Chapter VIII: Part 8

"Now tell me what this means," she said. "I implore you to be candid with me. I am not the first mother who has worshipped a golden idol only to find that it has feet of clay. This is the punishment for my pride in my son. It was my fancy to regard him as something better and more upright than other men, and I begin to see different, now that he has deceived me. People come to see him who fill me with dread. I know that he is deeply in debt and that he has been deliberately deluding me. I suppose he is afraid to tell me, lest I should stop his allowance and perhaps leave the bulk of my money to some worthier object."

"There is nothing novel in the situation," Charlock said grimly. "You are by no means the first parent who has been deceived in the same way. I have known scores of such instances."

"That does not render the discovery less bitter," Mrs. Rent said sadly. "But I am sure that is not all. There is something worse behind. And if you will tell me what it is----"

"I cannot," Charlock said, "because I do not know. But you will need all your courage and strength before long."

*CHAPTER XXXVIII*

*THE EMPTY ROOM*

Malcolm Grey sat himself down to wait grimly and patiently for Tanza. From his position on the lawn he commanded a view of the front of the house. He had the satisfaction of knowing that Rent was safe and that he could not leave without being seen. In one of the rooms at the top of the house the light flickered from time to time, so that Grey had a fair idea of where Rent was and what he was doing. The better part of half an hour elapsed before Tanza appeared on the scene. Grey hailed him in a whisper, and he crept noiselessly across the grass. For once he appeared to be curious.

"What is on foot now?" he demanded. "Why did you send for me in so mysterious a fashion? Why is there a light at the top of the house? Is the problem solved?"

"To all practical purposes it is," Grey replied. "I know what took place, and why. But precisely how the mischief was brought about I cannot say. Possibly before daylight the thing may be explained. But that depends upon luck. At any rate, I am going to take you into my confidence and tell you what I have discovered."

"I am glad to hear that," Tanza murmured.

Tanza inclined his head to listen, and for the next quarter of an hour followed Grey with the most careful attention. He was more interested than perhaps he had ever been before in his life. The strangely tangled web which Grey was unfolding was the most complicated of all the affairs in which he had ever been engaged.

"Wonderful," he murmured. "Really, a work of art. Perhaps it is rather cold-blooded of me to regard these puzzles in the way of a recreation. But there is a peculiar horror about this affair which has rarely been equalled. So that's the way the thing was done, eh? Well, I suppose I must leave the matter in your hands. What do you propose to do next? But, by the way, you have not yet told me who is in the bedroom overhead."

"You will be surprised when I tell you," Grey murmured. "The intruder is no other than Arnold Rent."

An exclamation of genuine surprise broke from Tanza's lips.

"Is that really a fact?" he demanded. "But what brings him here? What has he come after?"

"Ah, that I can only conjecture. I don't think my theory is far wrong. Although Arnold Rent is the son of a rich woman, he has by no means the command of unlimited money. Mrs. Rent is rather simple in her ideas and inclined to be somewhat of a Puritan. She is quite capable of leaving her money elsewhere if she thinks her son will waste it. Therefore, it has been a necessity on Rent's part that his mother should be deceived as to his mode of life. To put it plainly, he is more or less afraid of her. And when a man lives in a smart set, and has no control over his expenditure, he is bound sooner or later to find himself in difficulties. That is the matter with Rent. He did not know which way to turn for money. He did not dare to go to his mother and ask her to set him on his feet again. Therefore he hits upon another plan. He makes violent love to Bark's sister Hortense with a view to securing her mistress's diamonds. At first I don't believe that Rent cared for Mrs. Charlock at all. What he meant to do was to get hold of her jewels, but when he came to know the woman intimately she fascinated him to such an extent that he lost his head. He was prepared to sacrifice everything for her sake. Witness that mad idea of his taking Mrs. Charlock to stay with his mother. I give the fellow credit for honesty in that respect. I believe his affection for Mrs. Charlock was absolutely pure and good--perhaps the only disinterested impulse he ever had in his life. Meanwhile, he had talked Hortense over and between them they laid hands upon Mrs. Charlock's jewels. You will ask what became of the jewels. They were hidden in a place of safety, so that they might be available when they were wanted."

"That sounds logical," Tanza said. "Is it part of the problem to find the jewels, or do you know where they are?"

"I know where they are," was the unexpected reply. "They are within a stone's throw of us."

The little Italian whistled softly.

"Oh," he said, "I shall have to hand my mantle over to you, I see. But hadn't we better secure the plunder while we have the chance? It would be folly to miss the opportunity."

"Oh, the gems are safe enough," Grey said, with a grim chuckle. "You can almost touch them with your hands. And yet they are as safe as the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. Indeed, they are safer, seeing that an attempt on the National Regalia would only end in imprisonment, while a determined attack upon Mrs. Charlock's gems would end in sudden death. I won't gratify your curiosity yet. I have told you enough for the present, and the truth, too. The first hand that rests upon that jewel case will be the hand of a corpse in the twinkling of an eye. In a day or two, perhaps, it may be safe to rifle the hiding-place. But not yet, not yet."

