The Voice from the Void: The Great Wireless Mystery. Le Queux William

He motored back to London as soon as the service was over. He had a fancy to see you and hear you preach to your dear parishioners, who, in all their innocence, believe in you, Mr Homfray,” and again the woman laughed sardonically. “So he sent me to see you in private, and to tell you his intentions.”

      “Are you quite certain he will not come and see me?”

      “I urged him to do so, but he refused,” said the woman.

      “Because he fears to face me!” exclaimed the rector. “He fears lest I, on my part, should speak the truth. I trusted Gordon Gray – trusted him as my friend – but I have been sadly disillusioned to-night, for I have found that he is my enemy, and I am now forearmed.”

      “That is no concern of mine whatever. I have given you his message.”

      The Rector of Little Farncombe looked straight into her face with his calm grey eyes behind his shaggy brows.

      “Then I will send a message back to him,” he slowly replied. “As he refuses to come here and deliver his ultimatum in person, I will, in return, deliver my ultimatum to him. Go back and tell him that I defy him. Tell him that if either he or you lift a finger against me, then the truth concerning the death of young Hugh Willard will be known to Scotland Yard, and the affair of Hyde Park Square will be cleared up by the arrest of the assassin. Tell him that though he thinks there was no witness, yet one still exists – one who will come forward with indisputable proof. You know his name. Gordon Gray and I were friends until to-night. But we are no longer so. We are enemies. And you know to much of the affair as I do?”

      The woman staggered as though he had dealt her a blow. Her evil face went ashen in an instant, and her dark eyes started from her head.

      “What – what do you mean?” she gasped.

      “What I have said! You heard my message to Gordon Gray; go and deliver it. Remember that if either of you molest me, or attempt to swindle me as you are now doing, then I shall reveal all that I know. My silence depends upon you both. So begone!” he added calmly, with firm resolve.

      For a few moments the woman in furs stood motionless and silent.

      “You will regret those words, Mr Homfray!” she said at last, threateningly. “I will deliver your message, but you will regret it. Remember that!”

      “I assure you I have no fear,” laughed the old rector. “While Gordon Gray acted honestly as the friend I believed him to be, I remained his friend. Now that we are enemies it is I who can – and will – speak in self-defence. He threatens me with ruin, but little does he dream what I know concerning the young fellow’s death and who was implicated in it – how the snare was set to ruin him, and afterwards to close his lips!”

      The handsome woman shrugged her shoulders, but her face had entirely changed. She had been taken entirely aback by the open defiance of the man who, in her fierce vindictiveness, she had intended should be her victim. She had believed the hour of her triumph to be at hand, instead of which she saw that an abyss had opened before her – one into which she and her accomplice Gray must assuredly fall unless they trod a very narrow and intricate path.

      “Very well,” she laughed with well-feigned defiance. “I will give Gordon your message. And we shall see!”

      With those words she passed to the heavy plush curtains and disappeared behind them out upon the lawn, beyond which, separated only by a wire fence, lay a small and picturesque wood which ran down the hill for a quarter of a mile or so.

      Old Mr Homfray followed her, and with a sigh, closed the long glass door and bolted it.

      Then, returning to the fireplace, he stood upon the hearthrug with folded arms, thinking deeply, faintly murmured words escaping his pale lips.

      “Roddy must never know!” he repeated.

      “If he knew the truth concerning that slip in my past what would he think of me? He would regard his father as a liar and a hypocrite!”

      Again he remained silent for a considerable time.

      “Gordon Gray!” he muttered. “It seems impossible that he should rise from the grave and become my enemy, after all I have done in his interests. I believed him to be my friend! But he is under the influence of that woman – that woman who means to ruin me because I refused to render her assistance in that vile scheme of hers!”

      Suddenly, as he stood there before the blazing logs, he recollected the sixth chapter of St. Luke.

      “Love your enemies,” he repeated aloud. “Do good to those who hate you. And unto him that smiteth you on the one cheek, offer also the other.”

      And there before the big arm-chair the fine old fellow sank upon his knees and prayed silently for his enemy and his female accomplice.

      Afterwards he rose, and re-seating himself in his chair sat with his eyes closed, recalling all the tragedy and villainy concerned with young Hugh Willard’s mysterious death in London five years before – an enigma that the police had failed to solve.

      Meanwhile Roddy Homfray, having left Elma, was strolling slowly home full of thoughts of the slim and charming girl who had bewitched him, and yet whose station was so far above his own.

      Through the sharp frosty night he walked for some distance along the broad highway, until he came to the cross roads, where he stopped to gossip with the village chemist. Then, after ten minutes or so, he walked on, crossed a stile and took a short cut across a field and up the hill to the woods at the back of the Rectory.

      The night had now grown very dark, and as he entered the wood, he saw a figure skirting it. Whether man or woman he could not distinguish. He found the path more difficult than he expected, but he knew that way well, and by the aid of his pocket torch he was able to keep to the path, a rather crooked one, which led to the boundary of the Rectory lawn.

      Suddenly, as he passed, his footsteps rustling among the dead leaves, he thought he heard a curious sound, like a groan. He halted, quickly alert.

      Again the sound was repeated somewhere to his left – a low groan as though of someone in great pain.

      He stepped from the path, examining the ground with its many tree trunks by the aid of his torch.

      A third time the groan was repeated, but fainter than before, therefore he began to search in the direction whence the cry came, until, to his surprise, he discovered lying upon the ground at a short distance from the wire fence which divided the wood from the Rectory property, a female form in a neat navy-blue costume, with a small red hat lying a short distance away.

      She was in a crouching position, and as the young man shone his light upon her, she again drew a deep sigh and groaned faintly.

      “What is the matter?” he cried in alarm, dropping upon his knees and raising the fair head of a young and pretty girl.

      She tried to speak, but her white lips refused to utter a sound. At last, by dint of desperate effort, she whispered in piteous appeal:

      “Save me! Oh! —save me – do!”

      Then next second she drew a deep breath, a shiver ran through her body, and she fell inert into the young fellow’s arms!

      Chapter Three

      Which Contains Another Mystery

      Roddy Homfray, with the aid of his flash-lamp, gazed in breathless eagerness, his strong jaw set, at the girl’s blanched countenance.

      As he brushed back the soft hair from the brow, he noted how very beautiful she was.

      “Speak!” he urged eagerly. “Tell me what has happened?”

      But her heart seemed to have ceased beating; he could detect no sign of life. Was he speaking to the dead?

      So sudden had it all been that for some moments he did not realise the tragic truth. Then, in a flash, he became horrified. The girl’s piteous appeal made it only too plain that in that dark wood she had been the victim of foul play.

      She had begged him to save