Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
“You can sleep quietly to-night,” he said. “There was nothing in this
affair except tap-water. I saw the fellow filling it at the sink as I
passed the window. I'd have stopped him then, but there were only two
of us against three of them, and I had to wait till they were all in
one room. I must say the hypodermic puzzled me. I couldn't make out
what they were after, unless it was more drugging. But there was
nothing in the syringe. I saw him washing it out under the tap before
he filled it. At the worst you may have a sore arm; but the only germs
in the syringe were some that might be in tap-water. The whole affair
was a piece of bluff from start to finish. But it's no wonder it took
you in. They must have staged it well. Be thankful it's no worse, Mrs.
Fleetwood.”
“Oh, I am! You don't know what a relief it is, Sir Clinton. I meant to
go off first thing to-morrow to the Pasteur Institute for treatment. I
wasn't very frightened, once I got out of the hands of these horrible
men, because I knew I could be saved if I got treatment in time.”
“That's very sensible of you. But you need have no fears about
hydrophobia, at any rate. It was simply a bluff and nothing more.”
Cressida thanked them again, and, in order to escape from her
gratitude, Sir Clinton said good night, promising to return next
morning to tell her anything that she might wish to know.
Wendover had been horrified by the story; and he began to wish that
after all they had left Aird to his fate in the tunnel.
“Brutes like that aren't fit to live,” he declared bitterly, when the
door had closed behind them.
“Some of them won't live much longer, squire, if I can manage it,” Sir
Clinton assured him, in a tone that left no doubt in the matter.
In the hall below, they encountered Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux, and at
the sight of Sir Clinton her face showed something more than the mere
pleasure of meeting an acquaintance. She came forward and intercepted
them.
“I am most fortunate,” she explained, with a smile which betrayed her
real gratification at their meeting. “I depart to-morrow morning by
the first train, and I was fearing that I might not encounter you to
make you my adieux. That would have been most impolite to friends so
cordial as you have been. And, besides, I am so very happy that I
would wish to be very amiable to all the world. All the embarrassments
that I feared have been swept away, and everything has arranged itself
happily.”
Sir Clinton's face lost the hard expression which it had borne a few
moments before.
“I hope that it is my good fortune to be the first to congratulate you
on your approaching marriage, madame. You have all my wishes for great
happiness.”
Mme. Laurent-Desrousseaux's manners did not allow her to throw up her
hands in astonishment, but her face betrayed her surprise.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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