Grey spoke with a thrill in his voice that had something of horror in it. Tanza had seen too many mysteries in his time to express anything in the way of incredulity. On the contrary, he nodded his head solemnly.

"Does anybody else know?" he asked.

"Anybody besides Arnold Rent, you mean?" Grey replied. "Well, yes, one other person knows, and that is Ephraim Bark. His information came to him from his sister, who wrote and told him all about the affair when she discovered that she had been made a tool of by Rent and that he did not care two straws for her. We shall know presently how Rent managed to silence that jealous woman's tongue and leave the field clear for himself."

"You mean to say," Tanza began, "that Arnold Rent----"

"My dear fellow, I mean to say nothing. I shall have a repulsive enough task later when I am compelled to speak plainly. Meanwhile, I have told you pretty well all there is to know. We had better go up and see what Arnold Rent is doing. You will not be surprised to hear that he is in Hortense's bedroom, probably looking for papers. Oh, by the way, there is one thing I forgot to mention. It is a photograph I found in the French maid's room. It gave the clue to the greater part of my discovery. Perhaps I had better show it you."

"I should like to see it very much," Tanza murmured.

Grey produced the torn photograph from his pocket and, with the aid of a match, exhibited it to his companion. He would have liked to know who was the other figure in the photograph. But that did not much matter, and it was a point which was not likely to be elucidated. Then the two friends crept quietly into the house. It was not easy to grope their way upstairs in the dark, but they managed it without noise, and presently stood outside the room, watching Rent at work. He seemed to be wrapped up in his task to the exclusion of everything else. He was pacing round and round the room, tapping on the panels and measuring distances with an iron lever in his hand. He was muttering to himself, too, but it was by no means easy to catch what he said. A quarter of an hour passed in the seemingly futile task, and then the searcher appeared to come to some definite conclusion. With a muttered exclamation he drove the point of his lever into one of the panels, and with a crackling, splintering sound the timber gave way. So far as the watchers could see, there was a space behind the panel more or less filled with letters. These Rent stowed away in his pockets. Beyond question, the object of his search was satisfied, for the expression of his face changed and a gleam of gratification sparkled in his eyes. He turned to the door so abruptly that Tanza and his companion had barely time to fall back into the doorway of an empty room before Rent began to descend the stairs. They watched him carrying the candle till he reached the basement of the house.

"What are you going to do now?" Tanza asked.

"Follow him," Grey said curtly. "In point of fact, I promised to take him home. Practically, though behaving like a sane man, the cloud is over his brain still, and I doubt very much if he knows what he is doing. Of course, there is a good deal of method in his madness. Still, we have to deal with a man who is not altogether accountable for his actions."

"And where do I come in?" Tanza asked.

"Oh, you'll go back to the yacht and wait further developments. It won't be very long before I am there again. And when I do come I may bring one if not two visitors with me. It might be necessary to do a little amateur kidnapping, but I am not sure about that yet. And now you had better leave me."

"All right," Tanza said cheerfully. "I am content to leave matters to you. Good luck to you!"

Grey walked after the other figure. He laid his hand upon Rent's arm and accosted him.

*CHAPTER XXXIX*

*IN THE BAR*

Morning was beginning to struggle with night when Grey turned his footsteps from Mrs. Rent's lodgings towards the quay. He was more than satisfied with his work, despite the fact that the most unpleasant and most repulsive part of it was yet to come. He was tired and weary by this time, but there was something to be accomplished before he returned to the yacht. One or two facts had to be verified. He turned aside for a bit and walked along the foreshore to Rent's workshop. But it was in absolute darkness, and no doubt Swift had gone to his lodgings. It was Swift whom Grey wanted to see, and, rather than go to the yacht before his task was altogether finished, Grey loitered about the streets till daybreak. He took a short cut through a series of dingy streets and past the fish-market, where one or two public-houses flaunted their garish lights across the pavement. Grey wondered at this infringing of the licensing act, until it dawned upon him that these were free houses specially retained for the benefit of the fish-dealers and hawkers and certain crews of yachts which landed in the early morning. It was a survival of old times. For the most part they seemed to be doing a certain amount of business.

There was something inviting about the lights and the open doors. It suddenly occurred to Grey that it was six or seven hours since he had partaken of food. He turned into one of the houses, where he saw piles of thick but appetising sandwiches laid out in plates upon the long table. He called for three or four of these and a small glass of whisky-and-soda, which he proceeded to dispose of in the snug seclusion of one of the little oak cabins which still obtain in some old-fashioned taverns. The cabins were by no means well-lighted, so that one could sit practically unseen in the darkness and yet see everything that was going on in the bar. Grey had barely finished his repast and lighted a cigarette before the swing door was thrown open and Ephraim Bark swaggered in. There was nothing surprising in the appearance of the little man; in fact, this was just the kind of place that such a thirsty soul would patronise, seeing that it was possible to obtain strong drink at any time of the day or night. All the same, it was a coincidence, and Grey determined to make the best of it.

