The Sins of Severac Bablon Part 27

Sheard stood up.

Into the study walked Severac Bablon.

He was perfectly attired, as usual; wore evening-dress, and a heavy fur-lined coat. His silk hat he held in his hand. As he stood within the doorway, where the rays from the shaded lamp failed to touch his features, he seemed, in the semi-light, a man more than humanly handsome.

"The house is watched," began Sheard--and broke off.

A shadow had showed, momentarily, upon the cream of the drawn cas.e.m.e.nt-curtains. Someone was crouching on the lawn, under the study window.

"Did you see that?" jerked the pressman. "Somebody looked in! The curtain isn't quite drawn to at that corner."

"My dear Sheard"--Severac Bablon's musical voice was untroubled by any trace of apprehension--"there is no occasion to worry! Mr. Aloys. X.

Alden looked in!"

"But----"

"Had it been Inspector Sheffield there had been some cause for excitement. Inspector Sheffield, if I am rightly informed, holds a warrant for my arrest. Mr. Alden is an unofficial investigator."

"But he can call a constable!"

"Reflect, Sheard. If he calls a constable, what happens?"

"You are arrested!"

"Not so; but I will grant you that much for the sake of argument. To whom would the credit fall?"

"Patently, Mr. Alden."

"Wrong! You know that it is wrong! The official service would reap every gain! Believe me, Sheard, Mr. Alden will not reveal my presence here to a living soul! He may try to trap me when I leave, but there will be no clamouring on the door by members of the Metropolitan Police force, as you seemingly apprehend!"

Severac Bablon threw himself into the big arm-chair, and lighted a cigarette--a yellow cigarette.

"The trick you played upon Alden yesterday was such as no man with a sense of humour could well have resisted," he said. "But it was indiscreet."

"I know."

"Suspicion pointed to you as the perpetrator of the card trick at Rohscheimer's. You must not run unnecessary risks."

"It was a thrilling moment for me, when I leant over to Miss Hohsmann, my right hand extended for the salt or something of the kind, and my left stretched behind her chair!"

"Jesson, of course, was looking in the opposite direction?"

"I selected a moment when he was talking to Lady Vignoles, and those shaded table lights helped me very much. I could just reach the table, and I intentionally touched Salome's hand with mine, in laying down the card."

"She actually saw your hand!"

"I fancy not. She felt my fingers touch hers, I think. She turned so quickly that Jesson turned, too, and just as she was taking the card up."

"Critical moment."

"Not in the least. My object would have been as well served if the card had gone no further. But my infernal sense of humour prompted me to make a bid for complicating the mystery. I dropped my arm, of course, as Jesson turned to her, and it never occurred to Salome that the hand which had placed the card beside her was any other than that of her neighbour on the left, Jesson. Before she could address him, or he address her, I inquired if I might examine the card. Jesson continued his conversation with Lady Vignoles, and the 'second notice' pa.s.sed all around the table."

"Excellent! Do you know, Sheard, these childish little conjuring tricks help me immensely! Can you picture Julius Rohscheimer cowering throughout a whole night before the rod of a trousers-stretcher projecting from a wardrobe door!"

"Was that the solution of the 'patriotic' mystery?"

"Certainly. Adeler, who was concealed in the wardrobe, armed with the necessary written threats, made his escape directly Rohscheimer's cheque was in his hand--leaving the rod to mount guard whilst you got the announcement into print and induced the Marquess to pay an early morning visit."

Severac Bablon's handsome face looked almost boyish as he related how the financier had been forced to play the part of a patriot. Sheard, watching him, found new matter for wonderment.

This was the man who claimed to command the destinies of eight million people--the man who claimed to wield the power of a Solomon. This was Severac Bablon, the most inscrutably mysterious being who had ever sown wonderment throughout the continents, the man who juggled with vast fortunes as Cinquevalli juggles with billiard-b.a.l.l.s! This was the man whose great velvety eyes could gleam with uncanny force, whose will could enthrall hypnotically, for whom the police of the world searched, for whose apprehension huge rewards were offered, whose abode was unknown, whose accomplices were unnumbered, to whom no door was locked, from whose all-seeing gaze no secret was secret!

It was difficult, all but impossible, to realise.

"Yet I am he," said the melodious voice.

Sheard started as though a viper had touched him. He stared at his visitor in wide-eyed amazement.

"Heavens! Was I thinking aloud?"

"Practically. Your mind was so intensely concentrated upon certain incidents in my career--see, your pipe is out--that, in a broad sense, I could hear you thinking!"

Sheard laughed dryly, and relighted his pipe. Severac Bablon's trick of replying to unspoken questions was too singular to be forgotten lightly.

"Mr. Hohsmann is now of my friends," continued the strange visitor. "You received the paragraph? Ah! I see it appears in your later edition."

"But Jesson?"

"Sir Leopold can never be my friend, nor do I desire it. There is an incident in his career----You understand? I do not reproach him with it.

It should never have been recalled to him had he held his purse-strings less tightly. But it served as a lever. It was a poor one, for, though he does not know it, I would cast stones at no man. But it served. He has made his contribution. I begin to achieve something, Sheard. The _Times_ has a leader in the press showing how the Jews are the backbone of British prosperity, and truer patriots than any whose fathers crossed with Norman William."

He ceased speaking, abruptly, and with his eyes, drew Sheard's attention again to the window. Since Severac Bablon's arrival, indeed, the journalist had glanced thither often enough. But, now, he perceived something which made him wonder.

There was a street lamp at the corner of the road, and, his own table-lamp leaving the further window in shade, it was possible to detect the presence of anything immediately outside by its faint shadow.

Something round was pressed upon a corner of the lower pane.

Severac Bablon stepped to the table and scribbled upon a sheet of paper:--

"He has some kind of portable telephonic arrangement designed for the purpose, attached to the gla.s.s. No doubt he can follow our conversation.

He may attempt to hold me up as I leave the house. He cannot enter, of course, or we could arrest him on a charge of housebreaking! You have a back gate. If you will permit me to pa.s.s through your domestic offices and your garden, I will leave by that exit. Continue to talk for some minutes after I am gone. Do not fear that there is any evidence of my having been here. Alden can prove nothing."

Replacing the pencil on the tray:

"I want you to join me at a little supper on Wednesday evening," said Severac Bablon. "Practically all our influential friends will be present----"

He ignored Sheard's head-shakes and expressive nods directed towards the window.