The Mysterious Three Page 8

toothless gums.

  "And then he took you into his service. Did you come to London atonce?"

  "Ay, next week he brought me up, and I've been here ever since--in thishouse ever since. The Reverend George Lattimer wor vexed with SirCharles for a `stealing' me from his service, as he said. I mind inDiss, when--"

  "Was there any reason why Mr. Thorold should engage you in such a hurry?Did he give any reason? It seems strange he should have engaged a manof your age, living away in Norfolk, and brought you up to London at afew days' notice."

  "Oh, yes there was reason--there was a reason."

  "And what was it?"

  "Well, well, it was not p'raps 'xactly what you might call a `reason,'it was what Sir Charles he calls a `stipilation.' `I have a stipilationto make, Taylor,' he said, when he engaged me. `Yes, sir,' I said, `andwhat might this, this stipilation be?' I said. `It's like this,Taylor,' he said. `I'll engage you and pay you well, and you will comewith me to Lundon to-morrow, and you shall have two comfortable rooms inmy house,' those were his very words, sir, `and you will have littlework to do, 'cept when I am out of Lundon, and you have to look afterthe house and act as caretaker. But there be a stipilation I mustmake.' `And what might that stipilation be, sir?' I asked him. `It'slike this,' he said, a looking rather hard at me. `You must never seeor know anything that goes on in my Lundon 'ouse, when I am there, orwhen I am not. If you see or hear anything, you must forget it. Do youunderstand? Do we understand each other?' he said. And I have donethat, sir, ever since Sir Charles engaged me. Never have I seen whathappened in this house, nor have I heard what happened in this house,nor known what happened in this house. I have kep' the stipilation, andI've served the master well."

  "And for serving your master well, and doing your duty, you are rewardedby getting kicked out at a month's notice because of your `advancedage.'"

  The old man's eyes became suddenly moist as I said this, and I feltsorry I had spoken.

  "Did you see or hear much you ought to have forgotten?" I hazarded,after a brief pause.

  He peered up at me with an odd expression, then slowly shook his head.

  "Have you actually forgotten all you saw and heard?" I inquiredcarelessly, as I lit a cigarette, "or do you only pretend?"

  "I dusn't say, sir," he answered. "I dusn't say."

  He looked to right and left, as it seemed to me instinctively, and asthough to assure himself that no one else was present, that no oneoverheard him. It was evident to me that there was somebody he feared.

  Several times I tried tactfully to "draw" him, but to no purpose.

  "I should like to look over the house again," I said at last. "I knowit well, for I stayed here often in days gone by, though I don'trecollect ever seeing you here. How long is it since Sir Charles stayedhere?"

  "Three years come Lady Day," he answered.

  "And has the house been empty ever since? Has it never been sub-let?"

  "Never. Sir Charles never would sub-let it, though there were some whowanted it."

  "Well, I will look over it, I think," I said, moving to rise. "I'minclined to rent it myself; that's really why I am here."

  He may, or may not, have believed the lie. Anyway, my suggestion filledhim with alarm. He got up out of his chair.

  "You can't, you can't," he exclaimed, greatly perturbed. He pushed hisskinny hand into his jacket-pocket, and I heard him clutch his bunch ofkeys. "The doors are all locked--all locked."

  "You have the keys; give them to me."

  "I dusn't, I dusn't, indeed. All, you are a gen'leman, sir, you won'ttake the keys from an old man, sir, I know you won't."

  "Sit down," I said, sharply.

  Idle curiosity had prompted me to wish to go over the house. The oldman's anxiety that I should not do so settled my determination. Mythought travelled quickly.

  "Have you a drop of anything to drink that you can give me?" I askedsuddenly. "I should like a little whisky--or anything else will do."

  Again the expression of dismay came into his old eyes.

  "Don't tempt me, sir, ah, don't tempt me!" he exclaimed. "Sir Charlesmade me promise as long as I was with him I wouldn't touch a drop. Idid once. Oh, I did once."

  "And what happened?"

