Once more I crossed to the bed when, of a sudden, I again felt that strange sensation in my mouth and throat, both of which seemed to contract until my breathing became difficult. I felt half strangled. I fought against the curious feeling that crept over me, but a dizziness seized me, and I was compelled to clutch the foot of the bed in order to steady myself.
My mouth was burning, my head reeling, while my lower limbs seemed to have, in that moment, become cold, benumbed, and devoid of all feeling. I held my breath, determined to battle against the faintness; but all was useless. Sharp, acute pains shot through my legs as though red-hot wires were being thrust through my muscles, and a second later I became seized by a kind of paralysis which held my jaws immovable.
I placed my hands to my parched lips, and found that they had swollen to an enormous size. My tongue seemed too large for my mouth, and my throat so small that I could not swallow.
My head was swimming, but nevertheless I strove to calmly consider my situation. The symptoms were plain enough, and could not be mistaken. The Egyptian cigarette which the Major had given me had been strongly impregnated with some deleterious and poisonous substance.
I had, after all, fallen a hapless victim to my enemies, for by moistening the cigarette I had absorbed the poison, and, by the rapidity with which my mouth was swelling.
I knew that I had been given a fatal dose. With set teeth I stood trying to bear up against the sudden paroxysm of agony, but so excruciating was it that it proved too much. A loud cry escaped me. Writhing in the awful pains that gripped me from head to foot, I grew so weak that my legs refused to support me. Then, out of sheer exhaustion, I sank upon the floor, and the rest became blotted out in unconsciousness.
Chapter Five
Outward Bound
Strange noises aroused me slowly to a sense of my helplessness. My head seemed heavy as lead, my brain incapable of receiving any impression, my throat contracted as though by a diphtheritic swelling.
A low continued roaring sounded in my ears, accompanied by a curious unusual jarring. Slow to fully realise my position, it was some moments before I became convinced that the regular throbbing beneath my head was caused by machinery, and that the steady motion to and fro was the rocking of the waves.
I opened my eyes and found that it was broad daylight. To the left was a round opening closed by glass – a porthole through which the summer sun was shining, its rays being shut out now and then by the bright green water that rose against it as the waves hissed past. I was on board a ship at sea. The cabin was a narrow, rather dirty place, and the mattress on which I was lying was hard, being filled with straw. It was not a passenger cabin, that was certain, for the beams across were black and dirty, and swinging on a nail were a set of unclean yellow oil-skins and a sou’-wester.
So sudden and unaccountable had been my transition from the bed-chamber in that mysterious house of the Wynds’, wherein my wife had been murdered, to that narrow pallet out at sea, that at first I could not believe it possible. I raised myself and looked around in wonder, half inclined to believe that the past events had been but a dream.
In that instant all the curious circumstances which had followed my call to the house with the big portico came vividly before me in rapid succession, the crafty actions of the Tempter and my wife’s marvellous beauty most of all. With her, I had fallen a victim to the two ingenious conspirators, her father and the Major. It had, no doubt, been intended that I should die; yet certain of the Tempter’s actions seemed out of keeping with the others, thus rendering the enigma more complete.
The pains in my head and the swelling in my mouth and throat were sufficient, however, to prove that the past was no chimera of the imagination. I had met with an adventure stranger, perhaps, than that experienced by any other man, for I had been both bridegroom and widower within an hour.
With some little difficulty I rose, but my legs were weak and cramped, and this, combined with the rolling of the ship, caused me to quickly seat myself on the edge of the narrow berth. My nerves were unstrung, my brain dulled, and the giddiness that seized me was such as I had never before experienced. It was not mal de mer, for I had travelled much by sea and had never experienced nausea, even in roughest weather. No; I had, by moistening the cigarette with the saliva, absorbed a strong dose of some anaesthetic, and its effect had been to a great extent irritant as well. Only my robust constitution had succeeded in throwing it off; the dose must, I felt confident, have killed a weaker man.
In a few minutes I succeeded in standing erect, and struggled to the cabin door. I turned the handle, but could not open it. I was locked in.
