The Charing Cross Mystery J. S. Fletcher (summer reading list TXT) 📖

afterwards. No, I don’t know who it was that rang him up, Mr. Hetherwick, nor where he went; seemed a bit excited when he went out, and was in a fearful hurry.”

Hetherwick concluded that Madame Listorelle had summoned Penteney, and that he had gone to meet her and Rhona. He went away, somewhat at a loss⁠—then, remembering that Matherfield had promised to wire from Southampton, he turned towards his chambers. At the foot of the stairs he met his caretaker.

“Been a young lady here inquiring for you, Mr. Hetherwick,” said the man. “Been here twice. I said I didn’t know when you’d be in⁠—any time or no time. She said⁠—but there is the young lady, sir⁠—coming back!”

Hetherwick turned sharply and saw Rhona coming across the square. Hurrying to meet her and disregarding whatever eyes might be watching them, he took both her hands in his in a fashion that brought the colour to her cheeks.

“You’re all right⁠—safe?” he asked quickly.

“Sure?”

“I’m all right and quite safe, thank you,” she answered. “I⁠—I’ve been here twice before, but you were out. I came to borrow some money. I left my bag and purse in⁠—the place where we were locked up, and⁠—”

Hetherwick pulled out the handbag and silently gave it to her. She stared at him.

“You’ve been⁠—there!” she exclaimed. “How⁠—”

“Got in this afternoon, an hour ago,” he answered. “Here, come up to my rooms! We can’t stand talking here. Madame Listorelle⁠—where’s she?”

“I left her at Victoria, telephoning to Major Penteney,” replied Rhona. “She, too, had no money. She wanted me to wait until Major Penteney arrived, but I wouldn’t. I walked here. I⁠—I thought you’d want to know that we’d got out⁠—at last.”

Hetherwick said nothing until they had entered his sitting-room. Then, staring silently at her, he put his hands on Rhona’s shoulders, and after a long look at her, suddenly and impulsively bent and kissed her.

“By gad!” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t know how anxious I was about you until I saw you just now! But⁠—now I know!”

Then, just as suddenly, he turned away from her, and in a matter-of-fact manner lighted his stove, put on a kettle of water, and began preparations which indicated his intention of making tea. Rhona, from an easy chair into which he had unceremoniously thrust her, watched him.

“Liberty!” she said suddenly. “We’re both discovering something. When you’ve been locked up, day and night, for a while⁠—”

“How was it?” he asked, turning on her. “Of course, we know all about the kidnapping⁠—but the rest, until today? Baseverie, of course?”

“Baseverie and another man,” she answered. “A tall, clean-shaven man, whose name we never heard. But Baseverie was the chief villain. As to how it was, they met us at the sunk road at Riversreade, forced us at the point of revolvers into a car, and drove us off to London⁠—to Westminster⁠—and into a house there, the house you’ve been in. There⁠—”

“A moment,” said Hetherwick, who was finding cups and saucers. “The driver of that car? He must have been an accomplice.”

“No doubt, but we never saw him again. We only saw those two and a woman who acted as gaoler and brought our meals. We were fed all right, and they gave us books and papers, and actually provided us with fancy work. But they were inexorable about madame and her jewels. They must have known all about them, because they got her own notepaper⁠—”

“I know all about that,” said Hetherwick. “I’ll tell you my side of it when you’ve had some tea. Forced her, I suppose, to write the letters?”

“They forced her to do that just as they forced us into the car,” said Rhona, “with revolvers! And⁠—they meant it. I suppose they’ve got the jewels now?”

“Remains to be seen,” replied Hetherwick. “Did Madame Listorelle happen to tell you what those jewels were worth?”

“She talked about little else. Between eighty and ninety thousand pounds. She’s in an awful state about them. But it was literally a question of her life or her jewels. I don’t know what they’d have done with me. But now⁠—I’m all right!”

Hetherwick opened a tin box, and producing a plum cake, held it up for Rhona to inspect.

“What d’you think of that for a cake?” he asked admiringly. “Present from my old aunt in the country⁠—real, proper cake that. Yes,” he went on, setting the cake on the table, “yes, yes; you’re all right now. But, by George⁠—”

Rhona said nothing; she saw that his relief at seeing her was greater and deeper than he cared to show. She poured out the tea; they sat discussing the recent events until dusky shadows began to fall over the whole room.

“I ought to be getting back to Riversreade,” she remarked at last. “It’s late.”

“Wait a bit!” said Hetherwick, who by that time had told her all he knew. “There’ll be a wire from Matherfield before long. Don’t go down to Riversreade tonight. Telephone to Lady Riversreade that you’re staying in town. Her sister will be there by now, and will have told her everything. Wait till we get the wire from Matherfield; then we’ll go and dine somewhere, and you can put up at your old hotel in Surrey Street for the night. I want you to know what’s happened at Southampton and⁠—”

He broke off as a knock came at his outer door.

“That’ll be Matherfield’s wire,” he exclaimed. “Now then⁠—”

A moment later he came back to her with the message in his hand.

“It is from Matherfield,” he said. “Handed in Southampton West six-nineteen. Doesn’t say if he’s got him! All he says is; ‘Meet me Waterloo, arriving eight-twenty.’ Well⁠—”

“I wonder?” said Rhona. “But Baseverie is⁠—”

“Just what Robmore says,” muttered Hetherwick.

“However⁠—” he looked at his watch. “Come along,” he continued. “We’ve just time to get some dinner⁠—at Waterloo⁠—and to be on the platform when the eight-twenty comes in. If only we could see Baseverie in charge of Matherfield and Quigman first it would give me an appetite!”

The vast space between the station buildings and the entrance to