"Well?" demanded Perkwite. "What next? You know best, Millwaters."

The clerk jerked a thumb down the side of the dismal street on which they were standing.

"There's a public-house down there," he said, "almost opposite this surgery. Fairly decent place for this neighbourhood--bar-parlour looking out on the street. Better slip in there and look quietly out. But remember, Mr. Perkwite--don't seem to be watching anything. We're just going in for a bottle of ale, and talking business together.

"Whatever you recommend," said Perkwite.

He followed his companion down the street to the tavern, a joyless and shabby place, the bar-parlour of which, a dark and smoke-stained room was just then empty, and looked over its torn half-blind across the way.

"Certainly a queer place for a man who professes to be a peer of the realm to visit!" he muttered. "Well, now, what do you propose to do, Millwaters?"

"Hang about here and watch," whispered the clerk. "Look out!"

A face, heavy and bloated, appeared at a hatch-window at the back of the room, and a gruff voice made itself heard.

"Any orders, gents?"

"Two bottles o' Ba.s.s, gov'nor," responded Millwaters promptly, dropping into colloquial c.o.c.kney speech. He turned to Perkwite and winked. "Well, an' wot abaht this 'ere bit o' business as I've come rahnd abaht, Mister?" he went on, nudging his companion, in free-and-easy style.

"Yer see, it's this ere wy wiv us--if yer can let us have that there stuff reasonable, d'yer see--" He drew Perkwite over to the window and began to whisper, "That'll satisfy him," he said with a sharp glance at the little room behind the hatch where the landlord was drawing corks.

"He'll think we're doing a bit of trade, so we've nothing to do but stand in this window and keep an eye on the street. Out of this I'm not going till I see whether that fellow comes out or stops in!"

Some time had pa.s.sed, and Millwaters had been obliged to repeat his order for bottled Ba.s.s before anything took place in the street outside.

Suddenly he touched his companion's elbow.

"Here's a taxicab coming along and slowing up for somewhere about here," he whispered. "And--Lord, if there aren't two ladies in it--in a spot like this! And--whew!" he went on excitedly. "Do you see 'em, Mr.

Perkwite? The young un's Miss Wickham, who came to our office about this Ashton affair. I don't know who the old un is--but she evidently knows her way."

The berry-faced landlord had now shut down the hatch, and his two bar-parlour customers were alone and un.o.bserved. Perkwite drew away from the window, pulling Millwaters by the sleeve.

"Careful!" he said. "There's something seriously wrong here, Millwaters!

What's Miss Wickham being brought down here for? See, they've gone into that surgery, and the car's going off. Look here--we've got to do something, and at once!"

But Millwaters shook his head.

"Not my job, Mr. Perkwite!" he answered. "My business is with the man--Cave! I've nothing to do with Miss Wickham, sir, nor with the old lady that's taken her in there. Cave's my mark! Queer that the young lady's gone there, no doubt, but--no affair of mine."

"It's going to be an affair of mine, then," said Perkwite. "I'm going off to the police!"

Millwaters put out a detaining hand.

"Don't, Mr. Perkwite!" he said. "To get police into a quarter like this is as bad as putting a light to dry straw. I'll tell you a better plan than that, sir--find the nearest telephone-box and call up our people--call Mr. Carless, tell him what you've seen and get him to come down and bring somebody with him. That'll be far better than calling the police in."

"Give me your telephone-number, then," said Perkwite, "and keep a strict watch while I'm away."

Millwaters repeated some figures and a letter, and Perkwite ran off up the street and toward the Whitechapel Road, anxiously seeking for a telephone booth. It was not until he had got into the main thoroughfare that he found one; he then had some slight delay in getting in communication with Carless and Driver's office; twenty minutes had elapsed by the time he got back to the dismal street. At its corner he encountered Millwaters, lounging about hands in pockets. Millwaters wagged his head.

"Here's another queer go!" he said. "There's been another arrival at Number 23--not five minutes since. Another of our little lot!"

"Who?" demanded Perkwite.

"Viner!" replied Millwaters. "Came peeping and perking along the street, took a glimpse of the premises and the adjacent purlieus, rang at Number 23, and was let in by--the party that came with Miss Wickham! Now, whatever can he be doing there, Mr. Perkwite?"

"Whatever can any of them be doing there!" muttered Perkwite. "Viner!

What business can he have in this place? It seems--by George, Millwaters," he suddenly exclaimed, "what if this is some infernal plant--trap--something of that sort? Do you know, in spite of what you say, I really think we ought to get hold of the nearest police and tell them--"

"Wait, Mr. Perkwite!" counselled Millwaters. "Our governor is a pretty cute and smart sort, and he's vastly interested in this Miss Wickham; so Portlethwaite and he'll be on their way down here now, hot foot; and with help, too, if he thinks she's in any danger. Now, _he_ can go straight to that door and demand to see her, and--"

"Why can't we?" interrupted Perkwite. "I'd do it! Lord, man, she may be in real peril--"

"Not while Viner's in there," said Millwaters quietly. "I might possibly have gone and rung the bell myself, but for that. But Viner's in there--wait!"

And Perkwite waited, chafing, at the corner of the dismal street, until a quarter of an hour had pa.s.sed. Then a car came hurrying along and pulled up as Millwaters and his companion were reached, and from it sprang Mr.

Carless, Lord Ellingham and two men in plain-clothes, at the sight of whom Perkwite heaved a huge sigh of intense relief.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BACK WAY

Viner was so sure that the sound which he had heard on Mrs. Killenhall's retirement was that caused by the turning of a key or slipping of a lock in the door by which he had entered, that before speaking to Miss Wickham he instantly stepped back and tried it. To his astonishment it opened readily, but the anteroom outside was empty; Mrs. Killenhall had evidently walked straight through it and disappeared.

"That's odd!" he said, turning to Miss Wickham. "I distinctly thought I heard something like the snap of a lock, or a bolt or something.

Didn't you?"

"I certainly heard a sound of that sort," admitted Miss Wickham.

"But--the door's open, isn't it?"

"Yes--that is so," answered Viner, who was distinctly puzzled. "Yet--but then, all this seems very odd. When did you come down here?"

"About an hour ago," replied Miss Wickham, "in a hurry."

"Do you know why?" asked Viner.

"To see a Dr. Martincole, who is to tell us something about Mr. Ashton,"

replied his fellow-sharer in these strange quarters. "Didn't Mrs.

Killenhall ask you to come down for the same purpose, Mr. Viner?"

Viner, before he replied, looked round the room. Considering the extreme shabbiness and squalour of the surrounding district, he was greatly surprised to find that the apartment in which he and Miss Wickham waited was extremely well furnished, if in an old-fashioned and rather heavy way. The walls were panelled in dark, age-stained oak, to the height of several feet; above the panelling were arranged good oil pictures, which Viner would have liked to examine at his leisure; here and there, in cabinets, were many promising curiosities; there were old silver and bra.s.s things, and a shelf or two of well-bound books--altogether the place and its effects were certainly not what Viner had expected to find in such a quarter.

"Yes," he said at last, turning to his companion, "that's what I was brought here for. Well--have you seen this doctor?"

"No," answered Miss Wickham. "Not yet."

"Know anything about him?" suggested Viner.