what happened at bath

i

the thing which surprised me most about the unseen hand which seemed to be always with us was the way in which it disposed of the ladies' orchestra in the crown hotel at bath. i met the pianiste in the street while i was waiting for instructions, and it was she who made the matter plain to me.

"i suppose you have heard that we have finished at the crown for the present?" she asked.

i had been genuinely surprised to hear that this was the case, and i told her so. after a moment's hesitation, she unburdened herself of a secret.

"please don't tell a soul," she begged, "except miss mindel and mr. cotton, if you want[pg 40] to. the fact of it is, the most extraordinary thing is taking us away. we have been offered, without a word of explanation, a hundred pounds between the four of us to go away for a month."

"nonsense!" i exclaimed.

"it is perfectly true," she repeated. "a lawyer in the city brought the notes and an agreement, absolutely refusing a single word of explanation. we didn't worry very much, i can tell you. twenty-five pounds isn't picked up every day, but i don't mind confessing that when i think about it, i get so curious it makes me positively ill. miss brown's theory is that it's one of these old cranks in the hotel, with more money than he knows what to do with, who hates music. on the other hand, the management has received no complaints, and there's nothing to prevent another orchestra taking our place next monday."

i made my way to the lounge of the hotel where leonard, rose and i had arranged to meet for afternoon tea. we were having rather a quiet time, having already performed[pg 41] for a week at the local music hall with some success, and were now obeying instructions by staying on at our rooms and waiting for orders. there were too many people about for me to impart the news to them at that moment, so we fell to criticising the passers-by, an uninteresting crowd with one or two exceptions. there was a large but not unwieldly man, carefully dressed, with a walrus-like beard and moustache, heavy eyebrows and a surly manner, who was generally muttering to himself. his name was grant, he was reputed to be over eighty, to be without a friend in the hotel, and to growl at every one who spoke to him. every afternoon at half-past four he came in from a turn in his bath chair, and stumped past the orchestra with his finger to his ear. then there was a frail, olive-skinned man, tall and gaunt, with wonderful black eyes, escorted every day to the baths and brought back again by a manservant who looked like a cossack. his name was kinlosti, and he was reported to have been an official at the court of the late tsar, and even to have accompanied him to siberia. the[pg 42] third person, who interested us because we all detested her, was an enormously fat old lady, with false teeth, false grey ringlets, a profusion of jewellery, and a voice which leonard said reminded him of the hissing of a rattlesnake. her name was mrs. cotesham, she was stone deaf, and between her and mr. grant there was a deadly feud. they never spoke, but if glances could kill both would have been in their coffins many times a day. they both wanted the same chair in front of the fire, they both struggled for the times after lunch, they ordered their coffee at the same moment, and whichever was served last bullied the waiter. they provided plenty of amusement for lookers-on and to the guests generally, but i think that the management, and certainly the waiters, were prepared to welcome the day they left the hotel. when the people had thinned out a little, and there was no one in our immediate vicinity, i told my two companions of the strange thing which had happened to the ladies' orchestra.

"it must have been mr. grant," rose declared.

[pg 43]"i put my money on the old lady," leonard decided.

but i knew that it was neither, for even while they were speaking the hall porter, who knew me by sight, had brought me a typewritten note, which he said had been left by hand. i tore it open and read. there was no address nor any signature. neither was needed:

apply at office of crown hotel for permission to give entertainments, commencing soon as possible.

i passed the note on to the others.

"we needn't speculate any more about that hundred pounds," i remarked.

there were no difficulties at the office. the next afternoon, at half-past four, we took the place of the departed orchestra. the change was pleasantly received by the majority of the guests. mr. grant, however, while rose was still in the middle of her introductory pianoforte solo, stumped out of the room with his hand to his ear, and mrs. cotesham deliberately turned her chair round and sat with her back to us. on the other hand, mr. kinlosti,[pg 44] passing through the hall leaning on his servant's arm, on his way from his bath, caught sight of rose at the piano and lingered. he whispered in his servant's ear, found a chair and a table, and seated himself in a dark corner. presently the latter brought him from upstairs a pot of specially prepared tea and some cigarettes. he remained there throughout the whole of our performance, his eyes fixed upon rose,—strange, uncanny eyes they were. the corner he had chosen was close to where we were playing, and the flavour of his russian cigarettes and highly scented tea attracted rose's attention, so that more than once she turned and looked at him. for the first time i saw a very faint smile part his thin lips.

"a conquest," i whispered to rose, as i bent over her chair to move some music.

she made a little grimace.

"all the same," she said, "i'd love some of his cigarettes."

that evening, just before the time fixed for the commencement of our performance, another typewritten note was put into my hand,[pg 45] again unsigned and undated. this is what i read:

it is my wish that if a person of the name of kinlosti should seek acquaintance with any of you, he should be encouraged. particularly impress this upon miss mindel.

i took leonard on one side.

"leonard," i said, "our souls are trash, and what happens to us doesn't matter a damn. but read this!"

leonard read it and swore.

"can you get into touch with thomson?" he asked.

"only through the banker's address in london," i replied. "where these typewritten notes drop from not a soul seems to know."

rose came up and read the message over our shoulders. her view of the matter was different.

"what fun!" she exclaimed. "perhaps i shall get some cigarettes."

"you don't suppose we are going to allow this?" i asked hotly.

"not for one moment!" leonard echoed.

she laughed softly.

[pg 46]"you idiots!" she exclaimed. "do you think i can't take care of myself? or don't you trust me?"

"you know that it isn't that," i rejoined, "but neither leonard nor i are willing to see you made a cat's-paw of."

"russians don't know how to treat women," leonard put in.

she became serious, but she remained very determined.

