The Secret House

He turned; Doctor Fall was standing in the centre of the room. By what means he had arrived there was no evidence to show.

"I hope I did not surprise you," said the doctor, with his quiet smile; "I did not come the way you expected. There are three entrances to this room, and they are all equally difficult to negotiate."

"May I inquire the meaning of this outrage?" asked Poltavo.

"Your virtuous indignation does you credit, Count," said the doctor. He sat down by the table, took a cigar-case from his pocket, and offered it to his unwilling guest.

"You do not smoke; I am sorry. Would you like a cigarette?"

"Thank you, I have all the cigarettes I require," said Poltavo, briefly.

The doctor did not speak until he had leisurely bitten off the end of a cigar and lit it.

"As I say," he went on, "I admire your sang froid. The word 'outrage' comes curiously from you, Count, but I am merely carrying out Mr. Farrington's wishes, when I say that I am perfectly willing to explain your present unhappy position. In some way you have made our friend very angry," he went on, easily; "and at present he is disposed to treat you with considerable harshness, to mete out the same harsh justice, in fact, that he accorded to two of the people who were engaged in the building of this house, and who were predisposed to blackmail him with a threat of betrayal."

"I knew nothing of these," said Poltavo.

"Then you are one of the few people in London who do not," said Dr. Fall, with a smile. "One was an architect, the other a fairly efficient man of a type you will find on the continent of Europe, and who will be an electrician's assistant or a waiter with equal felicity. These men were engaged to assist in the construction of the house, they were brought from Italy with a number of other workmen, and entrusted with a section of its completion. Not satisfied with the handsome pay they received for their workmanship, they instituted a system of blackmail which culminated one night at Brakely Square in their untimely death."

"Did Farrington kill them?" gasped Poltavo.

"I will not go so far as to say that," said the suave secretary; "I only say that they died. Unfortunately for them, they were acting independently of one another and quarrelled violently when they found that they had both come upon a similar errand, having at last identified the mysterious gentleman, who had commissioned the house, with Gregory Farrington, a worthy and blackmailable millionaire."

"So that was it," said Poltavo, thoughtfully.

"What a fool I was not to understand, not to see the connection. They were shot dead outside Farrington's house. Who else could have committed the crime but he?"

"Again, I will not go so far as to say that," repeated the secretary; "I merely remark that the men died a most untimely death, as a result of their eagerness to extract advantages from Mr. Farrington, which he was not prepared to offer. You, Count Poltavo, are in some danger of sharing the same fate."

"I have been in tighter holes than this," smiled Poltavo, but he was uneasy.

"Do not boast," said the doctor quietly. "I doubt very much whether in your life you have been in so tight a hole as you are in now. We are quite prepared to kill you; I tell you that much, because Mr. Farrington does not ordinarily take risks. In your case, however, he is prepared, just so long as you are impressed with his power to punish, to give you one chance of life. Whether you take that chance or not entirely depends upon yourself. He will not extract any oaths or promises or pledges of any kind; he will release you with the assurance that if you will serve him you will be handsomely rewarded, and if you fail him you will be most handsomely killed; do I make myself clear?"

"Very," said Poltavo, and the hand that raised the cigarette to his lips trembled a little.

"I would like to add," began the doctor, when the shrill sound of a ringing bell rang through the vaulted apartment. Fall sprang up, walked quietly to the wall, and placed his ear against a portion which appeared to be no different to any other, but which, as Poltavo gathered, concealed a hidden telephone.

"Yes?" he asked. He listened. "Very good," he said.

He turned to Poltavo, and surveyed him gravely.

"You will be interested to learn," he said, "that the house is entirely surrounded by police. You have evidently been followed here."

A light sprang into Poltavo's eyes.

"That is very awkward for you," he said, with a laugh.

"More awkward for you, I think," said Doctor Fall, walking slowly to the farthermost wall of the room.

"Stop!" said Poltavo.

The doctor turned. He was covered by the black barrel of Poltavo's pistol.

"I beg to assure you," said the Count mockingly, "that this pistol is loaded with two small cartridges which I found in my waistcoat pocket, and which I usually carry in case of emergency. There is at any rate sufficient – "

He said no more, for suddenly the room was plunged in darkness, the lights were extinguished by an unseen hand as at some signal, and a mocking laugh came back to him from where Fall had stood.

"Shoot!" said the voice, but the two cartridges were too precious for Poltavo to take any risks in the dark. He stood waiting, suddenly heard a click, and then the lights came up again. He was alone in the room. He shrugged his shoulders; there was nothing to do but wait.

If T. B. Smith had followed him here, and if he had taken the drastic step of surrounding the house with police, there was hope that he might be rescued from his present unhappy plight. If not, he had the promise which Farrington had given of his release on terms.

He heard the whirr of the descending lift; this time it was the elevator by which he himself had descended. It came to a halt at the floor level and the steel gates swung open invitingly. He must take his chance; anyway, anything was better than remaining in this underground room.

He stepped into the lift and pulled the gates close after him. To his surprise they answered readily, and as the lock snapped the lift went upwards slowly. Two overhanging electric lamps illuminated the little elevator. They were dangerous to him. With the steel barrel of his pistol he smashed the bulbs and crouched down in the darkness, his finger on the trigger, ready for any emergency.

T. B. Smith was standing in the hall, and behind him three hard-featured men from the Yard. Before him was Dr. Fall, imperturbable and obeying as ever.

"You are perfectly at liberty to search the house," he was saying, "and, as far as Count Poltavo is concerned, there is no mystery whatever. He is one of the people who have been attracted here by curiosity, and at the present moment he is inspecting the wonders of our beautiful establishment."

There was something of truth in his ironic tone, and T. B. was puzzled.

"Will you kindly produce Count Poltavo?"

"With pleasure," said the secretary.

It was at that moment that the lift door opened and Poltavo stepped out, pistol in hand.

He saw the group and took in its significance. He had now to decide in that moment with whom he should run. His mind was made up quickly; he knew he had no friends in the police force; whatever prosperity awaited him must come from Farrington and his influence.

"An interesting weapon you have in your hand, Count," drawled T. B. "Do I understand that you have been inspecting the art treasures of the Secret House in some fear of your life?"

"Not at all," said Poltavo, as he slipped the pistol into his pocket. "I have merely been engaged in a little pistol practice in the underground shooting gallery; it is an interesting place; you should see it."

Dr. Fall's eyes did not leave the face of his late prisoner, and Poltavo saw an approving gleam in the dark eyes.

"I should not, ordinarily, take the trouble to inspect your shooting gallery," said T. B. Smith with a smile, "because I know that you are not speaking the exact truth, Count Poltavo. My own impression is that you have every reason to be thankful for my arrival. In the present circumstances, perhaps, it would be advisable to look over a portion of your domain which, so far, has escaped my inspection."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"It is hardly a shooting gallery, but since it is so far removed from the living portion of the house we sometimes use it for that purpose," he said. "I have not the slightest objection to your descending."

T. B. entered the lift. It was in darkness, as a result of Poltavo's precautions.

"I will go alone," said T. B., and Fall, with a little bow, closed the gates, and the lift descended.

They waited some time; Fall had the power, from where he was, of closing the gates below and bringing the lift up again. This Poltavo knew to his cost, but there were good reasons why the doctor should not exercise his knowledge, and in a few minutes the lift came back to its original position and T. B. stepped out.

"Thank you, I have learned all I want to know," he said with a keen glance at Poltavo. "Really, you have an extraordinary house, Dr. Fall."