The Pauper of Park Lane Part 37

Max stood wondering at the other's sudden antic.i.p.ation of disaster.

What could he dread if this denial of his was the actual truth?

Again he grew suspicious.

"How can I be witness against you if you are innocent of any connection with the affair?" he queried.

"Because the Doctor's enemies have done this, in order to s.h.i.+eld themselves."

"But if the Doctor is really still alive, what have you to fear?"

"Is he alive? That is the point."

"Marion gives me to understand that both he and Maud are safe," Max responded quickly.

The other shook his head dubiously, saying: "If she has told you that, then it is exactly contrary to what she has given me to understand."

"What? She has expressed a suspicion of foul play?"

"Yes--more than a suspicion."

"Well--this is certainly strange," Max declared. "Marion has all along been trying to allay my fears."

"Because she feared to upset you, perhaps. With me it is different.

She does not mind my feelings."

"I'm sure she does, Charlie. She's devoted to you. And she ought to be. Few brothers would do what you have done."

"That's quite outside the question," he said, quickly pacing anxiously up and down the room. "She told me distinctly the other day that her fears were of the worst."

"Ah! if you could only induce her to tell us what Maud confessed to her.

It was a confession--a serious and tragic one, I believe."

"Yes. It was, no doubt; and if she would only speak we could, I believe, quickly get at the truth," Rolfe said. "To me it seems incredible that the Doctor, your most intimate friend, should not have found some secret manner by which to communicate with you, and a.s.sure you of his safety."

There was a pause. Suddenly Max turned to the speaker and exclaimed--

"Tell me, Charlie. Be perfectly frank with me. Have you, do you think, at any time recently given some cause for offence to the Doctor?"

"Why do you ask that?" inquired the other in quick surprise.

"I have reasons for asking. I'll tell you after you've answered my question."

"I don't know," he laughed uneasily. "Some men, and especially foreigners, are very easily offended."

"But have you offended the Doctor?"

"Perhaps. A man never knows when he gives unintentional offence."

"Are you aware of having done anything to offend him?"

"No, except that Maud asked me not to visit there so often, as her father did not approve of it."

"Did she ever tell you that the Doctor had suddenly entertained a dislike of you?"

"Certainly not. I always believed that he was very friendly disposed towards me. But--well--why do you ask all this?"

"I merely ask for information."

"Of course, but you promised to tell me the reason."

"Well, the fact is this. On the afternoon prior to their disappearance, the Doctor expressed feelings towards you that were not exactly friendly. It seemed to me that he had formed some extraordinary prejudice. Fathers do this often towards the men who love their daughters, you know. They are sometimes apt to be over-cautious, with the result that the girl loses a very good chance of marriage," he added. "I've known several similar cases."

"Well," said Charlie thoughtfully, "that's quite new to me. I had flattered myself that the Doctor was very well disposed towards me.

This is quite a revelation?"

"Didn't Maud ever tell you?"

"Not a word."

"She feared, of course, to hurt your feelings. It was quite natural.

She loves you."

"If what we fear be true, you should put your words into the past tense, Max," was his reply in a hard voice. Barclay knew that his friend loved the sweet-faced girl with the stray, unruly wisp of hair which fell always across her white brow and gave her such a piquante appearance.

And if he loved her so well, was it possible that he could have been author of, or implicated, in a foul and secret crime?

Recollection of that dress-bodice with the ugly stain still wet upon it flashed upon him. Was it not in itself circ.u.mstantial evidence that some terrible crime had been committed?

The man before him denied all knowledge of the disappearance of his well-beloved, and yet Max, with his own eyes, had seen him slinking from the house!

Had he spoken the truth, or was he an ingenious liar?

Such was the problem which Max Barclay put to himself--a question which was the whole crux of the extraordinary situation. If what Rolfe had declared was the truth, then the mystery became an enigma beyond solution.

But if, on the other hand, he was now endeavouring to s.h.i.+eld himself from the shadow of guilt upon him, then at least one fact was rendered more hideous than the rest.

The question was one--and only one.

Had this man, brother of his own dear Marion, sworn falsely upon what he had held to be most sacred--his love for Maud?

What was the real and actual truth?

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

IN THE WEB.

It was four o'clock on the following afternoon, dark and threatening outside, precursory of a thunderstorm.

In that chair in Max's room, where Charlie Rolfe had sat on the previous morning, was the polished cosmopolitan, Jean Adam, lazily lolling back, smoking a cigarette.