The Bond of Black

“It’s extraordinary!” I said, bewildered, when I reflected that this fact lent additional colour to my vague theory that Aline might have visited Roddy before his death. “It’s most extraordinary!”

“Yes, sir, it is,” Ash replied. “But what makes it the more peculiar is the fact that about a year ago I found a little pile of ashes very similar to these when I went one morning to dust the master’s dressing-table. He always kept a little pocket Testament there, but it had gone, and only the ashes remained in its place. I called him, and when he saw them he seemed very upset, and said – ‘Take them out of my sight, Ash! Take them away! It’s the Devil’s work!’”

“Yes,” I observed. “This is indeed the Devil’s work.”

The mystery surrounding the tragic affair increased hourly.

I examined the brass box, and upon the lid saw a strange discolouration. It was the mark of a finger – perhaps the mark of that mysterious hand, the touch of which had the potency to consume the object with which it came in contact. I placed the box back upon the table, and could not resist the strange chill which crept over me. The mystery was a more uncanny one than I had ever heard of.

“Now tell me, Ash,” I said at last. “Did your master ever entertain any lady visitors here?”

“Very seldom, sir,” the man answered. “His married sister, Lady Hilgay, used to come sometimes, and once or twice his aunt, the Duchess, called, but beyond those I don’t recollect any lady here for certainly twelve months past.”

“Some might have called when you were absent, of course,” I remarked.

“They might,” he said; “but I don’t think they did.”

“Have you ever seen any letters that you’ve posted addressed to a lady named Cloud?”

He reflected, then answered —

“No, sir. The name is an unusual one, and if I’d ever seen it before I certainly should have remembered it.”

“Well,” I said, after some minutes of silence, “I want you to come with me and try and find a lady. If we do meet her you’ll see whether you can identify her as a person you’ve seen before. You understand?”

“Yes,” he replied, with a puzzled look. “But are we going to see the woman whom the police suspect visited my master while I was absent?”

“Be patient,” I said, and together we went out, and re-entering the cab drove up to Hampstead.

The mystery of my friend’s death was becoming more inexplicable. Therefore I had resolved to seek Aline, and at all costs demand some explanation of the extraordinary phenomena which had taken place in Roddy’s rooms as well as in my own.

Chapter Nine

Mrs Popejoy’s Statement

“Is Miss Cloud at home?” I inquired of the maid, as Ash stood behind in wonder.

“She doesn’t live here, sir,” replied the girl.

“Doesn’t live here?” I echoed dubiously. “Why, only a short time ago I saw her enter here!”

“Well, sir, I don’t know her. I’ve never heard the name.”

“Is Mrs Popejoy in?” I inquired.

“Yes, sir. If you wish to see her, please step inside.”

We both entered the hall, the usual broad passage of a suburban house, with its cheap hall-stand, couple of straight-backed wooden chairs, and a long chest in imitation carved oak. The girl disappeared for a few moments, and on returning ushered us into the dining-room, where we found a rather sour-looking old lady standing ready to greet us. She was about sixty, grey-haired, thin-faced, and wore a cap with faded cherry-coloured ribbons.

“Mrs Popejoy, I believe?” I exclaimed politely, receiving in return a bow, the stiffness of which was intended to show breeding. Then continuing, I said: “I have called on a rather urgent matter concerning your niece, Miss Aline Cloud; but the servant tells me she is not at home, and I thought you would perhaps tell me where I can find her without delay.”

“My niece!” she exclaimed in surprise. “My poor niece died ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago!” I gasped. “And is not Miss Cloud your niece?”

“I have no niece of that name, sir,” she answered. “The name indeed is quite strange to me. There must be some mistake.”

“But your name is Popejoy,” I exclaimed, “and this is Number sixteen, Ellerdale Road?”

“Certainly.”

“Truth to tell, madam,” I said, “I have called on you in order to assure myself of a certain very extraordinary fact.”

“What is it?”

“Well, late on a certain night some weeks ago I accompanied Miss Cloud, the lady I am now in search of, to this house. I sat in the cab while she got out, and with my own eyes saw her admitted by your maid. This strikes me as most extraordinary, in lace of your statement that you know nothing of her.” The old lady reflected.

“What cock-and-bull story did she tell you?” she inquired quickly. “Explain it all to me, then perhaps I can help you.”

There was something about Mrs Popejoy’s manner that I did not like. I could have sworn that she was concealing the truth.

“Well,” I said, “I met Miss Cloud at a theatre, and she told me that you and another lady had accompanied her; that you had got separated, and being a stranger in London she did not know her way home. Therefore I brought her back, and saw her enter here.”

The old lady smiled cynically.

“My dear sir,” she said, “you’ve been very neatly imposed upon. In the first place, I have no niece; secondly, I’ve never entered a theatre for years; thirdly, I’ve never heard of any girl named Cloud; and fourthly, she certainly does not live here.”

“But with my own eyes I saw her enter your door,” I said. “I surely can believe what I have seen!”

“It must have been another house,” she answered. “There are several in this road similar in appearance to mine.”

“No. Number sixteen,” I said. “I looked it up previously in the Directory and saw your name. There can be no mistake.”

“Well, sir,” snapped the old lady, “I am mistress of this house, and surely I ought to know whether I have a niece or not! What kind of lady was she?”

“She was young, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and very good-looking. She had lived in France previously, at Montgeron, near Paris.”

“Ah!” the old lady cried suddenly. “Why, of course, the hussy! Now I remember. It is quite plain that she duped you.”

“Tell me,” I exclaimed eagerly. “Where is she now?”

“How should I know? She wasn’t my niece at all. A few weeks ago I advertised in the Christian World for a companion, and engaged her. She came one afternoon, and said that coming from France she had left all her luggage at Victoria. She was exceedingly pleasant, took tea with me, and afterwards at her request I allowed her to go down to Victoria to see about her boxes. That was about six o’clock, but she did not return until nearly two o’clock in the morning, and when I questioned her she said that she had been unable to find the office where her luggage had been placed, and had been wandering about, having lost her way. I didn’t believe such a lame story, and the consequence was that she left after a week, and I haven’t seen her since.”

I stood dumbfounded.

“That’s a strange story, sir,” observed Ash, who was standing near.

“It’s amazing!” I said. “And it complicates matters very considerably.”