Guilty Bonds

Neither of us spoke. Leaning back in his chair he watched the smoke from his cigarette curl upwards. Then he rose again, and said in a tone of voice very sad for me to hear:

“Well, don’t trouble to reply to that last query of mine, Frank, if it causes you pain. I was a fool to make it. Good-bye,” and he held forth his hand.

“Stay,” I urged, “I’ll explain it as well as I can, if you’ll have patience.”

I had made up my mind to tell Bob as much as I could of the mystery surrounding the dead man, and ask his assistance.

Silently and almost incredulously he listened to my statement, as I briefly ran over the events of the night I had spent with the stranger. When I had finished, he asked, —

“And did you leave the body there, and not utter a word to any one? That was scarcely like yourself, was it?”

“But what was I to do? I should have been mixed up in the scandal again; and the question arises, where would it have ended?”

“And did you not search that box for further proof of his assertion? There might have been valuable evidence there.”

“There might! What an idiot I must have been not to think of that at the time. Supposing there were letters from – from – ”

“From the murderer? That is quite possible. Why not go and look at once?”

After discussing the matter at some length, it was decided that as soon as night fell I should go to the house alone, so as to lessen the risk of detection, and search the box. With this arrangement we separated, a load having been taken off my mind by this even partial confession to Bob.

Chapter Twenty Five

A Midnight Search

The hours crept on very slowly that day. To me they seemed interminable. A thousand times I glanced at the little clock that ticked so sharply on the mantelshelf, but its small hand sullenly, as it seemed, refused to move any faster.

Feeling that the suspense was becoming unbearable, I tried a short walk in the Strand. Scarcely had I gone a hundred yards along that busy thoroughfare before I espied Demetrius. He was strolling along in the same aimless fashion as myself. At first my impulse was to go and salute him, for his cheerful companionship might do much to arrest my melancholy feelings, and make the time pass rapidly. My next thought, however, was to avoid him, for he would be certain to notice my preoccupation, and might put me to trouble in framing evasive answers.

While I was thus debating with myself, he settled the point by catching sight of me and coming cheerfully up.

“Hey-day! and why so cheerless?” he cried, as he clasped me warmly by the hand. It was a favourite expression of his, and one which he very frequently used, in spite of its antiquated ring.

“Did I look cheerful?” I responded, purposely answering his inquiry oppositely. “The fact is I’ve come out to kill an hour or two, and when one is seeking amusement it’s not difficult to find it in the streets of this great city of ours, is it?”

He glanced at me with a curious expression in his eyes, and I wondered whether he saw through the forced flippancy of my reply.

“That’s it, is it?” he remarked. “Well, come along, and we’ll do our best to destroy some of your dread enemy, Time, for a while,” and forthwith he hurried me along several miles of streets, bustling among the people right and left, and keeping up a constant chatter which did much to relieve me, as all I need do was to return a fragmentary answer when occasion offered.

Presently, when we had reached a quiet corner, where conversation was much easier, I said, —

“By the way, now I think of it; where are you ‘hanging out’?”

He burst into a loud laugh as he asked, —

“Is it possible you don’t know?”

“’Pon my honour, it never occurred to me to inquire till this moment. Where are you staying?”

“Number 171,” he answered, still laughing.

“Number 171 where – why don’t you speak plainly, and not keep a fellow waiting when he wants to get to his hotel to keep an appointment?”

“What! another engagement! – with the lady whose photograph you were passing to the fellows at the Junior Garrick last night, eh? I heard about it, old fellow,” he exclaimed, evidently thinking he had a fine chance to chaff me. Seeing my frown at the reference, he continued: “Seriously, it is curious you did not know of my whereabouts. My room is 171 at the Charing Cross Hotel, and yours is 172 – now do you see why I laughed?”

“Your room next to mine!” I said in concern, the thought that perhaps he might have overheard my interview with Frank that morning suddenly occurring to me.

“Well, there’s nothing to be alarmed at, is there? I’ve not escaped from quarantine. By the way, I took an opportunity of calling upon you this morning, and as you did not notice my timid rap – you know I always give a timid rap, for you’ve often laughed at it – I peeped in. You were, however, so deeply ingrossed in conversation with your friend Nugent that I did not think fit to disturb you, and came away. He’s an old friend of yours, isn’t he?” he asked, carelessly.