The Avenger, E. Phillips Oppenheim [uplifting book club books txt] 📗

came a soft knocking at the door.

A little cry—half stifled—broke from his lips. With numbed and trembling fingers he began tying up the letters. The perspiration had broken out upon his forehead. Some one to see him! Who could it be? He was quite determined not to go to the door. He would let no one in. Again the bell! Soon they would get tired of ringing and go away. He was quite safe so long as he remained quiet. Quite safe, he told himself feverishly. Then his pulses seemed to stop beating. There was a rush of blood to his head. He clutched at the sides of his chair, but to rise was a sheer impossibility.

The thing which was terrifying him was a small thing in itself—the turning of a latch-key in the door. Before him on the table was his own—he knew of no other. Yet some one was opening, had opened his front door! He sprang to his feet at last with something which was almost a shriek. The door of the room in which he was, was slowly being pushed open. By the dim candlelight he could distinguish the figure of his visitor standing upon the threshold and peering into the room.

His impulse was, without doubt, one of relief. The figure was the figure of a complete stranger. Nor was there anything the least threatening about his appearance. He saw a tall, white-haired gentleman, carefully dressed with military exactitude, regarding him with a benevolent and apologetic smile.

"I really must apologize," he said, "for such an unceremonious entrance. I felt sure that you were in, but I am a trifle deaf, and I could not be sure whether or not the bell was ringing. So I ventured to use my own latch-key, with, as you are doubtless observing, complete success."

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Barnes asked, finding his voice at last.

"My name is Colonel Fitzmaurice," was the courteous reply. "You will allow me to sit down? I have the pleasure of conversing, I believe, with Mr. Sydney Barnes?"

"That's my name," Barnes answered. "What do you want with me?"

Despite his visitor's urbanity, he was still a little nervous. The Colonel had a somewhat purposeful air, and he had seated himself directly in front of the door.

"I want," the Colonel said calmly, "that packet which you have just stolen from Mrs. Morris Barnes, and which you have in your pocket there!"

Barnes rose at once, trembling, to his feet. His bead-like eyes were bright and venomous. He was terrified, but he had the courage of despair.

"I have stolen nothing," he declared, "I don't know what you're talking about. I won't listen to you. You have no right to force your way into my flat. Colonel or no colonel, I won't have it. I'll send for the police."

The Colonel smiled.

"No," he said, "don't do that. Besides, I know what I'm talking about. I mean the packet which I think I can see sticking out of your coat pocket. You have just stolen that from Mrs. Barnes' tin trunk, you know."

"I have stolen nothing," the young man declared, "nothing at all. I am not a thief. I am not afraid of the police."

The Colonel smiled tolerantly.

"That is good," he said. "I hate cowards. But I am going to make you very much afraid of me—unless you are wise and give me that packet."

Barnes breathed thickly for a moment. Coward he knew that he was to the marrow of his bones, but other of the evil passions were stirring in him then. His narrow eyes were alight with greed. He had the animal courage of vermin hard pressed.

"The packet is mine," he said fiercely. "It's nothing to do with you. Get out of my room."

He rose to his feet. The Colonel awaited him with equable countenance. He made, however, no advance.

"Young man," the Colonel said quietly, "do you know what happened to your brother?"

Sydney Barnes stood still and shivered. He could say nothing. His tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth.

"Your brother was another of your breed," the Colonel continued. "A blackmailer! A low-living, evil-minded brute. Do you know how he came by those letters?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Barnes answered with a weak attempt at bluster. "They're mine now, and I'm going to stick to them."

The Colonel shook his head.

"He broke his trust to a dying man," he said softly,—"to a man who lay on the veldt at Colenso with three great wounds in his body, and his life's blood staining the ground. He had carried those letters into action with him, because they were precious to him. His last thought was that they should be destroyed. Your brother swore to do this. He broke his word. He turned blackmailer."

"You're very fond of that word," Barnes muttered. "How do you know so much?"

"The soldier was my son," the Colonel answered, "and he did not die. You see I have a right to those letters. Will you give them to me?"

Give them up! Give up all his hopes of affluence, his dreams of an easy life, of the cheap luxuries and riches which formed the Heaven of his desire! No! He was not coward enough for that. He did not believe that this mild-looking old gentleman would use force. Besides, he could not be very strong. He ought to be able to push him over and escape!

"No!" he answered bluntly, "I won't!"

The Colonel looked thoughtful.

"It is a pity," he said quietly. "I am sorry to hear you say that. Your brother, when I asked him, made the same reply."

Barnes felt himself suddenly grow hot and then cold. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead.

"I called upon your brother a few days before his death," the Colonel continued calmly. "I explained my claim to the letters and I asked him for them. He too refused! Do you remember, by the by, what happened to your brother?"

Sydney Barnes did not answer, but his cheeks were like chalk. His mouth was a little open, disclosing his yellow teeth. He stared at the Colonel with frightened, fascinated eyes.

"I can see," the Colonel continued, "that you remember. Young man," he added, with a curious alteration in his tone, "be wiser than your brother! Give me the packet."

"You killed him," the young man gasped. "It was you who killed Morris."