"anyhow," she said, "i know how to treat russians, so please leave me alone. remember that i, too, am under contract to mr. mephistopheles thomson, and although i love you both, you're not my guardians."

that was the end of the matter, so far as we were concerned. when we commenced our performance, kinlosti was established in the dark corner, his coffee and a whole box of his inevitable cigarettes before him. his dinner clothes were severe and unadorned, but three wonderful black pearls shone dully in his shirt front. the lounge was more than ordinarily full, for our previous week's performance in bath had brought us some popularity. mr.[pg 47] grant, however, again stumped out of the place, muttering rudely to himself as he passed us, and the old lady turned her back and tried by means of an ear trumpet to enter into conversation with any one who was unfortunate enough to be near. these two were the only exceptions, however. the rest of the audience was unmistakably friendly.

leonard and i were to learn something that night of the subtlety of a woman's ways. no one who had been watching could have said that she deliberately encouraged this mysterious admirer. on the other hand, she returned his bold glances with something which i had never seen in her eyes before, something indefinably provocative, certainly with no shadow of rebuke. her acceptance of his overt admiration was in itself a more significant thing than the frank smiles of a more easily accessible siren. by the time i started off round with the plate for the usual silver collection, i was in such a temper that i found it difficult to pause even for a moment as i reached his corner. he laid a ten-shilling note upon the little pile of silver, and also placed an envelope[pg 48] there. i saw with gathering anger that it contained something heavy, and that it was addressed to miss mindel.

"i have ventured," he said, in a very low and extraordinarily pleasant voice, "to offer for the young lady's acceptance, in return for her delightful music, a little souvenir from the country in which i have lived all my life."

"miss mindel does not accept presents from strangers, sir," i said, returning him the envelope.

he shrugged his shoulders slightly, stretched out his hand for his jade-headed stick, and, leaning heavily upon it, crossed the floor towards the spot where rose was seated at the piano, playing soft music. notwithstanding his lameness, his bow, as he approached her, would have done credit to a courtier.

"may i be allowed," he said, "to congratulate you upon your very delightful singing and playing? it has given so much pleasure to an invalid whose life just now is very monotonous, that i am venturing to ask your accept[pg 49]ance of this little trifle, a souvenir from a great country, now, alas! stricken to the earth."

rose opened the envelope, and held in her hand a quaint ring in which was a black stone. i leaned over her. it was engraved with the royal arms of the romanoffs, and at the top was a small 'n.'

"i thank you very much indeed," she replied, smiling up at him, "but i could not possibly accept so valuable a gift."

"will you believe me," he persisted, "that the ring has little, if any, intrinsic value. it is an offering which an artist in a small way might at any time be permitted to present to such gifts as yours."

he passed on towards the lift with a little bow which included all of us, and somehow or other the ring was on rose's finger, and whether we liked it or not she had accepted it. after that we saw a great deal of mr. kinlosti. he was never obtrusive and yet he was persistent. on the day following the presentation of the ring, we somehow found ourselves lunching with him. on the day after that we used his car, and on the following day, al[pg 50]though both leonard and i protested, he took rose out for a drive alone. she came home sooner than we had expected and was a little silent for the rest of that day. at supper time she took us into her confidence.

"mr. kinlosti," she said, "told me a very strange story this afternoon. parts of it were so horrible that it made me shiver. it seems he was one of the few members of the household who accompanied nicholas to siberia. he got away just before the final tragedy."

"what was his excuse for leaving his master?" i asked, a little coldly.

we were all three in the parlour of our lodging house, and quite alone. nevertheless, rose lowered her voice as she answered me.

"the tsar entrusted him with the knowledge of where a portion of the crown jewels were secreted. he was to find them, raise money, and try and bribe the siberian guards. he found the jewels all right, but not until nicholas and the whole of his family had been assassinated."

"what did he do with the jewels?" leonard asked.[pg 51]

"he has not told me so in so many words, but i believe that he has them here," she replied. "he told me they were still in his possession and he held them in trust for the romanoffs. the terrible part of the business for him is that he has been tracked all over europe by bolshevist agents, who claim that the jewels belong to the russian state."

"why did he tell you all this?" i enquired, with growing suspicion.

rose shook her head.

"perhaps to account for the fact that he seemed so nervous all the time," she suggested. "he started whenever another motor car passed us, and as long as we were in bath itself he watched the faces on the pavements, as though all the time he were looking for some one. he told me that when first he arrived here he suspected even the masseurs at the baths."

"i still don't see why he was so confidential with you," leonard grumbled.

"he likes me," she acknowledged, with a demure smile. "in fact, if he tells the truth, he likes me very much. don't look so black,[pg 52] please," she went on, with a glance at our faces. "remember i am only obeying orders."

that phrase cost us a good deal of uneasiness during the next few days. whenever we performed, kinlosti sat in his corner, watching and listening. in the intervals, he came and made timid and courteous conversation. without going so far as to say that he pursued rose, he certainly took up a great deal of her time. on the fourth afternoon i received another typewritten note, handed to me again from the porter's office without any intimation as to its source. there was only a line or two:

miss mindel should show some curiosity as to the crown jewels. mr. kinlosti would probably like to show them to her.

within half an hour rose made her request. both leonard and i were within a few yards, and we saw the sudden terror in his face, heard his almost hysterical refusal.

"no one has ever seen them," he told rose, "since they first came into my possession. i do not dare even to look at them myself.[pg 53] directly my rheumatism permits me to move without pain, i shall acquit myself of the trust. it weighs upon me night and day."

with that the matter would have been ended, so far as leonard and myself were concerned. rose, however, took it differently. for the rest of that afternoon we were able to appreciate fully the guile of our little companion. she received kinlosti's refusal in silence. presently she developed a headache and refused to talk. she sat with her shoulder turned away from him while she played and never once glanced in his direction while she sang. at the close of our performance, he came up and whispered to her earnestly. she shook her head at first and then turned to me.

"mr. kinlosti is going to show me something in his sitting room. please come with us."

for the first time i saw the russian in this sallow-faced invalid. his lips curved into a snarl and for a moment he glared at me. the fit of anger was gone in a moment, before rose had even observed it. with a little courteous gesture towards her, he turned and[pg 54] limped towards the lift. we followed, and he led us into his suite on the first floor.