But Bark had not come solely with the intention of consuming drink. He asked a question of the sleepy-looking man behind the bar, then looked at his watch impatiently. Grey smiled grimly to see that Bark was in possession of a watch again. Evidently he was in funds once more. For nearly half an hour Bark stood exchanging pungent chaff with the barman, until the door opened and Swift came in. No doubt this was the man for whom Bark was waiting. Bark scowled at the newcomer and intimated that a few moments later and he and the public-house bar would have been complete strangers. Swift did not appear to heed. He swayed unsteadily to and fro. His face was ghastly white and twitching. There was a queer, fitful gleam in his eyes.

"Something to drink," he said hoarsely. "A large glass of brandy with nothing in it. I'll pay the next time I come in, upon my honour I will."

The barman laughed contemptuously. Evidently Swift was an old customer and his promise carried but little weight in the eyes of the management. Bark looked curiously at the dreadful wreck opposite him with his head cocked on one side.

"Shall I risk it or not?" he asked. "You are on the verge of a bad breakdown, if ever man was, and it is a toss-up what the stuff will do for you. It will pull your wits together and make a man of you; on the other hand, it may send you climbing up the gaspipes under the impression that you are a monkey. I know all about it. I have been there myself."

This coarse badinage passed over Swift's head. He pressed his hand to his burning throat and once more asked piteously for drink. Bark relented.

"All right," he said. "Let him have it. We have all got to take risks sometimes. There, do you feel better now?"

Like a man dying of thirst in a desert, Swift reached out an eager, trembling hand for the potent yellow fluid and poured it down his throat at one fell swoop. Then gradually but surely a little colour crept back into his cheeks. His hands ceased to twitch and the horrible spasmodic jerkings of his lips left his mouth firm and straight.

"Ah, that's better," he said, with the air of a man escaping from physical pain. "Now I am ready to talk. What is it you want? Haven't you done mischief enough already? You have managed to knock Arnold Rent out of time, and that ought to be sufficient. What can I do for you?"

Grey started as these words fell upon his ears. He knew now how the latter's state of mind had been brought about. He saw Bark and his companion cross the bar and take their places in one of the cabins higher up the room. Bark called for more refreshment, but he was careful to specify the exact quantity which Swift was to consume, with the promise of more when their business was concluded. There was a certain amount of risk attached to it, but Grey felt he must establish himself in the next cabin so that he might hear what was going on. While the barman's back was turned, Grey crept noiselessly across the floor and disappeared in the cabin next to that occupied by Bark and his companion. The little man apparently was bent on business only, for the first words he uttered took him straight to the point.

"Oh, you know what I want," he said. "I want you to tell me how that affair was managed. It doesn't matter so long as I can get about without any danger. Now, you needn't look at me like that, pretending to be innocent, because you know where the jewels are hidden."

"What jewels?" Swift asked. "What do you mean?"

"Mean!" Bark echoed. "Why, what I say."

"There seems to be some misunderstanding," Swift murmured. "I give you my word, I don't know anything about any jewels. This is the first time that I have heard them mentioned. Oh, I am all right now. My head is as clear as yours. But, so far as any gems are concerned, you are talking clean over my head."

Bark hesitated for a moment, then laughed with the air of a man who is rather pleased with himself.

"So much the better," he said. "Sometimes a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I believe what you say, and, seeing that you don't know, I am not going to enlighten you. And now we come to another matter. You are a scientist and so is Arnold Rent. It wouldn't be any exaggeration to say that you are two of the cleverest of the new school of investigators in England. If you kept off the drink and Arnold Rent had not been an extravagant fool you might have startled Europe before now. You could have made Edison look like an ignorant schoolboy. But I didn't bring you here for the purposes of flattery. I mean to ask you questions and see that you answer them. Question number one--did you ever hear of intermittent electricity, and what does it mean?"

A sharp exclamation broke from Swift.

"You don't know what you are talking about," he cried.

"Ah, well, that's just why I am asking questions, my friend," Bark sneered. "But, as it happens, I have dabbled in science and am not quite such a fool as I look. I know you can send messages by wireless telegraphy, and before very long wireless telephones will be a back number. This being so, why shouldn't we have wireless electricity? Suppose you put a battery of five hundred volts over yonder where the barman is---- Oh, by the way, would five hundred volts cause a fatal shock to anybody who came in contact with the current?"

A choking sort of sound proceeded from Swift. Evidently he had some difficulty in getting out his words. Grey, listening behind the partition, understood him to say that the shock of five hundred volts would be fatal in certain conditions.

"Well, I know that," Bark said impatiently. "What conditions would the force be fatal under?"

