The Lion's Mouse Read online

  THE LION'S MOUSE

  by

  C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON

  Frontispiece By Harry Stacey Benton

  Garden City New YorkDoubleday, Page & Company1919

  Copyright, 1919, byC. N. & A. M. WilliamsonAll Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into ForeignLanguages, Including the Scandinavian

  _Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw ayoung and beautiful woman hovering at the door._

  _'Oh, do help me!' she said._]

  CONTENTS

  I. THE LION

  II. THE NET

  III. THE MOUSE

  IV. THE MURMUR OF THE STORM

  V. ON THE WAY TO THE CAR

  VI. THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS

  VII. THE QUEEN'S PEARLS

  VIII. BEVERLEY TALKS

  IX. THE BLUFF THAT FAILED

  X. THE BLUFF THAT WON

  XI. O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET

  XII. THE HORIZONTAL PANEL

  XIII. "THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"

  XIV. THE STONE COPING

  XV. THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN

  XVI. A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE

  XVII. THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR

  XVIII. DEFEAT

  XIX. THE BROWN TRUNK

  XX. MURDER

  XXI. "KIT!"

  XXII. THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE

  XXIII. "WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE"

  XXIV. ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB

  XXV. KRANTZ'S KELLER

  XXVI. THE GIRL IN PINK

  XXVII. WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME

  XXVIII. MR. JONES OF PEORIA

  XXIX. ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS

  XXX. WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE

  XXXI. THE NINE DAYS

  XXXII. "STEPHEN'S DEAD!"

  XXXIII. THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW

  XXXIV. TRAPPED

  XXXV. THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE

  XXXVI. "WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE"

  XXXVII. THE TELEGRAM

  XXXVIII. WHO IS STEPHEN?

  XXXIX. ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT

  THE LION'S MOUSE

  I

  THE LION

  Roger Sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawnlow and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powderedwith silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He hadthe air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thoughthim hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour,never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa FeLimited, tearing back to New York after a giant's tussle in California.But--it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open.Everything that followed came--from this.

  Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering,rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, thenstopped.

  "Oh, do help me!" she said.

  She was young and very beautiful. He couldn't stare quite as coldly ashe ought.

  "What can I do for you?" was the question he asked.

  He had hardly opened his mouth before she flashed into the stateroom andshut the door.

  "There's a man.... I'm afraid!"

  Though she was young and girlish, and spoke impulsively, there wassomething oddly regal about her. Princesses and girl-queens ought to beof her type; tall and very slim, with gracious, sloping shoulders and along throat, the chin slightly lifted: pale, with great appealing violeteyes under haughty brows, and quantities of yellow-brown hair dressed insome sort of Madonna style.

  "You needn't be afraid," he said. "Men aren't allowed to insult ladiesin trains."

  "This man hasn't insulted me in an ordinary way. But I'm in dreadfuldanger. American men are good to women, even strangers. You can save mylife, if you will--or more than my life. But there's only one way." Herwords came fast, on panting breaths, as though she had been running. Thegirl had stood at first, her hand on the door-knob, but losing herbalance with a jerk of the train, she let herself fall into the seat.There she sat with her head thrown wearily back, her eyes appealing tothe eyes that looked down at her.

  A queer fancy ran through the man's brain. He imagined that a womanbeing tried for her life might look at the judge with just thatexpression. "What do you mean?" asked Sands.

  He had resisted the jerk of the train, and was still on his feet.Instead of answering his question, the girl begged him to sit down.

  "I can't think properly while it seems as if you were waiting to turn meout," she said.

  Sands sat down.

  "I hardly know how to tell you what I mean. I hardly dare," the voicewent on, while he wondered. "It's a tremendous thing to ask. I can'texplain ... and if I hesitate it will be too late. I don't know yourname, or your character, except what I judge from your face. The way tosave me is to keep me in this stateroom with the door shut, as far asChicago."

