CHAPTER XXVI.
A GOOD NIGHT'S WORK
"Is that all you have to tell us," inquired Ronald, "of what came to your knowledge in London and on your journey here?"
"That is all," replied Mr. Rivers.
"Since you took up your quarters in this hotel what have you discovered?"
"Nothing more than I have already told you-that Mr. Nisbet lives in a house about two miles away. I have been expecting your arrival, and my orders are that I place myself at your service. The command is in your hands now."
"Have you seen the house?"
"No."
"From whom did you obtain your information?"
"From one of the waiters here, who is ready enough to talk about everything and everybody in the place. I pumped him cautiously, and learned a lot that I didn't care to hear and a little that I did."
"Do you speak French and German?"
"I can just make myself understood, and the waiter can just make himself understood in English. He is anxious to know more of our language, as he intends to go to London and make his fortune, so I have been teaching him a bit. We are very good friends already, François and I."
"Is that his name?"
"I don't know; I call all foreign waiters François."
"I suppose you have not discovered whether Mr. Nisbet lives alone?"
"I haven't got as far as that; I thought it advisable to leave it to you gentlemen. It stands to reason that there must be someone in the house to do the domestic work. I have an idea, if you care to listen to it."
"We will listen to everything that is likely to assist us."
"This is likely to do so. François will wait upon us at dinner. One of you, Mr. Emery for choice-you have a solid look about you, sir, if you don't mind my saying so-is an hotel keeper in London, and when François gets to London, if you haven't a vacancy in your own establishment, you will be able to assist him to obtain a situation in another. That will be a sufficient bribe, and it will insure our being waited upon properly as long as we remain here."
"I will play the part with pleasure," I said. "It is a good idea."
So it was arranged, and at dinner François waited upon us with neatness and dispatch, having received a hint from Mr. Rivers as to my supposed vocation in London. In his hearing I dropped a hint or two which I perceived he caught up in praise of his politeness and dexterity, and I saw that, thus encouraged, he would be of service to us. He was also led to understand from our conversation that it was our intention to make a stay here of several days, and in this and other ways we endeavored to lead up to the success of our scheme. It would have been unwise, however, in my opinion, to make any sudden and specific inquiries respecting Mr. Nisbet; I felt that we could not proceed too carefully, and I determined to leave these inquiries till the following day.
Meanwhile we had a difficulty with Ronald. Dinner over, he announced his intention of walking to Mr. Nisbet's house in our company, and it was long before we could dissuade him.
"Why should I not go?" he asked.
"Why should you go?" I asked in return. "You can do nothing until we have laid our plans. If it should happen that Mr. Nisbet sees you, all our labor is thrown away. It is right that the house should be reconnoitered without delay, but for us to do that in a body would be inviting defeat. Mr. Rivers and I will undertake this alone, and you must remain here with your uncle and Barbara."
He consented unwillingly, and we were about to set forth when Barbara plucked my sleeve.
"Well, my child?" I said.
"If yer going to see Molly, sir," she said, with tears in her eyes, "won't yer take me with yer?"
The fears that oppressed me with respect to her sister rendered this imploring appeal of solemn import.
"We don't know that we shall see Molly, my dear," I said gravely. "We must look about us first before we can decide what to do. I am afraid Mr. Nisbet is not a good man, and we must be very careful. You must leave everything to us, Barbara."
"Yes, sir, in course I must do that. But if yer do see Molly, yer'll give 'er my love, won't yer, and arks 'er if I can come to 'er?"
"If we see her, my dear, we will be sure to tell her all about you."
"She will be surprised, won't she, sir?"
"Yes, Barbara, yes," I said, and I left her with a heavy heart.
On the road it occurred to me that, in keeping Mr. Rivers in complete ignorance of the nature of our suspicions respecting Mr. Nisbet, I might be placing difficulties in our way, and weakening the assistance he was ready to give us. Therefore I enlightened him to some extent, being careful to make no mention of the supernatural visitants which had made me take up the matter.
"What I have related," I said in conclusion, "is under the seal of confidence, and is not to be mentioned unless the mystery is brought to light. Just at this moment I confess to feeling dispirited; the web of conjecture is so slight that I am oppressed by the feeling that we may, after all, be following a will-o'-the-wisp, and that there is no ground for the suspicions that have led me on."