  He hid his face in his hands, as if to shut out some horrid memory.

  "Don't ask me what happened, sir, don't ask me. And I swore I wouldn'ttouch a drop again. And I haven't got a drop--except a cup of tea."

  The kettle on the gas-stove had been boiling for some time. Myintention--an evil one--when I had asked for something alcoholic, hadbeen to induce the old man to drink with me until the effects of thewhisky should cause him to overcome his scruples and hand over his keys.But tea!

  At that moment my elbow rested on something hard in my pocket. Almostat the same moment an idea flashed into my brain. I tried to dispel it,but it wouldn't go. I allowed my mind to dwell upon it, and quickly itobsessed me.

  Why, I don't know, but since the chemist had returned the little flaskto me, after analysing its contents, I had carried it in my pocketconstantly. It was there now. It was the flask that my elbow hadpressed, recalling it to my mind.

  "Twenty drops will send a strong man to sleep--for ever," he had said.

  The words came back to me now. If it needed twenty drops to kill astrong man, surely a small dose could with safety be administered to awiry little old man who, though decrepit, seemed still to possessconsiderable vitality. But would it be quite safe? Did I dare risk it?

  "A cup of tea will do just as well," I said carelessly, tossing aside mycigarette. "No, don't you move. I see you have everything ready, andthere are cups up on the shelf. Let me make the tea. I like tea madein one way only."

  I felt quite guilty when he answered--

  "You are very kind, sir; you are very kind; you are a gen'leman."

  It was easily and quickly done. I had my back to him. I poured the teainto the cups. Then I let about five drops of the fluid in the flaskfall into a spoon. I put the spoon into his cup, and stirred his teawith it.

  In a few moments I saw he was growing drowsy. His bony chin droppedseveral times on to his chest, though he tried to keep awake. Hemuttered some unintelligible words. In a few minutes he was asleep.

  I took his pulse. Yes, it was still quite strong. I waited a moment ortwo. Then, slipping my hand into his jacket-pocket, I took out thebunch of keys noiselessly, turned out the gas-stove, and stepped quietlyout of the room, closing the door behind me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  TREADING AMONG SHADOWS.

  The house was found very dirty and neglected. It contained but littlefurniture. Dust lay thickly upon everything. The windows, I was almosttempted to think, had not been opened since Sir Charles had last livedthere three years ago. There was also a damp, earthy smell in the hall.

  As I went slowly up the stairs, bare of carpet or any other covering,they creaked and groaned in a way that was astonishing, for the housesin Belgrave Street are not so very old. The noises the stairs madeechoed higher up.

  I had decided to enter the rooms on the ground floor last of all. Thefirst floor looked strangely unfamiliar. When last I had been here thehouse had been luxuriously furnished, and somehow the landing, in itsnaked state, seemed larger than when I remembered it.

  Ah! What fun we had had in that house long ago!

  My friends the Thorolds had entertained largely, and their acquaintanceshad all been bright, amusing people, so different, as I had sometimestold my friends, from the colourless, stupid folk whose company one sooften has to endure when staying in the houses of acquaintances. Ioften think, when mixing with such people, of the story of the two womendiscussing a certain "impossible" young man, of a type one meetsfrequently.

  "How deadly dull Bertie Fairbairn is," one of them said. "He nevertalks at all."

  "Oh, he is better than his brother Reggie," the other answered."Whenever you speak to Bertie he says, `Right O!'"<
br />
  The door of the apartment that had been the large drawing-room waslocked. On the bunch of keys, I soon found the key that fitted, and Ientered.

  Phew, what a musty smell! Most oppressive. The blinds were drawnhalf-way down the windows and, by the look of them, had been so for someconsiderable time. The furniture that remained was all hidden underholland sheets, and the pictures on the walls, draped in dust-proofcoverings, looked like the slabs of salted beef, and the sides ofsmoke-cured pork one sees hung in some farmhouses. The carpets weredusty, moth-eaten and rotten.

  Gingerly, with thumb and