THE RED LACQUER ROOM
The side-door led into a little white passage with a green baize door at the end. A staircase, which from its white-washed treads, Desmond judged to be the back stairs, gave on the passage.
Calculating that the men in the garden would be certain to use the main staircase, Desmond took the back stairs which, on the first lauding, brought him face to face with a green baize door, similar in every respect to that on the floor below.
He pushed this door open and listened. Hearing nothing he passed on through it. He found himself in a broad corridor on to which gave the main staircase from below and its continuation to the upper floors. Three rooms opened on to this corridor, a large drawing-room, a small study and what was obviously the doctor's consulting room, from the operating table and the array of instruments set out in glass cases. The rooms were empty and Desmond was about to return to the back stairs and proceed to the next floor when his attention was caught by a series of framed photographs with which the walls of the corridor were lined.
These were groups of doctors taken at various medical congresses.
You will find such photographs in many doctors' houses. Below each group were neatly printed the names of the persons therein represented. Anxious to see what manner of man was this Doctor Radcombe in whose house spies were apparently at liberty to consort with impunity, Desmond looked for his name.
There it was--Dr. A. J. Radcombe. But, on looking at the figure above the printed line, what was his astonishment to recognize the angular features and drooping moustache of "No. 13"!
There was no possible mistake about it. The photographs were excellent and Desmond had no difficulty in identifying the eccentric-looking German in each of them. So this was Mrs.
Malplaquet's house, was it? A nursing-home run by "No. 13," who in addition to being a spy, would seem to have been a nerve specialist as well. In this guise, no doubt, he had made trips to the South of England which had gained for him that intimate acquaintance with Portsmouth and Southsea of which he had boasted at the gathering in the library. In this capacity, moreover, he had probably met Bellward whose "oggult" powers, to which "No.
13" had alluded, seem to point to mesmerism and kindred practices in which German neurasthenic research has made such immense progress.
Pondering over his surprising discovery, Desmond pursued his way to the floor above. Here, too, was a green baize door which opened on to a corridor. Desmond walked quickly along it, glancing in, as he passed, at the open doors of two or three bedrooms. Just beyond where the staircase crossed the corridor were two doors, both of which were closed. The one was a white door and might have been a bathroom; the other was enameled a brilliant, glossy red.
The second floor was as silent and deserted as the corridor below. But just as Desmond passed the head of the main staircase he heard the sound of voices. He glanced cautiously down the well of the stairs and saw Strangwise and Bellward talking together.
Bellward was on the stairs while Strangwise stood in the corridor.
"It's our last chance," Strangwise was saying.
"No, no," Bellward replied heatedly, " I tell you it is madness.
We must not delay a minute. For Heaven's sake, leave the girl alone and let's save ourselves.""What?" cried Strangwise, "and abandon Minna!""Minna is well able to look after herself," answered Bellward in a sulky voice, "it's a question of sauve qui peat now... every man for himself!""No!" said Strangwise firmly, "we'll wait for Minna, Bellward.
You exaggerate the danger. I tell you I was at the garden wall within a few seconds of our friend laying you out, and I saw no sign of him in his garden. It was a physical impossibility for him to have got over the wall and back into the house in the time. And in his garden there's nowhere to hide. It's as bare as the Sahara!""But, good Heavens!" cried Bellward, throwing his hands excitedly above his head, "the man can't dissolve into thin air. He's gone back to the house, I tell you, and the police will be here at any minute. You know he's not in our garden; for you searched every nook and corner of it yourself. Okewood may be too clever for you, Strangwise; but he's not a magician!""No," said Strangwise sternly, he is not." And he added in a low voice:
"That's why I am convinced that he is in this house!"Desmond felt his heart thump against his ribs.
Bellward seemed surprised for he cried quickly:
"What? Here?"
Strangwise nodded.
"You stand here gossiping with that man loose in the house?"exclaimed Bellward vehemently, "why the next thing we know the fellow will escape us again!""Oh, no, he won't" retorted the other. "Every window on the ground floor is barred... this is a home for neurasthenics, you know, and that is sometimes a polite word for a lunatic, my friend... and the doors, both front and back are locked. The keys are here!"Desmond heard a jingle as Strangwise slapped his pocket.
