The Greatest Works of Fergus Hume - 22 Mystery Novels in One Edition. Fergus Hume

same way, he bowed in a comprehensive manner, whereupon the whole ten arose from their chairs and bowed unanimously in return.

      ‘Good night, Messrs Villiers and Jarper,’ said Vandeloup, going out of the door, ‘I will see you to-morrow.’

      ‘And we also, I hope,’ said Mr Wopples, ungrammatically. ‘Come and see “The Cruet Stand” again. I’ll put your name on the free list.’

      M. Vandeloup thanked the actor warmly for this kind offer, and took himself off; as he passed along the street he heard a burst of laughter from the Wopples family, no doubt caused by some witticism of the head of the clan.

      He walked slowly home to the hotel, smoking a cigarette, and thinking deeply. When he arrived at the ‘Wattle Tree’ he saw a light still burning in the bar, and, on knocking at the door, was admitted by Miss Twexby, who had been making up accounts, and whose virgin head was adorned with curl-papers.

      ‘My!’ said this damsel, when she saw him, ‘you are a nice young man coming home at this hour—twelve o’clock. See?’ and, as a proof of her assertion, she pointed to the clock.

      ‘Were you waiting up for me, dear?’ asked Vandeloup, audaciously.

      ‘Not I,’ retorted Miss Twexby, tossing her curl-papers; ‘I’ve been attending to par’s business; but, oh, gracious!’ with a sudden recollection of her head-gear, ‘you’ve seen me in undress.’

      ‘And you look more charming than ever,’ finished Vandeloup, as he took his bedroom candle from her. ‘I will see you in the morning. My friend still asleep, I suppose?’

      ‘I’m sure I don’t know. I haven’t seen him all the evening,’ replied Miss Twexby, tossing her head, ‘now, go away. You’re a naughty, wicked, deceitful thing. I declare I’m quite afraid of you.’

      ‘There’s no need, I assure you,’ replied Vandeloup, in a slightly sarcastic voice, as he surveyed the plain-looking woman before him; ‘you are quite safe from me.’

      He left the bar, whistling an air, while the fair Martha returned to her accounts, and wondered indignantly whether his last remark was a compliment or otherwise.

      The conclusion she came to was that it was otherwise, and she retired to bed in a very wrathful frame of mind.

Chapter XIV.

       A Mysterious Disappearance

       Table of Contents

      Madame Midas, as may be easily guessed, did not pass a very pleasant night after the encounter with Villiers. Her head was very painful with the blow he had given her, and added to this she was certain she had killed him.

      Though she hated the man who had ruined her life, and who had tried to rob her, still she did not care about becoming his murderess, and the thought was madness to her. Not that she was afraid of punishment, for she had only acted in self-defence, and Villiers, not she, was the aggressor.

      Meanwhile she waited to hear if the body had been found, for ill news travels fast; and as everyone knew Villiers was her husband, she was satisfied that when the corpse was found she would be the first to be told about it.

      But the day wore on, and no news came, so she asked Archie to go into Ballarat and see if the discovery had been made.

      ”Deed, mem,’ said Archie, in a consoling tone, ‘I’m thinkin’ there’s na word at all. Maybe ye only stapped his pranks for a wee bit, and he’s a’ richt.’

      Madame shook her head.

      ‘I gave him such a terrible blow,’ she said, mournfully, ‘and he fell like a stone over the embankment.’

      ‘He didna leave go the nugget, onyhow, ye ken,’ said Archie, dryly; ‘so he couldna hae been verra far gone, but I’ll gang intil the toun and see what I can hear.’

      There was no need for this, however, for just as McIntosh got to the door, Vandeloup, cool and complacent, sauntered in, but stopped short at the sight of Mrs Villiers sitting in the arm-chair looking so ill.

      ‘My dear Madame,’ he cried in dismay, going over to her, ‘what is the matter with you?’

      ‘Matter enow,’ growled McIntosh, with his hand on the door handle; ‘that deil o’ a’ husband o’ her’s has robbed her o’ the nugget.’

      ‘Yes, and I killed him,’ said Madame between her clenched teeth.

      ‘The deuce you did,’ said Vandeloup, in surprise, taking a seat, ‘then he was the liveliest dead man I ever saw.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ asked Madame, leaning forward, with both hands gripping the arms of her chair; ‘is—is he alive?’

      ‘Of course he is,’ began Vandeloup; ‘I—’ but here he was stopped by a cry from Selina, for her mistress had fallen back in her chair in a dead faint.

      Hastily waving for the men to go away, she applied remedies, and Madame soon revived. Vandeloup had gone outside with McIntosh, and was asking him about the robbery, and then told him in return about Villiers’ movements on that night. Selina called them in again, as Madame wanted to hear all about her husband, and Vandeloup was just entering when he turned to McIntosh.

      ‘Oh, by the way,’ he said, in a vexed tone, ‘Pierre will not be at work today.’

      ‘What for no?’ asked McIntosh, sharply.

      ‘He’s drunk,’ replied Vandeloup, curtly, ‘and he’s likely to keep the game up for a week.’

      ‘We’ll see about that,’ said Mr McIntosh, wrathfully; ‘I tauld yon gowk o’ a Twexby to give the mon food and drink, but I didna tell him to mack the deil fu’.’

      ‘It wasn’t the landlord’s fault,’ said Vandeloup; ‘I gave Pierre money—if I had known what he wanted it for I wouldn’t have done it—but it’s too late now.’

      McIntosh was about to answer sharply as to the folly of giving the man money, when Madame’s voice was heard calling them impatiently, and they both had to go in at once.

      Mrs Villiers was ghastly pale, but there was a look of determination about her which showed that she was anxious to hear all. Pointing to a seat near herself she said to Vandeloup—

      ‘Tell me everything that happened from the time I left you last night.’

      ‘My faith,’ replied Vandeloup, carelessly taking the seat, ‘there isn’t much to tell—I said goodbye to Monsieur Marchurst and Mademoiselle Kitty and went down to Ballarat.’

      ‘How was it you did not pass me on the way?’ asked Madame, quickly fixing her piercing eyes on him. ‘I drove slowly.’

      He bore her scrutiny without blenching or even changing colour.

      ‘Easily enough,’ he said, calmly, ‘I went the other direction instead of the usual way, as it was the shortest route to the place I was stopping at.’

      ‘The “Wattle Tree”, ye ken, Madame,’ interposed McIntosh.

      ‘I had something to eat there,’ pursued Vandeloup, ‘and then went to the theatre. Your husband came in towards the end of the performance and sat next to me.’

      ‘Was he all right?’ asked Mrs Villiers, eagerly.

      Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.

      ‘I didn’t pay much attention to him,’ he said, coolly; ‘he seemed to enjoy the play, and afterwards, when we went to supper with the actors, he certainly ate very heartily for a dead man. I don’t think you need trouble yourself, Madame; your husband is quite well.’

      ‘What time did you leave him?’ she asked, after