Juggernaut Part 67

"Don't say anything to Esther just yet; I'm going to break this to her myself. I want first to get you both out of the house. Chalmers is going to get a suite for us all at an hotel; then I'll leave you in his care for a bit. I depend on your help, Dido, so I may as well tell you right now that I intend to marry Esther almost at once--if she will have me."

This statement had the desired effect. He saw the old eyes light up with a faint spark, while the face was less stricken.

"Do you mean it, Roger?"

"I never meant anything more in my life. I've always wanted her, from the first day I saw her."

"I--I'm glad, I think. She's the only girl I've known whom I'd be willing to give you to."

A glance of affection pa.s.sed between them; then, as she was about to enter the bedroom, she turned back for a moment, whispering:

"You haven't told me yet what--happened to Therese."

He hesitated, then replied:

"She fell,--from the narrow stone ledge beside the end of the balcony, on the second story. The wistaria is all torn away where she clutched at it to save herself. She broke her neck."

There was no shadow of a doubt that this theory was correct. Dr.

Bousquet, who arrived in half an hour, declared that death must have occurred about four or five hours earlier. Therefore Therese must have waited till there seemed the least likelihood of her being seen or heard, then at perhaps two o'clock in the morning had crept out of her window and along the balcony, which ended a dozen feet from Roger's room. From thence on there was merely a decorative stone ledge, barely four inches wide. The closed window of the bedroom came first, its projecting sill offering something to cling to, but on each side of this was a s.p.a.ce where the only support was the creeper on the wall.

It was a perilous undertaking. In some fas.h.i.+on she had evidently made her way along the ledge. Roger did not yet know whether the accident had occurred on the journey to the bathroom or from it; he would not know for certain until the water in the Evian bottle was submitted to an a.n.a.lysis. All that one could tell was the spot where she had slipped and fallen, which was the first of the two dangerous places, almost immediately over the front steps. The wistaria to which she had clung was broken away in several spots, a whole spray of it fluttered loose from the wall. Here it was that she must have lost her balance.

Her head had struck one of the ornamental stone baskets of fruit, after which it seemed that her body had ricochetted, her head doubling under her.

The broken bottle-neck caused the little doctor complete mystification.

He scented some painful secret, though without venturing anywhere near the facts of the case. Roger refrained from enlightening him, not yet able to discuss the affair with a stranger, although knowing that in all probability the coroner would drag out a certain amount of the truth at the inquest. Ultimately, of course, it would be impossible to hush the matter up, since he had every intention of prosecuting Sartorius to the full extent of the law, and the man's guilt could not be established without implicating the dead woman.

By noon there was nothing more that could be done for the immediate moment. The police had been notified, the inquest set for the day after to-morrow. A warrant had been sworn out for the arrest of Sartorius, who was not to be found. There was reason to believe he had visited his residence in the Route de Gra.s.se after leaving the Villa Firenze, but so far no one appeared to have any knowledge of his subsequent movements. His car was missing, which provided a likely clue. It seemed wholly improbable that he would long succeed in evading arrest; a foreigner of his unusual appearance presented an easy target. Yet Roger felt some degree of astonishment that he should think of disappearing. It argued a hopeless flaw in his defences.

Early in the afternoon Esther and Miss Clifford left La Californie in charge of Bousquet and descended by car to Cannes itself, where they took up their quarters in a comfortable and quiet hotel. Esther was promptly put to bed again. She was still too weak to sit up, and looked extremely ill. As yet she knew nothing of the catastrophe that had overtaken Lady Clifford, for the doctor thought her unequal to the strain of a fresh excitement. New surroundings and complete rest were now what she required to restore her, but even so it might be weeks before she was entirely herself. Although Bousquet had no idea of the reasons responsible for her present state beyond the fairly obvious effects of the morphia, he rightly surmised that her nervous system had sustained a severe shock. He saw, too, that while in the villa she had been the prey of some obscure but almost paralysing fear. Directly she was removed from the atmosphere of the Cliffords' house she began to be calmer.

