"To stay here, and pa.s.s round the word. All the Brothers to be on duty, except those watched by the police. Red Fist and Wharbuton to leave by the nine o'clock train from Charing Cross, and cross to Paris. Their departure is to be as public as possible. It would be well if they were given a send-off. If they are out of the way the watch will be relaxed.

At all costs they must be found. I go on to other places, you stay here, meet other Brothers, give them all this message. Red Fist and Wharbuton to be found and sent off. All others on duty to-night. Not a moment to waste."

"Right," said Lessing quickly, and the Bearded One rose from his seat.

Then followed a moment of tension, for suddenly, as if in default of a parting signal, the beetling brows frowned upon him, and a glance of indecision swept across the face. Lessing sensed the danger, and leaped to avert it. Touching the salt with his fingers, he said meaningly: "We are watched, Brother. We are watched!" and bent his head over his plate.

There was a breathless silence, then the thick voice bade him good night, and he knew that the danger was past. The next moment the swing doors of the restaurant opened and shut. The Bearded One had disappeared.

For an endless five minutes Lessing forced himself to sit still, then he paid his account, put on his hat, and opening the door, stood on the outer step of the restaurant looking anxiously to right and to left. He had purposely left behind his coat, since in the event of finding the Bearded One still hanging about, he could then be able to a.s.sert that he was impatiently waiting for the arrival of more Brothers. The night was chill and there were but few pedestrians in the narrow street. Running his eye to right and left he could count a dozen in all, no one of whom bore any resemblance in figure or clothing to his late companion.

A better moment for escape could not be desired, and as if sent by Providence a taxi suddenly came into sight, and the chauffeur held up an inquiring hand. In another second Lessing was seated inside, and had given an address in Mayfair. He did not risk returning for his coat, a telephone message to the manager would possibly secure it from theft, if not the coat must go. This was not a moment for considering coats.

Lessing sat motionless on his seat until the taxi had covered a couple of miles westwards, when he touched the communicating cord and startled the chauffeur by an imperative order:

"Scotland Yard. And as quick as you can go!"

Throughout the years that followed Lessing remembered his interview with the Scotland Yard officials with a smarting indignation. To his excited senses the calmness, the stolidity, the insistent incredulity which greeted his story, were exasperating to the last degree. He discovered to his dismay that the first impression left on his hearers was that he himself was drunk, but the realisation forced him to a composure which won an eventual grudging attention. The officials reiterated that the scheme propounded was impracticable, but a minute description of the Bearded One, together with the signal of the spilling of salt, made an undoubted effect. It was known to the police that such a signal did indeed exist among certain societies, and its usage on the present occasion was of evident weight. Lessing was a.s.sured that immediate steps should be taken to ensure the safety of the oil tanks. He had the satisfaction of hearing telephonic messages dispatched to various police centres, giving instructions for largely increased guard. There was nothing more to be done. He had given the alarm; had held to his point until he had succeeded in securing immediate help. Sleep was impossible for him that night, but he would return to his rooms, pa.s.s the time with a book and a pipe, until the fateful hour had pa.s.sed. He pa.s.sed out into the street, and looked round for the taxi which he had instructed to wait. To his annoyance it was not to be seen, but after a momentary hesitation it occurred to him that there might be some rule forbidding vehicles to remain before the entrance, as in the crowded thoroughfares of the west, and that he might find the man waiting round one of the nearest turnings. He strode on therefore, but without success, till finally he decided to take the nearest cut which should lead him to a Tube station. The cut was represented by a narrow lane, lined on either side with small shops. Lessing walked sharply, looking neither to right nor left. The interview had left him nervously exhausted, and he shivered in the chill night air; he was irritated with the recalcitrant chauffeur, irritated with himself for failing to do the one sensible thing under the circ.u.mstances--turn back into the office, and telephone for another car. To walk through the streets in the vicinity of Scotland Yard, a noticeable figure without outer coat or wrapping, was the last thing in the world which he should have done on such an occasion.

But it was too late to turn back. A few more minutes would take him to the Tube station, or better still to a thoroughfare where he could pick up another car.

By this time Lessing had reached the end of the cross-road, at which was situated an eating-house of a rough and unsavoury appearance. As he approached the door it opened, and a group of men streamed into the street, talking together in some eager unintelligible patois, at the sound of which a shiver of impending danger shot through Lessing's veins. Instinctively he averted his head, and quickened his pace, but instinct was a true prophet, it projected the coming event upon his brain, so that he knew what was before him, before the dark, bearded face glared into his, and the thick voice hissed the eloquent word into his ear:

"_Traitor_!"

Lessing did not stop to think. He was one to six, and escape was the necessity of the moment. He took to his heels, ran at full speed until the narrow lane was left behind, and the lights of Trafalgar Square shone around him, when following his first impulse he leaped into a taxi, and told the man to drive to Oxford Circus.