"That is one way of putting it," observed Mr. Rivers, "but as you suspect that a crime has been committed, would it not be a relief to you to find that there is no ground for the suspicion?" I was at a loss to reply to this question, and he proceeded. "It may be due to the occupation I follow, but I generally place the worst construction upon these matters. If I were otherwise inclined, I should place the worst construction upon this, and my belief is that Mr. Nisbet has been guilty of nothing less than murder. Every circumstance in the case points to the conclusion, which is strengthened by the impression he has produced upon me. He is a man capable of any desperate deed, or I am no judge of character. I am obliged to you for the confidence you have placed in me; it certainly renders me less powerless in the assistance I may be able to render. I have a starting point, you see. Just at present there are two questions in my mind to which we must endeavor to find an answer. First, what has become of the girl Molly? I should know how to work her if I could lay hands on her. Second, what is the meaning of the association of Mr. Nisbet and Dr. Cooper? To their former association, when Mr. Nisbet and his stepdaughter were living in Lamb's Terrace, where the poor lady met her death, there is an absolutely plain answer. Mr. Nisbet wanted a death certificate from a doctor who was imperfectly acquainted with the facts, and he paid Dr. Cooper to supply it. This certificate being accepted at the inquest, and the body cremated, Mr. Nisbet was safe. In the absence of proof, of what practical value would mere suspicion be? He could snap his fingers at it. But the circumstance of his taking Dr. Cooper suddenly and unexpectedly from London, and of the doctor being in his house at this moment, puzzles me."
"Mr. Nisbet requires his assistance again," I suggested.
"That is the natural inference, and we have to discover the exact nature of this required assistance. If bold measures are necessary we must adopt them."
"I am ready. Have you any theory as to Molly?"
"I can think of more than one. The girl was young at the time of the lady's death; Barbara is by no means bad looking; Molly was pretty, I dare say; she was poor, she was ignorant; Mr. Nisbet may have taken a fancy to her-"
I interrupted him. "No, Mr. Rivers, I cannot entertain the theory that Molly consented to become Mr. Nisbet's mistress."
"I will not force it upon you," said he dryly, "but perhaps I am a better judge of human nature than yourself. However, we shall soon discover something; we shall not be kept long in the dark."
We had little difficulty in finding the house inhabited by Mr. Nisbet, and its appearance deepened my apprehensions. In saying that we found the house I am not quite exact, for a high wall surrounded it, and only the gables could be seen. This wall was of surprising extent, and could have occupied not less than an acre of ground. It was of stone, and might have been built round a prison. We walked cautiously around it, keeping close in its shadow and prepared at any moment to stroll carelessly away in the event of an inmate issuing from either of the gates-one in the front, the other in the rear-which afforded ingress to it.
Night had fallen, and there was no moon, so that we were comparatively safe from observation, but this did not make us less cautious in our movements. We were waging our silent battle with a wary foe, and to be taken unaware would be fatal to us.
There was no other house near the building. At no great distance were towering ranges of rock and tree which intensified the gloom of the habitation. Retreating to a hillock we ascended it, and from that height perceived lights in some of the upper windows.
"A pleasant residence," said Mr. Rivers, with a slight shiver. "One can imagine any deed of darkness being perpetrated within those walls. Hush! Don't move!"
I saw the reason for the caution. The hill on which we stood faced the gate in the rear of the house, and as Mr. Rivers laid hold of me and whispered in my ear, this gate was slowly opened and a form issued from it. I could not at that distance distinguish whether it was the form of a man or a woman; what I could distinguish was that the figure paused a moment or two and seemed to peer within the grounds. Then, closing the gate with an appearance of caution, the figure came into the open, and limped away.
"Step softly," whispered Mr. Rivers, and taking me by the hand we followed the figure, which we presently discerned to be that of an old woman, who walked as if she were lame. I stepped almost as softly as my companion, and we succeeded in approaching close to her without being observed. She was carrying something in her hands, covered with a white cloth. Night's shadows befriended us, and it was evident that the woman had no notion that she was being followed. Mr. Rivers did not speak, nor did I. We must have walked half a mile when the woman stopped before a wretched hut, which she entered without knocking.
