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The Great Secret

E >> E. Phillips Oppenheim >> The Great Secret



THE GREAT SECRET

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM







CONTENTS


CHAPTER

I. ROOM No. 317

II. A MIDNIGHT RAID

III. MISS VAN HOYT

IV. A MATCH AT LORD'S

V. ON THE TERRACE

VI. "MR. GUEST"

VII. A "TÊTE-À-TÊTE" DINNER

VIII. IN THE TOILS

IX. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

X. "WORTLEY FOOTE--THE SPY"

XI. A LEGACY OF DANGER

XII. OLD FRIENDS

XIII. THE SHADOW DEEPENS

XIV. GATHERING JACKALS

XV. A DYING MAN

XVI. I TAKE UP MY LEGACY

XVII. NAGASKI'S INSTINCT

XVIII. IN THE DEATH CHAMBER

XIX. AN AFFAIR OF STATE

XX. TRAVELLING COMPANIONS

XXI. "FOR YOU!"

XXII. "LOVED I NOT HONOR MORE"

XXIII. THE PRETENDER

XXIV. A PRACTICAL WOMAN

XXV. A CABLE FROM EUROPE

XXVI. FOR VALUE RECEIVED

XXVII. INTERNATIONAL POLITICS

XXVIII. DOUBLE DEALING

XXIX. I CHANGE MY NATIONALITY

XXX. THE "WAITERS' UNION"

XXXI. IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP

XXXII. SIR GILBERT HAS A SURPRISE

XXXIII. A REUNION OF HEARTS

XXXIV. RIFLE PRACTICE

XXXV. "HIRSCH'S WIFE"

XXXVI. AN URGENT WARNING

XXXVII. THE BLACK BAG

XXXVIII. A LAST RESOURCE

XXXIX. WORKING _The Oracle_

XL. _The Oracle_ SPEAKS




CHAPTER I

ROOM NO. 317


I laid my papers down upon the broad mahogany counter, and exchanged
greetings with the tall frock-coated reception clerk who came smiling
towards me.

"I should like a single room on the third floor east, about the middle
corridor," I said. "Can you manage that for me? 317 I had last time."

He shook his head at once. "I am very sorry, Mr. Courage," he said, "but
all the rooms in that corridor are engaged. We will give you one on the
second floor at the same price."

I was about to close with his offer, when, with a word of excuse, he
hurried away to intercept some one who was passing through the hall. A
junior clerk took his place, and consulted the plan for a moment
doubtfully.

"There are several rooms exactly in the locality you asked for," he
remarked, "which are simply being held over. If you would prefer 317, you
can have it, and I will give 217 to our other client."

"Thank you," I answered, "I should prefer 317 if you can manage it."

He scribbled the number upon a ticket and handed it to the porter, who
stood behind with my dressing-case. A page caught up the key, and I
followed them to the lift. In the light of things which happened
afterwards, I have sometimes wondered what became of the unfortunate
junior clerk who gave me room number 317.

* * * * *

It was six o'clock when I arrived at the Hotel Universal. I washed,
changed my clothes, and was shaved in the barber's shop. Afterwards, I
spent, I think, the ordinary countryman's evening about town--having some
regard always to the purpose of my visit. I dined at my club, went on to
the Empire with a couple of friends, supped at the Savoy, and, after a
brief return visit to the club, a single game of billiards and a final
whisky and soda, returned to my hotel contented and sleepy, and quite
prepared to tumble into bed. By some chance--the history of nations, as
my own did, will sometimes turn upon such slight events--I left my door
ajar whilst I sat upon the edge of the bed finishing a cigarette and
treeing my boots, preparatory to depositing them outside. Suddenly my
attention was arrested by a somewhat curious sound. I distinctly heard
the swift, stealthy footsteps of a man running at full speed along the
corridor. I leaned forward to listen. Then, without a moment's warning,
they paused outside my door. It was hastily pushed open and as hastily
closed. A man, half clothed and panting, was standing facing me--a
strange, pitiable object. The boots slipped from my fingers. I stared at
him in blank bewilderment.

"What the devil--" I began.

He made an anguished appeal to me for silence. Then I heard other
footsteps in the corridor pausing outside my closed door. There was a
moment's silence, then a soft muffled knocking. I moved towards it, only
to be met by the intruder's frenzied whisper--

"For God's sake keep quiet!"

