June 9, 2025 • 28 mins
Delve into an enchanting world of romance and mystery with Late Tenant. This early masterpiece by esteemed British journalist and author Louis Tracy, penning as Gordon Holmes, is sure to captivate you. Known for his thrilling mysteries such as The Albert Gate Mystery and The Postmaster’s Daughter, Tracy dabbles in the romantic genre with a touch of the supernatural. The story weaves together two intense love narratives - one heart-wrenching, the other just beginning - amidst a puzzling mystery. Find a dash of classic British humor and a hint of the supernatural in this engaging tale. - Summary by Kirsten Wever.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of The Late Tenant by Gordon Holmes. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Hand to hand.
The necessity that was now strong upon David was to
act to fight for it. To hunt for the still
hidden photograph and letter was far too slow a task
(00:24):
in his present mood of turbulence and desperation. The photograph, indeed,
would furnish certain proof as to weather Strauss and Van
Hupfeldt were won, so might the letter. But of what
use would proof of anything whatever be? When he was
all shut out from access to the Mordaunt. He thought, however,
(00:48):
that if he could come with an ear shot and
striking distance of Van Hupfeldt, then something might result. He
was not clear what. He put on his hat and
went out as grim as any man on the streets
of London that afternoon. He did not know where Van
Upfeldt lived, but he turned his steps toward the Constitutional Club.
(01:12):
He meant at least to discover if Van Upfeldt was
a member there, and he might discover more. But he
was spared the pains of inquiry, for he was still
at a distance of thirty yards from the club when
he saw van Upfeldt come out and step into a carriage.
(01:32):
David cringed half under a dray till the carriage began
to move, then followed some way behind. At his long trot.
He thought now that perhaps he was about to track
Van Upfeldt to his house. The carriage drove straight to
Baker Street station, into which Van Upfeldt went and took
(01:53):
a ticket. David, listening outside the outer entrance to the
small booking office, could not catch the name of his destination.
But when van Hupfeldt had gone down into the gloom
and fume, David, half way down the flight of stairs,
stood watching. He had no little finesse in tracking and
(02:15):
ferreting and remaining invisible. And when Van Hupfeldt had taken
his seat, David was in another compartment of the same train.
The desk of evening was thickening. When their train stopped
at the tamlet of Pangley, twenty five miles from London,
where Van Upfeldt alighted, David saw him well out of
(02:39):
the little station before he himself leaped as the train
began to move. He then took the precaution to ascertain
the times of the next up trains. There would be
one at quarter past eight and another at ten pm.
While he asked as to trains and paid the fare
(02:59):
of some excess charge, he kept his eye on the
back of Van Upfeldt walking down the rather steep street,
and when it was safe he followed. At the bottom
of the street, they crossed a bridge, and thenceforward walked
up a road with heath on both sides. David was
(03:22):
angry with his luck, for the road was straight and long,
and there was little cover in the heath where he
walked some distance from the road. Once Van Upfeldt turned
and seemed to admire the last traces of color in
the western sky, whereat David as if shot dropped into
(03:43):
gorse and bracken. He hoped that Van Upfeldt, being a
man of cities and civilization, was unconscious of him, but
he felt that he in Van Upfeldt's place, would have
known all, and he had a fear. The light was
fast failing, but he could clearly see Van Upfeldt, who
(04:06):
swung a parcel in his hand, and he thought that
if he could see Van Upfeldt well, then Van Upfeldt
might have seen him dimly. Van Hupfeldt, however, gave no
sign of it. David saw him go into the gateway
of a pretty dwelling, and a big, hearty country woman
ran out to meet him, her face beaming with good cheer.
(04:30):
Carrying a child in her arms, she escorted van Upfeldt
into the house with It was clear no lack of welcome,
and when they had disappeared, David, vaulting over a hedge
into the orchard, crept nearer the house and hid behind
a shed in which he saw a white calf. He
(04:50):
waited there for a long time. How long he did
not know, For once, when he peered at his watch,
he could see nothing. The night had come moonlight and black.
The place where he lurked was in the shadow of trees. Meantime,
within the house, van Upfeldt sat with the child on
his knee. He was so pale that missus Carter, the
(05:13):
child's foster mother, asked if he was well. Some purpose,
some fear or hope, agitated him. Once when the countrywoman
left the room to fetch a glass of milk. The
moment he was alone, he put down the child sped
like a thief to the grandfather's clock, ticking in its
(05:35):
old nook by the settee, opened it, put the minute
hand back twenty minutes, and was seated again when the
milk came in. These visits of his to his child,
of which he paid one a week, always lasted half
an hour. This time he stayed so much longer that
(05:56):
Missus Carter glanced at the clock, only to be taken
about by the earliness of the hour. Bless us, she cried,
I thought it was later that you still have plenty
of time to catch the quarter past eight, sir. But
Van hopfhelp stood up, saying that he would go. Putting
(06:16):
on his coat, he added, Missus Carter, I have been
followed from London by a man who I fancy will
present himself here presently when I am gone. He wishes
to know more about my affairs than he has a
right to know. If he comes, I have a reason
for wishing you to receive him politely and to keep
(06:39):
him in talk as long as he will stay. But
of course you won't satisfy his curiosity in anything that
concerns me. In particular, be very careful not to give
him any hint that my name was Strauss. During my
wife's lifetime you may rely on me, said Missus Carter
(07:00):
in the secret voice of an accomplice. Now, little one
to bed, said van Upfeldt, a thin and lanky figure
in his long overcoat, as he bent with kisses over
the boy in Missus Carter's arms. Five minutes after he
was gone, David was at the farmhouse door. He too,
(07:23):
would like a glass of milk. You're welcome, I'm sure,
said Missus Carter step aside. His first glance was at
the clock, for he did not wish to lose the
quarter past eight train, since that would mean the losing
of his present chance of tracking Van Upfeldt to his address.
