cellar with Strangwise but the beard was gone. And the man she saw before her was not Desmond Okewood.

Without waiting to reason out the metamorphosis, she ran towards Bellward.

"They're murdering those two women down in the cellar," she cried, "oh, what has happened? Won't you go down and see?"

Bellward shook her off roughly.

"Neat work!" said Strangwise.

"She's a wonder with the knife!" agreed the other.

Barbara stamped her foot.

"If neither of you men have the courage to go down," she cried, "then I'll go alone! As for you, Captain Strangwise, a British officer..."

She never finished the sentence. Strangwise caught her by the shoulder and thrust the cold barrel of a pistol in her face.

"Stay where you are!" he commanded. "And if you scream I shoot!"

Barbara was silent, dumb with horror and bewilderment, rather than with fear. A light shone through the open door at the end of the tap-room and the woman in black velvet appeared, carrying a lamp in her hand She was breathing rather hard and her carefully arranged gray hair was a little untidy; but she was quite calm and self-possessed.

"We haven't a moment to lose!" she said, putting the lamp down on the table and blowing it out.

"Bellward, give me my cloak!"

Bellward advanced with a fur cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders.

"You are the perfect artiste, Minna," he said.

"Practise makes perfect!" replied Mrs. Malplaquet archly.

Strangwise had flung open the door leading to the front yard. A big limousine stood outside.

"Come on," he said impatiently, "don't stand there gossiping you two!"

Then Barbara revolted.