He had behaved like a fool, and like a fool he had been trapped, but the game was not yet up. His ident.i.ty was unknown, and by avoiding the neighbourhood of the restaurant he could with ease cut himself off from all likelihood of encountering the Brethren. Lessing's blood tingled in his veins, his whole being was flooded with exhilaration. Here was life, here was excitement, here, at long last, within the confines of the grey city itself, was the thrill of pursuit! For they would be after him, following him no doubt in one of the numerous cars blocking the roads, with intent to track him to his lair, but Lessing laughed at the thought with glad youthful confidence. He was not to be caught twice over. He would give them a run--such a run as they had not known for many a long day, but he would slip them in the end!

It was two hours later when Lessing let himself into his rooms, but he entered with the smiling face of the man who wins; and in good truth he had reason to be proud. He had dodged, he had evaded, he had doubled back on his own tracks with an almost incredible celerity. He had left crowded Tube carriages, lost himself in the crowd on the platform, and jumped back into the same carriage, the last pa.s.senger to enter before the door was closed. He had changed from taxi to train, from train to taxi, and once, finding himself in a stationary block, had deposited half a crown on the seat of his own car, stepped deftly on to an adjacent "island," and opening the door of an empty growler, hunched himself up on the floor, and remained concealed until it suited his convenience to descend. Oh! he had been swift, he had been cunning; always he had acted on the a.s.sumption that the pursuer was at hand; never for one moment had he relaxed guard, or allowed himself to slow down. Now he was tired, dog tired, but with a glorious fatigue. Not for the world would he have foregone one incident of that most thrilling dash!

Lessing slept, and woke to a fine spring morning. He rang for his newspaper, and turned rapidly over the pages. Nothing had happened.

The warning had been delivered in time; the grey old city was undisturbed.

But that night when Lessing returned to his chambers he found a letter awaiting him, addressed in an unknown handwriting. He tore it open, and read the few words which it contained:

"Traitor,--The doom which you have delayed, will now fall on your own head. Do not think to escape. The world itself would not be wide enough to hide you. At the moment when you least expect it, your call will come--"

Lessing stood, staring at the written words, and the little room seemed suddenly cold as a cave. He had wished, and his wish had been granted to him. Henceforth, till he died, danger must be his bride!

A man may be brave to the superlative of bravery, yet almost inevitably he will weaken at the consciousness of hidden danger, pursuing him stealthily day after day, week after week, playing with him with ruthless deliberation, as a cat plays with a mouse, setting him free, only to realise that his torture has been in vain, and the day of reckoning is still to come.

For the first few days after his receipt of the fateful letter, Lessing went about his work with a grim, but not altogether unpleasant, excitement. He realised once for all that it was hopeless to try to hide himself from the Brethren, but he determined to sell his life dearly. He carried a policeman's whistle, and a walking-stick with a large and roughly-cut head, which on occasion could be a formidable weapon. The question of a revolver had been dismissed after the shortest hesitation, seeing that Lessing's inexperience with firearms made such a possession rather an extra danger than a protection. He put his affairs in order, and, like every other man under sentence of death, woke to a smarting consciousness of the sweetness of life. Life and-- Delia! Delia of the rose bloom and the misty eyes. Delia, who on occasion could be so maddeningly, tantalisingly alive! Lessing did not realise his own changed looks, and it seemed to him the cruellest contrariety of fate that Delia should show herself at her sweetest and most womanly at this moment when he knew himself separated from her by the most impenetrable of barriers.

A fortnight of incessant, imminent anxiety pa.s.sed slowly by; then came a night when, taking his way to the corner house after dinner, Lessing experienced his first tangible alarm. The square was empty of pedestrians; he was walking on the farther side, close to the tall shuttered houses, when through the shrubs behind the railing of the centre enclosure, the lamplight showed a glimpse of a white face peering towards him. The next second it had disappeared, but even as he walked he had a conviction that a crouching figure kept pace behind that leafy screen. He hurried his steps, the figure kept pace; he could hear the rustle of the boughs as it pa.s.sed, leaping across the intervening s.p.a.ces with swift, ape-like bounds. Presently, when it reached that thick clump of trees, it would leap ahead, crouch, and take aim. Lessing acted on the impulse of the moment. A doctor's plate shone bright on a doorway--he pealed the electric bell, and a moment later stood safe within the entrance hall.

The doctor found his patient wanting in nervous force, prescribed a tonic, and rose to intimate that the interview was over; then, as the patient failed to take the hint, explained that he himself was obliged to go out at once. His opinion of the gravity of the case was increased when the patient first expressed a wish to accompany him on his walk, and then bade him good night at the first corner!

And that night Delia was kinder than ever and the savour of life more alluringly sweet!

