the spider's parlour
we three—leonard cotton, rose mindel and i, maurice lister, who comprised the much-advertised little troupe of english artistes recently arrived at brussels—sipped the very excellent black coffee provided for our delectation by monsieur huber, the proprietor of the quatres etoiles, gazed around with interest at the motley crowd by which we were surrounded, applauded the performance of a little french soubrette upon the stage with all the abandon required by fellow artistes, and exchanged mutual smiles of well-being and content. to tell the truth, the café des quatres etoiles, its clientele, and the character of the entertainment provided were nothing so very wonderful, but it was our first glimpse of foreign life for some five or six years. we were young and athirst for adventure, and[pg 98] with our unseen patron behind us we were pretty certain that before long we should be brought into touch with interesting things. so far we had spent a week in brussels, and no word had followed the mandate which had sent us there. we had been perfectly content, however, to wait our time and take our nightly part in the performances. rose had made quite a hit with her topical songs and graceful dancing. leonard's droll stories were much appreciated by an audience which during the last four years had received a mighty english lesson. my own baritone songs were well enough received, and we thoroughly enjoyed the cosmopolitan habit established at the little music hall of coming down to one of the tables in the café between our turns and taking our place amongst the audience. rose was somewhat of a responsibility to us, but since the affair kinlosti she had shunned all new acquaintances and was quite content that we should play the part of watchdogs. even as we sat there that evening, she received with the pleasant indifference of the true artiste many admiring, many inviting glances. prosperity[pg 99] had agreed with rose, as i suppose it had also with leonard and me. the slight thinness of her face, the discontented curl of the lips, had vanished. her cheeks had filled out, those wonderful blue eyes of hers seemed always soft and full of life. she had a perpetual and distracting smile upon her lips; she moved as one who walks on air. "the little lady," monsieur huber had said to us on the evening of our first performance, "has the gaiety of paris. it is incredible that she is of london. she makes happiness wherever she goes." and, by the bye, mr. huber was not accustomed to overpraise any artiste to whom he was in the habit of paying a salary.
"maurice—and you, old solemn-face," rose said, turning to leonard, "i like this place. i am prepared to enjoy myself here. i am more glad than ever that i sold my soul."
"i am entirely with you," leonard assented, "so long as the future does not present any such penalties as the incarceration of the body."
"you're all right," i reminded him. "i'm the person who nearly found trouble. a few[pg 100] more paragraphs about that mysterious jewel robbery and the probability of immediate arrest would have sent me into a nervous decline."
rose laughed in my face, her white teeth gleaming. the little creases at the corners of her eyes deepened.
"rubbish!" she scoffed. "you know perfectly well that you never turned a hair."
"as a matter of fact," i admitted, "i am beginning to have confidence in mr. mephistopheles thomson. whether he is of heaven or earth, of the law or of the underworld, he seems to have a remarkably good idea of how to take care of himself and his minions."
"considering that he has three perfectly good consciences to look after besides his own," rose agreed, "i must say that he does very well."
"his interests appear to be somewhat cosmopolitan," leonard observed, leaning back in his chair and gazing around him.
"so much the better," rose declared. "it means plenty of change for us, and i like[pg 101] change, only this time i hope my affections are not going to be trifled with."
"you shouldn't wear your heart on your sleeve for sentimental russians to nibble at," i ventured.
she made a little grimace. i fancy i should have been the recipient of a scathing remark but for the approach of monsieur huber, the proprietor of the café. he bowed with great politeness to rose and handed me a typewritten envelope of familiar appearance. i tore it open and glanced at its brief contents:
i beg that you will respond to any advances made to you by any regular patrons of the café des quatres etoiles.
i held the note out so that the two others could read it. then i thrust it into my pocket.
"mademoiselle sang charmingly to-night," monsieur huber declared, rolling his eyes.
"i didn't see you amongst the audience, monsieur huber," she replied demurely.
