Mary Roberts Rinehart & Avery Hopwood (24 page)

Bailey glanced out the window.

"It would be possible from here. Possible, but not easy."

"But, if he could do that," she persisted, "he could have got away,
too. There are trellises and porches. Instead of that he came back
here to this room." She stared at the window. "Could a man have done
that with one hand?"

"Never in the world."

Saying nothing, but deeply thoughtful, Miss Cornelia made a fresh
progress around the room.

"I know very little about bank-currency," she said finally. "Could
such a sum as was looted from the Union Bank be carried away in a man's
pocket?"

Bailey considered the question.

"Even in bills of large denomination it would make a pretty sizeable
bundle," he said.

But that Miss Cornelia's deductions were correct, whatever they were,
was in question when Lizzie returned with the elderberry wine.
Apparently Miss Cornelia was to be like the man who repaired the clock:
she still had certain things left over.

For Lizzie announced that the Unknown was ranging the second floor
hall. From the time they had escaped from the living-room this man had
not been seen or thought of, but that he was a part of the mystery
there could be no doubt. It flashed over Miss Cornelia that, although
he could not possibly have locked them in, in the darkness that
followed he could easily have fastened the bat to the door. For the
first time it occurred to her that the archcriminal might not be
working alone, and that the entrance of the Unknown might have been a
carefully devised ruse to draw them all together and hold them there.

Nor was Beresford's arrival with the statement that the Unknown was
moving through the house below particularly comforting.

"He may be dazed, or he may not," he said. "Personally, this is not a
time to trust anybody."

Beresford knew nothing of what had just occurred, and now seeing Bailey
he favored him with an ugly glance.

"In the absence of Anderson, Bailey," he added, "I don't propose to
trust you too far. I'm making it my business from now on to see that
you don't try to get away. Get that?"

But Bailey heard him without particular resentment.

"All right," he said. "But I'll tell you this. Anderson is here and
has arrested the Doctor. Keep your eye on me, if you think it's your
duty, but don't talk to me as if I were a criminal. You don't know
that yet."

"The Doctor!" Beresford gasped.

But Miss Cornelia's keen ears had heard a sound outside and her eyes
were focused on the door.

"That doorknob is moving," she said in a hushed voice.

Beresford moved to the door and jerked it violently open.

The butler, Billy, almost pitched into the room.

He stepped back in the doorway, looked out, then turned to them again.

"I come in, please?" he said pathetically, his hands quivering. "I not
like to stay in dark."

Miss Cornelia took pity on him.

"Come in, Billy, of course. What is it? Anything the matter?"

Billy glanced about nervously.

"Man with sore head."

"What about him?"

"Act very strange." Again Billy's slim hands trembled.

Beresford broke in. "The man who fell into the room downstairs?"

Billy nodded.

"Yes. On second floor, walking around."

Beresford smiled, a bit smugly.

"I told you!" he said to Miss Cornelia. "I didn't think he was as
dazed as he pretended to be."

Miss Cornelia, too, had been pondering the problem of the Unknown. She
reached a swift decision. If he were what he pretended to be—a dazed
wanderer, he could do them no harm. If he were not—a little strategy
properly employed might unravel the whole mystery.

"Bring him up here, Billy," she said, turning to the butler.

Billy started to obey. But the darkness of the corridor seemed to
appall him anew the moment he took a step toward it.

"You give candle, please?" he asked with a pleading expression. "Don't
like dark."

Miss Cornelia handed him one of the two precious candles. Then his
present terror reminded her of that one other occasion when she had
seen him lose completely his stoic Oriental calm.

"Billy," she queried, "what did you see when you came running down the
stairs before we were locked in, down below?"

The candle shook like a reed in Billy's grasp.

"Nothing!" he gasped with obvious untruth, though it did not seem so
much as if he wished to conceal what he had seen as that he was trying
to convince himself he had seen nothing.

"Nothing!" said Lizzie scornfully. "It was some nothing that would
make him drop a bottle of whisky!"

