The Avenger Read online

  THE AVENGER

  BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

  Author of

  "The Master Mummer," "A Maker of History," "The Malefactor," "The Lost Leader," "The Great Secret," Etc.

  _Illustrated by_

  ALEC BALL

  1908

  CONTENTS

  I. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR

  II. THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM

  III. DISCUSSING THE CRIME

  IV. UNDER A CLOUD

  V. ON THE TELEPHONE

  VI. ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD

  VII. THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER

  VIII. THE BARONESS INTERVENES

  IX. A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA

  X. OUTCAST

  XI. FALSE SENTIMENT

  XII. TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE

  XIII. SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS

  XIV. THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER

  XV. THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION

  XVI. A DINNER IN THE STRAND

  XVII. A CONFESSION OF LOVE

  XVIII. AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE

  XIX. DESPERATE WOOING

  XX. STABBED THROUGH THE HEART

  XXI. THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE

  XXII. THE CHATEAU OF ETARPE

  XXIII. A PASSIONATE PILGRIM

  XXIV. AN INVITATION TO DINNER

  XXV. THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS

  XXVI. MADAME DE MELBAIN

  XXVII. THE SPY

  XXVIII. THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE

  XXIX. A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST

  XXX. THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA

  XXXI. RETURNED FROM THE TOMB

  XXXII. AT THE HOTEL SPLENDIDE

  XXXIII. A HAND IN THE GAME

  XXXIV. AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE

  XXXV. HIS WIFE

  XXXVI. THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS

  XXXVII. THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM

  XXXVIII. INEFFECTUAL WOOING

  XXXIX. THE COLONEL'S MISSION

  XL. BLACKMAIL

  XLI. THE COLONEL SPEAKS

  XLII. LOVE REMAINS

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  "THERE PLASHED ACROSS HER FACE A QUIVER, AS THOUGH OF PAIN"

  "AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"

  "HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE TERRIFIED WOMAN"

  "'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'"

  CHAPTER I

  A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR

  The man and the woman stood facing one another, although in the uncertainfirelight which alone illuminated the room neither could see much savethe outline of the other's form. The woman stood at the further end ofthe apartment by the side of the desk--his desk. The slim tremblingfingers of one hand rested lightly upon it, the other was hanging by herside, nervously crumpling up the glove which she had only taken off a fewminutes before. The man stood with his back to the door through which hehad just entered. He was in evening dress; he carried an overcoat overhis arm, and his hat was slightly on the back of his head. A cigarettewas still burning between his lips, the key by means of which he hadentered was swinging from his little finger. So far no words had passedbetween them. Both were apparently stupefied for the moment by theother's unexpected presence.

  It was the man who recovered his self-possession first. He threw hisovercoat into a chair, and touched the brass knobs behind the door.Instantly the room was flooded with the soft radiance of the electriclights. They could see one another now distinctly. The woman leaned alittle forward, and there was amazement as well as fear flashing in hersoft, dark eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded to herself unnatural.To him it came as a surprise, for the world of men and women was hisstudy, and he recognized at once its quality.

  "Who are you?" she exclaimed. "What do you want?"

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  "It seems to me," he answered, "that I might more fittingly assume therole of questioner. However, I have no objection to introduce myself. Myname is Herbert Wrayson. May I ask," he continued with quiet sarcasm, "towhat I am indebted for this unexpected visit?"

  She was silent for a moment, and as he watched her his surprise grew.Equivocal though her position was, he knew very well that this was noordinary thief whom he had surprised in his rooms, engaged to allappearance in rifling his desk. The fact that she was a beautiful womanwas one which he scarcely took into account. There were other things moresurprising which he could not ignore. Her evening dress of black net wasfaultlessly made, and he knew enough of such things to be well aware thatit came from the hands of no ordinary dressmaker. A string of pearls, heronly ornament, hung from her neck, and her black hat with its droopingfeathers was the fellow of one which he had admired a few evenings ago atthe Ritz in Paris. It flashed upon him that this was a woman ofdistinction, one who belonged naturally, if not in effect, to the worldof which even he could not claim to be a habitant. What was she doing inhis rooms?--of what interest to her were he and his few possessions?

