Marvels and Mysteries

The Mask-2

I went for a walk towards Babbicombe. My nerves might be a little out of order – though not to the extent of seeing things which were non-existent, and it was quite possible that fresh air and exercise might do them good. I lunched at Babbicombe, spending the afternoon, as the weather was so fine, upon the seashore, in company with my thoughts, my pipe, and a book. But as the day wore on, a sea mist stole over the land, and as I returned Torquaywards it was already growing dusk. I went back by way of the sea-front. As I was passing Hesketh Crescent I stood for a moment looking out into the gloom which was gathering over the sea. As I looked I heard, or I thought that I heard, a sound just behind me. As I heard it the blood seemed to run cold in my veins, and I had to clutch at the coping of the sea-wall to prevent my knees from giving way under me. It was the sound which I had heard in my dream in the train, and which had seemed to come from the creature which was robbing me: the cry or bark of some wild beast. It came once, one short, quick, gasping bark, then all was still.

I looked round, fearing to see I know not what. Nothing was in sight. Yet, although nothing could be seen, I felt that there was something there. But, as the silence continued, I began to laugh at myself beneath my breath. I had not supposed that I was such a coward as to be frightened at less than a shadow! Moving away from the walk, I was about to resume my walk, when it came again – the choking, breathless bark – so close to me that I seemed to feel the warm breath upon my cheek. Looking swiftly round, I saw, almost touching mine, the face of the creature which I had seen, but only for an instant, in the train.

— II —

MARY BROOKER

“Are you ill?”

“I am a little tired.”

“You look as though you had seen a ghost. I am sure you are not well.”

I did not feel well. I felt as though I had seen a ghost, and something worse than a ghost! I had found my way back to the hotel – how, I scarcely knew. The first person I met was Mrs. Jaynes. She was in the garden, which ran all round the building. My appearance seemed to occasion her anxiety.

“I am sure you are not well! Do sit down! Let me get you something to drink.”

“Thanks; I will go to my own room. I have not been very well lately. A little upsets me.”

She seemed reluctant to let me go. Her solicitude was flattering; though if there had been a little less of it I should have been equally content. She even offered me her arm. That I laughingly declined. I was not quite in such a piteous plight as to be in need of that. At last I escaped her. As I entered my sitting-room someone rose to greet me. It was Mr. Davis.

“Mr. Fountain, are you not well?”

My appearance seemed to strike him as it had struck the lady.

“I have had a shock. Will you ring the bell and order me some brandy?”

“A shock?” He looked at me curiously. “What sort of a shock?”

“I will tell you when you have ordered the brandy. I really am in need of something to revive me. I fancy my nervous system must be altogether out of order.”

He rang the bell. I sank into an easy-chair, really grateful for the support which it afforded me. Although he sat still I was conscious that his eyes were on me all the time. When the waiter had brought the brandy Mr. Davis gave rein to his curiosity.

“I hope that nothing serious has happened.”

“It depends upon what you call serious.” I paused to allow the spirit to take effect. It did me good. “You remember what I told you about the strange sound which was uttered by the creature which robbed me in the train? I have heard that sound again.”

“Indeed!” He observed me attentively. I had thought he would be sceptical; he was not. “Can you describe the sound?”

“It is difficult to describe, though when it is once heard it is impossible not to recognise it when it is heard again.” I shuddered as I thought of it. “It is like the cry of some wild beast when in a state of frenzy – just a short, jerky, half-strangled yelp.”

“May I ask what were the circumstances under which you heard it?”

“I was looking at the sea in front of Hesketh Crescent. I heard it close behind me, not once, but twice; and the second time I – I saw the face which I saw in the train.”

I took another drink of brandy. I fancy that Mr. Davis saw how even the mere recollection affected me.

“Do you think that your assailant could by any possibility have been a woman?”

“A woman!”

“Was the face you saw anything like that?”

He produced from his pocket a pocketbook, and from the pocket-book a photograph. He handed it to me. I regarded it intently. It was not a good photograph, but it was a strange one. The more I looked at it the more it grew upon me that there was a likeness – a dim and fugitive likeness, but still a likeness, to the face which had glared at me only half an hour before.

“But surely this is not a woman?”

“Tell me, first of all, if you trace in it any resemblance.”

“I do, and I don’t. In the portrait the face, as I know it, is grossly, flattered; and yet in the portrait it is sufficiently hideous.”

Mr. Davis stood up. He seemed a little excited.

“I believe I have hit it!”

“You have hit it?”