But Billy only backed toward the door, smiling apologetically.

"Thought I saw ghost," he said, and went out and down the stairs, the
candlelight flickering, growing fainter, and finally disappearing.
Silence and eerie darkness enveloped them all as they waited. And
suddenly out of the blackness came a sound.

Something was flapping and thumping around the room.

"That's damned odd." muttered Beresford uneasily. "There is something
moving around the room."

"It's up near the ceiling!" cried Bailey as the sound began again.

Lizzie began a slow wail of doom and disaster.

"Oh—h—h—h—"

"Good God!" cried Beresford abruptly. "It hit me in the face!" He
slapped his hands together in a vain attempt to capture the flying
intruder.

Lizzie rose.

"I'm going!" she announced. "I don't know where, but I'm going!"

She took a wild step in the direction of the door. Then the flapping
noise was all about her, her nose was bumped by an invisible object and
she gave a horrified shriek.

"It's in my hair!" she screamed madly. "It's in my hair!"

The next instant Bailey gave a triumphant cry.

"I've got it! It's a bat!"

Lizzie sank to her knees, still moaning, and Bailey carried the cause
of the trouble over to the window and threw it out.

But the result of the absurd incident was a further destruction of
their morale. Even Beresford, so far calm with the quiet of the
virtuous onlooker, was now pallid in the light of the matches they
successively lighted. And onto this strained situation came at last
Billy and the Unknown.

The Unknown still wore his air of dazed bewilderment, true or feigned,
but at least he was now able to walk without support. They stared at
him, at his tattered, muddy garments, at the threads of rope still
clinging to his ankles—and wondered. He returned their stares
vacantly.

"Come in," began Miss Cornelia. "Sit down." He obeyed both commands
docilely enough.

"Are you better now?"

"Somewhat." His words still came very slowly.

"Billy—you can go."

"I stay, please!" said Billy wistfully, making no movement to leave.
His gesture toward the darkness of the corridor spoke louder than words.

Bailey watched him, suspicion dawning in his eyes. He could not
account for the butler's inexplicable terror of being left alone.

"Anderson intimated that the Doctor had an accomplice in this house,"
he said, crossing to Billy and taking him by the arm. "Why isn't this
the man?" Billy cringed away. "Please, no," he begged pitifully.

Bailey turned him around so that he faced the Hidden Room.

"Did you know that room was there?" he questioned, his doubts still
unquieted.

Billy shook his head.

"No."

"He couldn't have locked us in," said Miss Cornelia. "He was with us."

Bailey demurred, not to her remark itself, but to its implication of
Billy's entire innocence.

"He may know who did it. Do you?"

Billy still shook his head.

Bailey remained unconvinced.

"Who did you see at the head of the small staircase?" he queried
imperatively. "Now we're through with nonsense; I want the truth!"

Billy shivered.

"See face—that's all," he brought out at last.

"Whose face?"

Again it was evident that Billy knew or thought he knew more than he
was willing to tell.

"Don't know," he said with obvious untruth, looking down at the floor.

"Never mind, Billy," cut in Miss Cornelia. To her mind questioning
Billy was wasting time. She looked at the Unknown.

"Solve the mystery of this man and we may get at the facts," she said
in accents of conviction.

As Bailey turned toward her questioningly, Billy attempted to steal
silently out of the door, apparently preferring any fears that might
lurk in the darkness of the corridor to a further grilling on the
subject of whom or what he had seen on the alcove stairs. But Bailey
caught the movement out of the tail of his eye.

"You stay here," he commanded. Billy stood frozen. Beresford raised
the candle so that it cast its light full in the Unknown's face.

"This chap claims to have lost his memory," he said dubiously. "I
suppose a blow on the head might do that, I don't know."

"I wish somebody would knock me on the head! I'd like to forget a few
things!" moaned Lizzie, but the interruption went unregarded.

"Don't you even know your name?" queried Miss Cornelia of the Unknown.

The Unknown shook his head with a slow, laborious gesture.

"Not—yet."

"Or where you came from?"