"when you sing i am never far away, mademoiselle," was the impressive response. "i was standing at the back of the baroness spens' box."
[pg 102]rose glanced upwards at the box which he indicated. a large woman was seated there, dressed in an elaborate evening gown, with jewels sparkling from her bosom and hair. she was dark, with a strong masculine face, a woman who had once, beyond a doubt, been handsome, but whose countenance was now almost forbidding. i recognised her as one of the regular patrons of the café.
"the baroness," monsieur huber continued, "is one of my best clients. she is very good to all my artistes. sometimes she has them at her home. she pays, too—pays very well. but excuse me—she calls."
the baroness, with a short, rather thick-set belgian girl, and a fat, elderly man, who had almost fallen on to the stage applauding the little french soubrette, occupied the stage box, which was on a level with the promenade. monsieur huber hurried over towards it, exchanged a few words with his patroness and returned to us.
"the baroness desires that you three will visit her box and take a glass of wine," he announced, with the air of one conveying a[pg 103] royal command. "fran?ois, a bottle of 34 to the stage box at once."
apart from our desire to oblige little mr. huber, who was really a most good-natured person, our recently received mandate left us no alternative but to comply. we were ushered, therefore, into the box, where the baroness received us, rather to my surprise, with the air of a woman of breeding, the girl without any special enthusiasm, and the old man, whose eyes were glued upon the soubrette, with indifference. we were offered chairs and suffered the martyrdom of sweet champagne. the baroness said polite things about our performance, enquired about our impressions of brussels, and spoke calmly of her residence in the city during the period of german occupation. her conversation was easy enough, and gracious, yet i could not get it out of my head that her interest in us did not arise solely from the fact of our being professional entertainers.
"you find it pays," she asked, a little abruptly, "while living in brussels is so dear,[pg 104] to perform at this café for monsieur huber's salary?"
"financially," i admitted, "our trip here is not particularly remunerative, but we were all three very anxious to get over here and look around."
"you find it very changed—the city?"
"only as regards the absence of germans," i replied. "in the old days one met them everywhere."
"they will return," she observed.
"but surely they will not be welcome guests?" i ventured.
"not at first," she answered indifferently. "brussels, however, is too cosmopolitan and too near the frontier to preserve her isolation. the intermarrying alone would prevent any ostracism."
"i hope," i ventured to say, "that they will keep away until our stay here is over."
she glanced at my stiff left arm.
"you lost that in the war?"
"that and better things," i told her—"a brother, two cousins and an uncle."
[pg 105]she nodded gravely yet with little pretence at sympathy.
"you english were wonderful," she said coldly.
the little fat man, who had been leaning over the edge of the box, suddenly turned around, mopping his forehead. he was not a pleasant sight to look upon. there were wine stains upon his shirt front and cigar ash upon his waistcoat. his cheeks were pale and puffy; there were bags underneath his eyes. his grey beard and moustache, though carefully trimmed, were scanty and unprepossessing.
"but she is wonderful, that little one," he declared. "marvellous!"
he poured out a glass of wine, ignoring us in his ecstasy. the baroness endeavoured to correct his manners.
"you were unfortunate, dear henri," she said, "that you arrived too late to hear mademoiselle mindel sing and to watch her dance. you would have thought less of your little french girl's performance."
monsieur henri recovered himself sufficiently to bow to rose.
[pg 106]"it will be my pleasure another evening," he said. "meanwhile, dear baroness, if you will excuse me. mademoiselle expects me. we shall meet again."
he made us a comprehensive bow and departed. the phlegmatic young woman, who had been introduced to us as mademoiselle trudens, muttered something in flemish as he left the box. the baroness shook her head reprovingly.
"monsieur henri destin," she pronounced, "is a person of importance. one must humour his whims."
leonard glanced at his watch and rose.
"i fear that i must be excused, baroness," he regretted. "my turn to sing is close at hand."
we also rose. the baroness eyed us reflectively.