"do not be frightened of john," he enjoined, as he opened the door. "john is the guardian of my treasure, and he is obsessed with the idea that there are thieves in this hotel."

from the appearance of john, it seemed as though any adventurous thieves would have had a pretty poor time. he was seated with folded arms upon a hard, straight-backed chair. on a table by his side, only partially concealed by a large handkerchief, was an obvious revolver. there was also a glass of strong brandy and water. he rose to his feet at our entrance, but his bearing was grim and unfriendly. his master talked to him for a few moments in his own language, apparently trying to assure him of the harmlessness of our presence. john, however, remained sulky. kinlosti crossed to the farthest corner of the room, took a key from his pocket, a key which seemed to be attached to a band of snakelike silver which encircled his leg, and unfastened an ordinary black tin dispatch box, which[pg 55] stood on the floor. from this he drew out a coffer of some almost black-coloured wood, with brass clamps. he held it up towards rose.

"even for you, my dear young friend," he said, "i may not raise the lid, but i show you this much of your desire. this is one of the coffers which for eleven hundred years has held the ceremonial jewels of the russian royal family. there were at one time five of them. this is the one that remains."

"mayn't i have just one little peep inside?" rose pleaded.

we heard john's heavy breathing, and kinlosti scarcely waited even to answer her. he thrust the coffer back into the box and locked it.

"it is impossible," he pronounced. "i do not bear this trust alone. in the spirit i fear that i break it already. you will rest here for a little while, mademoiselle?"

if this was meant as a hint to me, it was of no avail. i stood by rose's side and she shook her head.

[pg 56]"you will not let me make you some of our own russian tea?" he begged.

"bring me some downstairs," she suggested. "i should love the tea, if it isn't too much trouble, and i will come over and sit in your corner."

in the corridor, on our way down, we met the malevolent mrs. cotesham, who paused, leaning on her stick, and watched rose and her companion with the hungry glare of the professional scandalmonger. kinlosti hurried past her with a little shiver, and rose laughed gaily as she descended the stairs.

"i believe that you have a penchant for mrs. cotesham," she declared.

"she is the most horrible old lady i have ever seen anywhere," he said fervently. "they tell me that she is over ninety, and that she has but one joy in life—to make where she can mischief and trouble and unhappiness. she comes here every year, and every servant hates her. even the managers would keep her away if they could, but she has bought shares in the hotel and has interest with the directors."

[pg 57]"the old man mr. grant is nearly as bad," rose remarked.

"him i know nothing of," kinlosti replied, "save that he is one of those who have surely lived too long."

leonard and i left rose to her tête-à-tête and took a seat in the lounge. a few yards from us, the little daily comedy which never failed to amuse the onlookers was in progress. mr. grant was seated in the easy chair affected by mrs. cotesham. she came stumping along from the lift and stopped about a foot from the chair.

"this man has taken my chair!" she exclaimed in a loud voice, for the benefit of every one. "i left a book in it."

mr. grant continued to read through his heavy spectacles, unmoved. she struck the side of his chair with her stick.

"i want my chair," she repeated.

mr. grant half turned round.

"what does the woman want?" he snarled. "this isn't her chair. it's an hotel chair. i found it empty and i sat down. i am going to stay."

[pg 58]"where's my book?" mrs. cotesham demanded, handing him the end of her ear trumpet.

"i threw it on the lounge," he shouted. "there it is. now don't bother me any more."

"he calls himself a gentleman!" the old lady declared, shaking with fury.

"never called myself anything of the sort in my life," he snapped.

i rose, and wheeled the easy chair in which i was sitting to the side of mr. grant's.

"will you sit here, madam?" i ventured. "it is as near your favourite position as possible."

she pushed her speaking trumpet almost into my face.

"say that again, young man," she directed.

i repeated it at the top of my voice. she nodded and subsided into the chair.

"i don't like having to sit near such people," she said, "but i prefer this side of the fireplace."

her neighbour looked out of the corner of his eye.

"i wish the pestilential old woman would[pg 59] stay up in her room," he growled. "i hate her next me."

she handed him her speaking trumpet.

"say that again, will you?" she invited. "i don't like people talking about me when i can't hear what they say."

mr. grant shut his book with a snap, rose to his feet and hobbled across to a distant part of the lounge.

"that old woman ought to be locked up," he declared at the top of his voice. "she's a damned nuisance to everybody!"

he found another seat and recommenced his book. mrs. cotesham, with a purr of content, settled herself down in the chair which he had vacated, stretched out her feet upon the footstool and looked around triumphantly.

"i've been to a good many hotels in my life," she confided to every one within hearing, "but i never met a man who called himself a gentleman, with such disgusting manners!"

leonard and i strolled away presently to find rose. it was time for us to go back to our rooms and change for the evening performance. we found her with kinlosti in his[pg 60] corner, and the air above them overhung with a thin cloud of blue tobacco smoke. kinlosti was smoking furiously and talking hard. rose welcomed our approach, i thought, with something almost like eagerness.

"it is time to go, i am sure," she declared, springing to her feet.

her companion broke off in the middle of a sentence and frowned.

"we speak together to-night, then?"

she shook her head at him, smiling all the time though, and with that little tantalising look in her eyes which leonard and i both knew so well.

"i am not sure," she replied. "the management will complain if i talk so much with one of the guests, but i will play 'valse triste' for you. au revoir!"

we had almost left the hotel—we were on the outside steps, indeed—when the hall porter caught me up. i saw at once what he was carrying. it was one of the now familiar typewritten letters. this time i asked him a point-blank question.

"look here," i said, with my hand in my[pg 61] trousers pocket, "this is the third note i have received from my friend in this fashion. i want to know how they come into your possession. who leaves them at the bureau?"

the man saw the ten-shilling note in my hand but he only shook his head. i believe that he was perfectly honest.

