CHAPTER VIII

A TALE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

There were two people in the room as Mr. Hedderwick opened the door, a

man and a lady. The latter, he noted with amazement, was in evening

dress, a light cloak being thrown over it; the former wore the ordinary

morning dress of a man about town, neat, though a little shiny, and on

his head was a top hat. At Robert's command he turned with a violent

start: the lady started, too, but in a moment recovered her composure

and laughed. "Good morning," she said cheerfully: "I can't say this is

an unexpected pleasure, for that would be only a half-truth. And now,

what are you going to do?"

Robert, considerably taken aback at the character of his prisoners and

his own reception, paused a moment before replying. He was breathing a

little noisily from pure excitement, but still he was careful to keep

the pistol at a threatening angle.

"Well," he said slowly, "in the first place I warn you that I shall

shoot if you move----"

"Of course," she agreed brightly, "that would be the most sensible thing

to do. But we have no intention of being so foolish. It seems that you

hold the whip-hand, so--shall we sit down and discuss the situation?"

"By all means," said Robert, gaping. "You will find that armchair the

most comfortable."

She seated herself, and her companion was about to follow suit. But he

checked himself, picked up a gaily-colored rug from the sofa, and with a

smile said, "There is no need for even a jailer to catch cold." He threw

it lightly across to Robert, who caught it with a blush. He wished

foolishly he had put on a collar. Then the man sat down and looked at

the lady as if waiting for instructions. Robert followed his example,

taking care to interpose the table between them in case of a surprise.

"And now," said the lady again, "what are you going to do? Send for a

policeman?"

It was the obvious course, but Robert on a sudden felt that it would be

impossible. When he had valiantly left his bed, seized his weapon and

prepared to capture a burglar or two, he had in mind merely the vision

of an ordinary hooligan. The reality upset him. He needed time to adjust

his ideas.

"I suppose I must," he said apologetically. "I am exceedingly sorry, but

really, you know----"

"Oh, we quite understand," returned Beatrice (for of course it was she

and Lionel) with a frank camaraderie. "It must be a painful position for

you as well as for us. But perhaps, before deciding, you would like to

hear the reason of our visit?"

His eyes brightened; he grasped an idea.

"Excellent!" he said. "I have the satisfaction of having frustrated your

design, and honestly I am not in love with the notion of giving you in

charge. Besides ..." he hesitated as if ashamed, but decided on candor,

"my life is a trifle dull, and if you can tell me a really interesting

tale, well ..."

"Sir, you are a sportsman," observed Lionel; and Beatrice added

persuasively, "A perfect dear!"

"Flattery is useless," he replied. "I don't want that. Tell me a good

tale, and perhaps ..."

"I will tell you all," said Beatrice. "If we were captured I had meant

to keep silence; but your generous offer compels a change of plan. You

shall have a frank truthful----"

"I do not insist on truth," said Robert, stroking his nose, "but it must

be interesting." He stopped, aghast at his own depravity. Then he

laughed gently. "Morality is hard to achieve at this hour. But come! A

good tale!"

Lionel smiled. He had faith in Beatrice as a story-teller, even if he

was a little doubtful of her other qualities. He settled himself on the

sofa, prepared not only to hear but criticize. As for Mr. Hedderwick, he

was so eager that he laid down the revolver on the table and leaned

forward on his elbows. To all appearance he might have been a boy

listening to a true yarn of pirates and savages.

Beatrice, without effort or hesitation, began to speak. A second

Scheherezade, she was fighting for her husband and her own freedom, and

everything conspired to lend her aid. She had a thrilling story to tell

at first hand; she had the dramatic instinct and an appreciative

audience. Not only Mr. Hedderwick but Lionel, too, listened with rapt

attention. The tale lived, as told by her, bearing the stamp of truth

and humor in every syllable her lips uttered. And Lionel, keeping guard

over himself with a loving suspicion, noticed that in no particulars did

she depart from the original version. He cursed himself that any shred

of doubt could still cling about him. Did any cling? Surely not, and

yet.... Pish! it was not merely disloyal--it was ludicrous: the two

stories were identical. Had the first been lies she must now have

betrayed herself.

Not that she told her story in such detail as she had to Lionel: there

was not time for that. The _precis_ of her life and adventures lasted no

more than half an hour: all that mattered was there, but the smaller

details were absent. A touch here, and the kidnaping was painted in a

dozen words; a line there, and she had swept them to Constantinople: a

paragraph depicted Lukos with a master hand--a few vivid sentences

described the flight. Then came the stage, her meeting with Lionel (five

pages to the rescue, the taxi deleted altogether, and three lines to the

dressing-room), and lastly, the treachery of Mizzi. She brought her

story down to the moment of their capture, not forgetting to tell how

they had effected their entrance by means of skeleton keys. "And that is

all," she said at last, drawing a breath of relief.