"i am having a few friends out to supper to-night at my chateau," she said. "it will give me great pleasure if you will come after the performance. my car will be at the stage door at half-past eleven, and i shall send you back to your hotel."
[pg 107]her thoughtful hesitation before extending the invitation had been so apparent that we should never have dreamed of accepting it but for our mandate. as it was, we had no alternative. we professed ourselves delighted, and were permitted to depart.
the automobile which awaited us at the stage door at the conclusion of the performance, and which contained our prospective hostess only, was the swiftest and most luxurious in which we had any of us ever ridden. we passed over several miles of cobbled streets with incredible speed, penetrated some distance into the country, and finally turned in at an avenue which led through a dense wood and terminated in front of a chateau, finely situated and of imposing proportions. even as we descended, however, a curious fact concerning it occurred both to leonard and myself. the baroness, who must have been watching us more closely than i had imagined, surprised me by referring to it.
"you are wondering why half my chateau is illuminated and the remainder is in darkness,[pg 108] is it not so?" she enquired. "well, i will tell you. the portion which you see in darkness was the headquarters of the most detested german who ever set foot in this country during the enemy occupation of the city. since his departure, i have not yet been able to accustom myself to the existence of apartments in which he and his suite lived and breathed."
she spoke with a little undernote of passion, waited for no comment from us, but led the way into the brightly lit hall, where servants relieved us of our wraps and we were at once made conscious of an air of luxury and comfort. the apartment into which we were presently shown was almost stately in its proportions, and as a pleasure room almost unique. at one end was a little raised stage for theatrical performances, occupied now by a small orchestra; and fitted into the wall was an electric organ. there was a considerable space of polished floor for dancing, and at the opposite end of the apartment a large round table laid for supper.
"i fear," the baroness confided, "that my apartment resembles too much a restaurant.[pg 109] still, what can one do? my friends love dancing informally, the men love their supper, and this huge apartment, which was built for a music room, would be wasted if i used it in any other fashion. we have a custom here which always prevails. supper is served at 12.30. as guests arrive, they seat themselves."
"we shall find no difficulty in accommodating ourselves to your delightful customs," i assured her, as we took the places she indicated. "one must dine at six while our present engagement is on, and it seems a long time ago."
the precise character of that entertainment, the status of the guests who presently arrived, and the significance of the whole affair to us personally puzzled us all for a long time. several beautiful ladies arrived, of apparently satisfactory social position, not possessed of a universal desire to attach themselves to something responsive amongst the male sex. madame sara clèry, of the french opera company, a cousin of our hostess, was kind enough to show a marked interest in me and my presence in brussels.
[pg 110]"tell me, monsieur," she begged, in her very attractive undertone, as we sat in a corner after a waltz, "why are you really in brussels? you tell me that you perform at the café des quatres etoiles, but that is a joke, is it not?"
"nothing of the sort, indeed, madame," i assured her. "i am there on a short engagement with my two friends. i am merely what we call in english a strolling mountebank."
"you had no other reason, then, for coming to brussels?" she persisted.
"unless i was subconsciously aware of the joy in store for me in meeting madame," i answered, "there was no other reason."
"or in coming to this house?'"
i shook my head.
"the baroness was good enough to ask us all," i explained, "and monsieur huber likes his artistes to accept the hospitality of his patrons."
she pouted a little.
"you do not treat me with confidence, monsieur," she complained, "and i am your wellwisher."
"madame," i replied, "if you would search[pg 111] my heart, which, alas! is in your possession, you would realise that i don't understand a word of what you are talking about."
she laughed as though but half convinced. we danced again, drank wine together, and talked a great deal of nonsense. all the time i kept my eye on rose, who found many partners and seemed to be enjoying the evening exceedingly. as the night wore on, i thought it was almost time for a counterattack.