(07:43):
But the clock reassured him. He indolently took it for
granted that it was more or less near the mark,
and it pointed to twenty minutes to eight. He would
thus have time to strike up an acquaintance with missus
Carter as a preliminary to closer relations in the future.
And where is baby? Oh? You know about him, said
(08:07):
Missus Carter. He's in bed. To be sure. I saw
him in your arms as I was passing up the
road half an hour ago. What you passed along here?
I didn't notice you. I came up from the station.
Now this is something like good and milk. You have
a nice little farm here too, Do you manage it yourself? Yes,
(08:31):
my husband died a twelvemonth come may. It must be
hard work with baby too as well, especially if you've
got any youngsters of your own. How can you know
that this baby isn't mile? Oh? As to that, I'm
not quite so much in the dark about things. Why
(08:52):
I'm living in the very flat which its poor mother occupied.
I know it's at I know it's father. Oh, well,
you seem to know a lot. What more do you want?
I only know the father by sight, that is, if
he was the father who was just in here now
(09:12):
I take it he was. Ah there, Now you are asking, Oh,
there's no secret, Missus Carter. Mister Johann Strauss is a
well known man. Is that his name Strauss? Well, well
live and learn. That's his name, and that's his writing,
Missus Carter, words which David uttered almost with a shout,
(09:37):
as he caught an envelope out of the coal scuttle
and laid it on the table, pointing fixedly at it.
Missus Carter was startled by his sudden vehemence. The envelope
was one directed to her in the same flourishing writing
which Dibbit had long since shown David as that of Strauss.
(09:58):
You are bound to admit, said David, imperatively, that this
envelope was directed to you by the gentleman who was
just here. Well, so it was what of that, asked
missus Carter, in a maze as to what the row
was about. That's all right, then, said David, quieting down.
(10:21):
I only wanted to be sure this then settled it.
Van Hupfeldt was Strauss. David kept the envelope, sipped his milk,
and for some time talked with Missus Carter about her cows,
her fruit, and whether the white calf was to be
sold or kept. When it was ten minutes to eight
(10:43):
by the big parlor clock, he rose to go, said
that he hoped to see baby next time if he
might call again, and shook hands. But in going out
from force of habit, he glanced at his watch and
now saw that it was ten minutes past eight. Great goodness,
(11:04):
he exclaimed, your clock is all wrong, No, sir, began
missus Carter. David was gone. He had five minutes in
which to run a good deal over a mile, and
he ran with all his speed, but some distance from
the station he saw the train steaming out and pulled
(11:25):
up short. At that moment van uppfelt in the train,
was thinking it has worked well. He is late, and
there is no other train till ten an hour and
three quarters. He has only a charwoman. She will not
be in the flat at this hour. No one will
(11:45):
be there. Will it be my luck that the diary
had not under lock and keep. As a matter of fact,
the diary was lying openly on the dining room table
in the flat, caution of that sort being hardly the
uppermost quality in David's character. David strolled about Pangley, looked
(12:07):
into the tiny shop windows, dined on fruit, wished that
he had not been born of some new variety of
a fool, and found that hour and three quarters as
long as a week not much given to suspicions of
meanness and cunning, It did not even now come into
(12:28):
his head that he was where he was by a trick.
He blamed only destiny for imposing on him such a
penal inactivity in the little town that night, when a
thousand spurs were urging him to action, but at last
ten o'clock came, and when he stepped into the train,
(12:49):
he asked himself why he had been so impatient, since
probably nothing could be done that evening. He reached London
before eleven and drove home, weary of himself and of
his cares. It was too late. Then he thought to
go hunting after Van Upfeldt on the morrow morning he
would again try. At the constitutional meantime, he lit himself
(13:13):
a fire and sat over it, brooding, cudgeling his brains
for some plan of action. Then the diary drew him.
