The Stretton Street Affair Part 22

"I know that this is Mrs. Tennison's house," I went on, "and also that you are left in charge of Miss Gabrielle. It is about her that I wish to consult you. I think I may be able to tell you something of interest," and I handed her my card.

Mrs. Alford read the name, but at first she seemed rather disinclined to admit me. Indeed, not until I had further whetted her curiosity by again telling her that I could give her some interesting information, did she show me upstairs to the cosy maisonnette on the first floor.

It was a large house which had been divided into two residences, one the bas.e.m.e.nt and ground floor, and the other the first and second floors. It was in the latter that Mrs. Tennison lived.

She ushered me into a pretty drawing-room, small, but very tastefully furnished. In the adjoining room someone was playing a piano; no doubt it was Gabrielle.

"Well, Mrs. Alford," I began. "I have ventured to call here because I have learned of Miss Gabrielle's unfortunate mental condition, and perhaps I may have a key to it."

"What--do you know something, sir?" asked the stout buxom woman, for the first time impressed by my seriousness. "Do you know anything of what happened?"

"Perhaps," was my non-committal reply. "But first, I wish you to respect my confidence. I know you'll do that in the interests of the poor young lady."

"I'll do anything in her interests, sir," she replied, and invited me to take a seat, she herself remained standing, as a servant should.

"Well, then, say nothing to your mistress, or to anyone else regarding my visit. First, I want you to answer one or two questions so as to either confirm or negative certain suspicions which I hold."

"Suspicions of what?" she asked.

"I will reveal those in due course," I replied. "Now, tell me what happened to Miss Gabrielle that she should be in her present mental state?"

"n.o.body can tell, sir. She went out one evening in November to go to her dancing lesson, and was not seen again until six days later, when she was found on the Portsmouth Road half-way between Liphook and Petersfield. She had evidently walked a considerable distance and was on her way towards London, when she collapsed at the roadside. A carter discovered her, gave warning to the police at Petersfield, and she was taken to the hospital, where it was found that her memory had entirely gone. She could not recognize her mother or anyone else."

"On what date did she disappear?" I asked breathlessly.

"On November the seventh."

I held my breath. It was on the day of my startling adventure.

"Would you describe to me the exact circ.u.mstances?" I asked eagerly.

"I may be able to throw a very interesting light upon the affair."

The woman hesitated. Perhaps it was but natural.

"Well," she said at last. "My mistress is away. I think you ought to see her, sir."

"Why, Mrs. Alford? You are the trusted servant of the family, and surely you know the whole facts?"

"I do," she answered in a low, tense voice. "They are most remarkable."

"Then tell me all you know, and in return I will try to explain some matters which are no doubt to you and to Mrs. Tennison a mystery."

"Well, after tea on the day in question, the seventh of November, Miss Gabrielle went out to go to Addison Road to Mrs. Gill's dancing cla.s.s.

She was in the best of health and in high spirits because she had that morning received an invitation to go and stay with her cousin Leonora at Newmarket on the following Wednesday. As far as we know she had not a single trouble in the world."

"She had no admirers--eh?"

"Yes, several. But she had no serious flirtations, as far as we can make out," replied Mrs. Alford. "Her mother had gone to pay a visit, and when Miss Gabrielle went out she told me that she would be home at nine o'clock. Though we waited till midnight she did not return. We remained up all night, and next morning when I went to Mrs. Gill, in Addison Road, I found that she had left there at half-past six to return home. We then went to Kensington Police Station, and gave her description to the police."

"What was their theory?" I asked.

"They thought she had left home of her own accord--that she had a lover in secret. At least, the inspector hinted at that suggestion."

"Of course her mother was frantic," I remarked. "But had you no suspicion of any person posing as her friend?"

"None. It was not till six days later--about one o'clock in the day, when a constable called and told Mrs. Tennison that a young lady answering the description of her daughter had been found at the roadside, and had been taken to the cottage hospital at Petersfield.

We both took the next train from Waterloo, and on arrival at the hospital found the poor girl lying in bed. But so strange was her manner that she was unable to recognize either of us. All she could say were the words 'Red, green and gold!' and she shuddered in horror as though the colours terrified her. These words she constantly repeated--'red, green and gold!'--'red, green and gold!'"

"What was the doctor's opinion?"

"He was as much puzzled as we were, sir. Apparently my poor young mistress was found early in the morning lying in the hedge on the main Portsmouth Road. Her clothes were wet, for it had rained during the night. Her boots were very muddy, and her clothes in an awful state.

She seemed as if she had wandered about for hours. But all she could say to us were the words: 'Red, green and gold.'"

"Did not she recognize her mother?" I inquired.

"No, sir. She hasn't recognized her--even now!"

"Doctors have seen her, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, half a dozen of them--including Doctor Moroni, the great Italian doctor. He took her to Florence for treatment, but it did her no good--none in the least."

"How did you know Moroni?" I asked quickly.

"I think he became interested in her through one of the doctors to whom Mrs. Tennison took her."

"Mrs. Tennison did not know Moroni before this affair?" I inquired.

"No, sir. Not to my knowledge. He's a very nice gentleman, and has been awfully kind to Miss Gabrielle," replied Mrs. Alford. "Like all the other doctors he thinks that she has sustained some very severe shock--but of what nature n.o.body can tell."

"What other doctor has seen her?" I asked.

"Oh!--well, Sir Charles Wendover, in Cavendish Square, has taken a great interest in her. He has seen her several times, but seems unable to restore her to her normal state of mind."

Sir Charles was one of our greatest mental specialists, I knew, and if he had been unable to do anything, then her case must be hopeless.

"But Doctor Moroni took her away to Italy," I said. "For what reason?"

"He took her to Professor Casuto, of Florence--I think that's the name--but he could do nothing, so she was brought back again."

"Now tell me frankly, Mrs. Alford," I said, looking the stout, well-preserved woman full in the face. "Have you ever heard the name of De Gex--a rich gentleman who lives in Stretton Street, just off Park Lane?"

"De Gex!" she repeated, her countenance a.s.suming a blank expression.

"Yes, I've heard of him. I've read of him in the papers. He's a millionaire, they say."

"You have never heard of him in connexion with Miss Tennison? Is she acquainted with him?"

"Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"I have a distinct reason for asking," was my reply. "Remember that I am seeking to solve the enigma of your young mistress's present extraordinary state of mind. Any information you can give me will a.s.sist me towards that end."