The Black House in Harley Street/Chapter 5

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Once within the safe shelter of the brougham, Maisie not unnaturally gave way to tears; Goulburn and Christopher, after the fashion of mere men in such cases, looked at each other in miserable helplessness.

"Don't cry, Maisie," said Goulburn. "It's not your fault that this thing has happened, and all the crying in the world won't do you any good. Let's try to get at the root of the mystery."

"Yes; but that's what I'm crying about," said Maisie. "I wouldn't mind if it were not for the mystery. It's the mystery that hurts. Why, if I could do a thing like that and never know anything about it, I'm more fitted for an asylum than a private house! I must be mad!"

"Nonsense!" ejaculated Chris, who was looking very fierce and determined, and much disposed to have words with somebody or anybody. "You're all right, Maisie. Perhaps—er—perhaps you were a bit forgetful that day—might have got some notion into your head that you wanted a thousand pounds in gold—say, just to look at, eh?—and went and got it, and then hid it some​where, and forgot where you'd put it. I've heard of such things—oh, hundreds of times!" concluded Chris, with great emphasis, and staring Goulburn in the face with unblushing effrontery. "Haven't you, Dick?"

"Yes—I've heard of cases in which people have mislaid things," said Goulburn, who was not one-half as quick as his friend Christopher at apprehending a situation; "but in this case———"

"In this case it's all nonsense!" interrupted Maisie, who was drying her tears and regaining her customary composure. "I'm surprised at you, Chris, for suggesting such things. I say that since I did go to the bank and draw that money—for we can't doubt that I did on the face of the evidence—and have not the slightest recollection of ever having done so, there must be something wrong with me mentally, and I insist on seeing Dr. van Mildart at once and telling him all about it. Why, I might go on drawing my whole fortune and throwing it into the Thames!"

The two men made no immediate reply to this, but after a while Goulburn said gently—

"Don't you think, Maisie, that when we get home you'd better have a look round and see if you can't find that gold?"

"Yes—before going to any doctors," said Chris fervently. "I should suggest a detective rather than a doctor."

Maisie flashed looks of indignant scorn upon both.

"I might be dealing with children instead of grown men!" she said. "Now, do you really fancy, Dick, that ​I have got a thousand sovereigns carefully hidden away somewhere in the house, as if I were a jackdaw who steals anything bright for the mere pleasure of hiding it? Stuff! And as for you, Chris, with your silly chatter about detectives, I'm ashamed of you. You're perpetually forcing it upon one that you were meant to be a second Sherlock Holmes; but I'm sure I don't see where your perspicacity comes in in this case. What could a detective do? No! I must have been suffering from some temporary mental aberration, or something of that sort, and I'm going to see Dr. van Mildart as soon as we get home."

Now, although Maisie was just a small brown-eyed, brown-haired little woman who looked as if she ought to be perpetually petted and made much of, she had an iron will of her own, and no one knew it better than Richard and Christopher. They therefore kept silence until they were safely housed in Harley Street again, but as they were crossing the hall Goulburn said—

"Well, Maisie, if you're really going to see Dr. van Mildart, you might at least let Chris and me go with you. We're just as anxious about this affair as you are."

"Oh yes," she said, "you may come. I'll be ready in ten minutes, and we'll catch the doctor early."

Then she went up the stairs, and the two men turned into the smoking-room and stared hard at each other in a suggestive silence.

"I say, Dick," said Chris at last, "this is a queer business. There's some foul play in this, my boy."

​"Foul play? Nonsense, Chris! How could there be foul play?"

"Don't know," answered Chris, as he lighted a cigarette, "but I'll bet there is. It's all very well Maisie making light of my powers, but I have the detective genius in many ways, and I'll bet all I possess there's something wrong in this—I mean from an outside source. And I don't see what good van Mildart can possibly do."

"Well, he might do some good in one way," said Goulburn thoughtfully. "I've found out that he has the power to hypnotise Maisie, and———"

"What!" exclaimed Chris. "The power to hypnotise Maisie? Good heavens! you don't mean to say that you allowed that, Dick?"

"My dear fellow," said Goulburn, who perceived that the little man was genuinely concerned by this news, "there's nothing to be alarmed about. It was not a question of my allowing it or not—as a matter of fact, I knew absolutely nothing about it. Maisie happened to have a frightful attack of neuralgia—she met van Mildart—he saw that she was in pain, took her into his dining-room, and cured her instantly by what, from her account, was nothing more nor less than hypnotic suggestion. That's all."

"And what did he do?" inquired Chris suspiciously.

"Merely told her to stand still and look fixedly at his spectacles until he spoke to her. In about a minute he told her that she hadn't got neuralgia—that it was gone. And so it was."

​"And pray how can van Mildart help us in this matter?" inquired Chris.

"Well, I thought that if he hypnotised her he could get out of her all about this bank mystery," answered Goulburn. "I should think he could—I've heard of such things."