The man's hot breath scorched my cheek, his hands gripped my arm with
nervous force, his hysterical whisper was barely audible, although his
lips were within a few inches of my ear.

"Keep quiet," he muttered, "and don't open the door!"

"Why not?" I asked.

"They will kill me," he answered simply.

I resumed my seat on the side of the bed. My sensations were a little
confused. Under ordinary circumstances, I should probably have been
angry. It was impossible, however, to persevere in such a sentiment
towards the abject creature who cowered by my side.

Yet, after all, was he abject? I looked away from the door, and, for the
second time, studied carefully the features of the man who had sought my
protection in so extraordinary a manner. He was clean shaven, his
features were good; his face, under ordinary circumstances, might have
been described as almost prepossessing. Just now it was whitened and
distorted by fear to such an extent that it gave to his expression a
perfectly repulsive cast. It was as though he looked beyond death and saw
things, however dimly, more terrible than human understanding can fitly
grapple with. There were subtleties of horror in his glassy eyes, in his
drawn and haggard features.

Nothing, perhaps, could more completely illustrate the effect his words
and appearance had upon me than the fact that I accepted his
extraordinary statement without any instinct of disbelief! Here was I,
an Englishman of sound nerves, of average courage, and certainly
untroubled with any superabundance of imagination, domiciled in a
perfectly well-known, if somewhat cosmopolitan, London hotel, and yet
willing to believe, on the statement of a person whom I had never seen
before in my life, that, within a few yards of me, were unseen men bent
upon murder.

From outside I heard a warning chink of metal, and, acting upon impulse,
I stepped forward and slipped the bolt of my door. Immediately afterwards
a key was softly inserted in the lock and turned. The door strained
against the bolt from some invisible pressure. Then there came the sound
of retreating footsteps. We heard the door of the next room opened and
closed. A moment later the handle of the communicating door was tried. I
had, however, bolted it before I commenced to undress.

"What the mischief are you about?" I cried angrily. "Can't you leave my
room alone?"

No answer; but the panels of the communicating door were bent inwards
until it seemed as though they must burst. I crossed the room to where my
portmanteau stood upon a luggage-rack, and took from it a small revolver.
When I stood up with it in my hand, the effect upon my visitor was almost
magical. He caught at my wrist and wrested it from my fingers. He grasped
it almost lovingly.

"I can at least die now like a man," he muttered. "Thank Heaven for
this!"

I sat down again upon the bed. I looked at the pillow and the unturned
coverlet doubtfully. They had obviously not been disturbed. I glanced at
my watch! it was barely two o'clock. I had not even been to bed. I could
not possibly be dreaming! The door was straining now almost to bursting.
I began to be annoyed.

"What the devil are you doing there?" I called out.

Again there was no answer, but a long crack had appeared on the panel. My
companion was standing up watching it. He grasped the revolver as one
accustomed to the use of such things. Once more I took note of him.

I saw now that he was younger than I had imagined, and a trifle taller.
The ghastly pallor, which extended even to his lips, was unabated, but
his first paroxysm of fear seemed, at any rate, to have become lessened.
He looked now like a man at bay indeed, but prepared to fight for his
life. He had evidently been dressed for the evening, for his white tie
was still hanging about his neck. Coat and waistcoat he had left behind
in his flight, but his black trousers were well and fashionably cut, and
his socks were of silk, with small colored clocks. The fingers were white
and delicate, and his nails well cared for. There was one thing more, the
most noticeable of all perhaps. Although his face was the face of a young
man, his hair was as white as snow.

"Look here," I said to him, "can't you give me some explanation as to
what all this means? You haven't been getting yourself into trouble, have
you?"

"Trouble!" he repeated vaguely, with his eyes fixed upon the door.

"With the police!" I explained.

"No, these are not the police," he answered.

"I don't mind a row particularly," I continued, "but I like to know
something about it. What do these people want with you?"

"My life!" he answered grimly.

"Why?"

"I cannot tell you!"

A sudden and ridiculously obvious idea struck me for the first time. A
small electric bell and telephone instrument were by the side of the bed.
I leaned over and pressed the knob with my finger. My companion half
glanced towards me, and back again instantly towards the door.

"No use," he muttered, "they will not come!"

Whereupon a thoroughly British sentiment was aroused in me. Of the
liberties which had been taken with my room, both by this man and by his
pursuers, I scarcely thought, but that any one should presume to
interfere with my rights as an hotel guest angered me! I kept my finger
on the knob of the bell; I summoned chambermaid, waiter, valet and boots.
It was all to no effect. No one came. The telephone remained silent. The
door was on the point of yielding.