  "Good heavens! That's...." Sands was going to end his sentence with"absolutely impossible!" But he stopped in the midst. Her eyes made himstop. It was as if he were pronouncing a death sentence. He was silentfor a few seconds.

  "I'd have to say ... no, I could not say you were my wife, becauseeveryone knows I've not got a wife. I'll say you are my cousin: sayyou've come late. I want you to have this stateroom, and I'll takeanother ... or a section. I--I could do that."

  "Will you?" she breathed.

  "Yes. I will."

  He said this almost sullenly. He was thinking: "Pretty smart new dodge!Neat way to get a stateroom all the way from Albuquerque to Chicago."

  "I'll go out now and fix things up with the conductor," he promised. "Wemust settle on a story. You came on board at Albuquerque just now?"

  "Yes. The last minute before the train started. I have a berth in thiscar. I thought I was safe, that everything was right for me. Then I sawthe man ... not the one I expected; worse. He wasn't in this car, butthe next. I saw him standing there. He was looking at some ladiespassing through. One had on deep mourning, and a crepe veil. Perhaps hebelieved it was I. I turned and rushed this way. Your door was open, andyou ... you looked like a real man. That's all."

  "What about your baggage?"

  "I have nothing. I ... was in a hurry."

  "In what name did you make your reservation?"

  "Miss Beverley White. White isn't my real name: Beverley is ... one ofmy names. I can't tell you more."

  "All right. The porter will get some toilet things for my cousin whomI'm to chaperon from Albuquerque to Chicago, and who nearly missed thetrain owing to illness. He'll bring your meals in, as you're not able toleave your stateroom."

  "That's what I'd have asked," she said. "I may trust the porter?"

  "The porter knows me. Your idea is," he went on, his hand on the door,"that the man you don't want to see will try pretty hard to see you?"

  "Yes. When he searches the train and can't find me (I'm sure he's begunthe search already) he can't be certain I'm on board, but he won't giveup easily. If the deepest gratitude----"

  "I don't need consolation. Any other instructions to give before I leaveyou?"

  "No. Yes ... there's one thing. Will you take charge of a very smallparcel? I daren't keep it myself, in case anything unexpected shouldhappen.

  "It is inside my dress," the girl explained. For an instant she turnedher back, then, rebuttoning her blouse with one hand, held out to him inthe other a long, thick envelope, unaddressed, and sealed with threegold-coloured seals. Roger took the parcel.

  "You see how I trust you," she said. "This packet is the most valuablething I have in the world, yet I feel it is safe."

  "You to
ld me you didn't know my name. But if I'm your cousin you'dbetter know it. I'm Roger Sands----"

  "Roger Sands, the great--what is the word?--corporation lawyer? The manwho saved the California Oil Trust king?" She looked surprised, almostfrightened.

  "It isn't a 'Trust,' or I couldn't have saved him. That was just thepoint."

  "How lucky I am to have such a man stand by me! For you will?"

  He slipped the long envelope into an inside breast pocket of his graytweed coat. "It's as safe there as in a bank," he assured her. "Now I'llgo and make everything straight. If you want me, you've only to ring forthe porter and send me word. I won't come till you do send."

  Whether or no her terror was justified, Roger resolved to give it thebenefit of the doubt. Instead of trying to secure another stateroom, hewould try to get a section close to Stateroom A, in order to playwatch-dog.

  It wasn't difficult to do. The section he wanted was engaged from thenext stopping place, but an exchange could be made. The Pullman carconductor took it upon himself to attend to that. Sands' suitcase, coat,and magazines were arranged on both seats, and he sat down to keepguard. The porter had been told that Miss White wasn't to be disturbedunless she rang, except at meal times, when he--Sands--would choosedishes from the menu and send a waiter from the dining-car.

  A few toilet things were somehow procured by the negro, and handed intoStateroom A, with a contribution of novels, magazines, and a box ofchocolates, from Miss White's cousin.

