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The Master Mummer, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Book 1 - Chapter 4 |
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_ BOOK I CHAPTER IV The manager, who was very flurried, closed the door of the little room into which the wounded man had been carried. "Can you tell me his name, or shall we look for his card-case?" he asked. I glanced towards the child. She was by far the most composed of the three. Only she remained with her back turned steadily upon the sofa. "His name is Delahaye," she said; "Major Sir William Delahaye, I think they called him." "And where does he live--in London? Tell me his address. I will send a cab there at once!" "I do not know his address," the child answered. "I do not know where he lives." The manager stared at her. "You were with him, were you not?" he asked. "Yes." "Then surely you must know something more about him than just his name?" "He called himself my guardian. I believe that when I was very young he took me to the convent where I have been ever since. Two days ago he came to fetch me away." "What is your name?" "Isobel de Sorrens!" "You are not related to him, then?" She shuddered a little. "I hope not," she said simply. "Well, where was he taking you to?" the manager asked impatiently. "Surely there must be someone I can send to." "I believe that he has a house in London," the child said. "I really do not know anything more. You could send to Madame Richard at the Convent St. Argueil. I suppose she knows all about him. She told me that I was to consider him my guardian." The manager turned to me. I was an occasional customer, and he knew who I was. "Can you tell me anything about him, Mr. Greatson? The doctor will be here in a moment, but I feel that I ought to be sending for some of his friends. I am afraid that he is very ill." "You were not in the room at the time it happened?" I remarked. The manager shook his head. "No, I was in the office." "Have you sent for the police?" I asked. "Police, no!" he exclaimed. "What have the police to do with it? It was an ordinary fit, surely." I felt that I had held my peace long enough. "It was not a fit at all," I said gravely. "He was shot with a sort of air-gun by a man sitting at my table. I think that you ought to send for the police at once. The man's name was Grooten, but I know nothing else about him." The manager was for a moment speechless. The child looked at me eagerly. "It was the little old gentleman who was sitting with you who did it," she exclaimed. "I saw him at Charing Cross." "Yes, it was he!" I answered. The child turned away. "Perhaps after all, then," she murmured to herself, "I may have friends in the world." The manager, whose name was Huber, was inclined to be incredulous. "An air-gun would have made as much noise as a revolver," he said. "Are you sure of what you say, Mr. Greatson?" "There is no doubt at all about it," I answered, "and you ought to inform the police at once. This man--Grooten, he called himself--pulled the pistol out of his pocket, and was pretending to show it to me when he fired the shot. He told me that it was a new invention which he had bought in America, and which was quite noiseless." The manager hurried from the room. The child and I were alone, except for the man on the couch. Every now and then he groaned--a sound I could not hear without a shiver. The child, however, was unmoved. She fixed her dark eyes on me. "Do you think that he will get away?" she asked eagerly. "You mean the man who shot Major Delahaye?" "Yes." "I think that it is very likely. He has a good start, and I expect that he had made his arrangements." "I hope he does," she murmured passionately. "I wish that I could help him." "You have no idea who he was?" I asked. "I do not believe that Grooten was his real name." She shook her head. "I have never seen him before in my life," she said. "If I did know I should not tell anyone." The doctor came at last. In reality it was barely five minutes since he had been sent for, but time dragged itself along slowly in that little room. Directly afterwards Huber, the manager, returned, followed by a sergeant of the police. We all waited for the doctor's examination. I fetched a chair for the child, and she thanked me with a wan little smile. Always she sat with her back to the sofa. There was something terribly suggestive in her utter lack of sympathy with the wounded man. The doctor finished his examination at last. He came towards us. "The wound is a very curious one," he said, "and I am afraid that the bullet will be difficult to extract, but it is not in itself serious. It is really only a flesh wound, but the man is suffering from severe shock, and I don't like the action of his heart. He can be removed quite safely. If you like I will telephone for an ambulance and take him to the hospital. Do you know anything about this affair, sergeant?" "Very little as yet, sir," the man answered. "I want this gentleman's description of the person who showed him the pistol. The commissionaire saw him leave, I understand, and one of the waiters saw something in his hand. Was he a friend of yours, sir?" "I only know his name," I answered. "He called himself Mr. Grooten, and I judged him to be a foreigner, though he spoke perfect English. He seemed to be about fifty years old, clean-shaven, and of under medium height." "Too vague," the sergeant remarked. "Had he any peculiarity of feature or expression, anything which would help towards identification?" "None that I can remember," I answered. "How was he dressed?" "Quietly. I could not remember anything that he wore." "Did he give you any idea of his intention? Did he speak of Major Delahaye at all as though he knew him?" I shook my head. "We simply both remarked," I said slowly, "that this--young lady seemed to be very frightened of her companion, and I do not think that we formed a favourable impression of him. He gave me not the slightest intimation, however, of his intention to interfere." "It could not have been an accident, I suppose?" Mr. Huber suggested. "I might have thought so," I answered, "if he had not immediately left the place. He disappeared so quickly that I did not even see him go." "You sat by accident at the same table?" the sergeant asked. "No, we came together," I answered. "We met at Charing Cross, and he spoke to me. He knew my name, and reminded me that we had once met at the 'Vagabonds' Club.'" "Did you remember him?" "I cannot say that I did," I answered. "And afterwards?" "We talked together for some time, and when we left the station he asked me to lunch here." "Did he arrive by train, or was he meeting anyone at Charing Cross?" the sergeant asked. "Neither, so far as I could see," I answered. "He seemed to be simply loitering. I ought to tell you, though, that we saw Major Delahaye and this young lady arrive by the Continental train, and he seemed to be interested in them." The sergeant turned to Isobel. "Did you know him?" he asked. "No," she answered. "I did not notice him at the station at all. I saw that he was sitting at the same table downstairs as this gentleman, but I am quite sure that I have never seen him before in my life." The sergeant put away his pocket-book. "I am very sorry to trouble you," he said, "but I think it would be better for you all to come to Bow Street and see the superintendent." "I am quite willing to do so," I answered, "though I can tell him no more than I have told you." The child moved suddenly towards me. Her thin, shabbily gloved fingers gripped my arm with almost painful force. Her eyes were full of passionate appeal. "I may go with you," she murmured. "You will not leave me alone?" "The young lady will be required also," the sergeant remarked. "We will go together, of course," I said gently. "Come!" _ |
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