Again I seated myself upon my mattress and tried to calmly review the situation. Of a sudden I bethought myself of the amulet I had taken from the neck of my dead wife, and thrusting my hand into my pocket, was gratified to find it still there, together with a pair of white gloves that the Tempter had given me.
I took it out and carefully examined it. The chain was a very fine but strong one, and the curious little charm of plain gold on that side that would lay against the skin, was beautifully set with diamonds which now sparkled and flashed with a thousand fires in the brilliant sunset. About an inch and a half long, it was of most delicate workmanship. I had seen in jewellers’ windows in Bond Street and Regent Street many articles of jewellery – brooches, breast-pins, and the like – in the form of a note of interrogation, but never one made in this manner. It was different to all the others, a costly ornament without doubt, for all the stones were well matched, and, as far as I could judge, not being an expert, of the first water.
What was its significance, I wondered, as it lay in the palm of my hand. It was a souvenir of her – a souvenir of the woman who was my legal wife, and who had fallen a victim beneath the cruel hand of an assassin.
The crumpled scrap of paper I had also secured I brought from my pocket and likewise examined. The words upon it were in a man’s hand without a doubt – an educated hand which, by its angularity and the formation of the letters might possibly have been acquired on the Continent.
“I have seen La Gioia!”
The words conveyed some distinct message or warning which I could not determine. One fact was, however, plain; if I could discover this mysterious “La Gioia,” be she a woman or an object, I might perhaps ascertain the true meaning of the words, the reason they were penned, and the motive Beryl had in thus treasuring them beneath her pillow.
A desire possessed me to escape from that narrow place wherein the air was stifling. The porthole was screwed down so tightly that I could not move it without a wrench, and the place seemed hermetically sealed.
By the terrible racket of the machinery and the strong smell of tar and oil I felt certain that it was no passenger steamer by which I was travelling. Everywhere were traces of black dust. I dipped my finger in some of it, examining it closely; it was coal dust. The ship was a collier.
I rose again, and taking up a stout piece of wood lying on the floor, battered heavily at the door, demanding release. But the clash and roar of the rickety engines drowned my voice, and I feared that no one could hear me above the din.
A strong sea was running, although the sun shone brightly. We were evidently somewhere in the Channel, but from my porthole I could see no land.
Again and again I battered furiously, until of a sudden I heard gruff voices, and the door was unlocked and opened cautiously, disclosing two rough-looking bronzed seamen, dark-bearded and dressed in patched and faded dungareen.
“Well, mister,” exclaimed the elder of the two, “what’s the fuss?”
“No fuss at all,” I responded. “I only want to be let out.”
“No doubt,” he responded, with a grin at his companion. “You’d like a breath of fresh air – eh?”
“Yes, I should.”
“But sea-air ain’t good for your constitution mister, so you’ll have to stop here. You’ve got a cabin all to yourself, so what more do you want? Perhaps you’d like a bloomin’ saloon?”
“Look here, my man,” I said, as calmly as I could, “just do me a favour and ask your captain to step down here. I’d like to speak to him before the farce proceeds further. You’re only obeying orders by locking me up here, of that I’m sure. But just tell the captain that I’m better, and want to have a word with him.”
Both men looked somewhat surprised.
“We were goin’ to have a look at you in a few minutes, and see whether you’d come to, if you hadn’t have kicked up such a confounded row.”
“Well, go and tell the captain I want to see him,” I said, endeavouring to smile.
“All right, sir, I will,” answered the man; “but I’ll have to lock the door again.”
“Very well,” I laughed. “Only don’t starve me, remember.” The situation seemed humorous.
Both men grinned broadly; the door was closed, and I heard one remark to the other in true cockney English —
“’E ain’t such a vi’lent fellow, after all, Bill.” Five minutes later the door was again opened, and a burly, full-bearded, black-eyed man in a pea-jacket and peaked cap entered the cabin.
“You are the captain, I presume?” I said.
“That’s me,” he answered, leaning against the wooden partition opposite my bunk.
“Well,” I said, “I’d like to know by what right you lock me up here? I’ve been unconscious for a long time, and on coming to myself, I find I’m here onboard your ship at sea, imprisoned, and not allowed out.”
“You’re in here for the benefit of your health,” he answered roughly. “A sea voyage’ll do you good.”