"i would tell you in a minute if i knew, sir," he declared, "but to tell you the truth i have never seen one delivered. all three i have picked up from the desk in my office, evidently left there when my back was turned for a moment."

"you haven't any idea who leaves them there, then?" i persisted.

"not the slightest, sir," the man assured me.

"keep a good lookout," i begged him, "and let me know if you do find out. there may be another one—i can't tell—but i'll double this ten shillings if you succeed."

the man thanked me and withdrew. we three crossed to the less frequented side of the road. i walked in the middle, with rose and[pg 62] leonard on either arm. we read the note together:

if the box miss mindel saw in kinlosti's room was of purple leather, with gold clasps and corners, let the first item in your repertoire to-night be the missouri waltz. if it was a box of any other description, play the selection from "chu-chin-chow."

"well, i'm damned!" leonard exclaimed.

"be careful," i advised. "thomson's probably underneath these paving stones."

rose shivered a little.

"do you think he wants to steal the jewels, maurice?" she asked me.

"oh, no!" i answered. "he probably wants to borrow them to wear at the lord mayor's show!"

she made a grimace.

"that's all very well, mr. lister," she said, with a great attempt at hauteur, "but will you kindly remember that you two are not in at this show? it is i who seem to be chosen as principal accomplice. i am not exactly infatuated with mr. kinlosti, but i don't want him to lose his jewels."

[pg 63]"i bet you a four-pound box of chocolates he does lose them," leonard observed.

rose sighed.

"anyhow," she murmured, "we shall have to play 'chu-chin-chow' to-night."

leonard and rose played a selection from "chu-chin-chow" that evening as well as they could with an extemporised rendering. rose played the piano, leonard the violin, and i pretended to be turning over the pages of the music, although all the time i was engaged in a furtive search of the crowded lounge for some sign of our patron or a possible emissary. there were the usual little groups about, and a more harmless or obvious set of people i don't think i ever came across. mrs. cotesham was seated with her back to us, with a shawl arranged around her head so as to still further deaden sound, and ostentatiously reading a novel. mr. grant had stumped past us on his way to the billiard room, muttering to himself, before the first few bars of our little effort had been played. the others were nearly all known to us by name or reputation. there seemed something uncanny in the[pg 64] thought that somewhere or other were ears waiting for the message our selection conveyed. we were half-way through the "cobbler's song" when, without the slightest warning, rose, who was facing the staircase, broke off abruptly in her playing. i caught sight of her face, suddenly pale, upturned towards the head of the staircase, followed the direction of her gaze, and was myself stricken dumb and nerveless. at the top of the staircase john was standing, holding out a terrified, struggling figure almost at arm's length. the fingers of his right hand seemed to be clasped around the neck of his unfortunate victim, while with his left hand he held him by the ankle. this was all in full view of the lounge. there were shrieks from the women, and some of the men, amongst them myself, hurried towards the staircase. we were too late, however, to be of any practical use. john, who seemed like a man beside himself with passion, suddenly swung the prostrate form of his captive a little farther back, and then dashed it from him down the stairs. a little cry of horror rippled and sobbed through the [pg 65]tense air. the man lay on the rug at the bottom of the stairs, a crumpled-up heap, motionless and without speech.

ii

i was one of those who helped to carry the unfortunate victim of john's fury into the manager's office. he appeared to be a man of about medium height and build, dressed in the severest clerical clothes. i remembered having seen him arrive on the previous day. we laid him upon a sofa and left him there while one of us telephoned for a doctor. out in the lounge, every one was grouped around the stairs, where kinlosti was talking to john. the veins of the latter's temples were still standing out, but he was rapidly calming down. he spoke in a loud voice, so that every one might hear.

"that man is a thief in disguise," he shouted. "you will find burglar's tools in his pocket and a revolver. he came into the room where i was guarding my master's property, pretended to have mistaken the room, and tried[pg 66] to slip in behind me. i was too quick for him. he has followed us from russia, that man. my master will tell you."

the manager, who had been lingering in the background, came down the stairs.

"the man's story may be true," he said. "two of the maids saw him hanging about. they heard the altercation, and there is a chloroformed handkerchief in the sitting room."

"i have a valuable box there," kinlosti explained, "which it is my servant's duty to guard. it contains property which belongs to the dead."

"all the same," one of the bystanders observed, "one does not treat even a thief like that. the man's neck is probably broken."

kinlosti seemed to have lost his nervousness in this minute of crisis.

"i beg," he said to the manager, "that you will await the doctor's verdict before you send for the police. if the man is not seriously injured, he got no more than his deserts. it was john's duty to guard what he was guarding with his life."

[pg 67]"here is the doctor," the manager announced.

half a dozen of us followed the manager and the doctor back to the room where we had carried the injured man. when we opened the door, however, we were faced with a great surprise. there was a current of cold air, the window was wide open, the sofa was empty! to all appearance, a miracle had happened. we examined the ground below the window and found traces of where a man had stepped out. to those of us who had seen the fall, the thing grew more wonderful the more we thought of it.

"i think," the doctor pronounced, "that this is more a case for the police."

kinlosti shook his head.

"i do not think," he said drily, "that the police of bath are likely to be of much service in this matter."

"you have a suspicion, perhaps?" the manager asked.

kinlosti smiled a little bitterly.

"i know the people who have been following me," he replied, "who would follow me[pg 68] around the world until i am quit of my trust. they are jugo-slav jews, boneless and bloodless as the worm that you cut in two only to find of dual life. no bath policeman will ever lay hands upon that seemingly reverend gentleman."

"at the same time," the manager said a little stiffly, "i shall give information. it appears that he wrote for a room a week ago, from a vicarage near london, and signed himself 'the reverend edward cummings.'"