At three o'clock Roger accompanied a small deputation of the police to Sartorius's house. In the main bedroom they found considerable disorder--drawers pulled out and their contents strewn about, various signs of hasty leave-taking, though how much of this was due to the doctor's own departure and how much to Holliday's was difficult to determine, as the two men had occupied the same room. However, under the bed was a small steamer trunk and a brown leather dressing-bag, both locked, and both initialled E. R. The trunk bore the label of a White Star liner, a Paris hotel, and the Carlton Hotel, Cannes. These pieces of luggage were the first bits of evidence to confirm the truth of Esther's story. In the laboratory above further confirmation awaited the investigators. Roger caught his breath as he stood in the open doorway and took in the corroborative details.

The hanging lamp was shattered as well as several panes of the skylight. On the table lay an overturned chair, the floor was littered with fragments of a gla.s.s jar mixed with a crystalline substance.

Knotted to an iron bracket was the end of a ragged rope of crimson material, which disappeared through the open section of the skylight.

The whole party gazed for some minutes in silence, making their own deductions. Then the chief retreated a pace or two and peered into the alcove.

"_Regardez!_" he said, pointing a significant finger at the narrow camp-bed with its tumbled army blanket.

Roger looked. The bed still bore the imprint of Esther's body; he felt that he could almost see her lying there, drugged, helpless. On the little table was a gla.s.s of dusty water and a murderous-looking hypodermic needle. How in heaven's name had the girl escaped? It was not yet clear to him, and seemed nothing short of miraculous.

The doors of both cupboards stood open, and sundry rings in the light coating of grime showed where bottles had recently been displaced.

Suddenly it became clear to Roger that what had occurred was this: Sartorius, at the first opportunity, as Esther had predicted, had rushed here to find out what had happened. Seeing the hopeless extent of the evidence against him, he had relinquished any idea he might have had of putting up a fight, and had simply decided on the spot to attempt an escape. He had with great care and forethought erected a whole structure, complete to the smallest detail; but one single brick at the base had become loosened, and the entire thing had toppled into ruins, beyond hope of reconstruction.

Two men remained on guard at the house, while the others returned to headquarters to make a report, Roger going with them to add his own statement to theirs. This done, he went to his new quarters in the hotel, worn out, but realising that he could do nothing more, so might as well take a rest. He found Dido anxiously awaiting him in the sitting-room of the suite.

"Esther is asleep at last," she said. "She still doesn't know anything, though I believe it would be better to tell her when she wakes up. She heard Aline scream this morning; it woke her up, and ever since then she has known something happened. She is terribly nervous, jumps at the slightest noise, and no matter what I say she is afraid you are running into some sort of danger."

"Is she?"

His eyes brightened for a moment.

"Yes. Do you know, she is really in mortal terror of Dr. Sartorius. I don't understand exactly why. I haven't allowed her to talk about things--the doctor said she mustn't--and I've tried too to keep her from seeing what a shock I've had. Has anything been heard of the doctor, by the way?"

"Not yet. He has completely vanished, but I don't think we need trouble about that. The morning papers everywhere are publis.h.i.+ng a description of him, and all outgoing trains and motors are being watched, as well as the boats in the harbour. There is not much chance of his getting away."

She nodded with a degree of relief. Then with a sort of hesitation she said:

"Tell me, Roger. Do you suppose he knew about Therese's--accident--before he left the villa this morning?"

Roger frowned.

"Knew? Dido, one of the most ghastly things about this whole affair is that he must have known. He couldn't have avoided knowing. It was daylight, and when he came out he had to go around that side of the house to get to the garage. I myself noticed the print of his boot--a larger boot than anyone else wears--in the mould of the flowerbed, three feet away from the body."

"Roger! Then he saw her?"

"Of course. He took one look at her, realised what had happened, and saw in a flash that the manner of her death had, so to speak, given the whole show away. After that he didn't waste a second, but set about saving his own d.a.m.ned skin."

"How horrible!" she exclaimed, shuddering.

"You are right, it was horrible--but logical. He was only being true to his type. There is no sentiment about him; he has always despised the rest of us, even Therese, who was his accomplice."

In his own room Roger realised for the first time a sense of terrible fatigue. Up till now he had taken no account of the fact that he had had scarcely any sleep for several nights, and in addition to this had in actual fact been suffering from mild typhoid. His mind was still keyed up by excitement, but every muscle in his body ached with weariness. Chalmers had laid out his dressing-gown only, as a plain indication that he should dine in his own room and go to bed. Slowly he turned on the hot water in the bath, and began to divest himself of his coat. As he did so he suddenly recalled the telegram handed him that morning, the message addressed to the dead woman. It had pa.s.sed completely out of his thoughts. He drew the blue envelope out of his pocket and looked at it thoughtfully. The mark showed that it had been handed in at a small town on the road to Ma.r.s.eilles on the previous evening.