"We must see what she's up to," whispered Mr. Rivers. "She belongs to Mr. Nisbet's house, and has crept away in secret. It is my opinion we're in luck."
Stealing round the hut we came to a window at the back over which there was no curtain, so that, although the glass was to some extent obscured by dust and mud, we could see what was passing within. On the ground lay a gaunt man, and by his side on a low stool sat a girl about twelve years of age, as nearly as I could judge. The girl had jumped up at the entrance of the old woman, but the man appeared to be too weak to raise himself. This was proved by the woman kneeling by him on one side and the girl kneeling by him on the other; by their united efforts they lifted him into a sitting posture, and then the woman removed the white cloth from the article she had carried from Mr. Nisbet's house; it was a large dish filled with food, and though she had come some distance the ascending steam proclaimed that it was still warm. The woman fed him with a spoon, and presently drew from a capacious pocket a bottle of red wine; he ate sparely, but he drank with avidity. When he had finished the girl partook of the food, and the eager way in which she ate reminded me of the night we found little Barbara in Lamb's Terrace. There was a pathos in the scene that touched me to the heart, but of course I could not hear what was said by the poor actors therein.
We waited till the old woman left the hut; she took the empty dish and the white cloth with her. When she came out we followed her back to Mr. Nisbet's house, which she entered by the back gate, adopting similar precautions to those which had marked her departure from it.
"A winning move," said Mr. Rivers in a tone of satisfaction as we retraced our steps to the Hôtel-Pension zur Tellsplatte.
"In what way?" I asked, for though I was impressed by what I had witnessed, I did not at the moment see in what way it could be turned to our advantage.
"The food and wine were stolen from Mr. Nisbet," replied Mr. Rivers, "and in that wretched hut we shall obtain the key to his house. We have done a good night's work."
During our absence Ronald and Bob had not been idle. By promising François pecuniary assistance to enable him to reach the paradise of waiters, they had won him completely over, and he had disclosed everything he knew relating to Mr. Nisbet's domestic affairs, and to the estimation in which he was held. He was not in favor, it appeared; he kept himself aloof from everybody in the place, and lived the life of an eccentric and a recluse. Reputed to be rich, he had not been known to do a single act of kindness to the poor peasantry in the district. There had been an explosion in a mine, there had been a conflagration, a neighboring village had been inundated, and he did not contribute a franc to the relief of the sufferers. Some people declared that he possessed "the evil eye," and that he could "will" misfortune upon those who offended him. As for his establishment, it consisted of himself, a young female, who was said to be daft, and an old woman who acted as cook and general housekeeper. The old woman's name was Bernstein, the young woman's was not known. She had not been seen for years outside the walls of the house. When Mr. Nisbet went away Mme. Bernstein was left in charge of the establishment, and neither then nor at any other time was any person admitted inside the grounds. Food and wine were taken in at the gates, by the master himself when he was at home, by Mme. Bernstein when he was absent. This was the sum total of the information which had been elicited from François.
After hearing this we related to Bob and Ronald our own adventure, and then we fell to discussing the next step to be taken, and Ronald urged that an endeavor should be made to obtain admission to the house.
"It will be dangerous to attempt such a thing," said Bob, "while Mr. Nisbet and Dr. Cooper are there. François tells us that the master is sometimes seen out searching for herbs or specimens. If he continues the practice it is likely that Dr. Cooper will accompany him on these expeditions. Then will be the time."
"My opinion is," I said, "that, before we attempt so bold a move, we shall win Mme. Bernstein over to our side."
"I undertake to accomplish that," said Mr. Rivers, "and not later than to-morrow night. But first let us have François in. I should like to get something more out of him."
François was summoned, and wine was ordered. When he brought the bottle in, Mr. Rivers held a conversation with him. Was he acquainted with Mme. Bernstein? No, he was not, but he had heard something of her brother. Ah, she had a brother? Yes, a poor fellow very near death's door, and without a sou in the world. She had a little niece also, the brother's child. Where did they live? He described the hut to which Mme. Bernstein had taken the food and wine. Was Mme. Bernstein kind to them? He did not know-he had not heard; nobody took any trouble about them; the child begged of passing tourists, but she got very little, not enough to keep body and soul together. François could tell us nothing more.