He would re read that tragedy throughout. He put out
his arm, half turning from over the fire to get
the book. It was no longer on the table. He
(13:34):
stood up and stared at the table. No diary was there, yet,
he seemed to remember. He set to work to search
the flat. Suddenly, in the midst of his work, a
flood of light broke in upon him. He thought that
if the letter which he had written to Violet telling
(13:55):
her that he had the diary had already fallen into
Van Hupfeldt's hands, then Van Upveldt knew that he had
the diary, in which case it was Van Upveldt, who
had put back the clock's hand in the farmhouse. Van
Upveldt knew all the time that David was shadowing him,
(14:15):
had put back the clock and now held the diary
for which both he and David would have given all
that they were worth. And all is everything, whether ten
pounds or a million? Is that it? Thought David to himself. Oh,
is that it all right? Let it be like that?
(14:38):
He lost not two minutes in thought, but with a
lowering brow, went out into the street's high strung, his
fingers cramped together. An hour before this he had said
to himself that the hour was too late for action.
Now an hour later such a thought did not occur
to him in the high pitch of his soul. That night,
(15:02):
and not any other night or day. He would have
it out with Van Helpfeldt. He jumped into a cab
and drove to the flat in King Street, Chelsea. But
what on earth can the man mean? Said miss Lestrange,
peeping through the slit of her slightly opened door, coming
to a lady's flat at this hour of the morning.
(15:25):
In reality, it was about half past twelve. No, it's
no use talking, said David. You must let me in.
I know you have a right good heart, and I
rely upon its action when I tell you that it
is a matter of life and death this time. But
I'm alone, so much the better. Well, I like your cheek,
(15:51):
you like the whole of me, so you may as
well own up to it and be done. Rats, you
only come here when you want something done. It isn't
me you come to see. I'll come to see you
some other time. Just throw something on and let me in.
Throw something on. Indeed, I'll throw something on you and
(16:13):
that'll be hot water the next time you come bothering
about at this hour. Oh well, never mind, you're not
a bad sort. Come in. The door opened. Miss l
Strange fled, and David went into the drawing room, where
he waited some minutes till she reappeared, looking fresh and
(16:34):
washed from the night's stage paint, with something voluminous wrapped
about her. Now what is it? Said she? Straight to
the point. That's me. You must give me Strauss's address,
said David that I shan't, said she. What do you
take me for? I promised the man that I wouldn't.
(16:56):
I have told you once that he isn't a thousand
miles from piccadiint and that's about all you'll get from me. Good.
I understand your position, said David. But before you refuse,
out and out hear what I have to say. This
man Strauss is a man who induced Gwendolen Barnes, whom
(17:17):
you know, to leave her home, married her while his
first wife was alive, and so caused her to make
away with herself. And now this same man, under the
name of Van Hupfeldt, is about to marry her sister
without telling her that he even knew the girl whom
(17:38):
he had murdered. I don't know what the sister's motive
for marrying him is. Quite possibly there's some trick about it,
but I know that the motive is not love. Now
just think a moment and tell me if this is
fair to your woman's mind. Oh that's how it is,
(17:59):
exclaimed Rmine le Strange. All the facts which I have
mentioned I know for certain. Then that explains explains what
I'll tell you. But this is between us mind. Some
time ago Strauss comes to me and he says, I
(18:20):
have given your address to a young lady, a miss
Violet Mordaunt, who is about to write you a letter
asking whether you did or did not find any certificates
in a picture in the Eddystone Mansion's flat. And I
want you, in answer to deny to her for my sake,
that any certificate was ever found. And you did, cried
(18:45):
David with deep reproach. Now no preaching, or I never
tell you anything again, shrilled Miss l Strange. Here's gratitude
in man, of course I did. He said, twas only
an innocent fib which would do no harm to anybody.
And if you saw the bracelet I got for it.
My boy, you wrote to say that no certificates were
(19:09):
ever found. I did. Then what can she think of me,
he cried, with a face of pain. I told her, Ah,
you're after her too. I see now how it is,
said Miss l Strange. But she might at least have
given me a chance of clearing myself, groaned David. She
(19:32):
might have written to me to say that she had
found me out in a line. Violet had indeed promised
herself the luxury of writing one stinging, crushing, killing note
to David in the event of Miss l Strange proving
him faults, and in fact, not one but many such
(19:53):
notes had been written down at Dale manor, but none
of them had ever been sent her deep had kept
her silent, But cried David at the spur of a
sudden glad thought. Since miss Mordaunt wrote to you, and
you to her, you know her address and can give
it to me. No, I do not know her address,
(20:16):
answered Miss La Strange. I believe now that Strauss may
have been afraid that if I knew it, I might
give it to you, So he must have prevented her
from putting it on her letter. There was no address
on it, I don't think, for when I wrote back
to her, I gave my letter to Strauss to send. Ah,
(20:37):
he's a cautious beast, said David bitterly. Still, I'll have
him not to morrow, but to night quick Now his address? Well,
I promised not to tell it to any one, vowed
Miss l Strange in her best Soubrette manner. And I'll
(20:57):
be as good as my word, since I never break
a promise. When my word is once passed, I'll just
write it down on a piece of paper and drop
it on the floor by accident. And then if anybody
should happen to notice it and pick it up without
my seeing, that will be no business of mine. She rose,
(21:18):
walked to a desk and went through this pantomime in
all seriousness. The address was dropped on the carpet, and David,
happening to notice it, picked it up behind miss Ermine
the stranger's unconscious back. It had on it the number
of a house near Hanover Square, and in another moment
(21:40):
David had pressed the lady's hand and was gone, crying
I'll come again. Not even a word of thanks, said
miss l Strange to herself as she looked after his
flying back blow below thou Winter's wind. David leaped into
(22:01):
his waiting cab and was off across London. Light was
still in Van Hupfeldt's quarters, and Van Hupfeldt himself. At
the moment when David rang was poring over the last
words of the diary of her who had been part
of his life, he was livid with fear that the
knowledge just learned for certain from the written words that
(22:24):
there were still hidden in the flat a photograph of
him and his last letter to Gwendolen. When he heard
an altercation between his man Neil and another voice outside.