During the days that followed Lessing developed a horror of solitude.

The old evenings with a pipe and a book became abhorrent, and on the nights when he did not go to the corner house, he either dined in town or invited a friend to share his home repast. It was therefore with real relief that one Sat.u.r.day morning he received a telegraphic invitation from a leisured friend who diversified a roving existence by flying visits to his country home. The telegram showed the expansiveness of the man of means, and ran as follows:

"Returning to Moat this afternoon. Try to join me for a week-end.

Car will meet four-thirty on chance.--

"Blakeney."

It was impossible to reply, since Blakeney had dispatched his wire from Crewe, and was presumably already travelling southwards. The form of the message showed that no answer was expected, but Lessing had not the shadow of a doubt as to his own acceptance. He was thankful for the chance of leaving London behind, and spending the next two days in Blakeney's cheerful society. He sent a boy home to get his bag, and carry it to the station, and when the hour for departure approached, followed by a long and devious route, coming on the platform just in time to jump into a moving carriage. By this time he retained little hope of avoiding the espionage of the Brethren, but as his life grew more precious so did his precautions increase, and his determination to fight to the last. The smoking carriage contained the usual contingent of comfortable middle-aged citizens, and the hour's journey pa.s.sed without incident. It was a stopping train, and the pa.s.sengers descended in great numbers at the nearer suburbs, and in scattered units once the hour's limit had pa.s.sed. Lessing counted six men besides himself who descended at Evershaw, one old, three middle-aged, a young man in seedy brown overcoat, and a workman carrying a bag of tools. They looked one and all rea.s.suringly English and commonplace, and Lessing heaved a sigh of relief. For once he had really escaped the scent! He hurried through the booking office, to find himself confronted by the collection of somewhat broken-down looking gigs and pony carts to be seen at most country stations. There was no sign of Lessing's luxurious car, only a powerful-looking mud-bespattered taxi, beside which stood a man in leather gaiters and a driving-coat. He touched his cap as Lessing approached, saying in an interrogative tone:

"Beg pardon, sir--Mr Lessing?"

"Yes."

"I have instructions to meet you, sir. From the Moat."

"Right," said Lessing, and handed over his bag. He realised at once that Blakeney had probably wired for his own car to meet him some distance down the line; and he seated himself in the capacious tonneau of the taxi with an agreeable rising of spirits. The little station was gay with spring flowers, and the scent of wallflowers floated refreshingly on the cool clean breeze. Lessing stretched his tired limbs, and drew a deep, grateful breath. He was just in the mood for a spin through country lanes, and for once was tempted to wish that the Moat was situated at a greater distance from the station. Then in a moment his mood changed, and a cloud of anxiety descended. Already the car had made its first movement forward, when the man with the brown coat sprang to the front, and leaped to the seat beside the chauffeur. Scrambling, clutching, he righted himself, steadied his hat on his head, and pressed a tentative touch on a side pocket, and all the time the driver vouchsafed not one glance, but devoted himself to his wheel, as quietly as if it were an everyday occurrence to be boarded at the last moment by an uninvited "fare." There was something in that stolidity which chilled the blood in Lessing's veins, for it seemed to infer that the incident was _expected_; that the man in the brown coat had travelled down from town for no other purpose than to occupy that special seat.

For the next few minutes Lessing alternated between fear and composure. In the latter condition he told himself that it was a usual occurrence for a country driver to give a "lift" to a friend, and that such an action was tacitly sanctioned by his patrons.

Probably the man in the brown coat was so accustomed to avail himself of his friend's hospitality, that to both the action had become automatic. The more Lessing dwelt on this explanation, the more satisfactory did it appear; it supported him to the end of the straggling village, and only lost its power when the car failed to turn up the lane leading to the Moat. He leaned forward, tapped at the dividing gla.s.s, and called through the tube, but neither man moved the fraction of an inch. He called again, more loudly than before, and as if answering a signal, the car leaped forward, leaped again, and with ever-mounting speed dashed down the empty lane.

Then the truth could no longer be disguised. These men were in league against him; they had laid a trap, and he had walked into it with credulous ease. The telegram had been a fraud, sent with no other purpose than to lure him from town, into the solitude of these lonely lanes. The Brethren's knowledge of Blakeney and his ways seemed at first an incredible feat, but a moment's consideration went far to remove the mystery. Blakeney had pa.s.sed through town only a week before, and had dined with Lessing at his club. Nothing more easy than to discover his name from the porter, and to follow up the scent.