Before we went to bed we decided to keep watch on Mme. Bernstein the next night, and to be guided by what occurred. Needless to say that Barbara was not present at this discussion. She was too young to be admitted fully into our confidence. We kept ourselves very quiet during the following day, and when night set in the four of us set out for Mr. Nisbet's house. Ronald insisted upon accompanying us, and we could not but submit.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A WORD WITH MME. BERNSTEIN
Nothing of importance happened on the way. We passed one or two stragglers who did not speak to us, and who, in the darkness of the night, could have seen very little of us; we, on our part, were more watchful, and though we exchanged but few words nothing escaped our attention. It behooved us to be thus careful, because there was the risk of our coming into contact with our common foes, Mr. Nisbet and Dr. Cooper. In silence we reached the gloomy wall which surrounded the building, and, marshaled by Mr. Rivers, took up our posts of observation. Rivers and I were together on the hill in the rear of the house, Ronald and his uncle were some dozen yards off. They were to keep their eyes on us, and to observe certain signals which had been arranged upon. Very nearly at the same moment as on the previous night, the gate was slowly opened, and Mme. Bernstein appeared, carrying a dish covered with a white cloth. She paused at the open gate, and peered this way and that, to make sure that she was not seen, and then she closed the gate softly, and proceeded in the direction of the hut. We followed her warily at a safe distance; she reached the hut and entered it, and gave the man and the child food and wine, Rivers and I watching them through the uncurtained window at the back of the hut.
The meal finished, the old woman kissed the child, and issued from the hut. All her movements were in accordance with our anticipation, and this being so, a certain plan we had agreed upon was immediately acted upon. Ronald and his uncle remained behind, the intention being that they should make an endeavor to get into conversation with either the sick man or the child, or with both, and to extract from them some information of Mr. Nisbet's establishment which might assist our operations. Rivers and I played our part in the plan by following Mme. Bernstein. Midway between the hut and Mr. Nisbet's house Rivers nudged me, and we quickened our steps. Hearing the sound the old woman stopped, and we also stopped. After listening a moment or two she fancied she was deceived, and she hobbled on again, we following with rapid steps. Again she paused, and gave a scream as we came close to her. Putting his hand on her shoulder, Rivers said:
"Do you speak English, Mme. Bernstein?"
"Yes, a little," she replied, trembling in every limb. "Do not hurt me-I am an old woman; I have no money."
"You speak English very well," said Rivers. "We will not harm you. It is only that we wish to have a word with you. We do not want money; we have money to give, if you would like to earn it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, I understand that you will not hurt an old woman, and that you have money to give."
I ought here to explain that the English Mme. Bernstein spoke was by no means so clear and grammatical as I set it down, but I find myself unable to reproduce her peculiar method and idioms, and consider it best, therefore, to put what she said plainly before the reader. We understood each other, and that was the main point.
"But it must be earned. Do not tremble so; we are not robbers; we are officers of the law. What have you under that cloth? A basin, empty. You took it from the house full. You can be punished for that, Mme. Bernstein. The master did not give you the food, he did not give you the wine. You stole them, Mme. Bernstein."
Overcome with terror she fell upon her knees, and implored us to spare her; she had taken the food to save a little child from starvation; she had never done it before-
Rivers interrupted her. "You do it every night, madame." Which plunged her into deeper despair.
Still keeping her sensible that she was in our power, and that we would have her punished if she did not do as we bade her, Rivers succeeded in pacifying her to some extent.
"There are four of us," he said, when she rose from the ground; "two are here, two are with your brother and his child, who without our aid will starve if you are put in prison or can no longer rob your master of food. It is with you, madame; you can save or ruin them, you can save or ruin yourself."
"What is it that I shall do?" she quavered. "Tell me, and I will do it."
"That is as it should be," said Rivers, "and you shall be rewarded. We must know everything about the master you serve. We are here from England for that purpose, and he must not be told that you have spoken with us. You will swear it by the cross which is hanging from your neck."