"Some people might suffer with impunity," Swift said hoarsely. "On the other hand, it would simply shrivel up others, and, in any case, no one could withstand it if they stood----"

Swift paused. It seemed almost impossible for him to speak further. Bark laughed in a sneering manner.

"Well, go on," he said encouragingly. "Don't be afraid. I suppose what you mean to infer is that the dose would be absolutely fatal if any one was wet or stood on wet ground?"

"That's it," Swift replied. "Quite correct."

"Very good," Bark replied. "We are getting on. Now listen to me and answer me carefully. On your oath, have you discovered the secret of wireless electricity or not?"

*CHAPTER XL*

*"INFIRM OF PURPOSE"*

The affair was getting interesting. The conversation was proceeding, too, on lines more or less as Grey had expected. He had thought the whole matter out, weighing up the pros and cons of the situation, but the more he debated the thing in his mind the more sure was he that he was on the right track. But for a miscalculation on the part of certain people the mystery of the sundial might have sunk into eternal oblivion. By the irony of fate the very man who could piece together the tangled sections of the puzzle was at hand to do so. For the most part, people regarded the tragedy which had involved the lives of mistress and maid as little more than coincidence. But there were others who, from the first, had insisted that there was mystery calling for solution. Grey was now in possession of information calculated to startle the public, and plenty of newspapers would have been only too pleased to pay a fancy price for what he had to sell. There was one flaw, and only one, in his line of argument, but that for the present was absolutely fatal--he was still in the dark as to how the thing had been brought about.

As to the main issue, he was clear enough in his mind. He knew that to all intents and purposes his information was not of the kind which would have been likely to satisfy a judge and jury. But it seemed that he was about to pick up the missing link, and he listened all the more eagerly to what was going on in the next compartment. Bark put his strange question again. He still appeared to be anxious to know if there was such a thing as intermittent electricity. And still Swift preserved the same strange silence. But Bark was not to be put off by the sullen reticence of his companion.

"Take your time, my buck," he said. "Don't hurry. Don't commit yourself to anything likely to be used in evidence against you afterwards."

"Why do you want to know?" Swift demanded fiercely.

Bark laughed in a wholly good-natured manner. He appeared to be exceedingly sure of his ground.

"Well, let us say that I am a humble seeker after knowledge," he said. "Because I am a wanderer on the face of the earth it doesn't follow that I lack scientific yearnings. If I had been caught young enough I should have been an eminent scientist myself before now. I have worked out many clever little things which would astonish you if you knew. But ever since Marconi invented wireless telegraphy and the other man hit upon telephones without lines I have been dreaming of wireless electricity. Mind you, it is bound to come sooner or later, and it is all the more likely to arrive because it is so impossible."

"Then why worry about it?" Swift murmured.

"My dear fellow, you have answered your own question. Because the thing is impossible, it is so easy. I don't mind admitting that I have tried a few experiments myself, but hitherto without success. Still, it won't be so very long before the whole world is lighted with a fluid which will supply burners without wires. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it? At any rate, it fascinated me to the exclusion of everything else. I tried to puzzle it out in the same way that Marconi puzzled out his invention. In my mind's eye, I could see a big fire station, say where my glass is, and a big factory where yours stands. By the use of powerful induction coils it seemed to me that I could force the power into the factory lamps without the aid of wires. Isn't that the way they propose to work telephones?"

"I don't know anything about it," Swift said sullenly.

"Oh, yes, you do," Bark said, with sudden impatience. "You know all about it. And, what's more, a successful attempt has been made within a mile or so of this very spot. More than once, when I was trying my experiments, it occurred to me to come to England to discuss the matter with Arnold Rent. I didn't do so for reasons which I will not go into now. But when business compelled me to come to this country and see Rent, I wasn't surprised to find that he was working on precisely the same thing. But you know that just as well as I do. What is the good of pretending you don't?"

"It pleases you to say so," Swift murmured.

"Yes, and it will please me to prove it before long, if you take that line. Mind you, I should not have known it if it hadn't been for a mere accident. Perhaps you will deny that there is any connection between what we are talking about and the mysterious death of my sister, to say nothing of Mrs. Charlock?"

A sudden exclamation broke from Swift. He seemed to be startled and alarmed. From his hiding-place Grey could almost imagine the satisfied grin on Bark's face.

"Take your time," the latter said playfully. "I won't hurry you, for we sha'n't part till I get to the bottom of this business. I asked you a plain question and I mean to have a plain answer. Have you or has Arnold Rent made any startling discovery in the direction of intermittent electricity? Is the thing within the range of practical politics?"

It was a long time before Swift replied. Grey could hear him playing with his glass. He could hear the uneasy shuffle of the unfortunate man's body. When the electrician did speak his voice was both timid and hesitating.

"You have no business to ask me this," he said. "If we have made the discovery you speak of, it lies entirely between Arnold Rent and myself. A discovery like that means a huge fortune to the author. The richest man in the world would be a pauper alongside the man who could reduce such a discovery to practical uses."