The Colonel nodded gravely.

"He had his chance," he said, "even as you have it."

There was a dead silence. The Colonel was waiting. Sydney Barnes was breathing hard. He was alone, then, with a murderer. He tried to speak, but found a difficulty in using his voice. It was a situation which might have abashed a bolder ruffian.

The Colonel rose to his feet.

"I am sorry to hurry you," he said, "but we are already late for our appointment with Wrayson and his friends."

Sydney Barnes snatched up the packet and retreated behind the table. The Colonel leaned forward and blew out the candle.

"I can see better in the dark," he remarked calmly. "You are a very foolish young man!"

CHAPTER XLI

THE COLONEL SPEAKS

Wrayson glanced at the clock for the twentieth time.

"I am afraid," he said gravely, "that Mr. Sydney Barnes has been one too many for us."

"Do you think," Louise asked, "that he has persuaded the girl to give him the packet?"

"It looks like it," Wrayson confessed.

Louise frowned.

"Of course," she said, "I think that you were mad to let her go before. She had the letters here in the room. You would have been perfectly justified in taking them from her."

"I suppose so," Wrayson assented, doubtfully. "Somehow she seemed to get the upper hand of us towards the end. I think she suspected that some of us knew more than we cared to tell her about—her husband's death."

Louise shivered a little and remained silent. Wrayson walked to the window and back.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "I expected some one else here to-night who has failed to turn up."

"Who is that?" the Baroness asked.

Wrayson hesitated for a moment and glanced towards Louise.

"Colonel Fitzmaurice," he said.

Louise seemed to turn suddenly rigid. She looked at him steadfastly for a moment without speaking.

"My father," she murmured at last.

Wrayson nodded.

"Yes!" he said.

"But—what has he to do with this?" Louise asked, with her eyes fixed anxiously, almost fearfully, upon his.

"I went to him for advice," Wrayson said quietly. "He has been always very kind, and I thought it possible that he might be able to help us. He promised to be here at the same hour as the others. Listen! There is the bell at last."

The Colonel entered the room. Louise half rose to her feet. Wrayson hastened to meet him.

"Herbert," he said, with an affectionate smile, "forgive me for being a little late. Baroness, I am delighted to see you—and Louise."

The Baroness held out both her hands, which the Colonel raised gallantly to his lips. Louise he greeted with a fatherly and unembarrassed smile.

"I must apologize to all of you," he said, "but perhaps this will be my best excuse."

He took the packet from his breast pocket and handed it over to the Baroness. The room seemed filled with exclamations. The Colonel beamed upon them all.

"Quite simple," he declared. "I have just taken them from Mr. Sydney Barnes upstairs. He, in his turn, took them from—"

The door was suddenly opened. Mrs. Morris Barnes rushed into the room and gazed wildly around.

"Where is he?" she exclaimed. "He has robbed me. The little beast! He got into my rooms while I was out."

The Colonel led her gallantly to a chair.

"Calm yourself, my dear young lady," he said.

"Where is he?" she cried. "Has he been here?"

The Colonel shook his head.

"He is in his room upstairs, but," he said, "I should not advise you to go to him."

"He has my packet—Augustus' packet," she cried, springing up.

The Colonel laid his hand upon her arm.

"No!" he said, "that packet has been restored to its rightful owner."

She rose to her feet, trembling with anger. The Colonel motioned her to resume her seat.

"Come," he said, "so far as you are concerned, you have nothing to complain of. You offered, I believe, to give it up yourself on one condition."

She looked at him with sudden eagerness.

"Well?" she cried, impatiently.

"That condition," he said, "shall be complied with."

She looked into his face with strange intentness.

"You mean," she said slowly, "that I shall know who it was that killed my husband?"

"Yes!" the Colonel answered.

A sudden cry rang through the room. Louise was on her feet. She came staggering towards them, her hands outstretched.

"No!" she screamed, "no! Father, you are mad! Send the woman away!"

He smiled at her deprecatingly.

"My dear Louise!" he exclaimed, "our word has been passed to this young woman. Besides," he added, "circumstances which have occurred within the last hour with our young friend upstairs would probably render an explanation imperative! I am sorry for your sake, my dear young lady," he continued, turning to Mrs. Barnes, "to have to tell you this, but if you insist upon knowing, it was I who killed your husband."

Louise fell back into her chair and covered her face with her hands. The Baroness looked shocked but not surprised. Wrayson, dumb and unnerved, had staggered back, and was leaning against the table. Mrs. Barnes had already taken a step towards the door. She was very pale, but her eyes were ablaze. Incredulity struggled with her passionate desire for vengeance.

"You!" she exclaimed. "What should you want to kill him for?"

The Colonel sighed regretfully.

"My dear young lady," he said, "it is very painful for me to have to be so explicit, but the situation demands it. I killed him because he was unfit to live—because he was a blackmailer of women, an unclean liver, a foul thing upon the face of the earth."

"It's a damned lie!" the girl hissed. "He was good to me, and you shall swing for it!"

The Colonel looked genuinely distressed.

"I am afraid," he said, "that you are prejudiced. If he was, as you say, kind to you, it