  "Herbert Wrayson," she repeated, leaning a little towards him. "If yourname is Herbert Wrayson, what are you doing in these rooms?"

  "They happen to be mine," he answered calmly.

  "Yours!"

  She picked up a small latch-key from the desk.

  "This is number 11, isn't it?" she asked quickly.

  "No! Number 11 is the flat immediately overhead," he told her.

  She appeared unconvinced.

  "But I opened the door with this key," she declared.

  "Mr. Barnes and I have similar locks," he said. "The fact remains thatthis is number 9, and number 11 is one story overhead."

  She drew a long breath, presumably of relief, and moved a step forward.

  "I am very sorry!" she declared. "I have made a mistake. You must pleaseaccept my apologies."

  He stood motionless in front of the door. He was pale, clean-shaven, andslim, and in his correct evening clothes he seemed a somewhat ordinarytype of the well-bred young Englishman. But his eyes were grey, and hismouth straight and firm.

  She came to a standstill. Her eyes seemed to be questioning him. Shescarcely understood his attitude.

  "Kindly allow me to pass!" she said coldly.

  "Presently!" he answered.

  Her veil was still raised, and the flash of her eyes would surely havemade a weaker man quail. But Wrayson never flinched.

  "What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "I have explained my presencein your room. It was an accident which I regret. Let me pass at once."

  "You have explained your presence here," he answered, "after a fashion!But you have not explained what your object may be in making use of thatkey to enter Mr. Barnes' flat. Are you proposing to subject hisbelongings to the same inspection as mine?" he asked, pointing to hisdisordered desk.

  "My business with Mr. Barnes is no concern of yours!" she exclaimedhaughtily.

  "Under ordinary circumstances, no!" he admitted. "But these are notordinary circumstances. Forgive me if I speak plainly. I found youengaged in searching my desk. The presumption is that you wish to do thesame thing to Mr. Barnes'."

  "And if I do, sir!" she demanded, "what concern is it of yours? How doyou know that I have not permission to visit his rooms--that he did nothimself give me this key?"

  She held it out before him. He glanced at it and back into her face.

  "The supposition," he said, "does not commend itself to me."

  "Why not?"

  He looked at the clock.

  "You see," he declared, "that it is within a few minutes of midnight. To
be frank with you, you do not seem to me the sort of person likely tovisit a bachelor such as Mr. Barnes, in a bachelor flat, at this hour,without some serious object."

  She kept silence for several moments. Her bosom was rising and fallingquickly, and a brilliant spot of colour was burning in her cheeks. Herhead was thrown a little back, she was regarding him with an intentnesswhich he found almost disconcerting. He had an uncomfortable sense thathe was in the presence of a human being who, if it had lain in herpower, would have killed him where he stood. Further, he was realizingthat the woman whom at first glance he had pronounced beautiful, wasabsolutely the first of her sex whom he had ever seen who satisfiedcompletely the demands of a somewhat critical and highly cultivatedtaste. The silence between them seemed extended over a time crowded andrich with sensations. He found time to marvel at the delicate whitenessof her bosom, gleaming like polished ivory under the network of her blackgown, to appreciate with a quick throb of delight the slim roundness ofher perfect figure, the wonderful poise of her head, the soft richness ofher braided hair. Every detail of feature and of toilet seemed to satisfyto the last degree each critical faculty of which he was possessed. Hefelt a little shiver of apprehension when he recalled the cold brutalityof the words which had just left his lips! Yet how could he deal with herdifferently?

  "Is this man--Morris Barnes--your friend?" she asked, breaking a silencewhich had done more than anything else to unnerve him.