I abandoned my useless efforts, and turned towards the man whom I was
sheltering.

"How many are there in the next room?" I asked.

"Two!"

"If I stand by you, will you obey me?"

He hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Yes!"

"Get behind the bed then, and give me the revolver."

He parted with it reluctantly. I took it into my hand, only just in
time. The door at last had burst away from its hinges. With perfect
self-possession I saw one of the two men who had been engaged in its
demolition calmly lean it up against the wall. The other stared at me as
though I had been a ghost.




CHAPTER II

A MIDNIGHT RAID


I could see at once that neither of the two men who confronted me had
really believed that the room into which their victim had escaped was
already occupied by any other person than the one of whom they were in
pursuit. Their expression of surprise was altogether genuine. I myself
was, perhaps, equally taken aback. Nothing in their appearance suggested
in the least the midnight assassin! I turned towards the one who had
leaned the door up against the wall, and addressed him.

"May I ask to what I am indebted for the pleasure of this unexpected
visit?" I inquired.

The man took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. He was short and
stout, with a bushy brown beard, and eyes which blinked at me in
amazement from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. He wore a grey tweed
travelling suit, and brown boots. He had exactly the air of a prosperous
middle-class tradesman from the provinces.

"I am afraid, sir," he said, "that we have made a mistake--in which case
we shall owe you a thousand apologies. We are in search of a friend whom
we certainly believed that we had seen enter your room."

Now all the time he was talking his eyes were never still. Every inch of
my room that was visible they ransacked. His companion, too, was engaged
in the same task. There were no traces of my visitor to be seen.

"You can make your apologies and explanations to the management in the
morning," I answered grimly "Pardon me!"

I held out my arm across the threshold, and for the first time looked at
the other man who had been on the point of entering. He was slight and
somewhat sallow, with very high forehead and small deep-set eyes. He was
dressed in ordinary evening clothes, the details of which, however,
betrayed his status. He wore a heavy gold chain, a dinner coat, and a
made-up white tie, with the ends tucked in under a roll collar. He
appeared to be objectionable, but far from dangerous.

"You are still a trifle over-anxious respecting the interior of my room!"
I remarked, pushing him gently back.

He spoke to me for the first time. He spoke slowly and formally, and his
accent struck me as being a little foreign.

"Sir," he said, "you may not be aware that the person of whom we are in
search is a dangerous, an exceedingly dangerous character. If he should
be concealed in your room the consequences to yourself might be most
serious."

"Thank you," I said, "I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

Both men were standing as close to me as I was disposed to permit. I
fancied that they were looking me over, as though to make an estimate of
the possible amount of resistance I might be able to offer should they be
disposed to make a rush. The odds, if any, must have seemed to them
somewhat in my favor, for I was taller by head and shoulders than either
of them, and a life-long devotion to athletics had broadened my
shoulders, and given me strength beyond the average. Besides, there was
the revolver in my right hand, which I took occasion now to display. The
shorter of the two men again addressed me.

"My dear sir," he said softly, "it is necessary that you should not
misapprehend the situation. The person of whom we are in search is one
whom we are pledged to find. We have no quarrel with you! Why embroil
yourself in an affair with which you have no concern?"

"I am not seeking to do so," I answered. "It is you and your friend who
are the aggressors. You have forced an entrance into my room in a most
unwarrantable fashion. Your missing friend is nothing to me. I desire to
be left in peace."

Even as I spoke the words, I knew that there was to be no peace for me
that night, for, stealthy though their movements were, I saw something
glisten in the right hands of both of them. The odds now assumed a
somewhat different appearance. I drew back a pace, and stood prepared for
what might happen. My _vis-à-vis_ in the gold-rimmed spectacles addressed
me again.

"Sir," he said, "we will not bandy words any longer. It is better that we
understand one another. There is a man hidden in your room whom we mean
to have. You will understand that we are serious, when I tell you that we
have engaged every room in this corridor, and the wires of your telephone
are cut. If you will permit us to come in and find him, I promise that
nothing shall happen in your room, that you shall not be compromised in
any way. If you refuse, I must warn you that you will become involved in
a matter more serious than you have any idea of."