"you will find that vicarage a myth," kinlosti observed, "as much a myth as the reverend edward cummings himself."

the sensation died away. we all drifted back to our places. at the manager's earnest request we recommenced our programme, but i am quite sure that no one listened, for the buzz of conversation almost drowned the sound of our instruments. the manager carried on an earnest conversation with kinlosti in his corner, greatly, apparently, to the latter's distress. after our first essay we attempted no more music. leonard went off to speak to some friends in the lounge. i was talking to[pg 69] rose and showing her a paragraph in the evening paper, when kinlosti approached.

"it is very distressing," he said. "because of this unfortunate happening, the manager has asked me to leave the hotel. every place in bath is full, and my cure is not complete."

i showed him the paragraph in the paper.

"you may not be able to go," i pointed out. "it seems that there is every possibility of a railway strike being declared to-night."

he glanced at the paragraph and returned the paper to me unmoved.

"it would not affect me," he said. "i travel everywhere by car. i think after what has happened i shall go. in london i can acquit myself of my trust. i see that the person who is empowered to take over my responsibility is back in london a few days sooner than he was expected."

i looked at the paragraph underneath the one which i had indicated, which announced that a royal personage had returned to london a few days earlier than intended, owing to the threatened strike.

"to-morrow," kinlosti continued quietly,[pg 70] "i shall order my car and depart. it will perhaps be better. if things get worse, they may commandeer the petrol. i will rid myself of this responsibility and either return or try harrogate. you three will come up and have a bottle of wine with me and some sandwiches?"

rose, to my joy, was quite firm in her refusal. she returned with him to his corner, however, and they sat there with their heads very close together whilst leonard and i fidgetted about in the lounge. a period of quietude had followed the excitement of the last half-hour. mr. grant had apparently fallen asleep in his easy chair. mrs. cotesham watched him malevolently through her horn-rimmed spectacles.

"what a pity for a man to make such ugly noises when he's asleep!" she remarked to her neighbour. "i wish some one would wake him up. he's disturbing the whole room."

mr. grant opened one eye, then the other. finally he sat up.

"madam," he shouted, as she raised her[pg 71] trumpet to her ear, "you forget that i am not like you—deaf!"

"i don't care whether you are or not," she replied. "i'm glad i woke you up. bed's the place for you."

"a coffin's the place for you," mr. grant muttered under his breath. "how are you going to get away from here, ma'am?" he continued, raising his tone. "i hear your rooms are let from to-morrow."

"i sha'n't ask you for a place in your car," she answered. "very likely i sha'n't go. they can't turn me out."

"i don't think they'll miss the opportunity," her interlocutor retorted, with a sardonic smile.

she laid her speaking trumpet in her lap.

"i sha'n't listen to you any more," she declared. "you're a rude old man. if it interests any one else to know what will become of me, i have relatives in bristol who will be only too glad for me to pay them a visit."

"they'll be gladder to get rid of her," mr. grant observed, looking around for sympathy.

at that moment the hall porter touched me[pg 72] on the shoulder. the inevitable note was thrust into my hand.

"i found this on my desk just now, sir," he announced, in answer to my look of enquiry. "sorry i can't tell you how it got there."

i opened it and read:

you will terminate your engagement at the crown this evening. proceed to london to-morrow, where you will find rooms taken for you at the mayfair hotel. accept any offer you may receive of a lift to london, individually or collectively.

i showed leonard the note, and hurried away to the manager's office. he made no difficulty about letting us go; in fact, i gathered that half the residents in the hotel were hurrying away by motor car, fearing a general confiscation of petrol. he detained me just as i was leaving the room.

"queer affair, that attempted robbery, mr. lister," he remarked.

"extraordinary," i agreed.

"i notice you people seem quite friendly with mr. kinlosti," he continued. "do you[pg 73] know if it is true that he is related to the late tsar?"

"i have no idea," i answered. "all that he has told us is that he was a member of the household."

"he may be a nobleman, and i dare say he is," the manager went on, a little nervously, "but i don't care about people at my hotel with a savage manservant like his and half a million pounds' worth of jewels. bath isn't the place for that sort of thing. my clients like a quiet life."

"no doubt," i answered. "anyhow, he's leaving to-morrow."

"prince or no prince, i am glad to hear it," was the heartfelt reply. "people ought to deposit valuables like that in a bank. they're simply asking for trouble when they cart them about the country. it's a thing i've very seldom done to a client, but i told mr. kinlosti this evening that i should be glad for him to leave as soon as convenient."

i went back to the corner where i had left rose. my disquietude increased as i approached. both she and her companion were[pg 74] quite unconscious of my coming. kinlosti was leaning forward, talking earnestly, and rose was listening with a queer and unfamiliar look in her eyes. leonard suddenly gripped me by the arm and led me a little distance away.

"maurice," he confided, "that fellow kinlosti is making love to her."

"if i thought so!" i muttered, clenching my fists.

"but she's letting him," leonard groaned. "what the mischief can we do? we've no hold over her. owing to that silly bargain we made, she doesn't dream that either of us care a snap of the fingers about her, except as a little pal and a partner. it's all clear sailing for that unwholesome brute."

my anger died away, but a very solid determination was there in its place.

"leonard," i said, "we aren't going to leave her, and whatever happens, we'll know more about that fellow before many days have passed."

i retraced my steps then and went up to them. there was certainly a change in rose's[pg 75] face. kinlosti looked up at me a little impatiently.

"is it late?" he asked. "i am leaving to-morrow, and i am anxious to have a few minutes' more conversation with miss mindel."

"as it happens, we are leaving ourselves," i replied. "i thought perhaps that miss mindel would like to know."

"what, to-morrow?" she exclaimed.

"i have received a message," i told her.

she sprang up and drew me to one side, with a little nod to kinlosti which seemed to promise a swift return. i showed her the typewritten sheet.

"maurice," she whispered, "mr. kinlosti has already been begging me to accept a seat in his car to london to-morrow."

"indeed!" i answered coldly.