She lifted the black wooden cross to her lips, and kissed it. "I swear it, sir," she said. "He shall not be told; he shall not know. But if you keep me here now he will discover it without being told. He will be waiting for supper, and I shall not be there to serve it. He will come and look for me, and then it will be ruin for me and you. He is a hard man, a bad man, a wicked man, and I hate him."
"That pleases me," said Rivers blithely. "Why do you remain in his service?"
"Should I not starve if I went away? I get my food, and I save it and give it to my dying brother and the little child. That is something. Do not keep me here too long. Englishmen are rich; you have a watch. What hour is it?"
"Half past ten," said Rivers.
"At eleven they have supper. If I am not in the house-"
"You shall be there. Let us walk on, Mme. Bernstein. In ten minutes we shall reach the gate, and he will not know. Does he go to bed late?"
"Sometimes at twelve, sometimes at one; it is not certain."
"At what hour last night?"
"At twelve."
"Keep watch, madame, to-night, and when he goes to his room and the house is quiet, you will come out to us, and we will talk."
"Yes, I will come."
"By the back gate, madame; we shall be on the hill. Do not forget-you shall be rewarded, And do not forget that you have sworn upon the cross. Here, to commence with, are two francs, to prove that we are in earnest, and are men of our word."
She clutched the coins eagerly, and said in a whisper: "We are near the house-do not speak loud, or he will hear us. There is something strange and terrible. You shall be told of it. I will come when they sleep."
We did not accompany her to the gate. She glided forward, opened it quietly, and disappeared.
"Now, Mr. Emery," said Rivers, "can you find your way alone to the hut?"
"Yes, it is a straight road."
"Go, and bring your friends here. There is strength in numbers. Something strange and terrible, she said. We have not come a moment too soon. Hurry back quickly."
I wasted no time, and soon reached the hut. Ronald and Bob were within; I heard them talking to the little girl. When I tapped at the door and called to them, they joined me immediately, and hearing that they were to return with me they spoke a few parting words to the child, and promised to call and see her again. I briefly related what had passed between ourselves and Mme. Bernstein, and asked if they had obtained any information.
"None," replied Bob, "that is likely to assist us. Some general expressions of dislike toward Mme. Bernstein's employer, of whom they seem to stand in some sort of fear-that is all. Neither the man nor the child has ever been inside the house. But we made friends with them, and that might have served us with Mme. Bernstein if you had not already enlisted her. Everything seems to depend upon what will occur during the next twenty-four hours."
We found Rivers lying on his back on the hill, with his hands clasped behind his head.
"I have been watching the windows," he said, "and making a mental map of the house. All the bedrooms seem to be situated at the back; the ordinary living rooms are in front. See-there is a light in only one of the rooms; there was a light in that room last night. It burns steadily, and without flickering; the room is occupied, but no shadow has appeared on the blind, nor has the light been shifted. Someone is sleeping there, and sleeping undisturbed. If we stopped here till daylight we should probably find that light still burning. Afraid to sleep in the dark, denoting a nervous organization. Ah, observe. Two rooms have just been entered; each person, entering, carried in a candle with him; the lights shift and waver; there are shadows on the blinds. One is the shadow of Mr. Nisbet, the other the shadow of Dr. Cooper; their bedrooms adjoin. Rather restless those shadows. We have the advantage of them; we can see them, they cannot see us lying here in black darkness. I am in my element, and can work out theories. I have done the same in country places in England, and the theories I have worked out there have led to very useful conclusions. Isn't there a German or French story of a man who sold his shadow to the devil? I can imagine occasions when our friend Mr. Nisbet would gladly sell his, for shadows are sometimes criminating witnesses. Those men do not seem in a hurry to get to bed. One has gone into the other's room; the flaring of the candle shows that he has left his door open. The shadows of the two men are now in one room. They walk up and down in their slippers-of that you may be sure. There is something so secret and mysterious going on in the house-which might be a prison or a private lunatic asylum-that the principal conspirators are careful to make no noise. They have no wish to disturb the sleeper in the third room, which, by a stretch of the fancy, we might suppose to be occupied by a dead person. By the way, did Dr. Cooper have time to bring his slippers with him from London? I should say not; therefore he is wearing a pair of Mr. Nisbet's or is walking in his stocking feet. Now they stop, now they walk about again, and now-yes, now they go into the room which the first man left. Science has been busily at work of late years, but it has not yet discovered a means of bringing sound to our ears as this glass which I am holding brings the figures of those men near to my eyes. There is the telephone, but you cannot carry a telephone about with you in a little pocket case. I dare say the discovery will be made one of these days. Mr. Nisbet is a couple of inches taller than Dr. Cooper, and as they are now standing quite still I know which is one, and which the other; therefore I shall presently know which is Mr. Nisbet's bedroom, and which Dr. Cooper's. If we could only hear what they are saying to each other! Speaking in whispers, of course-again for the reason that they do not wish to disturb the sleeper in the third room. Mme. Bernstein will inform us who it is who sleeps there. What do you say-a man or a woman?"
