"No? Well, that's your concern." Once again he relapsed into silence, then very suddenly flashed out the single word "Pineapple."

Richard was accompanied up the stairs by the two silent servants. They ushered him into a room on the top landing, bowed and retired. The door closed with a metallic ring. He heard the sliding of a bolt, the jingle of a chain and the sound of footsteps descending. And all of a sudden he felt very lonely.

CHAPTER 12.

PINEAPPLE.

The room in which Richard found himself was of modest size and unpretentious in decoration. Its walls were panelled in white and below the fireless grate was a second door leading to a small bedroom.

There were no curtains to the windows which were closely shuttered, the shutters themselves being made of steel plates rivetted together and held in place by a series of dropping bars. Apparently some system of burglar alarm had been installed, an exceptionally large electric bell being fitted in the framing where, normally, the cornice poles would have run. Glancing over his shoulder Richard observed the absence of a handle to the door through which he had been admitted. A plain deal table occupied the centre of the room, with a couple of hard upright kitchen chairs, one on either side. There was no carpet nor any rug upon the floor. A single unshaded electric light bulb hung from the ceiling.

"Hospitable sort of place," he remarked and pa.s.sed through to the bedroom, the door of which was on a spring and closed behind him.

Beyond the presence of a bed of extremely uncomfortable appearance the same severity confronted him. There was neither washstand nor dressing table, chair nor picture. Nothing to read, nothing to look at. The windows were shuttered and, as in the other room, a single light point was the only illumination. High up above the bed was the mouthpiece of what looked like a motor horn. This and an iron ventilating register let into the wall a couple of feet away from the pillow were the only objects that provided any variety in the way of decoration.

The atmosphere of the place, though chilly, had a distinct sense of oppression. There was no vitality in the air--it breathed mossy and damp.

"Do with an open window," said Richard and moved toward the shutters.

He had hardly covered half the distance when the lights went out with startling suddenness. There was something distinctly eerie in the absolute darkness in which he found himself. He stretched out a hand and felt for the nearest wall like a blind man, groped his way to the door and opened it. But the other room was also in pitchy blackness.

"Fuse gone somewhere," he conjectured. "May as well try and get to a chair and wait till the lights come on."

Roughly memorising the position of the furniture he made for the centre of the room with hands extended. The effort was a failure and brought him to the opposing wall. Accordingly he turned and tried again on a slightly altered course. He had hardly taken three steps when he received a shock. His left hand touched something rough but soft.

There was a sense of warmth about it but no movement. Richard started violently and caught his breath.

"What's that?" he cried.

But there was no answer.

Standing very still he listened. The house was deathly silent and he could almost hear the pulsing of his heart. Then very faintly he became aware of another sound--the gentle hiss of a man breathing.

"Now we know where we are," thought Richard bracing himself up.

"Sneaked in while I was looking at the bedroom, I suppose. Not going to let those idiots frighten me with bogey tricks."

As quietly as possible he went down on all fours and ran his fingers across the floor boards in a semi-circle. They had not travelled very far before encountering the hard edge of a boot sole. That was good enough for Richard. Judging the distance nicely he seized its owner's ankle in an iron grip and springing to his feet lifted it high into the air and flung it backward. There was a squeal and a crash as the chair went over and Richard broke into a laugh.

"Look here, Laurence," he said. "I've had enough of your practical jokes tonight. You'll get hurt one of these days if you go on being so funny."

And without warning the lights went up.

Laurence was scrambling to his feet, rubbing the back of his head ruefully, and there were two other men in the room. The first was a stranger to Richard and the second, who stood by the door, was one of the servants. The stranger was a shrewd-looking young man of moderately prepossessing appearance. He nodded to Richard as to an old acquaintance.

"We meet again," he remarked affably, "though you don't appear to recognise me."

"Well you're not much to remember," replied Richard whose temper was a little frayed.

"My name is Smith. Had the honour of sharing your taxi to Hendon the other day. You were good enough to ask me in for a drink."

It was clearly the moment to be noncommittal.

"If you've come to get it," said Richard, "you'll be unlucky."

