CLOWNS AND CRIMINALS - Complete Series (Thriller Classics). E. Phillips OppenheimЧитать онлайн книгу.
a couple of careful servants. In the meantime, I want you to do something else for me.”
“Certainly, sir,” the man answered.
“I want a plan of the house,” Peter Ruff said, “with the names of the guests who occupy this wing.”
The butler nodded gravely.
“I can supply you with it very shortly, sir,” he said. “There is no difficulty at all about the plan, as I have several in my room; but it will take me some minutes to pencil in the names.”
Peter Ruff nodded.
“I will superintend things here until you return,” he said.
“It is to be hoped, sir,” the man said, as he retreated, “that the gentleman from Scotland Yard will catch the thieves. After all, they hadn’t more than ten minutes’ start, and our Daimler is a flyer.”
“I’m sure I hope so,” Peter Ruff answered, heartily.
But, alas! no such fortune was in store for Mr. John Dory. At daybreak he returned in a borrowed trap from a neighboring railway station.
“Our tires had been cut,” he said, in reply to a storm of questions. “They began to go, one after the other, as soon as we had any speed on. We traced the car to Salisbury, and there isn’t a village within forty miles that isn’t looking out for it.”
Peter Ruff, who had just returned from an early morning walk, nodded sympathetically.
“Shall you be here all day, Mr. Dory?” he asked. “There’s just a word or two I should like to have with you.”
Dory turned away. He had forced himself, in the excitement of the moment, to speak to his ancient enemy, but in this hour of his humility the man’s presence was distasteful to him.
“I am not sure,” he said, shortly. “It depends on how things may turn out.”
The daily life at Clenarvon Court proceeded exactly as usual. Breakfast was served early, as there was to be big day’s shoot. The Marquis de Sogrange and Peter Ruff smoked their cigarettes together afterwards in the great hall. Then it was that Peter Ruff took the plunge.
“Marquis,” he said, “I should like to know exactly how I stand with you—the ‘Double-Four,’ that is to say—supposing I range myself for an hour or so on the side of the law?”
Sogrange smiled.
“You amuse yourself, Mr. Ruff,” he remarked genially.
“Not in the least,” Peter Ruff answered. “I am serious.”
Sogrange watched the blue cigarette smoke come down his nose.
“My dear friend,” he said, “I am no amateur at this game. When I choose to play it, I am not afraid of Scotland Yard. I am not afraid,” he concluded, with a little bow, “even of you!”
“Do you ever bet, Marquis?” Peter Ruff asked.
“Twenty-five thousand francs,” Sogrange said, smiling, “that your efforts to aid Mr. John Dory are unavailing.”
Peter Ruff entered the amount in his pocketbook. “It is a bargain,” he declared. “Our bet, I presume, carries immunity for me?”
“By all means,” Sogrange answered, with a little bow.
The Marquis beckoned to Lord Sotherst, who was crossing the hall.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “do tell me the name of your hatter in London. Delions failed me at the last moment, and I have not a hat fit for the ceremony to-morrow.”
“I’ll lend you half-a-dozen, if you can wear them,” Lord Sotherst answered, smiling. “The governor’s sure to have plenty, too.”
Sogrange touched his head with a smile.
“Alas!” he said. “My head is small, even for a Frenchman’s. Imagine me—otherwise, I trust, suitably attired—walking to the church to-morrow in a hat which came to my ears!”
Lord Sotherst laughed.
“Scotts will do you all right,” he said. “You can telephone.”
“I shall send my man up,” Sogrange determined. “He can bring me back a selection. Tell me, at what hour is the first drive this morning, and are the places drawn yet?”
“Come into the gun-room and we’ll see,” Lord Sotherst answered.
Peter Ruff made his way to the back quarters of the house. In a little sitting-room he found the man he sought, sitting alone. Peter Ruff closed the door behind him.
“John Dory,” he said, “I have come to have a few words with you.”
The detective rose to his feet. He was in no pleasant mood. Though the telephone wires had been flashing their news every few minutes, it seemed, indeed, as though the car which they had chased had vanished into space.
“What do you want to say to me?” he asked gruffly.
“I want, if I can,” Peter Ruff said earnestly, “to do you a service.”
Dory’s eyes glittered.
“I think,” he said, “that I can do without your services.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Peter Ruff said. “You are harboring a grievance against me which is purely an imaginary one. Now listen to the facts. You employ your wife—which after all, Dory, I think, was not quite the straight thing—to try and track down a young man named Spencer Fitzgerald, who was formerly, in a small way, a client of mine. I find your wife an agreeable companion—we become friends. Then I discover her object, and know that I am being fooled. The end of that little episode you remember. But tell me why should you bear me ill-will for defending my friend and myself?”
The detective came slowly up to Peter Ruff. He took hold of the lapel of the other’s coat with his left hand, and his right hand was clenched. But Peter Ruff did not falter.
“Listen to me,” said Dory. “I will tell you what grudge I bear against you. It was your entertainment of my wife which gave her the taste for luxury and for gadding about. Mind, I don’t blame you for that altogether, but there the fact remains. She left me. She went on the stage.”
“Stop!” Peter Ruff said. “You must still hold me blameless. She wrote to me. I went out with her once. The only advice I gave her was to return to you. So far as I am concerned, I have treated her with the respect that I would have shown my own sister.”
“You lie!” Dory cried, fiercely. “A month ago, I saw her come to your fiat. I watched for hours. She did not leave it—she did not leave it all that night!”
“If you object to her visit,” Peter Ruff said quietly, “it is my wife whom you must blame.”
John Dory relaxed his hand and took a quick step backwards.
“Your wife?” he muttered.
“Exactly!” Peter Ruff answered. “Maud—Mrs. Dory—called to see me; she was ill—she had lost her situation—she was even, I believe, faint and hungry. I was not present. My wife talked to her and was sorry for her. While the two women were there together, your wife fainted. She was put to bed in our one spare room, and she has been shown every attention and care. Tell me, how long is it since you were at home?”
“Not for ten days,” Dory answered, bitterly. “Why?”
“Because when you go back, you will find your wife there,” Peter Ruff answered. “She has given up the stage. Her one desire is to settle down and repay you for the trouble she has caused you. You needn’t believe me unless you like. Ask my wife. She is here. She will tell you.”
Dory was overcome. He went back to his seat by the window, and he buried his face for a moment in his hands.
“Ruff,”