The question was addressed to us, and we expressed our inability to answer it.
"I say a woman," continued Rivers, who was certainly in his element, as he had declared, "and until Mme. Bernstein favors us with her company we remain in ignorance as to who the woman is. Our little Barbara's sister? Perhaps. But Barbara describes her sister as being a lively young person, and no lively young person lies sleeping there. How do I arrive at that conclusion? Impossible to say. Mental cerebration, if you like. We work out plots as novelists do, or rather, they work out themselves. Concentration is the agent. The same process leads me to the conclusion that the conspirators yonder are walking and talking noiselessly because of their fear of being overheard. The same process leads me to the conclusion that they are quietly discussing an important and dangerous matter. How did Mr. Nisbet's stepdaughter meet her death? Asphyxiation caused by an escape of gas while sleeping in a bedroom almost hermetically sealed. But there is no gas in these parts, and their light is supplied by oil and candle. Therefore they are deprived of that means of causing death. What are they doing now? The shorter of the two, Dr. Cooper, holds something up to the light. The object is too small to be discerned at this distance, but I take it to be a vial. Not a wine bottle, nor a bottle containing brandy or whisky. A small vial. And now Mr. Nisbet hands his co-conspirator a wineglass; he holds that up also; the shadow is reflected on the blind, and you can see by the shape that it is not a tumbler. The vial in one hand, the wineglass-it may be a medicine glass-in the other, Dr. Cooper is pouring a few drops from the vial into the glass. He counts the drops; I can't see his lips move, but unless I am dreaming he is counting the drops. He puts down the vial, and Mr. Nisbet takes the glass from him. To drink? No. He dips his finger into the liquid, and puts that finger to his lips. He stands still a while; he is deliberating. Is it satisfactory, Mr. Nisbet? If it is, and you need a sleeping draught, drink it off, and wish your companion good-night. You do nothing of the kind. You come to the window; you draw aside the blind; you open the window."
"We shall be seen," whispered Bob, in great alarm.
"We are as safe," said Rivers calmly, "as if we wore caps that rendered us invisible, as in the fairy tale. As they stand side by side at the window, the position of the light enables me to see them clearly. They are Mr. Nisbet and Dr. Cooper. Provoking! What is it that Mr. Nisbet has just done? Why did you move, you fool of a doctor? But I guess what he did. He emptied the glass out of the window. Of course, of course; that was it. They have been making a chemical experiment, testing a liquid-to what end? Mr. Nisbet peers into the dark grounds, he stares straight at the hill upon which we are lying. Don't stir a finger. It is curious that criminals almost invariably overlook some slight circumstance which supplies the clew to their conviction. It has been so in thousands of cases. The window is closed, the blind is pulled down. See the shadows of the men as they approach and retreat, growing to monstrous proportions, dwindling to nearly natural size. The shadows of Fate. I suppose by this time the conference is at an end. It is. They separate. Each is in his own room. Ah, I see which room is occupied by Mr. Nisbet, and which by Dr. Cooper. The doctor gets into bed first. Out goes his light. Sleep the sleep of the just, doctor, if you can. Mr. Nisbet lingers; his is the greater stake. He is the principal, his companion is the tool. Take care, the pair of you; the dogs are on your track. Mr. Nisbet puts out his light; all the windows are masked except the window of the third room. Good-night, good-night."