A moment later, he heard Neil cry out sharply and
then he was aware of a hurried step coming in
upon him. The first thought of his secret of nature
(22:47):
was the diary, and with the trepidations of a miser
surprised in counting his gold, he hustled it into a
secret recess of the bureau near which she had been reading.
He had hardly done this when he stood face to
face with David. At that moment Van Hupfeldt's face seemed
lit with a lunacy of affright, surprise, and rage. David,
(23:13):
with his hat rather drawn over his eyes and with
a frowning severity, said I want four things of you.
The diary, the key of my flat, which you have
in your possession, those certificates, and Missus Mordaunt's address. A
scream went out from Van Hupfeldt. Niel the police, quite so,
(23:37):
said David. But before the police come, do as I say,
or I shall kill you. Van Upfeldt could hardly catch
his breath sufficiently to speak. A man so wholly in
the grip of terror it was painful to see. David
understood him to say, man, I I warn you, My
(23:58):
heart is weak, heart weak, growled David. That's what you say, Well,
then keep cool and let me have my way. We
must wrangle it out now somehow. You have the police
on your side for the moment, and I stand alone. Now.
The outer door was heard to slam, for Neil had
(24:19):
run out to some help. I'm not acting on my own, behalf,
said David, but for the sake of a girl whose
life I feel sure you are going to make bitter.
She cares nothing for you. How dare you came in
a hoarseness of concentrated passion from van upfeldtsposel No, she
(24:42):
cares nothing for you, you interloper. And even she did,
she is sure to find out sooner or later that
you are Strauss. Oh had I but guessed, which would
be the death of her. I never dream of this,
so on her behalf, I'll just make a hurried search
(25:04):
before the police comes. The things are not yours. If
your heart wasn't weak, I'd maul you till you were
willing to hand them over of your own accord. With that,
David made a move toward the bureau, whereupon Van Hupfelt
uttered a scream and flew upon him like a catamountain,
but David flung him away to the other end of
(25:26):
the room. Scattered over the bureau were a number of
letters in their envelopes, ready for the post, and the
first of these upon which David's eye fell, was directed
to Miss Violet Mordaunt. Here was luck, even as his
heart bounded. Even before he had seen a word of
(25:47):
the address, he was in darkness. Van Hupfelt had switched
off the light, and now once again David felt himself
outdone by the cunning of this man. The room was large,
crowded with objects of luxury, and the switch was a
needle in a bundle of hay in which direction to
(26:07):
grope for it David did not know. He ran to
where he had flung Van Hupfeldt to compel him by
main force to turn on the light, but Van Hupfeldt
was no longer there. The suddenness of the darkness made
it black to the eyes. David could not find the switch, and,
fearing lest Van Upfeldt might snatch away the letter to
(26:30):
Violet in the dark, he flew back to the bureau,
over setting first a chair and then colliding upon Van Hupfeldt.
A little distance from the bureau. Again, he flung van
Hupfeldt far and keeping near the bureau groped along the
beating of the wall to see if he could encounter
another switch. In the midst of this search, his ears
(26:54):
detected the sound of a key in the outer door, and,
understanding that help had arrived for the enemy, instantly he
took his decision, felt for the eight or ten envelopes
on the bureau, slipped them all into his pocket, and
was gone in the hall. Coming inward, he met Neil
(27:15):
and an officer, but as if making a deep bow
to the majesty of the law, he slipped as easily
as a wave under the officer's hand and disappeared through
the wide open door. The officer ran after him. That
was simple for the moment. When David pitched through the
house door below the stairs, he was never more seen
(27:38):
by that particular officer to the day of his death.
Under a lamp in Oxford Street, when he stopped running,
he took out Strauss's letters from his pocket with a
hand that shook, for in his heart was the thought,
suppose I have left hers behind? But no, that fifth
(27:59):
one was hers. Miss Violet Mordaunt Dale, manor Rigsworth near Kenilworth.