"tell me, madame," i begged, as we sat enjoying a cigarette in a remote corner of the room, "what made you think that i might have other affairs in brussels?"
she looked at me meditatively. i could see that she had not as yet made up her mind about me.
"there are so many," she said, "who come to brussels for another purpose."
"but what purpose?"
we were resting in a deep window seat. she drew aside the curtains for a moment. before us stretched the black, unlit wing of the chateau.
"just that, monsieur," she whispered.[pg 112]
"come, we dance again. this is the waltz we both love."
and after that, madame would dance but she would not talk. so we all went back to our rooms in the hotel de l'univers more than a little puzzled.
things began to shape themselves on the following day, when monsieur huber handed me another typewritten communication. my instructions were concise but a trifle embarrassing:
cultivate madame sara clèry. she is at home from five to seven. at all hazards be there on thursday. leave report of visit with monsieur huber, addressed thomson.
rose made a little grimace as she read over my shoulder.
"perhaps," she exclaimed, with her head in the air, "you won't have so much to say about poor mr. kinlosti now."
"this isn't of my seeking, is it?" i protested.
"nor was l'affaire kinlosti mine," she retorted. "there was a wonderful little belgian[pg 113] count, with moustaches half an inch long, the other night. i shall let him call upon me."
"i shall leave you in leonard's charge," i replied stiffly.
"dear old len!" she mocked. "he won't have an earthly chance if i take it into my head to be frisky, and i'm sure i shall. it isn't natural for a girl to see no men except two ogres of guardians."
"you be thankful you've got us to look after you," leonard intervened. "from what i've seen of this city, sodom and gomorrah weren't in it for levity."
"i can take care of myself," rose declared, tossing her head.
"perhaps," i replied. "in the meantime, when i am away on duty—on duty, mind you—leonard is going to play watchdog."
she dropped a little curtsey to both of us.
"one would think that i were a masquerading princess," she observed.
"you're our princess," i answered quickly.
the peevishness passed from her face in a moment.
[pg 114]"if only you'd tell me so sometimes!" she murmured.
i was at no time quite able to make up my mind how sara clèry really regarded my visits. on the first day, she received my present of roses and my compliments with unmistakable pleasure. on the second day, she was still amiable but a little puzzled. on the third day she received me with greater intimacy than ever before, and i was never so relieved as when the opportune arrival of one of her regular admirers—the tenor with whom she was singing—enabled me to beat a graceful retreat. on the fourth afternoon, the specially indicated thursday, i found her in a state of agitation. it is my confident belief that on that occasion, but for my douceur to her maid, which ensured my prompt entry, i should have been denied admission. she welcomed me with mingled affection—simulated—and suspicion. there was no return of her previous day's attitude.
"you find me distracted," she declared presently. "a terrible tragedy has happened."
i murmured a word or two of sympathy.[pg 115] she looked at me earnestly, as though anxious to probe my mind, to assure herself of my sincerity.
"if i dared to confide in you!" she murmured.
"dear sara," i ventured—we had progressed so far—"what is to prevent it? you know that i am your slave."
she drew a dispatch from the bosom of her gown.
"listen," she said. "there is a secret in my life which has troubled me many times—more than ever," she murmured, dropping her eyes, "since i have known you."
i did not hesitate to play her game, because in my mind i knew that she was deceiving me.
"tell me?" i begged. "i am impatient to hear."
"there is one in my family," she continued, "who is a criminal."
"what does that matter," i answered, "so long as it is not you?"
"you feel like that, maurice?" she exclaimed earnestly.
"indeed i do," i assured her.
[pg 116]"you are english," she went on. "you fought in the war for belgium's deliverance. the halo of heroism still rests around your head. you can do what others dared not. listen. this telegram is from my brother. he has escaped from prison in antwerp. never mind the charge. the police search for him everywhere, but he promises that he will reach my flat at ten o'clock to-night."
"in disguise?"