"What a chap it is to talk!" Bark said impatiently. "Why don't you come to the point? You know perfectly well that you dare not refuse the information I am after."

"We won't go into that," said Swift, with some attempt at dignity. "You will, perhaps, be disappointed to hear that I know nothing about intermittent electricity. If there has been a discovery in that direction, it is Rent's and not mine. He is a far cleverer man than I am. I am a child compared with him."

"Not if you kept off the drink," Bark said impatiently.

"Well, I didn't keep off the drink. What's more, I never shall. And eventually it will be the death of me," Swift said, with a snarl. "For a long time past I have known that my employer was on the verge of a fresh and startling plunge into the sea of discovery. To some extent Rent confided in me, but exactly what he was after he kept to himself. But by piecing one or two little bits of information together I arrived at the conclusion that wireless electricity was the goal. I could tell that from certain new pieces of machinery which were set up in the office. Of course, I said nothing. I knew it was useless to ask questions. And, besides, I felt that sooner or later I should be taken into my employer's confidence. I gathered that things were progressing in a satisfactory manner, when, all at once, the whole scheme of experiments was abandoned and the machinery was destroyed. And now you know pretty well as much as I can tell you."

Bark chuckled unpleasantly.

"I don't think so," he replied. "Still, I am going to take your word for it as far as it goes. I should like to know the exact date that the machinery was destroyed."

"How could I tell you that?" Swift demanded. "It happened some time ago."

"I have no doubt," Bark went on, in the same sardonic way. "That I am quite prepared to believe. But let me refresh your memory. Isn't it a fact that the machinery was destroyed and the experiments came to an abrupt conclusion on the day following my sister's death? Didn't Arnold Rent come down to the office that same day and break up all his machinery, with the excuse that he had made a mistake in his calculations and would have to begin all over again? I don't say that those were the precise words, though I am prepared to swear that that was the purport of them."

"Rent told you himself, then," Swift exclaimed.

"No, he didn't," Bark chuckled. "But you have just done so. Come, don't pretend you are ignorant of what I am driving at. Tell me all I want to know, and it will be the best day's work you ever did in your life. If you will make a clean breast of the whole thing I will put a thousand pounds in your pocket. A little later I'll pay you double that sum. Think what that will mean to you! You could set up for yourself. You could go off to America and make a fortune. All you have to do is to keep straight and you'll be a millionaire in five years. That is the prospect, on the one hand. But there is another point of view which I want to present to your notice. Which would you rather have--the career I have indicated, or find yourself laid by the heels, charged with being accessory before and after the fact to a deliberate and cold-blooded murder? I don't want to speak more plainly."

A strange, inarticulate cry rose from the compartment; there was a sudden rush on the part of Swift, and a moment later he blundered headlong through the door into the darkness.

"That's all right," Bark said, _sotto voce_. "I think I've touched him on the raw. The next time we meet he will tell me everything. He will be like wax in my hands in future."

*CHAPTER XLI*

*DAMNING PROOFS*

Morning had come at length, and, so far as Ethel Hargrave could judge, Arnold Rent appeared to be none the worse for his adventure. He had been brought back the night before by Grey, who did not wait to afford any information, but merely said that he had found the sick man wandering at large. Mrs. Rent was satisfied with this explanation, being only too glad to have her son back again. It would be a lesson to Ethel in future. As to the rest, the unfortunate lady decided that she would look after her son, at any rate, between the hour of his return and daybreak. All through the night Arnold Rent slept with the fatigue of a man who is physically exhausted. When he awoke he did not appear to have the smallest idea of the commotion he had caused on the previous evening. Ethel crept into the room, anxious to see what she could do to wipe out her failure of the night before. Mrs. Rent smiled at her indulgently.

"I think I can leave him to you," she whispered. "I don't suppose you'll be so careless again."

"Indeed I won't," Ethel said earnestly. "You can trust me, I am sure. Go downstairs and get some breakfast and then lie down. Does he seem to be any better?"

Mrs. Rent shook her head sadly.

"Not in the least," she murmured. "He is in the same sullen mood. He seems still anxious over some trouble worrying him. My dear child, we made a great mistake in coming here at all. At any rate, we ought to have left at once and taken Arnold with us. He would have been far better at our quiet house in Devonshire. All I can hope and pray for now is that his memory will be quickly restored. And yet there are moments when it seems to me that we are better off as we are. I begin to dread the future. I am in hourly fear of some shocking exposure. I do not know what it is, but I am sure that we are all going to suffer before many days pass."