For answer, I discharged my revolver twice at the ceiling, hoping to
arouse some one, either guests or servants, and fired again at the
shoulder of the man whose leap towards me was like the spring of a
wild-cat. Both rooms were suddenly plunged into darkness, the elder of
the two men, stepping back for a moment, had turned out the electric
lights. For a short space of time everything was chaos. My immediate
assailant I flung away from me with ease; his companion, who tried to
rush past me in the darkness, I struck with a random blow on the side of
the head, so that he staggered back with a groan. I knew very well that
neither of them had passed me, and yet I fancied, as I paused to take
breath for a moment, that I heard stealthy footsteps behind, in the room
which I had been defending. I called again for help, and groped about on
the wall for the electric light switches. The footsteps ceased, a sudden
cry rang out from somewhere behind the bed-curtains, a cry so full of
horror, that I felt the blood run cold in my veins, and the sweat break
out upon my forehead. I sought desperately for the little brass knobs of
the switches, listening all the while for those footsteps. I heard
nothing save a low, sickening groan, which followed upon the cry, but I
felt, a moment later, the hot breath of a human being upon my neck. I
sprang aside, barely in time to escape a blow obviously aimed at me with
some weapon or other, which cut through the air with the soft, nervous
swish of an elastic life-preserver. I knew that some one who sought my
life was within a few feet of me, striving to make sure before the second
blow was aimed. In my stockinged feet I crept along by the wall. I could
hear no sound of movement anywhere near me, and yet I knew quite well
that my hidden assailant was close at hand. Just then, I heard at last
what I had been listening for so long and so eagerly, footsteps and a
voice in the corridor outside. Somebody sprang past me in the darkness,
and, for a second, amazement kept me motionless. The thing was
impossible, or I could have sworn that my feet were brushed by the skirts
of a woman's gown, and that a whiff of perfume--it was like the scent of
dying violets--floated past me. Then the door of my room, from which I
had withdrawn the bolt, was flung suddenly open, and almost
simultaneously my fingers touched the knob of the electric light
fittings. The whole place was flooded with light. I looked around, half
dazed, but eager to see what had become of my assailants. Both rooms were
empty, or apparently so. There was no sign or evidence of any other
person there save myself. On the threshold of my own apartment was
standing the night porter.

"Have you let them go by?" I called out. "Did you see them in the
corridor?"

"Who, sir?" the porter asked stolidly.

"Two men who forced their way into my room--look at the door. One was
short and stout and wore glasses, the other was taller and thin. They
were here a few seconds ago. Unless they passed you, they are in one of
the rooms now."

The man came inside, and looked around him.

"I can't see any one, sir! There wasn't a soul about outside."

"Then we had better look for them!" I exclaimed. "Be careful, for they
are armed."

There was no one in the adjoining room. We had searched it thoroughly
before I suddenly remembered the visitor who had been the innocent cause
of these exciting moments.

"By Jove!" I exclaimed, "there's a wounded man by the side of my bed! I
quite forgot him, I was so anxious to catch these blackguards."

The porter looked at me with distinct suspicion.

"A wounded man, sir?" he remarked. "Where?"

"On the other side of the bed," I answered. "It's the man all this row
was about."

I hurried round to where I had left my terrified visitor hiding behind
the bed-curtain. There was no one there. We looked under the bed, even in
the wardrobes. It was obvious, when we had finished our search, that not
a soul was in either of the rooms except our two selves. The porter
looked at me, and I looked at the porter.

"It's a marvellous thing!" I declared.

"It is," the porter agreed.

"You can see for yourself that that door has been battered in," I
remarked, pointing to it.

The fellow smiled in such a manner, that I should have liked to have
kicked him.

"I can see that it has been battered in," he said. "Oh! yes! I can see
that!"

"You perhaps don't believe my story?" I asked calmly.

"It isn't my place to believe or disbelieve it," he answered. "I
certainly didn't meet any one outside--much less three people. I shall
make my report to the manager in the morning, sir! Good night."

So I was left alone, and, extraordinary as it may seem, I was asleep in
less than half an hour.




CHAPTER III

MISS VAN HOYT


I was awakened at about nine o'clock the next morning by a loud and
persistent knocking at the door of my room. I sat up in bed and shouted,

"Come in!"

A waiter entered bearing a note, which he handed to me on a salver. I
looked at him, around the room, which was still in some confusion, and
down at the note, which was clearly addressed to me, J. Hardross Courage,
Esq. Suddenly my eyes fell upon the smashed door, and I remembered at
once the events of the previous night. I tore open the note. It was
typewritten and brief:--

"The manager presents his compliments to Mr. Hardross Courage, and would
be obliged if he will arrange to vacate his room by midday. The manager
further regrets that he is unable to offer Mr. Courage any other
accommodation."