"he comes as the victim of a motor accident, in an ambulance car, his face bandaged. but here—how can i keep him here! the chief of the police is amongst my intimates. there are people coming and going all day."
"you have a suggestion?" i ventured.
"yes," she answered. "i was at the café des quatres etoiles when you did your imitations the other night. you have a wonderful gift of making up. my cousin has undertaken to hide albert at the chateau, if we can get him there. good! you must come here, make up my brother, say, to imitate your friend monsieur cotton, whom he is not unlike. then you drive out to the chateau quite openly to one of[pg 117] my cousin's supper parties. albert will disappear and all will be well."
"and when is this to be?" i asked.
"to-night," she answered. "you consent?"
she leaned towards me. i hesitated merely out of policy. her lips almost touched my cheek.
"you have perhaps a price, a reward to ask?" she murmured.
i knew then that i was in love with rose, if i had ever doubted it. i have always flattered myself that i displayed great presence of mind.
"sara," i said, giving a very excellent extempore performance of british stupidity and magnanimity combined, "i ask for no reward beforehand. i wait till the task is done."
i was vain enough to think that she was almost disappointed. she brushed my cheek with her lips and murmured in my ear.
"you shall not be the loser, maurice. at eleven o'clock to-night you will come? i am not singing and you must finish early."
"at eleven o'clock," i promised.
[pg 118]that evening i wrote my report and left it with monsieur huber, and at eleven o'clock, with my make-up outfit, i presented myself at madame clèry's flat. she herself opened the door and detained me for a moment in the hall.
"all is well, so far," she murmured. "albert arrived in a motor ambulance, all bandaged up. we are alone in the flat. if he is a little nervous, you will forgive him."
she led me into the sitting room. a man of medium height, thin and with a hard, square face, rose from an easy-chair, and turned a half-enquiring, half-suspicious gaze upon me. i was thankful then for the obscurity of the room, no longer ashamed of my deceit, a willing coadjutor in this scheme, whatever it might be. i knew, too, why my services were so earnestly required. the photographer's art had made the face before me infamous.
"this is monsieur lister," sara said. "he has promised to disguise you, albert."
"let him be quick about it, then," was the harsh reply.
i never had a more distasteful task, but in the end i succeeded. i concealed the cruel[pg 119] mouth and softened the brutal jaw, until at last a very passable imitation of leonard appeared. sara was loud in her praises and exuberant in her gratitude. her pseudo-brother did nothing save make my task more difficult by his irritation and impatience. in the end, when all was finished, i handed him an overcoat of leonard's which i had brought, and we three started out in a large motor car, which was waiting below, for the chateau. we arrived there a little before the accustomed hour for madame's reception, and the whole place seemed dark and deserted. a strange manservant let us in and disappeared almost immediately. the baroness came out of the shadows. she, too, seemed affected by the tragedy of the moment. her cheeks were unusually pale. her almost flemish stolidity had disappeared.
"the passages are unlocked," she whispered. "let us go quickly. in half an hour there may be people who arrive."
she led the way up the broad staircase. i hesitated, but sara thrust her arm through mine.
[pg 120]"we trust you," she said. "you must come with us."
arrived on the first floor, we traversed what seemed to be an interminable corridor until we came at last to a green baize door which, on being swung open, revealed an inner one, which the baroness unlocked. immediately i was conscious that we were in the uninhabited part of the chateau. the baroness, who was in front, came to a stop and we all paused.
"we make a mistake," she said in a low tone. "there is no place here for strangers."
she inclined her head towards me. the man laughed a little brutally.
"stranger or not," he replied, "do you think i am going to let him go until this little affair is finished?"
"and after then, what about us?" the baroness demanded. "safety, with you, is a matter of an hour or so, but we remain."
"bah!" was the contemptuous reply. "he will not inform against women. sara will see to that."
i felt that it was time i had a word to say on my own account.