“The portrait which you hold in your hand is the portrait of a criminal lunatic who escaped last week from Broadmoor.”

“A criminal lunatic!”

As I looked at the portrait I perceived that it was the face of a lunatic.

“The woman – for it is a woman – is a perfect devil as artful as she is wicked. She was there during Her Majesty’s pleasure for a murder which was attended with details of horrible cruelty. She was more than suspected of having had a hand in other crimes. Since that portrait was taken she has deliberately burnt her face with a red-hot poker, disfiguring herself almost beyond recognition.”

“There is another circumstance which I should mention, Mr. Davis. Do you know that this morning I saw the young gentleman too?”

The detective stared.

“What young gentleman?”

“The young fellow who got into the train at Swindon, and who offered me his flask.”

“You saw him! Where?”

“Here, in the hotel.”

“The devil you did! And you spoke to him?”

“I tried to.”

“And he hooked it?”

“That is the odd part of the thing. You will say there is something odd about everything I tell you; and I must confess there is. When you left me this morning I wrote a letter; when I had written it I left the room. As I was going along the corridor I saw, in front of me, the young man who was with me in the train.”

“You are sure it was he?”

“Certain. When first I saw him he had his back to me. I suppose he heard me coming. Anyhow, he turned, and we were face to face. The recognition, I believe, was mutual, because as I advanced—”

“He cut his lucky?”

“He turned into a room upon his right.”

“Of course you followed him?”

“I did. I made no bones about it. I was not three seconds after him, but when I entered, the room was empty.”

“Empty!”

“It was an ordinary sitting-room like this, but on the other side of it there was a door. I tried that door. It was locked. I rapped with my knuckles. A woman answered.”

“A woman?”

“A woman. She not only answered, she came out.”

“Was she anything like that portrait?”

I laughed. The idea of instituting any comparison between the horror in the portrait and that vision of health and loveliness was too ludicrous.

“She was a lady who is stopping in the hotel, with whom I already had had some conversation, and who is about as unlike that portrait as anything could possibly be – a Mrs. Jaynes.”

“Jaynes? A Mrs. Jaynes?” The detective bit his finger-nails. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind. “And did you see the man?”

“That is where the oddness of the thing comes in. She declared that there was no man.”

“What do you mean?”

“She declared that no one had been near her bedroom while she had been in it. That there was no one in it at that particular moment is beyond a doubt, because she opened the door to let me see. I am inclined to think, upon reflection, that, after all, the man may have been concealed in the outer room, that I overlooked him in my haste, and that he made good his escape while I was knocking at the lady’s door.”

“But if he had a finger in the pie, that knocks the other theory upon the head.” He nodded towards the portrait which I still was holding in my hand. “A man like that would scarcely have such a pal as Mary Brooker.”

“I confess, Mr. Davis, that the whole affair is a mystery to me. I suppose that your theory is that the flask out of which I drank was drugged?”

“I should say upon the face of it that there can’t be two doubts about that.” The detective stood reflecting. “I should like to have a look at this Mrs. Jaynes. I will have a look at her. I’ll go down to the office here, and I think it’s just possible that I may be treated to a peep at her room.”

When he had gone I was haunted by the thought of that criminal lunatic, who was at least so far sane that she had been able to make good her escape from Broadmoor. It was only when Mr. Davis had left me that I discovered that he had left the portrait behind him. I looked at it. What a face it was!

“Think,” I said to myself, “of being left at the mercy of such a woman as that!”

The words had scarcely left my lips when, without any warning, the door of my room opened, and, just as I was taking it for granted that it was Mr. Davis come back for the portrait, in walked the young man with whom I had travelled in the train! He was dressed exactly as he had been yesterday, and wore the same indefinable but unmistakable something which denotes good breeding.

“Excuse me,” he observed, as he stood with the handle of the door in one hand and his hat in the other, “but I believe you are the gentleman with whom I travelled yesterday from Swindon?” In my surprise I was for a moment tongue-tied. “I do not think I have made a mistake.”

“No,” I said, or rather stammered, “you have not made a mistake.”

“It is only by a fortunate accident that I have just learnt that you are staying in the hotel. Pardon my intrusion, but when I changed carriages at Exeter I left behind me a cigar-case.”

“A cigar-case?”

“Did you notice it? I thought it might have caught your eye. It was a present to me, and one I greatly valued. It matched this flask.”

Coming a step or two towards me he held out a flask the identical flask from which I had drunk! I stared alternately at him and at his flask.