Once more the battered head made its movement of negation.

"Do you remember how you got in this house?" The Unknown made an
effort.

"Yes—I—remember—that—all—right" he said, apparently undergoing an
enormous strain in order to make himself speak at all. He put his hand
to his head.

"My—head—aches—to—beat—the—band," he continued slowly.

Miss Cornelia was at a loss. If this were acting, it was at least fine
acting.

"How did you happen to come to this house?" she persisted, her voice
unconsciously tuning itself to the slow, laborious speech of the
Unknown.

"Saw—the—lights."

Bailey broke in with a question.

"Where were you when you saw the lights?"

The Unknown wet his lips with his tongue, painfully.

"I—broke—out—of—the—garage," he said at length. This was
unexpected. A general movement of interest ran over the group.

"How did you get there?" Beresford took his turn as questioner.

The Unknown shook his head, so slowly and deliberately that Miss
Cornelia's fingers itched to shake him in spite of his injuries.

"I—don't—know."

"Have you been robbed?" queried Bailey with keen suspicion.

The Unknown mumbled something unintelligible. Then he seemed to get
command of his tongue again.

"Everything gone—out of—my pockets," he said.

"Including your watch?" pursued Bailey, remembering the watch that
Beresford had found in the grounds.

The Unknown would neither affirm nor deny.

"If—I—had—a—watch—it's gone," he said with maddening deliberation.
"All my—papers—are gone."

Miss Cornelia pounced upon this last statement like a cat upon a mouse.

"How do you know you had papers?" she asked sharply.

For the first time the faintest flicker of a smile seemed to appear for
a moment on the Unknown's features. Then it vanished as abruptly as it
had come.

"Most men—carry papers—don't they?" he asked, staring blindly in
front of him. "I'm dazed—but—my mind's—all—right. If you—ask
me—I—think—I'm—d-damned funny!"

He gave the ghost of a chuckle. Bailey and Beresford exchanged glances.

"Did you ring the house phone?" insisted Miss Cornelia.

The Unknown nodded.

"Yes."

Miss Cornelia and Bailey gave each other a look of wonderment.

"I—leaned against—the button—in the garage—" he went on. "Then—I
think—maybe I—fainted. That's—not clear."

His eyelids drooped. He seemed about to faint again.

Dale rose, and came over to him, with a sympathetic movement of her
hand.

"You don't remember how you were hurt?" she asked gently.

The Unknown stared ahead of him, his eyes filming, as if he were trying
to puzzle it out.

"No," he said at last. "The first thing I remember—I was in the
garage—tied." He moved his lips. "I was—gagged—too—that's—what's
the matter—with my tongue—now—Then—I got myself—free—and—got
out—of a window—"

Miss Cornelia made a movement to question him further. Beresford
stopped her with his hand uplifted.

"Just a moment, Miss Van Gorder. Anderson ought to know of this."

He started for the door without perceiving the flash of keen
intelligence and alertness that had lit the Unknown's countenance for
an instant, as once before, at the mention of the detective's name.
But just as he reached the door the detective entered.

He halted for a moment, staring at the strange figure of the Unknown.

"A new element in our mystery, Mr. Anderson," said Miss Cornelia,
remembering that the detective might not have heard of the mysterious
stranger before—as he had been locked in the billiard room when the
latter had made his queer entrance.

The detective and the Unknown gazed at each other for a moment—the
Unknown with his old expression of vacant stupidity.

"Quite dazed, poor fellow," Miss Cornelia went on. Beresford added
other words of explanation.

"He doesn't remember what happened to him. Curious, isn't it?"

The detective still seemed puzzled.

"How did he get into the house?"

"He came through the terrace door some time ago," answered Miss
Cornelia. "Just before we were locked in."

Her answer seemed to solve the problem to Anderson's satisfaction.

"Doesn't remember anything, eh?" he said dryly. He crossed over to the
mysterious stranger and put his hand under the Unknown's chin, jerking
his head up roughly.

"Look up here!" he commanded.