Remembrance came to him with an ache of rapture. Within
twenty four hours he would see her. He was so
pleased that he was at pains to throw Strauss's other
letters into the first pillar box. What did it matter
(28:23):
now that the diary certificates anything or everything had been
filched from him? Tomorrow, No, that day he would see Violet.
End of Chapter sixteen.
Chapter sixteen of The Late Tenant by Gordon Holmes. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Hand to hand.
The necessity that was now strong upon David was to
act to fight for it. To hunt for the still
hidden photograph and letter was far too slow a task
(00:24):
in his present mood of turbulence and desperation. The photograph, indeed,
would furnish certain proof as to weather Strauss and Van
Hupfeldt were won, so might the letter. But of what
use would proof of anything whatever be? When he was
all shut out from access to the Mordaunt. He thought, however,
(00:48):
that if he could come with an ear shot and
striking distance of Van Hupfeldt, then something might result. He
was not clear what. He put on his hat and
went out as grim as any man on the streets
of London that afternoon. He did not know where Van
Upfeldt lived, but he turned his steps toward the Constitutional Club.
(01:12):
He meant at least to discover if Van Upfeldt was
a member there, and he might discover more. But he
was spared the pains of inquiry, for he was still
at a distance of thirty yards from the club when
he saw van Upfeldt come out and step into a carriage.
(01:32):
David cringed half under a dray till the carriage began
to move, then followed some way behind. At his long trot.
He thought now that perhaps he was about to track
Van Upfeldt to his house. The carriage drove straight to
Baker Street station, into which Van Upfeldt went and took
(01:53):
a ticket. David, listening outside the outer entrance to the
small booking office, could not catch the name of his destination.
But when van Hupfeldt had gone down into the gloom
and fume, David, half way down the flight of stairs,
stood watching. He had no little finesse in tracking and
(02:15):
ferreting and remaining invisible. And when Van Hupfeldt had taken
his seat, David was in another compartment of the same train.
The desk of evening was thickening. When their train stopped
at the tamlet of Pangley, twenty five miles from London,
where Van Upfeldt alighted, David saw him well out of
(02:39):
the little station before he himself leaped as the train
began to move. He then took the precaution to ascertain
the times of the next up trains. There would be
one at quarter past eight and another at ten pm.
While he asked as to trains and paid the fare
(02:59):
of some excess charge, he kept his eye on the
back of Van Upfeldt walking down the rather steep street,
and when it was safe he followed. At the bottom
of the street, they crossed a bridge, and thenceforward walked
up a road with heath on both sides. David was
(03:22):
angry with his luck, for the road was straight and long,
and there was little cover in the heath where he
walked some distance from the road. Once Van Upfeldt turned
and seemed to admire the last traces of color in
the western sky, whereat David as if shot dropped into
(03:43):
gorse and bracken. He hoped that Van Upfeldt, being a
man of cities and civilization, was unconscious of him, but
he felt that he in Van Upfeldt's place, would have
known all, and he had a fear. The light was
fast failing, but he could clearly see Van Upfeldt, who
(04:06):
swung a parcel in his hand, and he thought that
if he could see Van Upfeldt well, then Van Upfeldt
might have seen him dimly. Van Hupfeldt, however, gave no
sign of it. David saw him go into the gateway
of a pretty dwelling, and a big, hearty country woman
ran out to meet him, her face beaming with good cheer.
(04:30):
Carrying a child in her arms, she escorted van Upfeldt
into the house with It was clear no lack of welcome,
and when they had disappeared, David, vaulting over a hedge
into the orchard, crept nearer the house and hid behind
a shed in which he saw a white calf. He
(04:50):
waited there for a long time. How long he did
not know, For once, when he peered at his watch,
he could see nothing. The night had come moonlight and black.
The place where he lurked was in the shadow of trees. Meantime,
within the house, van Upfeldt sat with the child on
his knee. He was so pale that missus Carter, the
(05:13):
child's foster mother, asked if he was well. Some purpose,
some fear or hope, agitated him. Once when the countrywoman
left the room to fetch a glass of milk. The
moment he was alone, he put down the child sped
like a thief to the grandfather's clock, ticking in its
(05:35):
old nook by the settee, opened it, put the minute
hand back twenty minutes, and was seated again when the
milk came in. These visits of his to his child,
of which he paid one a week, always lasted half
an hour. This time he stayed so much longer that
(05:56):
Missus Carter glanced at the clock, only to be taken
about by the earliness of the hour. Bless us, she cried,
I thought it was later that you still have plenty
of time to catch the quarter past eight, sir. But
Van hopfhelp stood up, saying that he would go. Putting
(06:16):
on his coat, he added, Missus Carter, I have been
followed from London by a man who I fancy will
present himself here presently when I am gone. He wishes
to know more about my affairs than he has a
right to know. If he comes, I have a reason
for wishing you to receive him politely and to keep
(06:39):
him in talk as long as he will stay. But
of course you won't satisfy his curiosity in anything that
concerns me. In particular, be very careful not to give
him any hint that my name was Strauss. During my
wife's lifetime you may rely on me, said Missus Carter
(07:00):
in the secret voice of an accomplice. Now, little one
to bed, said van Upfeldt, a thin and lanky figure
in his long overcoat, as he bent with kisses over
the boy in Missus Carter's arms. Five minutes after he
was gone, David was at the farmhouse door. He too,
(07:23):
would like a glass of milk. You're welcome, I'm sure,
said Missus Carter step aside. His first glance was at
the clock, for he did not wish to lose the
quarter past eight train, since that would mean the losing
of his present chance of tracking Van Upfeldt to his address.