[pg 121]"on the whole," i decided, "i have seen as much as i care to of these proceedings. i will find my way back again and await your return, baroness."
the man laughed scornfully. no art of mine could conceal the scowl which disfigured his face.
"too late, mr. englishman," he said. "you know too much. remain where you are."
i looked down the muzzle of a particularly unpleasant-looking revolver, which instinct told me the man at the other end would not hesitate to use. at the same time i heard the sharp click of the door being closed behind me.
"quite unnecessary," i declared, waving my hand towards the revolver. "if you wish me to stay, i am entirely at your service. in fact, to tell you the truth," i went on, "i am beginning to feel a certain amount of curiosity about this enterprise."
sara's reputed brother laughed harshly.
"you'll have time to get over that," he said.
[pg 122]warned by his tone, sara stepped out of the shadows of the room.
"he is not to be hurt!" she exclaimed. "that was a promise."
there was silence. the room in which we were was unlit save by the little points of fire from the electric torches carried by the baroness and her companion. there was something sinister in the sound of their soft breathing against the background of deep and solemn stillness. suddenly a tongue of light flashed from sara's own torch. i saw then that the others were too much engrossed to be even considering my fate. with a tape measure in his hand, the man was tapping certain places upon the wall. presently he made a mark with a pencil and turned around. his face was livid with excitement.
"nothing seems to have been touched here," he muttered.
"nothing has been touched," the baroness assented calmly. "other rooms, as you know, have been ransacked, the grounds have been dug up, and the tower almost pulled to pieces. but here, where you sat in state and pulled[pg 123] the legs out of the spiders' bodies and the souls out of your poor human victims, well, no one has thought of looking here."
the man chuckled, but there was a certain malevolent uneasiness in his expression as he stared at the speaker.
"my victims were not all unwilling, eh?" he demanded.
the baroness had been feeling along the wall. she touched a switch, and a dull glow of light shone through a dust-encrusted globe set in the ceiling.
"there is still a connection," she said. "it is better so? you need have no fear. the shutters are tightly closed. no one will know that human beings have dared to penetrate into the spider's parlour."
i had my first comprehensive view of the room—a bare, official-looking apartment, with a huge writing table near the window, a heap of empty champagne bottles and cigar boxes in one corner. there was dust everywhere. it seemed, indeed, as though the room might not have been opened for many months.
"you need have no fear," the baroness re[pg 124]peated. "the shutters are fast closed. you can look around on the scene of your former triumphs. the telephone wires have been cut. nothing else has been altered."
they stood facing one another, the man and the woman. from my point of vantage in the background, i was conscious of a subtle change in the baroness. the cold stolidity, almost woodenness of her deportment, had gone. her lips were parted a little, and there was something menacing in the gleam of her white teeth. her eyes held expression, expression which i could not analyse. she seemed to bristle with sensation. the man who faced her had become uneasy.
"we talk too much," he muttered. "it is enough for me that you have obeyed my orders and left all here untouched."
"it is true," she acknowledged. "searchers have almost wrecked this wing of the chateau and destroyed my grounds, in search of your spoil, but this bare little room—no! it seemed so harmless, so empty, and besides, there were many who shuddered to come near it."
[pg 125]he busied himself once more with the wall. suddenly he took a knife from his pocket and cut down a great strip of the wall paper. a little cry of triumph broke from his lips. his fingers seemed to feel a crack. he pushed and tugged till the sweat ran down his face. finally, with a rumble, a sliding door opened to the extent of about a foot. he paused to gain breath and turned back to the baroness with a leer of triumph.
"your treasure hunters were but simpletons," he scoffed. "they saw as far as the end of their noses."
he seemed to become suddenly conscious that no one was looking at him. we were all staring at that gradually widening aperture in the wall, staring at the menacing figure which had unexpectedly appeared there. the man on whose behalf we had embarked upon this expedition swung abruptly around. his lips opened but no sound came. he stood shaking and choking. mr. thomson, wiping the dust from his clothes, stepped into the room.