"Tell the valet to let me have a bath in five minutes," I ordered,
springing out of bed, "and bring me some tea. Look sharp!"

I was in a furious temper. The events of the night before, strange though
they had been, left me comparatively unmoved. I was filled, however, with
a thoroughly British indignation at the nature of this note. My room had
been broken into in the middle of the night; I had narrowly escaped being
myself the victim of a serious and murderous assault; and now I was
calmly told to leave the hotel! I hastened downstairs and into the
office.

"I wish to see the manager as soon as possible," I said to one of the
reception clerks behind the counter.

"Certainly, sir, what name?" he asked; drawing a slip of paper towards
him.

"Courage--" I told him, "Mr. Hardross Courage!"

The man's manner underwent a distinct change.

"I am sorry, sir," he said, "but Mr. Blumentein is engaged. Is there
anything I can do?"

"No!" I answered him bluntly. "I want the manager, and no one else will
do. If he cannot see me now I will wait. If he does not appear in a
reasonable time, I shall go direct to Scotland Yard and lay certain
information before the authorities there."

The clerk stared at me, and then smiled in a tolerant manner. He was
short and dark, and wore glasses. His manner was pleasant enough, but he
had the air of endeavoring to soothe a fractious child--which annoyed me.

"I will send a message down to Mr. Blumentein, sir," he said, "but he is
very busy this morning."

He called a boy, but, after a moment's hesitation, he left the office
himself. I lit a cigarette, and waited with as much patience as I could
command. The people who passed in and out interested me very little.
Suddenly, however, I gave a start and looked up quickly.

A woman had entered the reception-room, passing so close to me that her
skirts almost brushed my feet. She was tall, quietly and elegantly
dressed, and she was followed by a most correct looking maid, who carried
a tiny Japanese spaniel. I did not see her face, although I knew by her
carriage and figure that she must be young. That she was a person of
importance it was easy to see by the attention which was at once paid
her. Her interest for me, however, lay in none of these things. I had
been conscious, as she had passed, of a whiff of faint, very delicate
perfume--and with it, of a sudden, sharp recollection. It was a perfume
which I had distinguished but once before in my life, and that only a few
hours ago.

She gave her key in at the desk, received some letters, and turning round
passed within a few feet of me. Perhaps she realized that I was watching
her with more than ordinary attention, and her eyes fell for a moment
carelessly upon mine. They were withdrawn at once, and she passed on with
the slightest of frowns--just sufficient rebuke to the person who had
forgotten himself so far as to stare at a woman in a public place. The
maid, too, glanced towards me with a slight flash in her large black
eyes, as though she, also, resented my impertinence, and the little
Japanese spaniel yawned as he was carried past, and showed me a set of
dazzling white teeth. I was in disgrace all round, because I had looked
for a second too long into his mistress' deep blue eyes and pale, proud
face. Nevertheless, I presumed even further. I changed my position, so
that I could see her where she stood in the hall, talking to her maid.

Like a man who looks half unwillingly into the land of hidden things,
knowing very well that his own doom or joy is there, if he has the wit to
see and the strength to grasp it, so did I deliberately falsify the
tenets and obligations of my order, and, standing half in the hall, half
in the office, I stared at the lady and the maid and the spaniel. She was
younger even than I had thought her, and I felt that there was something
foreign in her appearance, although of what nationality she might be I
could not determine. Her hair was of a shade between brown and golden,
and, as she stood now, with her back to me, I could see that it was so
thick and abundant that her maid's art had been barely sufficient to keep
it within bounds. In the front it was parted in the middle, and came
rather low down over her forehead. Now I could see her profile--the
rather long neck, which the lace scarf about her shoulders seemed to
leave a little more than usually bare; the soft and yet firm outline of
features, delicate enough and yet full of character. Just then her maid
said something which seemed to call her attention to me. She half turned
her head and looked me full in the face. Her eyes seemed to narrow a
little, as though she were short-sighted. Then she very slowly and very
deliberately turned her back upon me, and continued talking to her maid.
My cheeks were tanned enough, but I felt the color burn as I prepared to
move away. At that moment the lift stopped just opposite to her, and Mr.
Blumentein stepped out, followed by his dapper little clerk.

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