(07:43):
But the clock reassured him. He indolently took it for
granted that it was more or less near the mark,
and it pointed to twenty minutes to eight. He would
thus have time to strike up an acquaintance with missus
Carter as a preliminary to closer relations in the future.
And where is baby? Oh? You know about him, said
(08:07):
Missus Carter. He's in bed. To be sure. I saw
him in your arms as I was passing up the
road half an hour ago. What you passed along here?
I didn't notice you. I came up from the station.
Now this is something like good and milk. You have
a nice little farm here too, Do you manage it yourself? Yes,
(08:31):
my husband died a twelvemonth come may. It must be
hard work with baby too as well, especially if you've
got any youngsters of your own. How can you know
that this baby isn't mile? Oh? As to that, I'm
not quite so much in the dark about things. Why
(08:52):
I'm living in the very flat which its poor mother occupied.
I know it's at I know it's father. Oh, well,
you seem to know a lot. What more do you want?
I only know the father by sight, that is, if
he was the father who was just in here now
(09:12):
I take it he was. Ah there, Now you are asking, Oh,
there's no secret, Missus Carter. Mister Johann Strauss is a
well known man. Is that his name Strauss? Well, well
live and learn. That's his name, and that's his writing,
Missus Carter, words which David uttered almost with a shout,
(09:37):
as he caught an envelope out of the coal scuttle
and laid it on the table, pointing fixedly at it.
Missus Carter was startled by his sudden vehemence. The envelope
was one directed to her in the same flourishing writing
which Dibbit had long since shown David as that of Strauss.
(09:58):
You are bound to admit, said David, imperatively, that this
envelope was directed to you by the gentleman who was
just here. Well, so it was what of that, asked
missus Carter, in a maze as to what the row
was about. That's all right, then, said David, quieting down.
(10:21):
I only wanted to be sure this then settled it.
Van Hupfeldt was Strauss. David kept the envelope, sipped his milk,
and for some time talked with Missus Carter about her cows,
her fruit, and whether the white calf was to be
sold or kept. When it was ten minutes to eight
(10:43):
by the big parlor clock, he rose to go, said
that he hoped to see baby next time if he
might call again, and shook hands. But in going out
from force of habit, he glanced at his watch and
now saw that it was ten minutes past eight. Great goodness,
(11:04):
he exclaimed, your clock is all wrong, No, sir, began
missus Carter. David was gone. He had five minutes in
which to run a good deal over a mile, and
he ran with all his speed, but some distance from
the station he saw the train steaming out and pulled
(11:25):
up short. At that moment van uppfelt in the train,
was thinking it has worked well. He is late, and
there is no other train till ten an hour and
three quarters. He has only a charwoman. She will not
be in the flat at this hour. No one will
(11:45):
be there. Will it be my luck that the diary
had not under lock and keep. As a matter of fact,
the diary was lying openly on the dining room table
in the flat, caution of that sort being hardly the
uppermost quality in David's character. David strolled about Pangley, looked
(12:07):
into the tiny shop windows, dined on fruit, wished that
he had not been born of some new variety of
a fool, and found that hour and three quarters as
long as a week not much given to suspicions of
meanness and cunning, It did not even now come into
(12:28):
his head that he was where he was by a trick.
He blamed only destiny for imposing on him such a
penal inactivity in the little town that night, when a
thousand spurs were urging him to action, but at last
ten o'clock came, and when he stepped into the train,
(12:49):
he asked himself why he had been so impatient, since
probably nothing could be done that evening. He reached London
before eleven and drove home, weary of himself and of
his cares. It was too late. Then he thought to
go hunting after Van Upfeldt on the morrow morning he
would again try. At the constitutional meantime, he lit himself
(13:13):
a fire and sat over it, brooding, cudgeling his brains
for some plan of action. Then the diary drew him.
He would re read that tragedy throughout. He put out
his arm, half turning from over the fire to get
the book. It was no longer on the table. He
(13:34):
stood up and stared at the table. No diary was there, yet,
he seemed to remember. He set to work to search
the flat. Suddenly, in the midst of his work, a
flood of light broke in upon him. He thought that
if the letter which he had written to Violet telling
(13:55):
her that he had the diary had already fallen into
Van Hupfeldt's hands, then Van Upveldt knew that he had
the diary, in which case it was Van Upveldt, who
had put back the clock's hand in the farmhouse. Van
Upveldt knew all the time that David was shadowing him,
(14:15):
had put back the clock and now held the diary
for which both he and David would have given all
that they were worth. And all is everything, whether ten
pounds or a million? Is that it? Thought David to himself. Oh,
is that it all right? Let it be like that?