"excellently timed," he said, nodding pleasantly at me. "count——"
[pg 126]the trapped man's recovery was amazing. i doubt whether mr. thomson, quick though he was, would have escaped the bullet from that suddenly upraised revolver, but for the baroness. i have never before nor since looked upon anything so marvellous as her swift action. she struck his arm such a blow that we heard the cracking of the bone, caught him by the shoulders as though he had been a boy, flung him on to the floor, and was there with her hand upon his throat, and all the devils ever born of a woman's hatred glaring out of her face as she leaned over him. it took the three of us to drag her away while there was still a spark of life in the man. when at last we succeeded, he was unconscious, and the marks of her fingers were there, as though photographed on his throat. mr. thomson raised a whistle to his lips and blew it.
"i think, perhaps," he remarked, "the police will be kinder."
the little supper party which we had grown accustomed to expect after each period of utility to our chief took place on the following[pg 127] night under somewhat unusual circumstances—in the saloon of the steamship zeebrugge, one of the new dover and ostend fleet. we were pitching pretty heavily and facing a northwest gale, but it happened that we were all pretty good sailors, and though the high seas came thundering against the closed portholes, and the electric lights swung above our heads, we were quite able to do justice to a very excellent repast. there were so few passengers that the chief steward winked at our smoking in a corner of the saloon, and over our last glass of wine our host threw a little cautious light upon the meaning of our latest adventure.
"the particularly unpleasant gentleman," he observed, "upon whom you inflicted a likeness—a very excellent likeness—to mr. leonard cotton, was, as you have doubtless surmised, at one time known as the count von hantzauel, whose notorious deeds in brussels during the german occupation are infamous throughout the world."
"i wouldn't have insulted leonard to such an extent if i'd had the least idea beforehand[pg 128] who he was going to turn out to be," i declared.
"i shall hate my own face more than ever," leonard groaned.
mr. thomson smiled amiably.
"von hantzauel certainly seemed to have the gift," he observed, "of making his name hated even amongst those who were personally strangers to him. the baroness spens, as you may have surmised, was one of those who, unfortunately for her, had been forced into a certain degree of association with him. he made his headquarters in her house and sowed the seeds of a hatred of which last night he reaped the harvest. forgive my somewhat confused metaphor. you follow me, i dare say."
"why was he such an idiot as to come back?" rose enquired.
"because," mr. thomson explained, "it was the baroness' wish. the baroness spens is a very clever and unforgiving woman, and she has been several years laying her plans for getting von hantzauel back into brussels."
"but the inducement?" rose persisted.
[pg 129]"von hantzauel," thomson explained, "followed in the footsteps of his illustrious chief. he was a collector of such trifles as jewellery, money, and all manner of objets d'arts of a small and portable character. with the aid of a german smith whom he sent for when in residence at brussels, he constructed a very ingenious hiding place in the chateau for his loot. when the reversal of fortunes came, he was one of those pig-headed, obstinate asses who refused to believe in what was coming, and he only escaped from brussels by a miracle. since then he has used every argument to persuade the baroness to bring his little collection over the frontier to holland. the baroness played with him as a cat might with a mouse. she declared that his hiding place was so ingenious that even with the plan he had sent her she had failed to discover it. then she reminded him of the past and declared that the treasure should not leave her house without a visit from him. finally, as you know, she succeeded. the visit was arranged for. the whole affair called for a certain amount of diplomacy. the direct inter[pg 130]vention of the belgian police would have meant the arrest of von hantzauel on the frontier. the affair had to be managed differently. the baroness is an old friend of mine and she sought my aid."
"in what capacity?" i asked quickly. "and what has become of the treasure?"
mr. thomson smiled vaguely. he listened for a moment to the bump of the sea against the portholes. then he filled our glasses.
"an answer to those questions just now is scarcely possible," he replied. "we will call them, if you please, conundrum number three."