Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction
Striking a match, Vernon ascertained that he was still in the tent,
for its blue glimmer showed the figures and hieroglyphics weirdly
flickering on the canvas walls. Apparently the criminals, for they
were nothing else, had fled, leaving him insensible, and Vernon
wondered that he had not been discovered. But when he walked outside
he saw on the door a notice stating that the booth was closed for an
hour, and guessed that in this way Maunders had provided time for
flight. So warned, no one would enter the tent, and evidently both the
noise of the struggle and his cry for assistance had passed unheeded.
Vernon drew a long breath and stood where he was, watching the crowd
of people merry-making under hundreds of coloured lamps, quite
oblivious to the fact that a tragedy had nearly taken place under
their very noses. He wondered what was best to be done.
It was useless to go to those in authority at The Georgian Hall as no
one would credit his wild tale, although the flight of Diabella and
her accomplices might lend colour to his narrative. Moreover, Vernon
decided that more than ever was it necessary to hunt down Maunders in
secrecy, as he wished for a full explanation from him before calling
in Drench to assist. Likewise, for the sake of Ida, of Mrs. Bedge, and
Lady Corsoon, Vernon wished if possible to avoid publicity, since any
scandal would certainly bring their names into unpleasant notoriety.
For these reasons the young man left The Georgian Hall without telling
anyone what had happened. But he chuckled as he went to think how the
public would be disappointed to find the tent of the sorceress empty.
Also, how amazed those managing the bazaar would be to discover that
Diabella had vanished with her takings for the day, which would be
considerable. Vernon felt quite sure that a man so unscrupulous as
Maunders would not hesitate to seize the till seeing that, having been
exposed, and doubtful if his old schoolfellow would hold his tongue,
he would want all the money he could get to assist his flight.
The question was to learn whither he had fled and what track to follow
in order to hunt him down. It was close upon seven o'clock, and
outside The Georgian Hall Vernon hesitated as to his next step. He
wondered whether it would be better to go home and retire to bed,
since he felt shaken by the struggle, or to seek out Colonel Towton
and enlist him as a fellow-pursuer in the man-hunt. Finally he decided
to take a taxi to the Colonel's chambers and relate what had happened,
for he knew that unless he discussed the matter he would only worry
the whole night over the catastrophe. He therefore fortified himself
with a stiff brandy and soda at a near hotel and pulled himself
together for a serious conversation. And serious enough it would be
for Constantine Maunders, who could not be permitted to continue in
his nefarious career.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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