The Pauper of Park Lane

Max looked him straight in the face. Was he lying?

Such a statement was, indeed, ingenious, to say the least. Yet how, recollecting that he had left the empty house in secret, could he believe that Max knew the truth and was concealing it? Was it really possible that he was in ignorance? Barclay thought. Had he gone to Cromwell Road expecting to find the doctor at home, just as he had done? If he had, then why had he crept out of the place and made his escape so hurriedly?

Again, he recollected the result of the search in company with the man from Harmer’s, and the finding of the open safe. Somebody had been there after his visit; somebody who had robbed the safe! That person must have been aware of the departure of the doctor. Who was it if not the man seated there before him?

“Well, Rolfe,” Max remarked at last. “You’re quite mistaken. I haven’t the slightest notion of where they are. I’ve done my best to try and discover some clue to the direction of their flight, but all in vain. The more I have probed the affair, the more extraordinary and more mystifying has it become.”

“What have you discovered?” asked Charlie quickly.

“Several strange things. First, I have found that the furniture was removed in vans painted with the name of Harmer’s Stores, but they were not Harmer’s vans. The household goods were spirited away that night, nobody knows whither.”

“And with them the Doctor and Maud.”

“Exactly. But – well, tell me the truth, Charlie. Have you had no message of whatever sort from Maud?”

“None,” he replied, his face full of pale anxiety.

“But, my dear fellow she loved you, did she not? It was impossible for her to conceal it.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I can’t make it out at all. I sometimes think that – ”

“That what?”

“Well, that there’s been foul play, Max,” he said hoarsely. “You know what the people of those Balkan countries are – so many political conspirators in every walk of life. And the doctor was such a prominent politician in Servia.”

Was he telling an untruth? If so, he was a marvellous actor.

“Then you declare that you have received no word from either Maud or the Doctor.”

“I have heard nothing from them.”

“But, Charlie,” he said slowly, “has it not struck you that Marion knows something – that if she liked she could furnish us with a clue to the solution of the mysterious affair?”

“Yes,” he said, his face brightening at once. “How curious! That thought struck me also. She knows something, evidently, but refuses to say a word.”

“Because she is Maud’s most intimate friend.”

“Yet she ought, merely to set my mind at rest. She knows how fondly I love Maud.”

“What has she told you?”

“She’s merely urged me to be patient. That’s all very well, because I feel sure that if Maud were allowed to do so she would write to me.”

“Her father may prevent her. He does not write to me, remember,” said Max.

“I can’t understand Marion; she is so very mysterious over it all. Each time I’ve seen her I’ve tried to get the truth from her, but all in vain,” Rolfe declared. “My own idea is that on the night in question, when they went together to Queen’s Hall, Maud told Marion something – something that is a secret.”

Max pondered. His friend’s explanation tallied exactly with his own theories; but the point still remained whether or not there had been foul play.

“But why doesn’t the Doctor send me word of his own safety?” asked Barclay. “I was with him only a few hours before, smoking and chatting. He surely knew then of his impending flight. It had all been most ingeniously and cleverly arranged.”

“No doubt. When I knew of it I was absolutely staggered,” Rolfe said.

It was curious, thought his friend, that he did not admit visiting the house after the furniture had been removed.

“I thought you left at nine that night to go to Belgrade. Marion told me you had gone,” Max remarked.

“Yes. I had intended to go, but I unfortunately missed my train. The next day the old gentleman sent somebody else, as he wanted me at home to look after affairs up in Glasgow.”

“And how did you first know of Maud’s disappearance?” asked Max, thinking to upset his calm demeanour.

“I called at the house,” he replied, vouchsafing no further fact.

“And after that?” Max inquired, recollecting that tell-tale stain upon the woman’s bodice.

“I made inquiries in a number of likely quarters, without result.”

“And what’s your theory?” Max asked, looking him straight in the face, now undecided whether he was lying or not.

“Theory? Well, my dear fellow, I haven’t any. I’d like to hear yours. The doctor and his daughter have suddenly disappeared, as though the earth has swallowed them, and they’ve not left the least trace behind. What do you believe the real truth to be?”

“At present I’m unable to form any actual theory,” his friend replied. “There has either been foul play, or else they are in hiding because of some act of political vengeance which they fear. That not a word has come from either tends to support the theory of foul play. Yet if there has been a secret tragedy, why should the furniture have been made to disappear as well as themselves?” Then, after a pause, he fixed his eyes suspiciously upon Charlie, and added, “I wonder if the Doctor kept any valuables or securities that thieves might covet in his house?”

Rolfe shrugged his shoulders. Mention of that point in no way disturbed him.

“I have never heard Maud speak of her father having any valuable possessions there,” he said simply.

“But he may have done so, and a theft may have been committed!”

“Of course. But the whole affair from beginning to end is most puzzling. I wonder the papers didn’t get hold of it. They could have concocted lots of theories if it had become known.”

“And now, at this lapse of time, the Press could not mention it for fear of libel. They’ll think that the Doctor had done a moonlight flit, instead of paying his rent.”

“It certainly looks like that,” remarked Max with a laugh. “But I only wish we could induce Marion to tell us all she knows.”

Charlie sighed.

“Yes,” he said. “I only wish she would say something. But she refuses absolutely, and so we’re left entirely in the dark.”

“Well, all I can say is, that the Doctor would never wilfully leave me in ignorance of his whereabouts, especially at this moment. We have certain business matters together involving a probable gain of a good round sum. Therefore, it was surely to his interest to keep me in touch with him!” Max declared.

The man before him was silent.

Was it possible that he had misjudged him? Was he lying; or had he really gone to Cromwell Road in search of the Doctor and found the house untenanted and empty?

“It is a complete mystery,” was all that Rolfe could say.

“Do you know, Charlie, a curious thought struck me the other day, and I mention it to you in all confidence. It may be absurd – but – well, somehow I can’t get it out of my head.”