"Not quite all," said Mr. Hedderwick with rounded eyes. "Lord! what a

tale! what a life! Compared with this ..."--his eyes wandered

discontentedly round the room, and he did not finish the sentence. "But

go on--go on! Tell me why you hid the papers here."

"Partly by chance, partly design. I meant to hide them in a stranger's

house, thinking they would be safest there. One evening as I walked

this way I saw a machine in front of your door. It was a vacuum cleaner!

That decided me. It meant that after they had finished there was no

likelihood of your carpets being lifted for some time."

"My carpets!" gasped Robert. "What the----"

"Oh, do _wait_!" said Beatrice pettishly; and he collapsed, as was only

fitting. "I came next day and the cleaner had gone. During the morning I

made discreet inquiries as to your habits and mode of life. In the

evening I hired a cab, drove to Kensington to put any possible trackers

off the scent, changed into another cab and drove back here. At

seven-thirty I called. You were out, and your wife said you would not be

back for at least half an hour. I asked if I might wait, as my business

was important. She hesitated, but consented, my sables being a guarantee

that I had not come with any designs on your plate.

"However, to my disgust she insisted on remaining in the room and

discussing trivialities. Of course, as long as she remained I was

helpless, and my well-meant hints were disregarded. I was in despair;

but presently the cook burst in with a woeful tale of a scorched

petticoat, and the situation was saved. Your wife darted out to survey

the damage, and the next moment my precious papers were hidden beneath

the carpet.

"Mrs. Hedderwick returned within a very few minutes, full of apologies

and (I fear) regrets that she had left the room. I did not prolong my

visit. On the plea that I could not wait further, and promising to call

again, I managed to escape. If you wish for proof, look under the carpet

beneath your chair."

Mr. Hedderwick sprang up like an eager schoolboy. He seized the poker,

inserted it under the carpet, and with a crackling wrench prized up a

yard or two. With trembling fingers he tore it back still farther, and

then his face fell. He stood up, a disappointed man. "There is nothing

here," he said accusingly. "This is an anticlimax to a capital tale."

Lionel did not move, but his face darkened. During the recital he had

felt a warm glow of faith pervade his whole being, a glow that was not

diminished by the contemplation of Beatrice. By the time she had

finished he was a devout adherent, and now the shock of disillusion

swung him back once more to the certainty of doubt. He did not speak,

but his eyes sought hers in a question he could not put into words. The

lady alone seemed unembarrassed. She gave a regretful sigh.

"There is no anticlimax," she said. "Rather it is the thickening of the

plot. Of course they have been taken by Mizzi. Has she been there

recently--yesterday?"

"Not that I know of," he returned blankly. "It's possible, I suppose ...

anyhow, it's not a bad idea for ... for a story, but...."

"I see you disbelieve still," said Beatrice with a calm disdain. "I had

no idea men could be so stupid. I suppose there is nothing for it but to

wake Mrs. Hedderwick and ask her."

The churchwarden sat down suddenly, as if his knees had given way. "Wake

Mrs. Hedderwick!" he repeated in a ghastly voice: "wake my wife! Oh, no!

It is impossible--quite out of the question!"

"Not at all. She will know whether any one has called here, and in

justice to my veracity you must ask her. I insist! Remember our freedom

is at stake."

Mr. Hedderwick rose, pale but determined.

"I beg your pardon," he said politely. "Will you please go at once? I

have not the least intention of prosecuting, and I swear that I believe

your story. Only will you _please_ go at once?"

Lionel chuckled, amused and grateful.

"This is hardly fair, sir," he said. "You forget that we want

information as to where those papers may have gone. If your wife could

tell us whether any one has called and what his or her appearance----"

"No, no!" quavered the unhappy Robert. "I can not consent! You must find

out elsewhere. I can not have my wife roused! I--I would not have her

here for a thousand pounds!"

"Indeed, Robert!" said a deep voice from the door. The churchwarden

leaped round in a trice. He saw his wife, in the majesty of a

dressing-gown, a poker in her right hand, standing in the doorway. His

bowels turned to water. "Alicia!" he groaned.

"Yes," she said with a pleasurable severity. "What does this mean?" Her

eye roved austerely and there was a dead silence. Robert was temporarily

annihilated, Beatrice serenely impassive, Lionel amusedly dividing his

attention between the two ladies. Presently Mrs. Hedderwick's brow

cleared, as if a light had dawned upon her. She began to speak again in

a voice that was almost cheerful. "I see!" she said: "it is a new idea,

Robert. I suppose these are some of your friends, and this is a kind of

breakfast party. I am very sorry that you did not give me earlier

warning, or I would have had the dining-room ready. My husband," she

said, turning confidentially to Beatrice, "is a man, and naturally does

not realize that bacon can not be fried in a moment, and that eggs will

not cook themselves. Toast, again, needs a little care; and coffee I

always say is worthless unless one looks after it one's self."