  "No!" he answered. "I scarcely know the man. I have never seen him exceptin the lift, or on the stairs."

  "Then you have no excuse for keeping me here," she declared. "I may behis friend, or I may be his enemy. At least I possess the key of hisflat, presumably with his permission. My presence here I have explained.I can assure you that it is entirely accidental! You have no right todetain me for a moment."

  The clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight. A sudden passion surged inhis veins, a passion which, although at the time he could not haveclassified it, was assuredly a passion of jealousy! He remembered the manBarnes, whom he hated.

  "You shall not go to his rooms--at this hour!" he exclaimed. "You don'tknow the man! If you were seen--"

  She laughed mockingly.

  "Let me pass!" she insisted.

  He hesitated. She saw very clearly that she was conquering. A momentbefore she had respected this man. After all, though, he was likethe others.

  "I will go with you and wait outside," he said doggedly. "Barnes, at thishour--is not always sober!"

  Her lips curled.

  "Be wise," she said, "and let me go. I do not need your protection or--"

  She broke off suddenly. The interruption was certainly startlingenough. From a table only a few feet off came the shrill tinkle of atelephone bell. Wrayson mechanically stepped backwards and took thereceiver into his hand.

  "Who is it?" he asked.

  The voice which answered him was faint but clear. It seemed to Wrayson tocome from a long way off.

  "Is that Mr. Wrayson's flat in Cavendish Mansions?" it asked.

  "Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?"

  "I am a friend of Mr. Morris Barnes," the voice answered. "May Iapologize for calling you up, but the matter is urgent. Can you tell meif Mr. Barnes is in?"

  "I am not sure, but I believe he is never in before one or two o'clock,"Wrayson answered.

  "Will you write down a message and leave it in his letter-box?" thevoice asked anxiously. "It is very important or I would not trouble you."

  "Very well," Wrayson answered. "What is it?"

  "Tell him instantly he returns to leave his flat and go to the HotelFrancis. A friend is waiting there for him, the friend whom he has beenexpecting!"

  "A lady?" Wrayson remarked a little sarcastically.

  "No!" the voice answered. "A friend. Will you do this? Will you promiseto do it?"

  "Very well," Wrayson said. "Who are you, and where are you ringing upfrom?"

  "Remember you have promised!" was the only reply.

  "All right! Tell me your name," Wrayson demanded.

  No answer. Wrayson turned the handle of the instrument viciously.

  "Exchange," he asked, "who was that talking to me just now?"

  "Don't know," was the prompt answer. "We can't remember all the calls weget. Ring off, please!"

  Wrayson laid down the receiver and turned round with a sudden sense ofapprehension. There was a feeling of emptiness in the room. He had notheard a sound, but he knew very well what had happened. The door wasslightly open and the room was empty. She had taken advantage of hismomentary absorption to slip away.

  He stepped outside and stood by the lift, listening. The landing wasdeserted, and there was no sound of any one moving anywhere. The liftitself was on the ground floor. It had not ascended recently or he musthave heard it. He returned to his room and softly closed the door. Againthe sense of emptiness oppressed him. A faint perfume around the placewhere she had stood came to him like a whiff of some delicious memory. Heset his teeth, lit a cigarette, and sitting down at his desk wrote a fewlines to his neighbour, embodying the message which had been given him.With the note in his hand he ascended to the next floor.

  There was apparently no light in flat number 11, but he rang the bell andlistened. There was no answer, no sound of any one moving within. Fornearly ten minutes he waited--listening. He was strongly tempted to openthe door with his own key and see for himself if she was there. Then heremembered that Barnes was a man whom he barely knew, and cordiallydisliked, and that if he should return unexpectedly, the situation wouldbe a little difficult to explain. Reluctantly he descended to his ownflat, and mixing himself a whisky and soda, lit a pipe and sat down,determined to wait until he heard Barnes return. In less than a quarterof an hour he was asleep!