The Red Room

“Exactly. He had previously been ordered by the Government to keep watch over me, for it was known by the Intelligence Department that Germany would make a desperate attempt to obtain the secret of what, to them, would be a most valuable process in the preparation of steel for use in their new navy.”

“And you made the signal to Kirk?”

“Yes. I told Ethelwynn nothing, fearing to alarm her. I merely remarked that I was compelled to go to Scotland, my intention being to take her with me at the last moment. I did not dress that night, it being Sunday. We dined at eight, and afterwards Antonio packed my bags. After dinner my daughter went up to the drawing-room, while I came in here to the study, in order to write some letters and attend to one or two things before departing. At a quarter to ten I recollected that I should remove a small crucible from the furnace wherein I had placed it that afternoon, and, passing through the Red Room, I found, to my great surprise, the two doors leading to the laboratory had been unlocked, and were slightly ajar.

“Suspecting something amiss, I dashed in, to find to my amazement an intruder there – the man Leftwich, dressed exactly to resemble myself! He had in his hand some specimens of the new steel, and as I entered noiselessly he was in the act of bending over a memorandum book, reading some notes I had made that day. You may imagine how amazed I was to see my second self standing there before me! I faced him, demanding to know what he wanted. I saw that he must have entered with keys made from wax impressions somehow taken from my own, and that his object in making up to resemble me was in order to pass upstairs within sight of the watchful Antonio or any of the other servants. Indeed, it was afterwards proved that Antonio saw him pass up immediately after dinner, and believed him to be myself.”

“Is this a fact?” I gasped.

“The truth,” declared Kirk; “but listen to the end.”

“Well,” faltered the Professor, “on being challenged, the man, seeing himself cornered, instantly attacked me with a knife. I closed with him. He tried to kill me and escape. Ah! it was an exciting moment – his life or mine! I shouted, but Antonio did not hear me. The fellow got me by the throat and lifted his hand to strike. He cut my little finger badly. Then suddenly he slipped upon the tiles, and in an instant I had pinned him down. I wrenched the knife from him, and – and I struck him. He – he fell dead in the corner! I stood aghast at what I had done. I had saved the secret – prevented it from falling into the hands of Britain’s enemies, but I had killed the German agent, who had apparently escaped Kirk’s vigilance.

“What to do next I did not know,” continued the Professor. “I stood for a few moments horrified at my action. Suddenly it occurred to me that, being dressed exactly like me, it would be believed that I had been assaulted! But his features were not mine, so I took a bottle of highly corrosive acid and flung it into his face, and then exchanged my gold watch and keys for his, and put some of my letters into his pocket. Afterwards I replaced the one or two things that had been disordered in the laboratory, switched off the light, and, leaving the dead spy in the corner, closed both doors, which, as you will see, lock automatically.”

“And then?” I asked, amazed at his story.

“Then I came in here, put a piece of plaster upon my finger, opened the safe, and took the precious books containing the records of my experiments, in order to make it appear that a robbery had been committed. After washing myself in my room, I strove to preserve an outward calm, and asked Ethelwynn to telephone for a sleeping-berth for me. I had now decided, as there was no further danger of spies, not to take her with me. Just before I left, I came in here and wrote her a letter, telling her I should be absent some months, and instructing her to call Kirk and regard him as her protector during my absence. As I went out I left the note beneath the salver on the hall table, so that it might be discovered by the maid when dusting in the morning. At 11:30 I left King’s Cross for Edinburgh, without, however, being able to communicate with Kirk or tell him what had actually occurred.”

“I, on my part, naturally believed that the dead man was the Professor,” Kirk interrupted.

“And when were you aware of the truth?” I asked.

“The day after I had called you in consultation. I then saw that, in exposing an affair which, at all hazards, must be kept a secret, I had acted most injudiciously. I did not dare to tell you the truth. I went to Edinburgh and found the Professor, who was in hiding, fearful lest the affair should be discovered. He told me exactly what had occurred, and invoked my aid. My agents watched every move you made. They were with you in Edinburgh and in Glasgow. Therefore, I was well aware how strenuously you were seeking a solution of the mystery.”