(14:38):
He lost not two minutes in thought, but with a
lowering brow, went out into the street's high strung, his
fingers cramped together. An hour before this he had said
to himself that the hour was too late for action.
Now an hour later such a thought did not occur
to him in the high pitch of his soul. That night,
(15:02):
and not any other night or day. He would have
it out with Van Helpfeldt. He jumped into a cab
and drove to the flat in King Street, Chelsea. But
what on earth can the man mean? Said miss Lestrange,
peeping through the slit of her slightly opened door, coming
to a lady's flat at this hour of the morning.
(15:25):
In reality, it was about half past twelve. No, it's
no use talking, said David. You must let me in.
I know you have a right good heart, and I
rely upon its action when I tell you that it
is a matter of life and death this time. But
I'm alone, so much the better. Well, I like your cheek,
(15:51):
you like the whole of me, so you may as
well own up to it and be done. Rats, you
only come here when you want something done. It isn't
me you come to see. I'll come to see you
some other time. Just throw something on and let me in.
Throw something on. Indeed, I'll throw something on you and
(16:13):
that'll be hot water the next time you come bothering
about at this hour. Oh well, never mind, you're not
a bad sort. Come in. The door opened. Miss l
Strange fled, and David went into the drawing room, where
he waited some minutes till she reappeared, looking fresh and
(16:34):
washed from the night's stage paint, with something voluminous wrapped
about her. Now what is it? Said she? Straight to
the point. That's me. You must give me Strauss's address,
said David that I shan't, said she. What do you
take me for? I promised the man that I wouldn't.
(16:56):
I have told you once that he isn't a thousand
miles from piccadiint and that's about all you'll get from me. Good.
I understand your position, said David. But before you refuse,
out and out hear what I have to say. This
man Strauss is a man who induced Gwendolen Barnes, whom
(17:17):
you know, to leave her home, married her while his
first wife was alive, and so caused her to make
away with herself. And now this same man, under the
name of Van Hupfeldt, is about to marry her sister
without telling her that he even knew the girl whom
(17:38):
he had murdered. I don't know what the sister's motive
for marrying him is. Quite possibly there's some trick about it,
but I know that the motive is not love. Now
just think a moment and tell me if this is
fair to your woman's mind. Oh that's how it is,
(17:59):
exclaimed Rmine le Strange. All the facts which I have
mentioned I know for certain. Then that explains explains what
I'll tell you. But this is between us mind. Some
time ago Strauss comes to me and he says, I
(18:20):
have given your address to a young lady, a miss
Violet Mordaunt, who is about to write you a letter
asking whether you did or did not find any certificates
in a picture in the Eddystone Mansion's flat. And I
want you, in answer to deny to her for my sake,
that any certificate was ever found. And you did, cried
(18:45):
David with deep reproach. Now no preaching, or I never
tell you anything again, shrilled Miss l Strange. Here's gratitude
in man, of course I did. He said, twas only
an innocent fib which would do no harm to anybody.
And if you saw the bracelet I got for it.
My boy, you wrote to say that no certificates were
(19:09):
ever found. I did. Then what can she think of me,
he cried, with a face of pain. I told her, Ah,
you're after her too. I see now how it is,
said Miss l Strange. But she might at least have
given me a chance of clearing myself, groaned David. She
(19:32):
might have written to me to say that she had
found me out in a line. Violet had indeed promised
herself the luxury of writing one stinging, crushing, killing note
to David in the event of Miss l Strange proving
him faults, and in fact, not one but many such
(19:53):
notes had been written down at Dale manor, but none
of them had ever been sent her deep had kept
her silent, But cried David at the spur of a
sudden glad thought. Since miss Mordaunt wrote to you, and
you to her, you know her address and can give
it to me. No, I do not know her address,
(20:16):
answered Miss La Strange. I believe now that Strauss may
have been afraid that if I knew it, I might
give it to you, So he must have prevented her
from putting it on her letter. There was no address
on it, I don't think, for when I wrote back
to her, I gave my letter to Strauss to send. Ah,
(20:37):
he's a cautious beast, said David bitterly. Still, I'll have
him not to morrow, but to night quick Now his address? Well,
I promised not to tell it to any one, vowed
Miss l Strange in her best Soubrette manner. And I'll
(20:57):
be as good as my word, since I never break
a promise. When my word is once passed, I'll just
write it down on a piece of paper and drop
it on the floor by accident. And then if anybody
should happen to notice it and pick it up without
my seeing, that will be no business of mine. She rose,
(21:18):
walked to a desk and went through this pantomime in
all seriousness. The address was dropped on the carpet, and David,
happening to notice it, picked it up behind miss Ermine
the stranger's unconscious back. It had on it the number
of a house near Hanover Square, and in another moment
(21:40):
David had pressed the lady's hand and was gone, crying
I'll come again. Not even a word of thanks, said
miss l Strange to herself as she looked after his
flying back blow below thou Winter's wind. David leaped into
(22:01):
his waiting cab and was off across London. Light was
still in Van Hupfeldt's quarters, and Van Hupfeldt himself. At
the moment when David rang was poring over the last
words of the diary of her who had been part
of his life, he was livid with fear that the
knowledge just learned for certain from the written words that
(22:24):
there were still hidden in the flat a photograph of
him and his last letter to Gwendolen. When he heard
an altercation between his man Neil and another voice outside.
