"After he had put the photograph in his pocket, the gentleman made a most minute search in this room," the domestic went on. "He consulted his plan, took several measurements, and then tapped on the paneling all along this wall, as though he were searching for some hidden cupboard or hiding place. I looked at the plan, and saw a mark in red ink upon it.

He was trying to discover that spot, and was greatly disappointed at not being able to do so. He was in here over an hour, and made a most careful search all around."

"And what explanation did he give?"

"He only said, 'If I find what I want, Ann, I shall make you a present of a ten-pound note.' That naturally made me anxious."

"He made no other remark about the young lady's death?" I inquired anxiously.

"No. Only he sighed, and looked steadily for a long time at the photograph. I saw his lips moving, but his words were inaudible."

"You haven't any idea of the reason why he called upon Mr. Leithcourt, I suppose?"

"From what he said, I've formed my own conclusions," was her answer.

"And what is your opinion?"

"Well, I feel certain that there is, or was, something concealed in this house that he's very anxious to obtain. He came to demand it of Mr.

Leithcourt, but what happened in the library we don't know. He, however, believes that Mr. Leithcourt has not taken it away, and that, whatever it may be, it is still hidden here."

CHAPTER X

I SHOW MY HAND

On my return to London next day I made inquiry at the Admiralty and learned that the battleship _Bulwark_ was lying at Palermo, therefore I telegraphed to Jack Durnford, and late the same afternoon his reply came at the Cecil:--

"_Due in London twentieth. Dine with me at club that evening_--Jack."

The twentieth! That meant nearly a month of inactivity. In that time I could cross to Abo, make inquiries there, and ascertain, perhaps, if Elma Heath were actually dead as Chater had declared.

Two facts struck me as remarkable: Baron Oberg was said to be Polish, while the dark-bearded proprietor of the restaurant in Westbourne Grove was also of the same nationality. Then I recollected that pretty little enameled cross that Mackenzie had found in Rannoch Wood, and it suddenly occurred to me that it might possibly be the miniature of one of the European orders of chivalry. In the club library at midnight I found a copy of Cappelletti's _Storia degli Ordini Cavallereschi_, the standard work on the subject, and on searching the ill.u.s.trations I at length discovered a picture of it. It was a Russian order--the coveted Order of Saint Anne, bestowed by the Czar only upon persons who have rendered eminent services to the State and to the sovereign. One fact was now certain, namely, that the owner of that tiny cross, the small replica of the fine decoration, must be a person of high official standing.

Next day I spent in making inquiries with a view to discovering the house said to be occupied by Leithcourt. As it was not either in the Directory or the Blue Book, I concluded that he had perhaps rented it furnished, and after many inquiries and considerable difficulties I found that such was the fact. He had occupied the house of Lady Heathcote, a few doors from Grosvenor Square, for the previous season, although he had lived there but very little.

Where the fugitives were in hiding I had no idea. I longed to meet Muriel again and tell her what I had discovered, yet it was plain that the trio were concealing themselves from Hylton Chater, whom I supposed to be now back in London.

The autumn days were dull and rainy, and the streets were muddy and unpleasant, as they always are at the fall of the year. Compelled to remain inactive, I idled in the club with the recollection of that pictured face ever before me--the face of the unfortunate girl who wished her last message to be conveyed to Philip Hornby. What, I wondered, was her secret? What was really her fate?

This latter question troubled me until I could bear it no longer. I felt that it was my duty to go to Finland and endeavor to learn something regarding this Baron Oberg and his niece. Frank Hutcheson had written me declaring that the weather in Leghorn was now perfect, and expressing wonder that I did not return. I was his only English friend, and I knew how dull he was when alone. Even his Majesty's Consuls sometimes suffer from homesickness, and long for the smell of the London gutters and a gla.s.s of homely bitter ale.

But you, my reader, who have lived in a foreign land for any length of time, know well how wearisome becomes the life, however brilliant, and how sweet are the recollections of our dear gray old England with her green fields, her muddy lanes, and the bustling streets of her gray, grimy cities. You have but one "home," and England Is still your home, even though you may become the most bigoted of cosmopolitans and may have no opportunity of speaking your native tongue the whole year through.

