On our way back I racked my brain to discern the nature of the latest plot, but could see nothing tangible. Mr. Blumenfeld had been taken suddenly ill while playing billiards with me, and Rayne, when summoned, had done his best to resuscitate him. Yet Rayne's manner was triumphant and he was in most excellent spirits.

We arrived back at Overstow Hall just before midnight, and he and Duperre held a long conversation before retiring. Of its nature I could gather nothing. As for Lola, she retired at once very cramped and tired.

The whole of the following morning Duperre and Rayne were closeted together, while afterwards I drove Duperre into York, where from the telegraph office in the railway station he sent several cryptic messages abroad, of course posing to the telegraph clerk as a pa.s.sing railway pa.s.senger. Rayne never sent important telegrams from the village post-office at Overstow, or even from Thirsk. They were all dispatched from places where, even if inquiry were made, the sender could not be traced.

"What's in the wind?" I asked Duperre as he sat by my side on our drive back to Overstow.

"Something, my dear George," he answered, smiling mysteriously. "At present I can't tell you. In due course you'll know--something big.

Whenever Rudolph superintends in person it is always big. He never touches minor matters. He devises and arranges them as a general plans a battle, but he never superintends himself--only in the real big things. Even then he never acts himself."

With that I was compelled to be satisfied. That night we all had quite a pleasant evening over bridge in the drawing-room, until just about ten o'clock Rayne was called to the telephone. When he rejoined us I noticed that his countenance was a trifle pale. He looked worried and ill at ease. He sat down beside Madame Duperre, and after pensively lighting one of his expensive cigars, he bent and whispered something to her.

By what he said the woman became greatly agitated, and a few moments later rose and left the room.

The household at Overstow was certainly a strange and incongruous one, consisting as it did of persons who seemed all in league with each other, the master-criminal whose shrewd, steel-grey eyes were so uncanny, and his accomplices and underlings who all profited and grew fat upon the great _coups_ planned by Rayne's amazing mind. The squire of Overstow mesmerized his fellows and fascinated his victims of both s.e.xes. His personality was clear-cut and outstanding. Men and women who met him for the first time felt that in conversation he held them by some curious, indescribable influence--held them as long as he cared, until by his will they were released from a strange thraldom that was both weird and astounding.

Whatever message Rayne had received it was evidently of paramount importance, for when Madame Duperre had left the room and Lola had retired, he turned to me and with a queer look in his eyes, exclaimed:

"I expect you'll have to be making some rather rapid journeys soon, George. Better be up early to-morrow. Good night." And then dismissing me, he asked Duperre to go with him to the smoking-room.

"I've heard from Tracy," I overheard him say as I followed them along the softly carpeted corridor. "We're up against that infernal Benton again because of old Moody's blunder. I never expected he'd be caught, of all men. Benton is now looking for Moody's guiding hand."

"Well, I hope he won't get very far," Duperre replied.

"We must make certain that he doesn't, Vincent, or it will go badly--very badly--with us! That's what I want to discuss with you."

Of the result of the consultation I, of course, remained in ignorance, but next morning Rayne sent for me and said he had decided to meet his friend Tracy at the Unicorn Hotel at Ripon.

"I telephoned him to the Station Hotel at York during the night," he added. "He'll have a lady with him. I want you to drive me over to Ripon and drive the lady back here."

So an hour later we set out across country and arrived in Ripon in time for lunch.

Gerald Tracy I had met before, a big, stout, round-faced man of prosperous appearance, bald-headed and loud of speech. That he was a crook I had no doubt, but what his actual _metier_ was I could not discover. He met us on the threshold of the old-fashioned hotel in that old-fashioned Yorkshire town, and with him was a well-dressed young woman, Italian or Spanish, I saw at a glance.

When Tracy introduced her to Rayne she was apparently much impressed, replying in very fair English. Her name, I learnt, was Signorina Lacava, and she was Italian.

We all lunched together but no business was discussed. Rayne expressed a hope that the signorina's journey from Milan had been a pleasant one.

"Quite," the handsome black-eyed girl replied. "I stayed one day in Paris."