Ethel said nothing. She was not without the same dread herself. And, moreover, she had information of which Mrs. Rent knew nothing. It was impossible to hide from herself that the shadow of disgrace hung heavily over the house of Rent. With a vivid recollection of last night's scenes she could not delude herself with the feeling that all was going right. What had Rent been doing in that silent and secretive way under the roof of the man upon whom he had inflicted such a deadly injury? Possibly he had not intended to do John Charlock the slightest harm. He may have been actuated by the highest and most honourable intentions. But the facts pointed in another direction. Moreover, why had he gone off in his madness to the house of the man who should be his worst enemy? It might be argued that the whole thing had happened in a moment of frenzy, but there was no getting away from the fact that there was a good deal of method behind it. And it was impossible, also, to pretend that Arnold Rent's present mode and manner did not lack a shadow of guilt or a suggestion of fear. The man was palpably frightened about something. He acted very like a criminal who expects at any moment to feel the grip of the law upon his shoulder. Ethel tried to put these gloomy thoughts out of her mind. She spoke cheerfully to her patient, who was already dressed and seated in an armchair, looking into the fire.

"Do you feel better this morning?"

"There is nothing whatever the matter with me," Rent said moodily. "I feel as well and fit for work as you do. Since I have been up I have thought out a whole train of new experiments. I remember all that happened to a certain point, and then for a few days everything is blank. There is something I ought to do, something that I have left undone which I dare not neglect any longer. If I could only think of it! Oh, if I could only think of it, what a relief it would be!"

The words came from Rent in a tone of positive anguish. He paced up and down the room with his hands locked behind his back. Ethel could see how drawn and contracted his brows were. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, his lips quivered, his whole body shook.

"You must try to put it out of your mind," the girl said. "You cannot hope to get better as long as you distress yourself in this fashion. And, besides, I don't suppose it is of any importance. If it is business, somebody is bound to remind you sooner or later."

Rent laughed in a hollow fashion.

"Oh, it isn't business," he explained. "It is worse than that. It is something that I am desperately afraid of, though I can't tell why. Do you know what I feel like?"

The speaker paused abruptly in his walk and came to a standstill in front of Ethel. He grasped her hands in his and pressed them with a certain passion which filled her with pain.

"I feel like a man who has committed murder," he said. "I am like one who has made away with a fellow-creature and hidden the body hurriedly till I could find time to dispose of it. It is like some hideous nightmare, some chapter from a weird novel. Imagine a man who has killed a fellow-creature. Imagine that nobody knows who this fellow-creature is. Try to think of a person who, once got rid of, no one would be any the wiser for the loss. You may say the woman came to my house late at night, if you like, after everybody had gone to bed.... And then she dies and is laid in a quiet spot, which is not so quiet but that people go there sometimes. The murderer dare not proceed further at present, but in the morning he promises himself that he will sink the body in a deep pool and then he will have no more anxiety on the matter. And when he wakes up on the morrow he has forgotten what he has done with the body. Don't laugh at me."

"I am not," Ethel said, trembling from head to foot with a fear she could not repress. "I swear I am not laughing at you. But why let your mind dwell upon such morbid subjects? You are the last man in the world who is likely to be mixed up in a terrible thing like that. Try to compose yourself."

But Rent was not to be turned so lightly aside.

"I don't know," he said. "There are thousands of cases on record of sudden lapses of memory. Haven't you read of people whose minds suddenly become blank as they are walking along the street? Why, I am a case in point. What is the meaning of this extraordinary lapse? And why do I feel this hideous impulse to go out and hide something? Why am I haunted by the terror that I have brought myself within reach of the law? Oh, the whole thing is ghastly, almost unbearable."

Rent broke off suddenly and flung himself headlong into his chair. There was a change to sullenness in his manner. He waved Ethel aside with the curt intimation that he wanted to be alone. Involuntarily he had placed his hand in the breast-pocket of his coat and drawn thence what appeared to be a packet of letters tied up with string. The packet seemed to start some train of thought, for a bright light shone in his eyes now, and he seemed on the point of grasping something which had eluded him.

"Can I do anything for you?" Ethel asked.

"Leave me alone," Rent said hoarsely. "Where did I get these things? How did they come into my possession? I thought they had been destroyed long ago. Now, why don't you do as I tell you? Why are you standing there gaping? I beg your pardon if I seem to be rude. But I am hardly accountable for what I am saying. Now please go."

There was nothing for it but to obey, and Ethel went off to her own room, the door of which she left open. Nothing unusual could happen so long as she kept watch and ward and listened to what was taking place in the opposite room. She had plenty to occupy her thoughts. She felt incapable of sitting down to read or write. She could not forget what Rent had been saying. She could not dismiss his burning words. She began to wonder if he were mad, after all, or if, perhaps, there was some dreadful chapter in his life which was still left unfinished and which might sooner or later bring him into some serious trouble. And he had not spoken like a madman, either, but rather like one who was consumed with remorse, terror and anxiety. For the moment it seemed as if he had torn aside the veil and allowed Ethel a glimpse into the past. For a long time the girl sat deep in her own troubled thoughts and anxious speculations.