  Night, Roger realized, would be the dangerous time, if danger there was,and he decided not to sleep. Lying awake wasn't, after all, verydifficult, for the portrait of the girl was painted on Roger's mind. Hesaw things in that portrait he'd seen but subconsciously in theoriginal. He thought that her beauty was of the type which would shinelike the moon, set off with wonderful clothes and jewels. And from thatthought it was only a step to picture the joy of giving such clothes andjewels. The man was surprised and ashamed to find himself thrilling likea boy.

  Daylight released him from duty. He dressed, and had his section madeup. Though all peril--if any--had vanished with the night, Rogercouldn't bring himself to leave his post for breakfast until he saw theporter tap at the door of Stateroom A in answer to a ring.

  "I hope Miss White's feeling better," he said to the negro, when thedoor shut once more.

  "Yes, sah, she wants her room fixed up. Ah'm gwan do it raight now, butAh'm bound to give yuh the lady's message fust. She thought you'd liketo heah she's mighty well, considerin'. An' she'll thank yuh, suh, toorder her some coffee an' toast."

  Roger added cantaloupe to the order, and a cereal with cream. Themysterious girl hidden in his stateroom was no longer an adventuress,sponging on his idiotic generosity: she was an exquisite, almost asacred, charge. As he ate his breakfast in the dining-car he saw a manhe knew sitting directly opposite him at the next table. Their eyesencountered. Roger felt that the other had been staring at him andhadn't had time to look away. He bowed, and paused at the table which hewas obliged to pass on his way out.

  "How do you do, O'Reilly?" he said, with a slight stiffness. He wouldhave preferred to walk past with no more than the nod, but in that casethe man would believe his late absent-mindedness had been deliberate.Roger didn't wish to leave this impression. Justin O'Reilly was nearlyten years younger than he, but had got the better of him once, and notlong ago. Sands was too proud to let it seem as if the memory rankled.

  O'Reilly rose and shook the offered hand. He was tall and lean, andbrown-faced as a soldier back from the war. He had a boyish air, youngerthan his thirty-one or thirty-two years: but under that look was thesame sort of hardness and keenness which was the first thing a strangernoticed about Sands.

  "I'd no idea you were out west."

  "It's been a flying trip," O'Reilly answered.

  "Queer I missed seeing you before. Suppose you've been on board sinceLos Angeles?"

  "I caught sight of you last night for the first time," said the other."I'm not in your car, and I've been resting up. I came on board tired.One usually does come on board tired!"

  "Yes," said Roger. "Well, we shall knock up against each other now andthen, here in the diner."

  "Sure to. I shall be spending a few days in New York before Washington,"O'Reilly volunteered.

  "Right! But don't let your coffee get cold for me." Roger passed on.

  If his thoughts had not been focussed on the occupant of Stateroom A hewould have wondered a good deal as to what had taken Justin O'Reilly ona "flying trip" west. This was O'Reilly's first year in Congress, andhe'd manoeuvred to make himself a conspicuous figure in Washington oneway or other. His own present interests could not, Roger thought, beinterfered with by Justin O'Reilly. The man was a Democrat, and opposedon principle to the cause of John Heron, whom Miss White had called the"California Oil Trust King": but personally the two were friends, evendistantly related, and O'Reilly would wish to do Heron no secret injury.

  When he got back to his own car Sands found the porter waiting.

  "Lady's through breakfus, suh, and would like to see yuh w'enconvenient," was the message: and two seconds later Stateroom A'srightful owner was humbly knocking at the door.

  The girl's beauty struck the man anew as she smiled him a welcome. Shewas as well groomed as if she had had a lady's maid.

  "Has anything happened? Have you had any trouble on my account?" sheinquired.

  When Roger said no, nothing had happened, she drew a breath of relief.

  "No one in any way noticeable has tried to get acquainted with you?"