I paused in sheer amazement. As I reflected, I saw that Kirk had been shielding his friend the Professor all along.

In reply to my questions, he told me that the reason why he could not satisfactorily prove an alibi if accused of the crime was because at the hour of the tragedy he was engaged upon a mission for the Government, a secret transaction with an agent of another foreign Power which was greatly to our advantage, and betrayal of which would create serious international complications. His allegations of enmity towards the Professor had been made to mystify me.

He added, also, that the reason why the Commissioner of Police had not listened to my story was because I had made accusations against him. They knew him at “the Yard,” he added with a laugh, and it was not likely they would dare to make inquiry into his actions.

“But I saw Miss Ethelwynn lying dead!” I said, turning to the Professor – for how could I now doubt that it was actually he?

“Let my daughter relate her own story,” he said; and, going to the door, he recalled her.

“Just tell Mr Holford, dear, what occurred to you on that evening when you returned from your aunt’s,” he said, as she entered the room. “I have confessed to him the truth.”

“Well, dad,” she said, “I believed that the man in the laboratory was you yourself. Besides, Mr Kirk believed it to be you. The face was, of course, much disfigured, but the clothes were yours, and in the pockets were your watch and some of your letters. I was insane with grief, and with Morgan, to whom Mr Kirk told a fictitious story, I went to Lady Mellor’s. On the night in question something seemed to prompt me to return home, enter with my latch-key, and go up to the laboratory to make sure that it was really you. I somehow could not believe that you were dead. Remember, I was in the Red Room all night, and you would certainly have awakened me if you had entered and unlocked the door. So I went. I crept in softly, in order that Antonio should not hear me, and, ascending to the laboratory, switched on the light. I examined the body closely. Ah! it was a gruesome sight – but I satisfied myself that it was not you! I crept downstairs, back to the dining-room, but as I entered something was suddenly flung over my head; I smelt a curious odour – it may have been some anaesthetic. I tried to scream, but could not, and in a few moments I became unconscious. When I regained my senses I found myself in a strange house, with Mr Kirk bending over me. I believe I was delirious, for I remember shouting and raving, and charging him with an attempt to kill me. It was impressed upon my unbalanced mind that he had killed my father. But, on the contrary, he was all care and attention. On putting my hand to my face I found upon my cheek a quantity of what seemed like wax, which peeled off in my hand.”

“And you afterwards went down to Broadstairs?” I said.

“Yes; I went with Morgan on the following day.”

“But who had attacked you in the dining-room?”

“Ah! that remains to be proved,” replied Kirk. “A desperate attempt was, no doubt, made upon Miss Ethelwynn by somebody who had entered the house secretly for the same purpose as herself – by somebody who suspected that Leftwich had come to an untimely end. The would-be assassin first administered an anaesthetic, and must afterwards have injected with a hypodermic syringe some curious poison, which gave to her all the appearance of death, though the dose was fortunately inefficient. With the remembrance of Leftwich’s features – which he had only seen a few minutes before – being disfigured, it seems that her assailant tried to disfigure hers by pouring upon her face hot wax from the candles alight upon the dining-room table. It was, of course, the act of a person half demented by the desire for revenge.”

“And you are unaware of who did this?”

“I have a suspicion – a slight suspicion. It is for me to prove its truth.”

“You will now see the terrible position in which I have been placed, Mr Holford,” exclaimed Ethelwynn. “I knew that my father had killed a man. Was it surprising, therefore, that I should endeavour to shield him?”

“Certainly not,” I said. “You acted only quite naturally. My chief complaint is that you have all kept my wife aloof from me.”