"of course, i never had any idea of leaving you two," she went on, "but now—well, you see what our instructions are."

"damn our instructions!" i muttered, losing control of myself for a moment. "rose, you're not falling in love with that fellow?"

[pg 76]"don't be foolish, please," she answered, "and don't call him a fellow."

"i'll call him a scoundrel if he behaves like one," i retorted.

she looked at me queerly for a moment. i thought that she was going to be angry, but she answered me without any signs of ill-feeling.

"you and leonard are both very kind in looking after me," she admitted, "but after all i am quite able, when it is necessary, to make up my mind for myself on things that concern me personally."

"you're not going up to london alone with kinlosti," i said doggedly.

she swung around and rejoined him before i could reply. leonard and i went and fetched our coats and hats. a little ostentatiously we laid her fur coat upon the top of the piano and waited. in a moment or two she got up and came over towards us, kinlosti by her side. he turned courteously to me.

"miss mindel reminds me that you also are leaving bath to-morrow. i have two seats in my car, one of which i have offered to miss[pg 77] mindel. if the other is of any service to you, i shall be delighted."

i thanked him a little perfunctorily.

"we don't, as a rule, separate when we have a journey to make," i said. "however, in this case the circumstances are a little exceptional. if you will take miss mindel and mr. cotton, i dare say i can manage to get up somehow."

"we can't leave you, maurice," rose protested.

"so far as i am concerned, i am afraid it must be so," kinlosti intervened, in a tone full of courteous regret. "i have john outside with the chauffeur, and there is only room for two comfortably in the inside. we shall have to improvise a seat for mr. cotton."

"you don't anticipate any adventures on the way, i suppose?" i asked. "nothing after the style of this evening's happenings?"

"i sincerely trust not," was the earnest reply. "however, both john and i are armed, and i do not think any one will venture so far as to hold up the car."

"in that case, rose," i said, "i think you and leonard had better accept mr. kinlosti's[pg 78] offer. at the worst i hear there are some char-à-bancs running. i shall probably get a lift. at what hour did you think of starting?"

"at nine o'clock, if miss mindel doesn't mind," kinlosti answered hastily. "the sooner we get away, the better. my chauffeur tells me that they are asking two pounds a tin for petrol, and a government order, commandeering stocks, is expected out to-morrow."

we were more silent than usual on our walk home, perhaps because the events of the evening had left us all something to think about. once rose pressed my arm.

"i feel rather mean about you to-morrow, maurice," she ventured.

i reminded her of the mandate we had received.

"no help for it. two were invited and two have to go. i can't tell what surprises may be in store for me. i may get an invitation myself."

rose turned a troubled face towards me. her lips quivered a little, her eyes were full of distress.

"maurice," she confessed, "i'm afraid of[pg 79] to-morrow. i'm afraid that we are being made use of to rob mr. kinlosti."

"can't be helped," leonard put in, as i remained for a moment silent. "we took this business on with our eyes open. our consciences weren't very active when we were starving and cold and in debt. it's no good finding them too sensitive now that we're living on the fat of the land. we've just got to see the thing through, for a year, at any rate."

"leonard is right," i assented. "we've got to grin and bear it. this time," i added, "it seems as though you two were going to have the show to yourself."

"you can have my share," rose sighed.

the hall of the crown hotel at a few minutes before nine on the following morning presented a scene of curious animation. all trains had ceased to run, and rumours as to the government commandeering of petrol were universal. fully a score of cars were outside, waiting, besides one of the smaller char-à-bancs, and half a dozen luggage porters were working their hardest. kinlosti, looking[pg 80] curiously shrunken in a great fur coat, pale and nervous, greeted us on the steps. his car, laden with luggage, stood at the entrance. on the box seat sat john, an immovable figure of fierce watchfulness.

"we could start any time you liked," kinlosti said, addressing rose eagerly. "we have left room for your trunk behind, and there will be a quite comfortable place for mr. cotton. you are ready, miss mindel?"

"quite," she answered.

he gripped leonard's arm and commenced to descend the steps. it was obvious that he was in great pain, and i supported him on the other side. outside, a grey mist hung over the street, and he shivered as we made our slow progress.

"it is the damp which has brought this on again," he confided. "only a few days ago i was better. every one says the same thing. it is when one leaves here that one reaps the benefit of the treatment. i am ashamed to be so much trouble."

we had almost to lift him into the car, and notwithstanding the chill of the morning, there[pg 81] were beads of perspiration upon his forehead. rose took her place by his side, and leonard on a camp stool placed against the door. i felt a little forlorn as i saw them start, but i waved my hand encouragingly.

"i'll get up somehow," i shouted. "see you to-night."

i turned back into the hotel to look for the driver of the char-à-banc and try to bargain with him for a seat to london. mrs. cotesham, almost undistinguishable in rugs and wraps, was seated on a chair, watching the carrying out of her luggage, all neatly wrapped, after the continental fashion, in brown holland covers. she counted the articles one by one as they passed, muttering to herself all the time.

"never another shilling shall any railway porter have so long as i live!—eleven—one more. and as to the management of this hotel, i call it disgraceful! flung out like cattle, that's what's happening to us!"

mr. grant, also attired for motoring, came shuffling along. he picked up mrs. cotesham's speaking trumpet.

[pg 82]"got any one to take you in?" he asked.

she snatched it away from him.

"of course i have," she answered. "i'm not a miserable, disagreeable old curmudgeon like you! my friends are glad to have me pay them a visit."

mr. grant chuckled.

"gladder to get rid of you, i know!"

his eye fell upon me.

"well, young mr. musician," he went on, "how are you going to get away? pad the hoof, eh, as your sort used to a few hundred years ago?"

"not at all," i answered cheerfully. "i'm hoping some one will offer me a lift to london. if not, i shall have to buy a seat for myself in the char-à-banc."

the hall porter, who was passing, shook his head.