An hour or two passed, then she felt the need of society, the necessity for human companionship. Probably Mrs. Rent was down by this time. She looked into Arnold's room as she passed. She saw that he was lying back in his chair, fast asleep. He had untied the bundle of letters, which seemed to have slipped off his knee and had fallen in a heap on the floor. Mechanically, Ethel stooped to pick them up, her action dictated simply by love of tidiness. Then a word or two caught her eye, and before she knew what she was doing she was reading the letters.... When she crept down the stairs, presently, her face was pale, her eyes were dazed as if the light were too strong for them. She did not go into Mrs. Rent's sitting-room. On the contrary, she put on her hat and jacket mechanically and turned out of the house towards John Charlock's residence.

*CHAPTER XLII*

*THE FIRE*

Late as it was, Malcolm Grey found Tanza still awake when he reached the yacht. The little doctor was seated in his cabin smoking a strong cigar and reading a scientific treatise, which he put aside directly Grey came in. There was a gleam of pleased expectation in the Italian's eyes as if he were looking forward to something in the way of information.

"Well," he said, "you are very late. It is daylight, and yet all this time I have been sitting up for you. Something told me that it would be worth the trouble, so I refrained from going to bed. Now, tell me what you have been doing and what adventures have you had."

"Oh, they were exciting enough," Grey laughed. "And now that I have taken you into my confidence I might as well finish my confession. I have been passing an hour or so in the company of that engaging rascal Bark and the unfortunate Swift."

"The three of you together?" Tanza asked.

"Not exactly together. I have been playing the part of eavesdropper. It isn't a pleasant recreation, but 'needs must when the devil drives.' Nor was my occupation without meet reward, because the discourse was a most interesting one. Try to guess what they were talking about!"

The Italian's eyes twinkled brightly.

"You must give me a lead or two first," he said. "You must tell me whether I am hot or cold, as the children used to do in the game we played when I was a boy. In the first place, did they meet by appointment, and did the meeting take place in a public-house? On consideration, I am sure it took place in a public-house."

"Right," Grey smiled. "An old-fashioned public-house, with the bar divided into compartments, where one can listen comfortably. Bark was waiting for his victim, who came more or less unwillingly; in fact, I don't think he would have come at all, except that he was desperately hard up and in urgent need of liquid refreshment. He appeared to be on the verge of an attack of _delirium tremens_, but was in possession of his faculties. And now I think I have told you enough. You may be able to guess what they were talking about."

Once more Tanza's eyes twinkled brilliantly.

"Well, perhaps they were discussing Arnold Rent," he ventured. "I don't suppose his name was mentioned, but no doubt he was the chief topic of conversation."

"You are getting warm," Grey laughed. "Go on."

"You encourage me to proceed," the Italian said. "Of course, Bark wanted information. Like the child in the story, he wanted to see the works of the watch. He was very desirous to know exactly how certain things were brought about. I suppose he wanted the very latest information on the subject of electricity."

"Wonderful man!" Grey murmured. "You have hit it exactly. That is precisely what he did want. Not that he got much information out of Swift. On the whole, I should say that Bark found him very disappointing. It appears that some time ago Arnold Rent began a series of experiments in electricity----"

"Intermittent electricity," Tanza interrupted.

"Once more, wonderful man!" Grey laughed. "That is what Bark was driving at. He wants to know all about those experiments, and no doubt it was exceedingly exasperating to discover that Rent had abandoned his researches and broken up his machinery. By a singular coincidence--at least, you and I will call it a singular coincidence--that machinery was broken up on the very day that the French maid's body was found in the fountain by the sundial. Let me tell you that it was Bark who elicited this information; in fact, he fished for it. From our point of view, this is a most important discovery, as you know. Still, it is practically the only real point that Bark made, and it turned his head to such an extent that he made the mistake of frightening his man. A moment or two later Swift bolted like a hare, and Bark remarked, _sotto voce_, that next time they met his man would be as wax in his hands. But if we play our cards correctly, the next time Swift has an interview with anybody it will be with us two and not with Bark. I know that Swift always works from eight till ten o'clock at night, and it struck me that the best thing we could do would be to call to-morrow night and have it out with him."

"A good idea," Tanza said. "But suppose the same idea occurs to Bark. He knows as well as we do what Swift's habits are, and there is nothing to prevent him from turning up at the interview. Wouldn't that be rather awkward?"

"Oh, it might," Grey admitted. "But I have a plan for dealing with Mr. Bark. Leave him to me. We can afford to take it easy to-morrow, and after dinner we will go as far as Rent's offices and get to the bottom of this business. We can see Rent's place from our anchorage as soon as the office is lighted up. We can go then and interview him. If you don't mind, I should like to turn in between the sheets for an hour or two, for I am dead-tired."