At that moment Lessing would have given much for the feel of a revolver in his coat pocket. Given such a weapon he might have "held up" the two men on the front seat, and forced them to obey his orders; as it was, he was powerless as a child. For another ten minutes the car pursued its headlong rush; the two men sitting silent, immovable, looking neither to right nor left; the man inside crouched forward in an att.i.tude of defence. And once again Lessing was conscious of that tingling in his veins which was rather exhilaration than dread. Pace to face with danger he had no lack of courage, rather did every faculty of his being rouse itself to an added fullness of life. The tangible had no terror, it was the pa.s.sive waiting which played havoc with his nerves.

The car was still racing forward, plunging deeper and deeper into the heart of the country. Lessing studied the road on either side, searching for landmarks which might be registered for future use. He had by now concluded that he was being conveyed to some stronghold of the Brethren where he would meet the fate allotted to him for his betrayal, and he reflected that it would be days if not weeks before his disappearance would attract serious attention. By way of precaution he had burnt Blakeney's telegram as soon as read; while the boy who carried his bag to the station had departed immediately after his own arrival and could give no clue as to his destination.

To-night might see the close of his own life, but his friends would pursue the even tenor of their way without a fear for his welfare.

Even Delia... With the thought of Delia came a knife-like pang; a determination to strain every nerve and faculty to outwit his enemies.

Another five minutes, and he became aware that the car was slacking speed, that the men on the front seat were looking ahead, as though on the watch for an expected signal. Presumably it came, for with skilful turns of the wheel the chauffeur steered the car down a narrow lane, and, with a second lurching curve, into a gateway which stood half-way down its length.

So far the manipulation of the car had borne testimony to the skill of the chauffeur, but two sharp turnings so quickly succeeding each other were a severe test, and terminated in a momentary skid over a gra.s.sy bank, during which the car tilted violently to the side.

The swing was severe enough to throw Lessing sideways on the seat, and before he had time to right himself, the two men had leaped off the box, the one to the right and the other to the left, and had appeared simultaneously at either door. There was nothing precisely threatening in their demeanour, but they had the air of men who knew their duty, and were prepared to do it. The chauffeur had an appearance of bull-dog strength, but little sign of intelligence. The man in the brown coat had a narrow, hatchet-like face, with keen, alert eyes. The hand which lay on the door of the car was white and well shaped. One glance at him showed that he was the real master of the situation. Lessing looked from one to the other with an air of haughty displeasure.

"May I inquire the explanation of this extraordinary behaviour! I gave instructions to be driven to the Moat."

"Our instructions were to bring you here. You are expected. I must ask you to get out, and come up to the house."

It was the man in the brown coat who spoke. He came a step nearer as he spoke, blocking the doorway; the chauffeur held open the farther door, his great bulk outlined against the green of the trees. It seemed to Lessing that for the moment his best policy was to obey, since, if it came to a fight, he preferred the open to his present cramped position. He alighted then without demur, and, stood on the path stretching himself, and looking around with an air of a.s.surement which he was far from feeling. He saw a garden which even in its spring freshness looked desolate and neglected, and, some forty yards from the gate, a low house of grey stone, thickly covered with creepers, the branches of which had been allowed to drape the windows so heavily that in many cases the gla.s.s was almost entirely concealed.

Lessing looked at it and felt a creeping of the blood. There was only one word which could fitly describe the appearance of that house, and it was a word of which he did not care to think. It was a dead house.

Lessing had been under the impression that while he had been studying his surroundings he had been standing still, but it now appeared that unconsciously to himself, and impelled by the movements of the men on either side, he had been slowly approaching nearer and nearer the open door of the windowless house. Instantly he halted and put a sharp inquiry:

"What is this house? Who is it that is 'expecting' me, as you say?"

"You will recognise him when you meet," said the man in brown, and pursing his lips gave a soft, prolonged whistle, repeated three times over, with a perceptible pause between each. He looked towards the house meantime, and in imagination Lessing filled the blank s.p.a.ce of the doorway with a dreaded figure, the figure of a man with black hair turning to grey, a s.h.a.ggy beard, and large prominent teeth. He had need of all his courage at that moment, but he made no resistance as the men by his side steadily guided him forward; for just as a short time before he had preferred to fight in the open, now he was possessed with a desire to find himself in a room where he might take his stand against the wall, and so force his enemies to a frontal attack.

The three men entered a narrow, absolutely bare hallway, from which an uncarpeted staircase rose sharply to the left. From the first glance around, and even more from the dank and mouldy atmosphere, Lessing divined that the house had long been unoccupied, and that a deed of violence committed therein might remain undiscovered for an indefinite period. The conclusion did not help to raise his spirits as he entered a long narrow room facing the back of the house, his companions meantime pressing hard on his wake.

The room was as empty as the hall; the man in the brown coat walked quickly to the nearer of the two windows, gave a searching glance around, then turned to the chauffeur with a significant shake of the head. There followed a moment's pause, as though both men were puzzled by the absence of someone confidently expected. Then the man with the brown coat turned once more to Lessing.