A moment later, he heard Neil cry out sharply and
then he was aware of a hurried step coming in
upon him. The first thought of his secret of nature
(22:47):
was the diary, and with the trepidations of a miser
surprised in counting his gold, he hustled it into a
secret recess of the bureau near which she had been reading.
He had hardly done this when he stood face to
face with David. At that moment Van Hupfeldt's face seemed
lit with a lunacy of affright, surprise, and rage. David,
(23:13):
with his hat rather drawn over his eyes and with
a frowning severity, said I want four things of you.
The diary, the key of my flat, which you have
in your possession, those certificates, and Missus Mordaunt's address. A
scream went out from Van Hupfeldt. Niel the police, quite so,
(23:37):
said David. But before the police come, do as I say,
or I shall kill you. Van Upfeldt could hardly catch
his breath sufficiently to speak. A man so wholly in
the grip of terror it was painful to see. David
understood him to say, man, I I warn you, My
(23:58):
heart is weak, heart weak, growled David. That's what you say, Well,
then keep cool and let me have my way. We
must wrangle it out now somehow. You have the police
on your side for the moment, and I stand alone. Now.
The outer door was heard to slam, for Neil had
(24:19):
run out to some help. I'm not acting on my own, behalf,
said David, but for the sake of a girl whose
life I feel sure you are going to make bitter.
She cares nothing for you. How dare you came in
a hoarseness of concentrated passion from van upfeldtsposel No, she
(24:42):
cares nothing for you, you interloper. And even she did,
she is sure to find out sooner or later that
you are Strauss. Oh had I but guessed, which would
be the death of her. I never dream of this,
so on her behalf, I'll just make a hurried search
(25:04):
before the police comes. The things are not yours. If
your heart wasn't weak, I'd maul you till you were
willing to hand them over of your own accord. With that,
David made a move toward the bureau, whereupon Van Hupfelt
uttered a scream and flew upon him like a catamountain,
but David flung him away to the other end of
(25:26):
the room. Scattered over the bureau were a number of
letters in their envelopes, ready for the post, and the
first of these upon which David's eye fell, was directed
to Miss Violet Mordaunt. Here was luck, even as his
heart bounded. Even before he had seen a word of
(25:47):
the address, he was in darkness. Van Hupfelt had switched
off the light, and now once again David felt himself
outdone by the cunning of this man. The room was large,
crowded with objects of luxury, and the switch was a
needle in a bundle of hay in which direction to
(26:07):
grope for it David did not know. He ran to
where he had flung Van Hupfeldt to compel him by
main force to turn on the light, but Van Hupfeldt
was no longer there. The suddenness of the darkness made
it black to the eyes. David could not find the switch, and,
fearing lest Van Upfeldt might snatch away the letter to
(26:30):
Violet in the dark, he flew back to the bureau,
over setting first a chair and then colliding upon Van Hupfeldt.
A little distance from the bureau. Again, he flung van
Hupfeldt far and keeping near the bureau groped along the
beating of the wall to see if he could encounter
another switch. In the midst of this search, his ears
(26:54):
detected the sound of a key in the outer door, and,
understanding that help had arrived for the enemy, instantly he
took his decision, felt for the eight or ten envelopes
on the bureau, slipped them all into his pocket, and
was gone in the hall. Coming inward, he met Neil
(27:15):
and an officer, but as if making a deep bow
to the majesty of the law, he slipped as easily
as a wave under the officer's hand and disappeared through
the wide open door. The officer ran after him. That
was simple for the moment. When David pitched through the
house door below the stairs, he was never more seen
(27:38):
by that particular officer to the day of his death.
Under a lamp in Oxford Street, when he stopped running,
he took out Strauss's letters from his pocket with a
hand that shook, for in his heart was the thought,
suppose I have left hers behind? But no, that fifth
(27:59):
one was hers. Miss Violet Mordaunt Dale, manor Rigsworth near Kenilworth.
Remembrance came to him with an ache of rapture. Within
twenty four hours he would see her. He was so
pleased that he was at pains to throw Strauss's other
letters into the first pillar box. What did it matter
(28:23):
now that the diary certificates anything or everything had been
filched from him? Tomorrow, No, that day he would see Violet.
End of Chapter sixteen.
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