The two friends dined comfortably, then lingered for half an hour over a cigar, until the twilight began to fall and the houses and shops along the sea-front were picked out picturesquely with tiny points of flame. It was possible to discern the outline of Rent's workshop from the deck of the yacht, and presently Grey's quick eyes made out the square of flame which burnt so brilliantly in the office window. Swift was at work, and there was no occasion to waste further time. Tanza rose to his feet and tossed the end of his cigar into the water. He seemed alert and vigorous.

"Now I am ready if you are," he said. "I suppose there are no preparations to make. Shall we order the men to wait for us, or shall we leave it and take a shore boat back?"

"I think the men had better wait for us," Grey said. "And, if you don't mind, we'll pull round the bay and land opposite the workshop. Your boatmen may have a burden to bring back with them, so I shall be glad if you will choose two who are devoted to your interests and are not too fond of asking superfluous questions. I don't think there will be any risk in the matter, but I will take a small bottle of chloroform."

Tanza asked no questions. He gave Grey credit for knowing what he was talking about. He picked out two of the most discreet of his crew, who, he declared, were ready to commit every crime in the Decalogue, and ask no questions, if only he ordered them to do so. The boat set off presently, and was moored at length on a spit of sand opposite the low block of buildings which formed Rent's workshop. The two friends stole over the sands and made their way into the buildings. It seemed to them that there was more than one person inside, for they could hear the sound of voices, which, however, presently resolved themselves into the voice of Swift, who was singing wild snatches of incoherent verse. Grey looked at his companion significantly. Then Tanza suddenly paused and complained of the closeness of the atmosphere. A moment later a puff of acrid smoke filled the corridor, and there came the snapping sound which speaks unmistakably of fire.

"The madman!" Grey explained. "He has set the place ablaze. Come, there is no time to lose."

They burst into the main workshop, which was now full of smoke and flame. There was a heap of highly inflammable materials on the floor, round which Swift was dancing wildly, singing jubilantly as he leapt. The light of insanity blazed in his eyes. Evidently he was no longer responsible for his actions. Seizing a heavy ruler, Tanza proceeded to beat down the flames, which Grey finally extinguished with a bucket of water which he discovered under a tap in a corner of the room. Then the windows were flung open, and it was possible to breathe freely again. Swift glanced vacantly at the intruders. He did not seem to have the least idea whom he was addressing. He continued to journey round the smouldering ashes, singing and shouting in the same meaningless way.

"Burn the whole place down," he screamed. "Destroy it and wipe it out altogether, then you will be safe. But not till then, not till then. Burn it down, I say!"

"What is to be done with him?" Grey whispered.

"Bromide and strychnine," Tanza said curtly. "Get him on board the yacht, and I'll guarantee to put him right in twenty-four hours. But if I were you----"

Tanza paused and the door opened, and Bark came staggering in. He appeared disconcerted at the sight of strangers. He would have turned and vanished again, but Grey was on him like a flash. There was a slight struggle between the two men, and then, before Bark could realise what had happened, a saturated handkerchief was pressed to his nostrils and he sank placidly to the floor in a state of blissful unconsciousness. As if nothing had happened, Swift still revolved round the charred ashes, singing his weird, incoherent song. Tanza glanced at his companion.

"It is all right," Grey said. "Help me to carry Bark to the boat and we'll send him on board. Then they can come back for this poor fellow. When you bring him to his senses I shall be able to tell you how we can put our hands upon Mrs. Charlock's jewels. That will be something gained."

*CHAPTER XLIII*

*A ONE-SIDED CONTEST*

Tanza's eyes gleamed. The little man was enjoying himself immensely. He was beginning to grasp the situation. Already he knew more of what had transpired than Grey gave him credit for. Nevertheless, there was warm admiration in his glance as he looked towards his younger companion.

"You appear to be in charge of the expedition," he said. "I should like to know what you propose to do next. Taking one consideration with another, this is, perhaps, the most interesting case I have ever been connected with. I never had a clever set of antagonists. But isn't there something more important than spending half the night in regaining possession of Mrs. Charlock's jewels? Surely, that is a minor point in comparison with bringing the criminals to justice."

"We shall bring the criminals to justice before long," Grey replied. "One event follows the other. In all probability, if there had been no jewels there would have been no crime. At least, that is my view of it."

"And what about the French maid?" Tanza asked.

"You really are a wonderful man," Grey exclaimed. "I believe you know as much about the thing as I do."

"I have been putting two and two together," Tanza said modestly. "Besides, you have given me such an excellent clue to work upon. But it is a sad business, Grey, and I am almost sorry I ever touched it. If those innocent women were not mixed up in the affair I should not mind so much. Just think what a terrible shock it will be to Mrs. Rent when she learns the truth. And either you or I must tell her."

A shadow crossed Grey's face.

"I have not forgotten it," he said. "Meanwhile, we are wasting time. But we must wait till the boat comes and then take the unfortunate Swift along with us. He will be safe in your hands. If there is one man living who can put him right, you are the man. You see, it will be necessary to confront Swift and Bark before we get to the root of things. I shouldn't wonder if Bark showed fight."