"The signorina has made a conquest in Milan," laughed Tracy. "Farini, the commissario of police, has fallen in love with her!"

Rayne smiled, and turning to her, said:

"I congratulate you, signorina. Your friendship may one day stand you in very good stead."

That the young woman was someone of great importance in the criminal combine was apparent from the fact that she had been actually introduced to its secret head.

It struck me as curious when, after leaving Tracy and Rayne together, I was driving the signorina across the moors to Overstow, that while he hesitated to allow Tracy to go there, yet it was safe for the young Italian woman.

I knew that Benton was still making eager inquiries, and I also knew that Rayne was full of gravest apprehensions. Rudolph Rayne was playing a double game!

On arrival back home, Duperre's wife received our visitor. Lola had gone to Newcastle to visit an old schoolfellow, and Duperre was away in York so his wife informed me.

Three uneventful days pa.s.sed, but neither Rayne nor Lola returned. On the third evening I was called to the telephone, and Rayne spoke to me from his rooms in London.

"I can't get back just yet, George," he said. "You'll receive a registered letter from me to-morrow. Act upon it and use your own discretion."

I promised him I would and then he rang off.

CHAPTER VI

AT THREE-EIGHTEEN A.M.

The letter brought to my bedside next morning contained some curious instructions, namely, to take the car on the following Sat.u.r.day to Flamborough Head, arriving at a spot he named about a quarter of a mile from the lighthouse, where I would be accosted by a Dutch sailor, who would ask me if I were Mr. Skelton. I was not to fear treachery, but to reply in the affirmative and drive him through the night to an address he gave me in Providence Court, a turning off Dean Street, Soho.

That address was sufficient for me! I had once before, at Rayne's orders, driven a stranger to Dean Street and conducted him to that house. It was no doubt a harbor of refuge for foreign criminals in London, but was kept by an apparently respectable Italian who carried on a small grocery shop in Old Compton Street.

As I was ordered, I duly arrived on that wild spot on the Yorkshire coast. It blew half a gale, the wind howling about the car as I sat with only the red rearlight on, waiting in patience.

Very soon a short, thick-set man with decidedly evil face and seafaring aspect, emerged from the shadows and asked in broken English whether I was Mr. Skelton. I replied that I was and bade him jump in, and then, switching on the big headlights, turned the car in the direction of London.

From what I had seen of the stranger I certainly was not prepossessed.

His clothes were rough and half soaked by the rain that had been falling, while it became apparent as we talked that he had landed surrept.i.tiously from a Dutch fishing-boat early that morning and had not dared to show himself. Hence he was half famished. I happened to have a vacuum flask and some sandwiches, and these I divided with him.

A long silence fell between us as with difficulty in keeping myself awake I drove over the two hundred odd miles of wet roads which separated us from London, and just before nine o'clock next morning I left the car in Wardour Street and walked with the stranger to the frowsy house in Providence Court, where to my great surprise Gerald Tracy opened the door. He laughed at my astonishment, but with a gesture indicative of silence, he merely said:

"Hallo, Hargreave! Back all right, eh?"

Then he admitted the Dutchman and closed the door.

Tracy was evidently there to hold consultation with the stranger whose entrance into England was unknown. He would certainly never risk a long stay in that house, for the stout, bald-headed man had, I knew, no wish to come face to face with Benton or any other officer of the C.I.D.

Certainly something sinister and important was intended.

On calling at Half Moon Street, after having breakfasted, I found Duperre there.

"Rayne wants you to go down to the Pavilion Hotel at Folkestone and garage the car there," he said. "He and I are running a risk in a couple of night's time--the risk whether Benton identifies us. We both have tickets for the annual dinner of the staff of the Criminal Investigation Department, which is to be held in the Elgin Rooms."

"And are you actually going?" I asked, much surprised.

"Yes. And our places are close to Benton's! He'll never dream that the men he is hunting for everywhere are sitting exactly opposite him as guests of one of his superiors."

Boldness was one of Rudolph Rayne's characteristics. He was fearless in all his clever and ingenious conspiracies, though his cunning was unequaled.