Mr. Marx's Secret by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER LIV. A RAID.

  In a few minutes Count de Cartienne returned:

  He flashed a sudden keen glance at me.

  "I wonder if you have any idea as to the contents of that box," he said,keeping his eyes fixed curiously upon me.

  Looking back now, I see clearly that I was guilty of the grossest follyin answering as I did. But I was young, impetuous, conscious of greatphysical strength, and with all that contempt of danger which suchconsciousness brings. So, without hesitation, I drew from my pocket theevening paper which I had bought in Northumberland Avenue, and laid myfinger upon the column which I had shown my father.

  "This may have something to do with it," I remarked.

  His face grew a shade paler as he glanced it through. Then he folded itup and handed it back to me with a polite gesture.

  "So that is your idea, is it?" he remarked. "Why didn't you go toScotland Yard and tell them of your suspicions?"

  I felt that he was watching me keenly and made a great effort to remaincomposed, although my pulses were beating fast and I felt my colourrising.

  "It was no business of mine," I answered. "Besides, if I had done so Ishould have lost my chance of finding out anything about Mr. Marx fromyou."

  "Your reasoning does you infinite credit," he answered, with a slightsneer. "You are quite a Machiavelli. Come; I want to show you overmy--warehouse."

  I followed him reluctantly, for I liked his manner less and less; but Ihad scarcely an alternative.

  We passed along a narrow passage and through several rooms piled up tothe ceiling with huge bales; then we descended a winding flight of ironsteps, and as we reached the bottom I began to hear a faint hum of voicesand strange, muffled sounds.

  He unlocked a small, hidden door before us, and we stood on the thresholdof a large, dimly-lit cellar.

  One swift glance around showed me the truth of my vague suspicions, andwarned me, too, of my peril. It was a weird sight. At the far end of theplace a small furnace was burning, casting a vivid glow upon the white,startled faces of the men who were grouped around it. One held in hishand a great ladlefull of hissing liquid, and another on his knees washolding steady the mould which was to receive it. But though they kepttheir positions unchanged, they thought no more of their tasks. Theattention of one and all was bent upon me in horror-struck amazement.

  The man who first recovered himself sufficiently to be able to frame anarticulate sentence was the man holding the ladle.

  "Are you mad, de Cartienne?" he hissed out. "What have you brought thatyoung cub down here for?"

  "I have brought him here," he answered, with a shade of contempt in histone at the alarm which they were all showing, "because he is safer herethan anywhere else--for the present.

  "Somehow or other--probably by looking inside that unfortunate box--thisyoung cub, as you call him, knows our secret. To let him go would, ofcourse, be absurd, so I've brought him here to be tried for hisunpardonable curiosity. What shall we do with him? I propose that wethrow him into the river."

  I moved a little farther back towards the door, listening with strainedears and bated breath, for I fancied that I heard a faint sound of voicesand footsteps above. Apparently the others had heard it, too, for therewas a death-like silence for a few moments. Then spoke the Count.

  "That must be Drummond with the box. Will you go and see, Ferrier?"

  There was the trampling of many feet outside, and then a sudden swifttorrent of blows upon the closed door.

  In an instant all was wild confusion. Count de Cartienne was the only onewho was not panic-stricken.

  "The game is up," he cried fiercely, "and here is the traitor."

  Like lightning he stooped down and I saw something in his hand flashbefore my eyes. There was a strange burning pain and then everythingfaded away before my sight. I heard the door beaten down and the sound ofmy rescuers streaming in. Then all sound became concentrated in aconfused roar, which throbbed for a moment in my ears and then died away.Unconsciousness crept in upon me.

  When I opened my eyes again I found myself lying upon a bed in a strangeroom. By my side was my father, leaning back in a low, easy chair.

  "Where am I?" I asked. "How long have I been here! Tell me all about it."

  My father stood up with a little exclamation of relief.

  "Better, Philip? That is well. You are at the nearest decent hotel wecould find last night, or rather this morning."

  "Tell me all about it," I cried.

  "Everyone was taken except de Cartienne. He fought like a tiger and gotoff. But it is only for a while. He will be caught. His description----"

  "His description will be of no use at all," I interrupted, breathlessly."Has anything been heard of Mr. Marx?"

  My father picked up an open telegram from the table by his side.

  "Mr. Marx has gone back to Ravenor. This telegram is from thestationmaster at Mellborough."

  I leapt from the bed and plunged my still aching head into a basin ofwater.

  "What is the matter, Philip? You will be ill again if you exciteyourself," my father said wondering.

  "I'm all right," I answered. "What is the time?"

  "Four o'clock."

  "Quick, then, and we shall catch the five o'clock train to Mellborough,"I urged.

  "To Mellborough! But how about de Cartienne?"

  "De Cartienne! He exists no longer! It is Marx we want."

  Then the truth broke in upon my father, and he sprang to his feet with alow cry.

  "Philip, why did you not tell me before?"

  "I only knew last night for certain. Thank God, I kept it to myself. Hethinks himself safe as Mr. Marx--safer than flying the country as theCount de Cartienne--the villain!"

  Suddenly my father stopped short on his way to the door.

  "Philip," he said hoarsely, "do you remember whom we left at Ravenorwaiting for Mr. Marx?"

  For the moment I had forgotten it. We looked at one another and therecrept into my mind the vision of a gaunt, desperate man, his white faceand burning eyes filled with an unutterable fiendish longing. The samethought filled us both. If Mr. Marx made use of his private keys and wentstraight to the library at the castle, what would come of it?

  I laid my hand upon my father's arm.

  "There is justice in the world after all," I said hoarsely. "That manwill kill him."

  Then we went out together without another word.