"Just thought I'd like to take a look at you, that's all."

He rose to his feet, for he had been occupying the second chair and scanned Richard's face closely. A shadow of perplexity showed in the wrinkles of his forehead.

"Sorry I'm not looking my best," said Richard, with an uneasy feeling of having been detected.

"Hm!" said the young man called Smith, "I'm not very often wrong about things like that but I can't remember those humorous lines at the corners of your eyes."

"Ah!" said Richard, "but I hadn't seen the humour of the situation when last we met."

"Bad light, I suppose," the young man nodded. "Still, it's rather surprising. Thanks, Mr. Laurence, I think that'll do. Goodnight, sir."

"Oh, goodnight. Drop in whenever you feel like it."

"I may." He moved toward the door then turned suddenly. "By the way, I've a message for you."

"Yes?"

"Pineapple." He spoke the word incisively.

Richard shook his head.

"Haven't the smallest idea what you mean," he said, "but not to seem lacking in appreciation, bananas or any other fruit you've a fancy for."

The door opened and closed behind the three retreating forms and once again the room was plunged into darkness.

The business of getting into bed was embarra.s.sed by the constant reverses of light into darkness and back again. There appeared to be no specified period for either--sometimes the light would burn ten minutes--sometimes two and sometimes would merely flash up and down. A more successful irritant could hardly have been devised. The shock of the extreme contrast was in itself enough to infuriate an ordinary individual. Richard would gladly have accepted total darkness in preference to the blinding changes. This, however, was no part of his tormentors' programme--it was clearly evident they intended to prey upon his nerves as actively as possible. He reflected that no doubt many other devices were in preparation to induce him to speak. There was this talk of pineapple which appeared to carry with it some kind of threat.

"Pineapple. Why the deuce should pineapple loosen a man's tongue?" he said aloud as he struggled into a pair of pyjamas that had been laid on the bed. "Might make his mouth water perhaps but----"

At this particular moment the lights came on and he was able to finish undressing and nip between the sheets before the darkness fell again.

He observed with satisfaction that there was nothing funny about the bed. It was soft and "cushy" and there were ample coverings. It was vastly more comfortable than the bench which had supported him during the preceding nights and this in itself was something to be grateful for. After all, even if these earnest financiers perpetrated a few ill-humoured practical jokes upon him he was being absurdly overpaid to endure them.

Five thousand pounds for a fortnight's badgering. Who wouldn't put up with a bit of discomfort for that. The wily Hun had handed him over far more substantial terrors than these gentlemen were likely to command and his pay for enduring them had worked out at approximately three pound ten a week. He fell to considering in what manner he would invest his earnings and a very attractive farming scheme in New Zealand began to formulate prettily. Farming had always appealed to him and there was a spot in the Canterbury district which had taken his fancy when he had visited the South Island two years before. There were green plains there and lettuce green woods and it was watered by a network of fast running streams, great and little, where fat rainbow trout sunned themselves in the shallows or leapt and jostled where the water tumbled creaming over rock and boulder. By Gad! it would be something like to build one's house in such surroundings--and maybe later on to marry and----

It was the word marry that switched his thoughts up another channel and in imagination found him once again standing beside the girl with the splendid eyes who called at Barraclough's flat two hours before.

"Wish she wasn't mixed up in this outfit," he said to himself. "A girl like that! Perfectly ripping creature. By jing! put her alongside a man after her own heart--some decent fellow with the pluck to stand up against that wayward strain--and there might be a good deal of happiness knocking around for the pair of them. I suppose that a.s.s Barraclough turned her down. Pretty hard to please. Wonder if he got away all right. Ripping scent she used. Coty, I believe, something Jacque Minot."

As a man will who is trying to revive the impression of a scent he sniffed the air gently with his eyes shut, only to open them with an expression of surprise. Surely it was no imagination but the odour of Rose Jacque Minot, taint and exquisite, seemed to hang in the air.

Thin waves of it growing and diminishing in intensity were wafted across his head almost as though directed from a spray.

"If that isn't the oddest thing," he gasped. "Now I wonder----"