“Then perhaps you’ll tell me the name of the ship on board which I’m taking this pleasure trip?” I said sarcastically.
“Better find that out.”
“No very difficult matter, I suppose,” I answered quite coolly. “Only I should like to point out that even though you may be skipper of this coal hulk, you have no right to imprison me here.”
“I shall do just as I like, cocky,” he responded. “And further, you’d best be quiet and keep a still tongue, or perhaps you won’t see land again.”
“That’s certainly a very genteel speech,” I said; “and perhaps the British Consul at your port of destination will have something to say regarding your conduct.”
“I don’t care a brass button for all the blanked consuls in the whole Consular Service,” he replied, with a coarse laugh. “You are on board my ship, and I’ll give you to understand now, once and for all, that I’m master here.”
“Perhaps you’ll pipe to a different tune when your master’s certificate is suspended for a year or two.”
“It ’ud take a better man than you to suspend it. While you’re on board this craft, it’ll be a wise policy to keep a still tongue in your head.”
“And it will be wiser if you allow me my liberty, and just tell me how and why I came aboard here.”
“You were brought here, but for what reason I don’t know.”
“And who brought me here?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t on board when you arrived.”
“The ship was lying in the Thames, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he answered. “It wasn’t on Clapham Common, that’s a certainty.”
“And where are we now?”
“At sea.”
“I’m aware of that, but in what sea – the Channel, the North Sea, or the Atlantic?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Just breathe the ozone, and make yourself comfortable. That’s all you have to do,” he responded, with his bearded chin thrust forward, in an air of unconcern.
“Well, you haven’t provided many creature comforts for me,” I remarked, with a glance round the stuffy little place.
“No, this isn’t exactly a Cunarder,” he admitted. “But I’ll tell the men to bring you some grub, at any rate. Like some duff?”
“You’re very kind; but I’d rather take a walk on deck in order to get an appetite.”
“No; the sun’s a bit too strong,” he answered waggishly. “You might get sunstroke, you know.”
“I shall be asphyxiated if I remain here.”
“Well, that’s a comfortable death, I believe. More than one chap has died for want o’ breath in the hold of this ship when we’ve been trimmin’ coal.”
“Then you refuse me my liberty?” I said, feeling that to argue pleasantly was useless.
“Yes, you’ve got to stay ’ere.”
“By whose orders?”
“That’s my own business,” he growled.
“And mine also,” I responded firmly. “You may be skipper of this craft, but you are not a gaoler, you know.”
“I’m your gaoler, at any rate.”
“That remains to be seen,” I answered. “I suppose you’ve been paid to take me out of the country, like this; but I may as well warn you that you are aiding and abetting a murder, and that when you get ashore you’ll find yourself in a very nasty position.”
“With the Consul, eh?” he laughed. “Well, they’re a decent lot, as a rule. We don’t get much trouble with ’em if we deposit our papers in order.”
“But if I demanded your arrest for illegal imprisonment?”
“I don’t fancy you’d do that, mister,” he responded with sarcasm. “It might be a bit of a bother for me in England, but the foreign police are a bit chary of touching a British capt’n.”
There was, I knew, some truth in that. Yet I did not intend to remain cooped up there, a prisoner, for the remainder of the voyage.
“Well, now, look here,” I said, in a more conciliatory tone. “Why are you not frank with me?”
“Because you ain’t responsible for your actions.”
“And that’s why you won’t allow me on deck?” He nodded.
“Then I suppose when I was handed over to your tender charge they told you I was a lunatic?”
“Well, they said you’d better be kept under restraint. I was told that you’d had a bad touch of the blues, it seems.”
“And yet you took me aboard while I was unconscious,” I said. “That was scarcely a wise proceeding was it?”
“You were here when I returned; I’ve told you I found you here.”
“Then you mean to tell me that you don’t know who paid you to take me on this pleasure trip?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve only received orders, and just observed them.”
“Orders from whom?”
“From my owners.”
“Your owners! What possible interest could your owners have in shipping me aboard while I was unconscious? Who are they?”
“Hanways, of Newcastle.”
“And what ship is this?”
“The Petrel, of Newcastle.”
