Okewood of the Secret Service [65]
vain and finally went away empty-handed. But he did not abandon hope. Four successive attempts were made to get the jewel away from me. Twice my apartments at the Nineveh Hotel were rifled; once my dressing-room at the theatre was entered and searched whilst I was on the stage. But I wore the jewel day and night in a little bag suspended by a chain from my neck and they never got it from me.
"Two days before I came down to your house--it was the day before the murder--I was hustled by a group of men as I came out of the theatre. Fortunately the stage-door keeper came up unexpectedly and the men made off. But the encounter frightened me, and I resolved to break my contract with the Palaceum and bury myself down here in the country.
"But somehow Mortimer learnt of my intention. The next night--it was the night of the murder--he came to the theatre and warned me against trying to elude his vigilance by flight. I have never forgotten his words.
"'I can afford to wait,' he said, 'for I shall get what I want: I always do. But you have chosen to set yourself against me and you will bitterly repent it!"
As though the recollection proved too much for her, Nur-el-Din broke off her narrative and covered her face with her hands.
"And do you think that Mortimer did this murder?" asked Desmond gently.
Wearily the girl raised her head.
"Either he or one of his accomplices, of whom this girl is one!" she answered.
"But why not have put the jewel in a bank or one of the safe deposits? Surely it was risky to have entrusted it to a girl of whom you knew nothing"
"My friend,", said the dancer, "I was desperate. Mortimer sees and knows all. This unexpected meeting with the daughter of my old friend seemed at the moment like a heaven-sent chance to place the jewel, unknown to him, in safe hands. I felt that as long as I carried it on me, my life was in constant danger. It was only to-day, when I heard of the murder, that it dawned on me how indiscreet I had been. I might have guessed, since Miss Mackwayte knew Mortimer--"
"Miss Mackwayte knows Mortimer?" echoed Desmond in stupefaction.
"But certainly," replied Nur-el-Din. "Was it not I myself--" She broke off suddenly with terror in her eyes.
"Ah, no!" she whispered. "It is enough. Already I have said too much..."
Desmond was about to speak when the door opened and a foreign-looking maid, whom Desmond remembered to have seen in the dancer's dressing-room, came in. She went swiftly to her mistress and whispered something in her ear.
The dancer sprang to her feet.
"A little moment... you will excuse me..." she cried to Desmond and ran from the room. The maid followed her, leaving Desmond alone.
Presently, the sound of Nur-el-Din's voice raised high in anger struck on his ears. He stole softly to the door and opened it. Before him lay the staircase deserted. He tiptoed down the stairs to the first landing and listened. The murmur of voices reached him indistinctly from the room below. Then he heard Nur-el-Din crying out again in anger.
He craned his ear over the well of the staircase, turning his face to the window which stood on the landing. The window gave on a small yard with a gate over which a lamp was suspended and beyond it the fen now swathed in fog. The dancer's maid stood beneath the lamp in earnest conversation with a man in rough shooting clothes who held a gun under his arm. As Desmond looked the man turned his head so that the rays of the lamp fell full upon his face. To his unspeakable consternation and amazement, Desmond recognized Strangwise.
CHAPTER XVII. MR. BELLWARD ARRANGES A BRIDGE EVENING
Oblivious of the voices in the room below, Desmond stood with his face pressed against the glass of the window. Was Strangwise staying at "The Dyke Inn"? Nothing was more probable; for the latter had told him that he was going to spend his leave shooting in Essex, and Morstead Fen must abound in snipe and duck.
But he and Strangwise must not meet. Desmond was chary of submitting his disguise to the other's keen, shrewd eyes.
"Two days before I came down to your house--it was the day before the murder--I was hustled by a group of men as I came out of the theatre. Fortunately the stage-door keeper came up unexpectedly and the men made off. But the encounter frightened me, and I resolved to break my contract with the Palaceum and bury myself down here in the country.
"But somehow Mortimer learnt of my intention. The next night--it was the night of the murder--he came to the theatre and warned me against trying to elude his vigilance by flight. I have never forgotten his words.
"'I can afford to wait,' he said, 'for I shall get what I want: I always do. But you have chosen to set yourself against me and you will bitterly repent it!"
As though the recollection proved too much for her, Nur-el-Din broke off her narrative and covered her face with her hands.
"And do you think that Mortimer did this murder?" asked Desmond gently.
Wearily the girl raised her head.
"Either he or one of his accomplices, of whom this girl is one!" she answered.
"But why not have put the jewel in a bank or one of the safe deposits? Surely it was risky to have entrusted it to a girl of whom you knew nothing"
"My friend,", said the dancer, "I was desperate. Mortimer sees and knows all. This unexpected meeting with the daughter of my old friend seemed at the moment like a heaven-sent chance to place the jewel, unknown to him, in safe hands. I felt that as long as I carried it on me, my life was in constant danger. It was only to-day, when I heard of the murder, that it dawned on me how indiscreet I had been. I might have guessed, since Miss Mackwayte knew Mortimer--"
"Miss Mackwayte knows Mortimer?" echoed Desmond in stupefaction.
"But certainly," replied Nur-el-Din. "Was it not I myself--" She broke off suddenly with terror in her eyes.
"Ah, no!" she whispered. "It is enough. Already I have said too much..."
Desmond was about to speak when the door opened and a foreign-looking maid, whom Desmond remembered to have seen in the dancer's dressing-room, came in. She went swiftly to her mistress and whispered something in her ear.
The dancer sprang to her feet.
"A little moment... you will excuse me..." she cried to Desmond and ran from the room. The maid followed her, leaving Desmond alone.
Presently, the sound of Nur-el-Din's voice raised high in anger struck on his ears. He stole softly to the door and opened it. Before him lay the staircase deserted. He tiptoed down the stairs to the first landing and listened. The murmur of voices reached him indistinctly from the room below. Then he heard Nur-el-Din crying out again in anger.
He craned his ear over the well of the staircase, turning his face to the window which stood on the landing. The window gave on a small yard with a gate over which a lamp was suspended and beyond it the fen now swathed in fog. The dancer's maid stood beneath the lamp in earnest conversation with a man in rough shooting clothes who held a gun under his arm. As Desmond looked the man turned his head so that the rays of the lamp fell full upon his face. To his unspeakable consternation and amazement, Desmond recognized Strangwise.
CHAPTER XVII. MR. BELLWARD ARRANGES A BRIDGE EVENING
Oblivious of the voices in the room below, Desmond stood with his face pressed against the glass of the window. Was Strangwise staying at "The Dyke Inn"? Nothing was more probable; for the latter had told him that he was going to spend his leave shooting in Essex, and Morstead Fen must abound in snipe and duck.
But he and Strangwise must not meet. Desmond was chary of submitting his disguise to the other's keen, shrewd eyes.