  "The conductor and porter and a waiter or two are the only persons I'veexchanged a word with--except a fellow I know slightly, named O'Reilly,a Congressman from California. I suppose he doesn't interest you?"

  "No man interests me ... unless the one who is saving my life," the girlanswered surprisingly. As she spoke, a wave of rose-colour poured overher face, and she turned quickly away in confusion. Roger felt that shehad blurted it out, scarcely knowing what she said until too late.Instead of liking her less, he liked her better. He brought forth theenvelope to show. It had been under his pillow all night, he told her.

  "I don't know what I should have done without you!" she said, with agratitude that was almost humble. There'd be a certain blankness, Rogercouldn't help seeing, when the time came to do without _her_!

  "When we get to Chicago," he asked, "how can I help you there?"

  "Oh, I expect to be met by a friend. I suppose I shan't see you again:but I shall never forget."

  Roger Sands felt a horrid twinge of some unpleasant emotion. He loathedthe "friend" who would take the girl away from him.

  "But Chicago's a long way off," she said when he did not speak. "It mustseem a wild story to you, but the danger I'm in ... the danger that thisenvelope is in ... won't be over for one minute till you've put me intomy friend's hands. You will do that, won't you? You'll see me throughtill the last?"

  "I will," said Roger.

  "And meanwhile you'll come and call on me in the stateroom sometimes ifyou don't mind?"

  Roger smiled. A silver lining began to glimmer through the cloud.

  By good luck he knew no one on board save O'Reilly, who fortunately wasin another car, and he hoped that few people knew him. He could notresist her invitation. He began by deciding to spend a half hour withhis "invalid cousin" now and again. As through the veil of beauty hecaught glimpses of something like character within, Roger felt that themystery thickened.

  The inevitable moment came. The porter was brushing men's hats andcoats. Suitcases were being fastened up. The Limited was slowing down inthe big station. Then, and not till then, did Miss White show herself atthe door of Stateroom A. Sands, who had knocked to tell her that she hadbetter come out, was waiting to guard her for the last time. Neither hadmuch to say. The hope of haven had not raised the girl's spirits. AsSands gave her a hand, stepping on to the platform, he saw JustinO'Reilly, already out of the train and looking about with the air ofexpec
ting someone. O'Reilly took off his hat, with an unnecessarilycordial smile for Sands. At heart they were enemies. Roger took thesmile to mean amusement at sight of his companion. He felt annoyed. MissWhite was looking straight ahead, a brilliant colour staining the cheeksusually pale.

  The rendezvous, she had explained to him, was at a news stand. "There!"she said, "that is where he will be. There's such a crowd, I can't seehim yet."

  They neared the news stand, and as "Miss White" was a tall girl whosehead could be seen above the hats of average women, he expected a man tostart eagerly forward. But no man separated himself from the crowd. Shewas beginning to look anxious: there was no flush on her cheeks now.

  "Where can he be?" she said. "Something must have happened."

  "Taxi broken down, perhaps," Roger tried consolation.

  "Oh, if only it's nothing worse! I must just wait. But you, Mr. Sands, Ioughtn't to ask...."

  "You needn't," Roger cut her short. "I'm not going to desert you."

  "I might have known you wouldn't. He can't be long!"

  "What about the envelope? Will you have it now?" Roger asked. She hadbegged him to keep it until they were out of the train.

  "Not yet. I daren't. You're sure it hasn't been stolen from you? Doplease make certain!"

  He put his hand inside his coat, and felt the envelope, which was safe,of course. "It's there, as large as life."

  "Thank heaven!" she breathed.

  Minutes passed: fifteen minutes; twenty; thirty. The girl was white asashes, and dark shadows lay under her eyes. "All hope is over!" shesaid, as Sands glanced at his watch, when they had stood forthree-quarters of an hour. "Some terrible thing has prevented him frommeeting me. I don't know what's going to become of me now!"