“Bound for where?”
“No,” he replied. “I’ve strict orders to keep you confined in the cabin, to treat you as well as your behaviour will allow, and to tell you nothing.”
“Well, captain, you’re a sensible man, and surely you’ll listen to reason.”
“What reason? I’ve got my orders. That’s enough for me.”
“But I tell you that by this action you are aiding in the concealment of a terrible crime – the dastardly murder of a lady in London,” I burst forth.
“Of course. That’s the yarn they said you’d spin. Well, you can stow that for the present. I’ll come down and hear it over a pipe, when I want a bit of relaxation. For the time being, just you sniff the ozone, and fancy yourself in a drawin’-room.”
Then, without more ado, the burly fellow made his exit, slammed the heavy door and bolted it, leaving me still a prisoner within that tiny cabin.
Chapter Six
Captain Banfield Explains
The hours passed but slowly. The man who had first answered my summons brought me some food but to all my arguments he remained obdurate.
“The cap’n says you’re to stay ’ere,” he responded, “and if I let you out he’d put me in irons. Old Banfield ain’t a skipper to be trifled with, I can tell yer.”
So I remained there, filled with gloomy thoughts, and wondering where I was being taken, and what possible interest Messrs Hanway, the owners of the Petrel, could have in my forcible abduction.
I sat there, helpless and puzzled, until it grew quite dark, then my head feeling heavy, and my limbs exhausted on account of the drug that had been so ingeniously administered to me, I threw myself down, and the motion of the vessel soon lulled me to sleep.
The long green waves were sweeping past in the sunlight when I again opened my eyes, and from the porthole I could see a large steamer with a pair of red and black funnels in the distance, leaving a long trail of smoke behind her. Soon, however, she was beyond the range of my vision, and I could do nothing except sit there and review the whole situation.
The beautiful face of my murdered wife arose ever before me. It seemed to cry to me for vengeance. I was her husband, and I alone knew the truth.
Yet it was evident that I was still in the hands of enemies, and, imprisoned there, I could do nothing.
The day passed, and fortunately I found myself feeling better. The effect of the noxious drug was slowly wearing off; yet the strain upon my nerves was terrible, and the imprisonment, coupled with uncertainty as to the future, was driving me to desperation.
A third day passed, much as the second. The only person I saw was the sailor who brought me food from the cook’s galley in the morning and at evening – badly cooked sailors’ fare that I could scarcely touch. As the sun was sinking, we suddenly approached a blue line of coast, and continued to skirt it until it became swallowed up in the night mists. Then, wearied, I again lay down to sleep.
I was awakened by the sudden stoppage of the engines, and found that it was already day again, and that we were in calm water. Outside my porthole was a flat stone wall which shut out everything.
Much shouting and tramping sounded above, and I knew that we were being made fast at a quay.
My opportunity for escape had arrived. If only I could break open the door, and slip up on deck unobserved, I might regain my freedom.
Now, I had during the past two days made a most careful examination of my cabin and of the door, during which I had noticed that, supporting the box-like berth beneath, was an iron stay, the lower end of which was flattened out so that it could be more easily screwed down to the floor. The screws were loose, like most of the fittings of the badly kept craft; therefore, after some little trouble, I managed to remove it, and found that I held in my hand a capital crowbar.
Presently I managed to work the thin end between the door and the lintel, and then, throwing my whole weight against it, endeavoured to force the outer bolt from its fastenings.
My first attempt was abortive, but I saw that the screws were giving away; therefore I continued my efforts carefully so as not to attract attention, until, of a sudden, the socket of the bolt flew off, and the door was burst open. Then, holding my iron bar in self-defence, I stepped along to the foot of a ladder, by which I climbed on deck.
The vessel, it seemed, was not a large one, and of a particularly dirty and forbidding appearance. With care I crept round the deck-house unobserved, until I reached the gangway, and just as my presence was discovered by the captain, I slipped across it nimbly, and was on the quay amid a crowd of labourers, custom officers, and the usual motley assemblage which gathers to watch an arriving vessel.
I heard the skipper shouting violently, and a couple of the crew started in pursuit; but, taking to my heels I soon outdistanced them, and after some little time found myself walking in a large handsome street lined with fine shops and showy cafés. I was in Christiania.