Duty--the duty of a man who had learned strange facts and knew that a defenseless woman was a victim--called me to Finland. Therefore, with my pa.s.sport properly vised and my papers all in order, I one night left Hull for Stockholm by the weekly Wilson service. Four days of rough weather in the North Sea and the Baltic brought me to the Swedish capital, whence on the following day I took the small steamer which plies three times a week around the Aland Islands, and then across the Gulf of Bothnia to Korpo, and through the intricate channels and among those low-lying islands to the gray lethargic town of Abo.

It was not the first occasion on which I had trod Russian soil, and I knew too well the annoyances of the bureaucracy. Finland, however, is perhaps the most severely governed of any of the Czar's dominions, and I had my first taste of its stern, relentless officialdom at the moment of landing on the half-deserted quay.

In the wooden pa.s.sport office the uniformed official, on examining my pa.s.sport, discovered that at the Russian Consulate-General they had forgotten to date the vise which had been impressed with a rubber stamp.

It was signed by the Consul-General, but the date was missing, whereupon the man shook his head and handed back the doc.u.ment curtly, saying in Russian, which I understood fairly well, although I spoke badly--

"This is not in order. It must be returned to London and dated before you can proceed."

"But it is not my fault," I protested. "It is the fault of the clerk at the Consulate-General."

"You should have examined it before leaving. You must send it to London, and return to Stockholm by to-night's boat."

"But this is outrageous!" I cried, as he had already taken the papers of a pa.s.senger behind me and was looking at them with unconcern.

"Enough!" he exclaimed, glaring at me. "You will return to-night, or if you choose to stay you will be arrested for landing without a pa.s.sport."

"I shall not go back!" I declared defiantly. "Your Consul-General vised my pa.s.sport, and I claim, under international law, to be allowed to proceed without hindrance."

"The steamer leaves at six o'clock," he remarked without looking up. "If you are in Abo after that it will be at your own risk."

"I am English, recollect," I said.

"To me it does not matter what or who you are. Your pa.s.sport, undated, is worthless."

"I shall complain to the Amba.s.sador at Petersburg."

"Your Amba.s.sador does not interest me in the least. He is not Amba.s.sador here in Finland. There is no Czar here."

"Oh! Who is ruler in this country, pray?"

"His Excellency the Governor-General, an official who has love for neither England nor the pigs of English. So recollect that."

"Yes," I said meaningly, "I shall recollect it." And I turned and went out of the little wooden office, replacing my pa.s.sport in my pocket-book.

I had already been directed to the hotel, and walked there, but as I did so I saw that I was already under the surveillance of the police, for two men in plain clothes who were lounging outside the pa.s.sport-office strolled on after me, evidently to watch my movements.

Truly Finland was under the iron-heel of autocracy.

After taking my rooms, I strolled about the flat, uninteresting town, wondering how best to commence my search. If I had but a photograph to show people it would give me a great advantage, but I had nothing. I had never, indeed, set eyes upon the unfortunate girl.

Six o'clock came. I heard the steam siren of the departing boat bound for Sweden, but I was determined to remain there at whatever cost, therefore I returned to the hotel, and at seven dined comfortably in company with a German who had been my fellow-pa.s.senger across from Stockholm.

At eight o'clock, however, just as we were idling over dessert, two gray-coated police officers entered and arrested me on the serious charge of landing without a pa.s.sport.

I accompanied them to the police-office, where I was ushered into the presence of the big, bristly Russian who held the town of Abo in terror, the Chief of Police. The officials which Russia sends into Finland are selected for their harsh discipline and hide-bound bureaucracy, and this human machine in uniform was no exception. Had he been the Minister of the Interior himself, he could not have been more self-opinionated.

"Well?" he snapped, looking up at me as I was placed before him. "Your name is Gordon Gregg, English, from Stockholm. No pa.s.sport, and decline to leave even though warned--eh?"

"I have a pa.s.sport," I said firmly, producing it.

He looked at it, and pointing with his finger, said: "It has no date, and is therefore worthless."

"The fault is not mine, but that of a Russian official. If you wish it to be dated, you may send it to your Consulate-General in London."