“We will speak of that later,” Kirk interrupted. “Let me continue. When I had been up to Edinburgh, and knew that the Professor lived and was in hiding, I returned and set to work to remove all traces of the unfortunate affair. To allow the facts to leak out to the public might have provoked a serious quarrel with the German Government, and I could not afford to allow that. Therefore, on the night when Langton saw the light in the drawing-room, Ethelwynn, who had come up from Broadstairs, Pietro, and myself had made up the furnace, and together we got rid of the gruesome remains, after which we ate a hasty meal.

“I had previously sent Antonio to Italy for a holiday, deeming it best in the circumstances that he should be absent. Ethelwynn and Pietro had left the house, when, of a sudden, I heard the bell, and, peeping out, saw Langton at the door. It was an exciting moment. The young man had, I knew, had his suspicions aroused by meeting Antonio at Calais, for Antonio had wired me that he had been recognised. So I waited until you, very fortunately, came, and allowed me to escape.”

For a moment I was silent. Then I said: “You’ll remember when we returned to Bath Road after my first visit to Sussex Place you were rung up on the telephone. The message caused you great alarm. What was it?”

“Antonio told me of his suspicions that the dead man was not the Professor,” was his reply.

“And on your second visit to this house you signalled by the blind of the drawing-room, as the Professor had done.”

“I signalled to Pietro, who was out in the fog, that you were still with me. He had, of course, been with Ethelwynn to Foley Street, and I was about to go there.”

“And, tell me, what connection had Doctor Flynn with the affair?” I demanded, utterly astounded at the very remarkable story unfolded.

“Listen – and I’ll tell you the whole truth,” Kirk said; and, pausing, he looked at both father and daughter, as though to obtain their consent to make further revelations, and thereby elucidate what was certainly the most extraordinary mystery of modern times.

What I had heard was startling enough, in all conscience, but what I was yet to learn was still more astounding, as you will see.

Chapter Thirty One

I am again Perplexed

As we spoke, Antonio entered, and handed his master a note, which, on reading, he handed in turn to Kirk.

“You’ll go, I suppose?” he asked the Professor.

“I think so,” was Greer’s reply. “I’ll cross to-night. But if I go, I must first run into the City to see Meyrick,” and he glanced at his watch, exclaiming, “By Jove! I must be off!” Then, turning to Antonio, he ordered a taxi.

“I hope, Mr Holford,” he said, turning to me, “I hope that I’ve now convinced you that I’m no impostor, and that I am actually Professor Ernest Greer in the flesh.”

“You have,” I admitted; “there are, however, several points which are not yet clear to me.”

“My good friend Kirk, here, will make them clear, I’m sure,” he said. “The only service I beg of you is that of complete and absolute silence. It was the German’s life or mine. He attacked me murderously with a knife, and what I did was – God knows! – only in self-defence. Yet – yet the public must know nothing. It is for fear of you, that you might learn the truth and expose the affair to the Press, that I have lived in perpetual anxiety, travelling constantly from place to place, in the hope that you would still regard me as the impostor. While you believed that, I had nothing to fear. My daughter has, indeed, threatened to commit suicide if the public are told that I killed the man who tried to steal my secret. To her, your silence means love and life!”

“Yes, Mr Holford,” declared the girl anxiously; “Leonard does not know the truth. If he did, he would surely discard me as the daughter of a murderer. Indeed, I could never again hold up my head. I believe implicitly in my dear father’s version of the affair – yet his enemies surely would not! Will you, at least, give me your promise?” she implored.

I hesitated. I was not altogether clear upon many points.

“When I have seen my wife and consulted with her I will give you an answer, Miss Greer,” I said. “I admit that what I have learnt to-day has held me in surprise and removed many doubts from my mind.”

Kirk was explaining how the tiny golden doll, the little charm which had been discovered after the tragedy, had been traced through the well-known jeweller in Bond Street who made it, to the Professor as purchaser; and how Greer had admitted buying it for the purpose of giving to Ethelwynn to hang upon her bracelet. But he had lost it on the previous day. Therefore it was not a clue to the assassin, as we had at first suspected.

Just then the grave-eyed Antonio reopened the door, bowing, and announcing to his master that the motor-cab was at the door.