I inquired in French of several persons the whereabouts of the British Consulate, and about an hour later found myself in the private office of the representative of her Majesty, a tall, good-looking man in a cool suit of white linen.
To him I related the whole circumstances. He listened, but smiled now and then with an air of incredulity. I told him of the murder, of the manner in which my life had been twice attempted, and of the remarkable circumstances of my abduction.
“And you say that you were taken on board the Petrel,” he said reflectively. “I know Captain Banfield quite well. He is a strict disciplinarian, an excellent sailor, and is held in high esteem by his men. We must hear his explanation of the affair at once. If what you have said is true, it is certainly most remarkable.”
I drew the trinket with the golden chain from my pocket, together with the crumpled note, and showed them to him.
“Strange,” he remarked. “Most extraordinary! I’ll send down to the docks for Banfield at once;” and, calling a clerk, he dispatched him in a cab.
In the meantime, in response to his questions, I gave him the most minute details of the startling affairs, as well as the ingenious manner in which Beryl Wynd had been murdered. I knew that the story when related sounded absolutely incredible; but it was equally certain that the Consul, at first inclined to doubt my statement, had now become highly interested in it.
I remarked upon the extraordinary mystery, and its features which seemed to stagger belief.
“But you are a medical man of considerable attainment, I notice from your card,” he resumed. “I have no reason to doubt your story. It is rather a matter which should be strictly inquired into. Any person abducted from England, in the manner you have been, has a right to seek protection and advice of his consul.”
And we continued chatting until, after a lapse of nearly half an hour, the captain of the Petrel, wearing his shore-going clothes, was ushered in.
“Good morning, sir!” he exclaimed, addressing the representative of the Foreign Office, but taking no notice of my presence. “You’ve sent for me?”
“Yes, Captain,” the Consul responded rather severely. “Kindly sit down. There is a little matter upon which you can throw some light. You know this gentleman?” – and he indicated myself.
“Yes, sir. I know ’im.”
“Well, he has lodged a very serious complaint against you, namely, that you have held him a prisoner on board your ship without any just cause; and, further, that contrary to the regulations of the Board of Trade, you carried him from port while in an unconscious condition.” The skipper remained quite unabashed.
“Well, sir,” he answered, “as I’ve already told the gentleman, I’ve only acted under strict orders from my owners. I suppose they’ll take all the responsibility?”
“No; the responsibility rests upon yourself. You’ve held a master’s certificate a good many years, and you are fully acquainted with the Board of Trade regulations.”
“Of course, I don’t deny that,” the other responded.
“But my orders were quite precise.”
“And now, tell me, how came this gentleman on board your ship?”
“To tell the truth, sir, I don’t know exactly. We were lying in the St. Katherine Docks, and my last evening ashore I spent at home with my wife, over at Victoria Park. We were to sail at four o’clock in the morning, but I didn’t get aboard before about ten past four. When I did so, orders from the owners were put into my hand, and I was told that there was a passenger who’d been brought aboard, lying asleep below. ’Ere’s the letter;” and he drew it from his pocket and handed it to the Consul.
The latter read it through, then, with an exclamation of surprise, handed it over to me.
It certainly increased the mystery, for it was from the office of the owners, Messrs Hanway Brothers, in Leadenhall Street, ordering that I should be taken on the round voyage to the Baltic, well cared for, but kept looked in a cabin, as I had developed homicidal tendencies.
“The gentleman, whose name is Doctor Colkirk,” continued the letter, “is subject to fits, in which he remains unconscious for some hours; therefore there is no cause for alarm if he is not conscious when he reaches you. He is under an hallucination that he has been witness of some remarkable crime, and will, no doubt, impress upon you the urgent necessity of returning to London for the prosecution of inquiries. If he does this, humour him, but on no account allow him to go on deck, or to hold conversation with any one. The gentleman is a source of the greatest anxiety to his friends, and, we may add, that if the present orders are strictly carried out, the gentleman’s friends have promised the payment of a handsome bonus to yourself. We therefore place him on board the Petrel, in preference to any other vessel of our fleet, because of the confidence we entertain that you will strictly carry out your orders.”