After some hesitation he tore open the flap and spread the paper out, then stared at it thoughtfully. The enclosure read:

SO SORRY UNABLE SAY GOOD-BVE SAILING Ma.r.s.eILLES TO-MORROW AU REVOIR ALL MY LOVE. ARTHUR.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

Three days later Esther sat by the window in the hotel sitting-room of the Cliffords' suite, waiting for Roger. She had made rapid progress during the past twenty-four hours, but she still felt rather wan and tremulous, as though she had been through a long illness. Moreover she now knew all there was to know about the affair in which she had played a leading part. She had insisted on being told what had happened to Lady Clifford, and in spite of the inevitable shock to her nerves she had since felt steadier. She had now beside her all the papers containing accounts of the death of the Frenchwoman and the disappearance of Dr. Sartorius, both well-known figures in Cannes, and she had read with the keenest interest all the diverse theories which strove to connect the two events. Up till now not one report had hit upon the true facts of the case; all the stories were wide of the mark, and the general impression given to the public was that in some mysterious way the doctor was responsible for his employer's catastrophic end. There was one garbled account which mentioned her own name--gleaned, most likely, from one of the French servants at the villa--but so far Roger, in his determination to prevent the Press from persecuting her, had kept her well out of it.

It seemed almost unbelievable that after three whole days so little of the actual affair should be known. The sensation caused was a big one, but it remained in the nature of an enigma. Rumour in several quarters had it that Lady Clifford had simply committed suicide because of the desertion of her lover. The result of the inquest was not yet known.

and the fact that the death was due to an accident was difficult for most people to grasp.

Esther, however, knew how the awful thing had happened, and amid her complex emotions she was conscious of a sort of admiration for the Frenchwoman's courage in setting out as she must have done, in the darkness and rain, on her perilous mission--a mission she had all but accomplished, too, for it had now been established that the bottle upon the shelf in Roger's bathroom contained pure Evian water, innocent of contamination. Therese had therefore effected the exchange and was on her return journey when she lost her balance.

Looking out upon the Croisette and the harbour beyond, where the myriad lights of yachts began to twinkle in the violet dusk, Esther drew a deep breath and a.s.sembled her thoughts more calmly than she had as yet been able to do. The terrible experience through which she had pa.s.sed had left its imprint upon her; she was still ready to jump at the slightest sound, or even, absurdly, to burst into tears. Yet deep within her was a warm consciousness of security, an earnest of happiness to come. No word of actual love had been spoken between her and Roger, she had not been alone with him since that night at the villa, yet it was enough for her to recall the pressure of his face against her hands and the hungry way in which his eyes had dwelt upon her. In that hour she had learned how much she mattered to him. She closed her eyes now and revelled in the delicious certainty of what was coming to her. Her heart beat almost as it had done during those dreadful moments in the laboratory which she was striving to forget; it thumped against her ribs with great blows, so that instinctively she put her hands upon her breast to quiet it.

"What an idiot I am to take so much for granted," she reflected, chiding herself. "Suppose I'm mistaken about him after all?"

She knew she wasn't mistaken. She also knew that old Miss Clifford scented a romance, was indeed keeping out of the way now to let her be alone with Roger. This was the first time that Esther had had her clothes on; the old lady had helped her to dress, unpacking with her own hands the little steamer-trunk that had been fetched from the Route de Gra.s.se, and given orders to the chambermaid to press all its contents and put them in order.

Esther glanced down at her frock. It was the peach-coloured one she had worn that night when she had danced at the Amba.s.sadeurs. It felt a little loose upon her now, for she had lost a good deal of weight, perhaps six or seven pounds, she reflected. Her hair needed tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, the curly bronze locks played about her neck and ears in a fas.h.i.+on that stirred her displeasure. Still, that could soon be remedied; she would take herself in hand at once. She was glad to be in mufti for a bit, to indulge with a clear conscience in a riot of feminine distractions.

Even to sit here quietly, her hands in her lap, after the storm she had pa.s.sed through, was in itself a luxury. Her feeling of security and well-being was so acute that the realisation of it brought a little stab of almost pain, while tears, so close to the surface now, rushed into her eyes.