"not a bit of use thinking about the char-à-banc, sir," he said. "we've a dozen guests in the hotel we've had to refuse already."

mr. grant chuckled.

"good walker, eh, young man?" he asked.

"oh, i could get there, all right," i assured[pg 83] him, "but it won't be necessary. why won't you give me a lift, sir?" i added, putting a bold front on it. "i see your car out there, empty."

"yes, why don't you give the poor young man a ride?" mrs. cotesham chipped in, lowering the speaking trumpet from her ear. "fancy wanting all that great car to yourself! i hate selfishness."

mr. grant smiled.

"i couldn't persuade you, my dear lady——" he began.

"no, you couldn't!" she interrupted vigorously. "i wouldn't step inside your old car if you paid me. i'm not going your way, either. i'm going to clifton. and i hope that as long as i live i'll never set eyes upon your repulsive face again."

mr. grant lifted his hat solemnly.

"amen!" he said. "come on, young fellow," he added gruffly. "i'll take you to london as long as you promise not to try and sing to me."

i spared my benefactor any exuberant show of gratitude, but i felt that i was in luck's way[pg 84] as i stretched myself out in the luxuriously cushioned seat of mr. grant's limousine. we swung off along the bristol road.

"got to call at a house three miles out on this road," mr. grant explained thickly. "we'll be in london before the fastest of them, though."

"it's quite immaterial to me so long as we get there by this evening," i answered.

we drove on for between three and four miles. then, without any order from mr. grant, the car came to a standstill by the side of the road. i looked at my companion for some explanation. he was leaning a little forward, with both hands clasped around the knob of his stick. his attitude was one of listening.

"is the house where you want to call near here?" i asked.

"listen!" was the brusque reply.

i thrust my head out of the window of the car and held my breath. climbing the hill behind us, hidden by the mist, was another car, puffing and snorting as though in some difficulties. it came into sight in a minute or[pg 85] two—a bath taxicab, laden with luggage. mr. grant descended.

"something wrong with that engine," he remarked. "perhaps we had better enquire if we can help."

the car behind had come to a standstill, and the chauffeur, who had already jumped from his place and opened the bonnet, was tinkering with his engine. i fancied that a glance of intelligence passed between him and mr. grant.

"dear me," the latter exclaimed, turning around and finding me at his heels. "our amiable old friend on her way to bristol! we must see whether we cannot be of some assistance."

what followed—the rapidity and the wonder of it—kept me spellbound. there was no stump about mr. grant as he threw open the door of the taxicab. his spring was the spring of a young man, and before i could realise what was happening, he had mrs. cotesham by the throat. with the other hand he passed out to me the box which she had been using as a footstool.

[pg 86]"the game's up, kinlosti," he said, and the voice was the voice of thomson. "i'll shake the life out of you if you reach for that pistol."

for a moment i stood in the middle of the road, spellbound. the pseudo mrs. cotesham was a wonderful sight. her false front and mass of grey curls had slipped over her ear, disclosing the clean-shaven head of a young man. the paint was cracking upon her face. thomson's terrible grip seemed to be slowly strangling her, and slowly from out of the wreck there seemed to creep another face, the face of a man with kinlosti's haunting eyes. he seemed to wrench himself at that moment a little freer from the cruel grip upon his windpipe, and a cry of terror rang out into the mist, the thrilling, horrible cry of a man in fear of his life. the cry was stifled by something which thomson held in his hand. he turned to me.

"get back in the car and take that box with you," he directed.

i obeyed him, glad enough to be away from whatever else might happen. in a minute or two mr. thomson returned. he gave a brief[pg 87] order to the chauffeur, the car swung round, and we headed once more for bath. as we flashed past the taxicab, i caught a momentary glimpse of its amazing occupant, leaning forward, his face buried in his hands. the taxicab man had lit a cigarette and was waiting apparently for orders.

"sha'n't we be stopped?" i asked my companion. "he can telephone."

mr. thomson shook his head.

"the game isn't played that way," he said shortly.

whereupon he put his feet on the opposite cushion and either slept or pretended to sleep until we reached hungerford. then he yawned and looked at me.

"can you hold out until we reach london?" he asked. "i don't want to stop for luncheon."

"easily," i replied. "i had a good breakfast, and to tell you the truth," i added boldly, "i'm too curious to be hungry."

mr. thomson yawned and closed his eyes again.

"you can keep your curiosity and your[pg 88] appetite, too, if you like," he said, "until eight o'clock this evening, milan restaurant—not grill room."

"all three of us?" i asked.

"yes."

mr. thomson closed his eyes, and not another word was spoken until he set me down at the mayfair hotel.

it was evidently not only at hotels that mr. thomson was persona grata. the table to which he led us on our arrival at the milan was one of the best in the room. the chief ma?tre d'h?tel himself was in attendance to exchange amenities with an evidently well-known and respected patron. the menu of a specially prepared dinner was deferentially handed to him by one of the minor luminaries. we seated ourselves with some faint return of that unreal feeling which had been evoked by the two previous feasts at which we had assisted. this one especially was hard to realise. nowhere could the appurtenances of luxury have been more elaborately displayed. pink, hothouse roses almost covered the tablecloth[pg 89] and gave a faint, exotic odour to the restful atmosphere of the room. outside, the orchestra was playing with subdued and melodious cadence the music of "louise." we seemed in an oasis, in a world far removed from the tragedies of the day.

"i fear," our host said, as he watched the wine being poured into rose's glass, "that your journey up to-day has fatigued you. i beg that you will drink half a glass of that wine at once. there is nothing so refreshing as champagne after a long motor ride."

"it wasn't the distance," rose replied, as she followed his advice. "it was mr. kinlosti's extraordinary behaviour. i have never seen a man so nervous in all my life. he could not sit still. he seemed to lose sometimes almost the power of speech. always he seemed to be expecting something which never happened."

"ah!" mr. thomson murmured. "that is not to be wondered at."