The letter was signed by the firm.
“It seems very much as though the owners had some object in sending you aboard,” observed the Consul.
Then, turning to the skipper, he asked, “How was the gentleman brought on board?”
“He was brought in a private carriage about six o’clock in the evening, my men say. Two gentlemen carried him on board. The dock police stopped them, but they told the constable that the gentleman was drunk.”
“And when you received this letter, what did you do?”
“Well, I put him in the second mate’s cabin, and left him alone till two days later, when he came to. Then I just carried out my orders.”
“Where are you bound for?”
“The round trip – Stockholm, Riga, St. Petersburg, Drammen, Christiansund, and home.”
“That means a month.”
“More – six weeks.”
“Your owners, therefore, were anxious that the doctor should be absent from England during that time. There is some mystery here, on the face of it. Doctor Colkirk has related to me a very remarkable story, and the most searching inquiry should be instituted.”
“Well, sir,” Banfield said apologetically, “I hope you don’t consider my conduct bad. I’ve only carried out my orders to the letter. You see I didn’t know that the gentleman was on board until we’d actually left the quay; and the letter says, quite distinctly, that he’s subject to fits, therefore I let him remain quiet until he regained consciousness.” Then, turning to me, he added, “I trust, sir, that you’ll accept my apology.”
“That’s all very well,” interposed the Consul; “but you know that you did entirely wrong in sailing with an unconscious stranger on board.”
“I admit that. But you see I had my orders, sir.”
“Who delivered them to you?” I inquired.
“The two gentlemen who brought you on board,” he responded.
“Have any of your men described them to you?”
“They only said that they were both well dressed, and about middle age.”
They were, without doubt, the Tempter and his accomplice. The conspiracy had been conceived and carried out with amazing ingenuity.
“And they brought the doctor on board and delivered this letter?”
“Yes, sir. They afterwards re-entered the carriage and drove away.”
“Well,” said the Consul, “the only course I see is for the doctor to take this letter, return to London, and seek an explanation of your owners.”
“No, sir, I shan’t give up the letter. It’s written to me,” demurred the captain.
“But it is in my hands,” responded the Consul. “I am making inquiries into this affair, and I shall act as I think best in the interest of all parties concerned. The letter is your property, certainly; but recollect that this affair may prove very awkward for your owners. Therefore, take my advice, Captain, and assist this gentleman in his inquiries.”
“I protest against you keeping the letter.”
“Very well, I will see that your protest is forwarded to your owners,” replied the Consul; and he handed me the letter, saying —
“Your best course. Doctor, is to return by the Wilson boat to Hull. She sails this afternoon at four. Then go down to Leadenhall Street and, make inquiries – it seems a strange affair, to say the least.”
“It is entirely unaccountable,” I said. “There seems to have been a widespread plot against me, with a single motive – the concealment of the murder of Beryl Wynd.”
“But in that case why not let me telegraph to Scotland Yard?” suggested the Consul, as the sudden idea occurred to him. “They would watch the house until your return. To-day is Tuesday. You’ll be in London on Thursday night, or early on Friday morning.”
The proposal was an excellent one, and I gladly acceded. Next instant, however, the bewildering truth flashed across my mind. I had not hitherto realised my position. My heart sank within me.
“Would that your suggestion could be carried out,” I replied. “But, truth to tell, I don’t know the house, for I took no notice of its situation, and am unable to tell the name of the road.”
“Ah! how extremely unfortunate. London is a big place, and there are thousands of houses that are outwardly the same. Didn’t the servant who called at your surgery give you the address?”
“No; she gave it to the cabman, but I did not catch it. Men of my profession take little heed of the exterior of houses. We make a note of the number in our visiting-books – that’s all.”
“Then you really haven’t any idea of the situation of the house in which the tragedy occurred?”
“None whatever,” I replied. A moment later a further thought occurred to me, and I added, “But would not the registry of marriages give the address of my bride?”
“Why, of course it would!” cried the Consul excitedly. “An excellent idea. Return to London as quickly as you can, and search the marriage register. From that I’m certain you’ll obtain a clue.”