A Mysterious Disappearance Part 51

"Have you prevailed on your sister to take us into her confidence?" he said, when Mensmore was ensconced in a chair in his cosy sitting-room.

"No. She is more fixed than ever in her resolve to take the whole blame on herself."

"Surely this mistaken idea can be shaken?"

"I fear not."

"And you also share it?"

"I do. Bear with us, Bruce. This is a terrible business. It has broken me up utterly."

"Nonsense. You are in no way concerned save to s.h.i.+eld your sister, and no one credits her wild statements regarding her complicity in this crime."

"Look here, my dear fellow, I have come to ask you if this investigation cannot be allowed to rest. It means a lot of misery that you cannot foretell or prevent. Knowing what I do, I cannot believe that Lady d.y.k.e was murdered."

"Knowing what I do, I cannot accept any other conclusion. A worthy and estimable lady leaves her home suddenly, without the slightest imaginary cause, and she is found in the Thames with a piece of iron driven into her brain, while the medical evidence is clear that death was not due to drowning. What other inference can be drawn than that she was foully done to death?"

"Heaven help me, I cannot tell. Yet I appeal to you to let matters rest where they are if it is possible."

"It is not possible. I cannot control the police. I am merely a private agent acting on my own responsibility and on behalf of Lady d.y.k.e's relatives."

"Don't misunderstand me, Bruce. I am not asking this thing on account of my sister or myself."

"On whose account, then?"

Mensmore did not answer for a moment. He looked mournfully into the fire for inspiration.

"Perhaps I had better tell you," he said, "that I have broken off my engagement with Miss Browne."

The other jumped from his chair.

"What the d.i.c.kens do you mean?" he cried.

"Exactly what I have said. When we met on Monday night, I did not mention that Sir William and Lady Browne and their daughter travelled back to England with us. On Tuesday I saw Phyllis. In view of the shadow thrown on me by this frightful charge I thought it my duty to release her from any ties. If my sister has to figure in a court of law as a princ.i.p.al, or accomplice, in a murder case--and possibly myself with her--I could not consent to a.s.sociate my poor Phyllis's name with mine.

So I took the plunge."

"You are a beastly idiot," shouted Bruce. "If I had the power I would give you six months' hard labor this moment. Who ever threatened to put you or your sister in the dock?"

"You have done your best that way, you know."

"I?--I have s.h.i.+elded you throughout!"

"I feel that. But your admission shows that I am right. s.h.i.+elded us from what? From arrest by the police, of course."

"But why take this precipitate action? What has Lady d.y.k.e's death to do with your marriage to Miss Browne?"

"That's it, Bruce. I cannot explain. I must endure silently."

"Did you give her any reason for your absurd resolution?"

"Yes. I could have no secrets from her."

"Did you inflict all this wretched story on a woman you loved and hoped to marry?"

"You may be as bitter as you like. That is my idea of square dealing, at any rate. What other pretext could I invite for--for giving her up?"

Mensmore found it hard to utter the words. In his heart Bruce pitied him, though he raged at this lamentable issue of the only bright pa.s.sage in the whole story of death and intrigue.

"And what did Miss Browne say?"

"Oh, she just pooh-poohed the affair, and pretended to laugh at me, though she was crying all the time."

"A nice kettle of fish you have made of it," growled the barrister. "You help your sister in her folly of silence and then proceed to give effect to it by ruining your own happiness and that of your affianced wife.

Have you seen Miss Browne since?"

"No."

His visitor was so utterly disconsolate that Bruce was at a loss to know how to deal with him. He felt that if Mensmore would but speak regarding Mrs. Hillmer's strange delusion, and the cause of it, all these difficulties and disasters would disappear. He resolved to try a direct attack.

"Have you ever heard of a Colonel Montgomery?" he said suddenly, bending his searching gaze on the other's downcast face.

The effect was electrical. Mensmore was so taken back that he was spellbound. He looked at Claude, the picture of astonishment, before he stammered:

"I--you--who told you about him?"

"He was your sister's friend, adviser, and confidant," was the stern reply. "He it is who, in some mysterious way, is bound up with Lady d.y.k.e's disappearance."

Mensmore rose excitedly.

"I cannot discuss the matter with you," he cried. "I have given my sacred promise, and no matter what the cost may be I will not break my word."

"I do not press you. But may I see Mrs. Hillmer again? When she is calmer I might reason with her."

The other placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder, and his voice was very impressive, though shaken by strong emotion:

"Believe me," he said, "it is better that you should not see her. It will be useless. She is leaving London, not to avoid consequences, but to get away from painful memories. Her departure will be quite open, and her place of residence known to any one who cares to inquire. One thing she is immovable in. She will never reveal to a living soul what she knows of Lady d.y.k.e's death. She would rather suffer any punishment at the hands of the law."

"Don't you understand that this man, Montgomery, is now known to the police. Sooner or later he will be found and asked to explain any connection he may have had with the crime. Why not accomplish quietly that which will perforce be done through the uncompromising channels of Scotland Yard?"

"Your reasoning appears to be good, but--"

"But folly must prevail?"

"Put it that way if you like."

"So this wretched imbroglio may cost you the love of a charming and devoted girl?"

"Heaven help me, it may--probably will."