"when we neared london," rose continued, "and i ventured to congratulate him upon the near fulfilment of his trust, i cer[pg 90]tainly thought he would have hysterics. we left him at hammersmith, telephoning wildly. after waiting half an hour, we moved our things into a taxi."

"things did not turn out," mr. thomson reflected, "exactly as mr. kinlosti had anticipated."

"it has been your custom, sir," i reminded him, leaning forward in my place, "on the occasion of these little celebrations, to vouchsafe us some slight inkling as to the meaning of our efforts. i feel that we should do more justice to this wonderful dinner if you could give us some faint idea as to the nature of the tragedy, or farce, or whatever it may be, at which we have been assisting."

mr. thomson ruminated for a moment. he seemed to be watching two unobtrusive-looking men, still in morning dress, who were making their way through the room towards the more retired tables set out on the balcony.

"that is true," he admitted. "i will tell you, then, a little history. it may perhaps bring some part of the colour back to miss mindel's cheeks."

[pg 91]"it may also," i observed, "stop me from thinking i can see two of everything."

"a month ago," mr. thomson said, "there landed in england three of the greatest rascals who ever drew breath in any country. one was andrea kinlosti, at one time valet and barber to the tsar of russia. the other was paul kinlosti, his brother, an actor of some small note in a stock company at st. petersburg. the third was a hardened criminal, whom, not to confuse you, we will call john, wanted even in his own country for something like thirteen murders. andrea kinlosti was the gentleman, miss rose, who brought you to london to-day. paul kinlosti, the actor, gave a very wonderful rendering of mrs. cotesham. and john—well, you know about him."

"andrea kinlosti's story, then," rose began——

"a tissue of lies," our host interrupted. "the true facts about his appearance in england are these. a very valuable portion of the crown jewels was hidden by one of the monarchist party in st. petersburg. partly through andrea kinlosti's intervention, these[pg 92] jewels fell into the hands of the bolshevists. the two kinlostis and john, however, managed to secure possession of them and escaped to england. hard on their heels came four or five of their kidney, and the attempt you saw at theft at the crown hotel was the third or fourth which has been made since they arrived in this country. in the absence of any extradition treaty between the present government of russia and this country, the trio thought that they would be safe here and could make their plans to realise the jewels. they did not count, however, upon the little stream of fellow rascals who found their way over here after them. the bath idea seems fantastic, but on the whole it had its points. andrea was really suffering horribly from rheumatism, and an hotel of the class of the crown seemed as good a hiding place as any from the kind of person whom they desired to avoid. the scheme was that kinlosti should be quite frank about his possession of the jewels, but the box which was supposed to contain them was a dummy. paul, the actor, impersonated an old lady and was really in[pg 93] possession of the jewels, and the idea was that he should watch his opportunity and take steamer direct from bristol to some little port at which he could reship to new york."

we murmured comprehension.

"miss mindel here," thomson continued, "kept admirably in touch with andrea kinlosti, the pseudo-nobleman. she was able to give me the information i desired, as to which of the two really possessed the jewels. furthermore, directly andrea sought her companionship for the journey to london, i knew that it was paul who was to have the jewels. upon the whole," he concluded, "for two arch criminals of wonderful reputation, i think their final attempt to get away with the booty was a little disappointing."

"what has happened to them?" rose asked.

mr. thomson picked up the evening paper which he had placed by the side of his plate.

"this is just a telegram," he observed, turning to the stop press news:

just before the sailing of the s. s. avonmouth from bristol this afternoon, the body of an elderly lady, who had[pg 94] booked a passage to jamaica in the name of mrs. cotesham, was found in her cabin. it is feared that the deceased lady was the victim of foul play, as there were marks of strangulation upon her throat, and her property had apparently been rifled.

later.

further extraordinary revelations concerning the murder on the avonmouth have just come to hand, from which it appears that the deceased was a man in woman's clothes.

"what made him go on?" i asked.

mr. thomson smiled.

"a little information i whispered to him," he said, "concerning the movements of some of his cutthroat friends from russia. they were hard on his track, as this paragraph proves."

"and what about—the other one?" rose asked, in a stifled, breathless voice—"the one i travelled up with?"

"andrea," mr. thomson replied. "i am afraid, miss mindel, that he is a very bad lot indeed. if i had not been sure that your[pg 95] protection was adequate, i should certainly have hesitated before i asked you to play delilah."

"i am still wondering," rose murmured, "what has become of him."

mr. thomson had been watching the progress of three men through the crowded restaurant. by a silent gesture he invited her attention to them. the foremost figure was the man whom we had known as andrea kinlosti, behind him the two unobtrusive-looking men who had passed through the restaurant a few minutes before. kinlosti looked neither to the right nor to the left; his cheeks were ashen pale, his dark eyes more brilliant and sunken than ever. the two men who followed watched his every movement with catlike intensity. when they had passed into the lounge, they drew one on either side of him.

"he is in luck," mr. thomson said grimly. "scotland yard has a pretty black record against him since his last visit to england, six or seven years ago, but if it had been the others—i don't think they would have been so kind to him as they were to his brother. and now[pg 96] that's the end of my story," he went on, in an altered tone. "miss mindel, i am assured that this young turkey is as tender as the chestnut stuffing. lister, you ought to have an appetite, for i did you out of your lunch. cotton, a glass of wine with you."

i think that a certain callousness, born of our recent adventures, was finding its way into our natures, for each one of us responded cheerfully to our host's invitation. there was one—the great question—however, which i could not refrain from asking.

"about those jewels, sir—where are they?" i asked.

mr. thomson scratched his chin.

"young man," he replied, "don't you think you'd be better off without knowing where half a million pounds' worth of jewels are?"

"that isn't what i meant," i persisted. "you seem to have recovered them from the original thieves. what are you going to do about it?"

mr. thomson smiled.

"let me see," he observed, "that will be conundrum number two."