"Alicia!" interposed the miserable Robert, "I do wish you'd be

reasonable. For heaven's sake----"

"Kindly do not swear, Robert," said his wife, turning ferociously on

him. "If I have made a mistake, I am sure it was but natural. If this is

not a breakfast-party, pray what is it? A man of your age would not

indulge in _suppers_"--she gave the word an emphasis that insinuated

Cremorne--"so what can I think? I hear an unusual noise--I come

down-stairs and find my husband hobnobbing with a strange gentleman and

his ... friend ... whom I _have_ met, but----"

Lionel rose, but Beatrice was wiser and forestalled him.

"Your surprise and indignation are only natural, Mrs. Hedderwick," she

said coolly, "but they will be abated when you learn that our untimely

visit is in connection with a police affair."

Her instinct was right. Curiosity conquered the churchwarden's wife,

where an appeal to pity or kindred emotions would have failed. She

relaxed her frigid attitude and said, "Indeed?"

"Yes," pursued Beatrice. "I can not tell you all at present, but be

assured that if it ever comes into court your evidence will be of

value." Mrs. Hedderwick smoothed her dressing-gown and determined to

appear in the witness-box in mauve. "Will you just tell us this: did any

stranger call here this evening?"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Hedderwick, divided between resentment and a thirst

for knowledge. "A lady, or at least a female, called and inquired for my

husband."

"A lady!" ejaculated Mr. Hedderwick. "This promises well----"

His wife's eye compelled him again to his seat. "I think, Robert, if you

evinced less interest in such a subject it would be more seemly. The

female in question asked if she might wait, as she wished to beg a

subscription for an anti-suffragist league. I am in sympathy with such

an object and allowed her to remain. In the course of our conversation

she referred to an article on dress in one of the women's papers. I

happened to have the journal and offered to fetch it; she agreed,

thinking that the plate of a new blouse might suit my style."

"So you left her alone!" broke in Lionel.

"For a bare two minutes. When I returned she was still there. We

discussed the blouse for a while, and presently she said that she must

go, but would return later."

"Plagiarist!" said Beatrice with a smile. "Did you happen to notice how

she was dressed?"

"I never notice such things," said Mrs. Hedderwick with dignity. "Dress

is not one of my foibles. But after she had gone I picked up a

handkerchief which I suppose she had dropped. It was marked----"

"Wait!" said Mr. Hedderwick suddenly. "What is her name?" he asked,

turning to Beatrice.

"Whose, Robert?" queried his wife.

"Oh, bother!" he said, irritation lending him courage. "Your maid's."

"Mizzi Schmidt."

"And the initials, Alicia?"

"M. S."

Mr. Hedderwick, his head full of romantic notions of chivalry,

forgetting the urgent need of circumspection, rose. He advanced toward

Beatrice, raised her hand, and, to the horror of his wife, kissed it

solemnly. "I beg your pardon," he said; "there is no anticlimax. Now

that you know Mizzi is the thief you will want to be off. Good-by and

good luck."

They took him at his word and rose.

"Good-by," said Beatrice in the most ordinary voice. "Thank you so much

for your help--and yours, too, Mrs. Hedderwick. So sorry we had to break

into your house. Good-by. Now, Mr. Mortimer!"

"Good-by," said Lionel; "thanks most awfully. I felt you were a

sportsman as soon as I saw you."

They were in the hall by this time, and the magnanimous churchwarden was

already opening the door.

"Not at all," he said. "I've had a most interesting night. I wish you'd

let me know the end of the tale some day."

"If it is a happy ending, you shall," said Beatrice. She halted a

moment, motioned to Lionel to pass out before her, and then turned. "If

you see us again, be careful never to recognize or speak to us; it might

mean danger--not only to you, but us."

He smiled but said nothing. Beatrice and Lionel moved away in the light

of the early dawn. Mr. Hedderwick closed the door gently and stood deep

in thought for a moment. "What an adventure ... what a splendid

woman ... what a jolly chap!" his thoughts ran. "How different their life

from mine! Here am I, tied to the same holiday year after year ... afraid

to call my soul my own ... why, why should I not have a holiday on my own

account--a holiday ... by myself for once. Something new ... something

out of the common...."

"Robert!" said a threatening voice from the drawing-room, and he leaped.

"Come in! I have something to say to you!"

The tone told him what the "something" would be. His thoughts raced

furiously during the next twenty seconds, but he had wit enough to

answer, "Yes, Alicia! Wait till I have locked the door!" Then with a

swift but silent movement he slipped on a greatcoat and hat and

stealthily opened the door again. He peered out.... Yes, there was hope

and an object, for he could see, some hundred and fifty yards away, the

figures of Beatrice and her escort. With a gasp Mr. Hedderwick

muttered, "_I will_!" He pulled the door to behind him and set out

furtively, but with a resolute swiftness, in pursuit.