"I'll take good care he doesn't, then!" exclaimed Chris. "Look here, Dick, you may be Maisie's brother,—or, rather, you are her brother,—but I'm going to be her husband, and I'm dashed if I'm going to have van Mildart or anybody else playing hanky-panky tricks with my future wife! He'd no business to hypnotise Maisie—neuralgia or no neuralgia. It's a beastly dangerous———"

"Will you please come to the telephone, sir?" said the parlour-maid, entering the smoking-room and addressing Goulburn.

When his host had left the room Mr. Christopher Aspinall's behaviour became quite strange, not to say eccentric and peculiar. He ruffled his hair. He put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and twiddled his fingers. He seized the point of his chin in his left hand and stared fixedly at the ceiling. He rubbed the tip of his turned-up nose violently with the forefinger of his right hand. Then he varied these proceedings by walking round the room with slow steps and bent head. Coming to a sudden stop in front of the window, he suddenly lifted a face into which the light of a startling idea had come, and, smiting his left palm with his right fist, he said in a low, thrilling voice—

​"By Gad!"

After which, presumably by way of relieving his feelings, he gave vent to a long, low whistle, in the midst of which Maisie entered, followed a second later by her brother.

"Come along, boys," said Maisie. "Let's go round to Dr. van Mildart to find out if I am a fit subject for Hanwell or Colney Hatch. You need not come if you don't want to, Christopher."

But Christopher displayed great eagerness to go.

"Oh, ah, yes, I'm coming, I'm coming, Maisie," he said. "I—I've been thinking it over, and I'm sure, I'm certain, that you're very wise. Yes, it's the right thing to do. Yes, let's go and see Dr. van Mildart at once."

However, as luck would have it, they found out, on reaching the door of the black house, that the famous specialist was not to be seen. He had gone out of town very early that morning and would not return until afternoon. But Miss Lamotte was in, and Miss Lamotte (it being still rather an early hour for the usual crowd of fashionable callers) was disengaged.

"I will see Miss Lamotte," said Maisie, with sudden determination, and without evincing the least desire to consult brother or fiancé.

Miss Lamotte, interviewed professionally, proved to be a very different person to the Miss Lamotte of social life. She was very business-like, very precise, and very grave. Entirely ignoring the two men, who found themselves sitting in faraway chairs nursing their walking-sticks, she began to question Maisie in sharp, ​trenchant fashion, consulting from time to time a small notebook in which she had set down the girl's statement.

"You have not the slightest recollection of this matter, Miss Goulburn?"

"Not the very slightest—it is all a blank to me. I know nothing of it."

"Can you remember anything at all about that particular day—July 21?"

"Oh yes, lots about it! I have just been looking in my diary—I jot little things down in it, you know, quite little things. These are several things in it: I called at two or three shops in the morning—my brother and I lunched at the Ritz—you and Miss Phillimore came to tea in the afternoon—my brother, Mr. Aspinall, and I were at the theatre at night."

"And the previous evening—do you remember anything of that?"

"Yes; we dined here the previous evening. I remember that very well, because while you and Miss Phillimore and my brother and Mr. Aspinall were playing bridge, Dr. van Mildart showed me his cabinet of Byzantine coins which I had been so wanting to see. Oh yes, I remember that evening clearly—and, in fact, everything all along. I never remember a lapse of memory before."

"But you had been, I think, a little run down?"

"Perhaps I had. But of late I have felt so well. What is it, do you think, Miss Lamotte?"

But Miss Lamotte was making more notes in her ​little book, and for the moment did not reply. When she did, her tones were as business-like as before.

"I don't think you need be alarmed, Miss Goulburn," she said. "Possibly it was some little temporary aberration, a thing that every one is subject to. Why should it take that form? Ah!—why indeed? Perhaps the sight of Dr. van Mildart's gold coins played some trick with your brain, and made you want to possess something bright and glittering. Don't worry—you will be all right."

Maisie made a half-childish mouth.

"Don't like it," she said.

"No!" said Chris, who could no longer be restrained from speaking. "And I don't like it either! Have you ever known cases of this sort before, may I ask, Miss Lamotte?"

Miss Lamotte turned a severely professional glance upon the interrupter.

"Oh yes, several!" she said icily. Then, turning to Maisie, she repeated her previous admonition: "Don't worry!"

"Yes," said Maisie, "but I can't help worrying. You see, Miss Lamotte, it might occur again."

"No," said Miss Lamotte, "I don't think it will."

"You think, Miss Lamotte, that it was a mere passing phase?" said Goulburn. "A temporary———"

"Just so," said Miss Lamotte. "I advise your sister not to worry about it."

"But supposing it does happen again?" insisted Maisie. "I might lost a great deal more at that time."

​Miss Lamotte glanced at Goulburn.

"You might prevent that by allowing your brother to take charge of your cheque-book," she said.

Maisie shrugged her shoulders.

"It's all very dreadful," she said. "Besides, where is my thousand pounds? It can't have melted, and I'm sure I haven't hidden it, or buried it, or given it away."

"Pardon me, but you don't know that," said Miss Lamotte; "you don't know what you mayn't have done with it. Don't worry!—wait until Dr. van Mildart returns, and then, if you like, speak to him. But he will tell you, in effect, what I am telling you."

"Well, I suppose that is all I can do," said Maisie, somewhat discontentedly, and showing an evident disappointment that Miss Lamotte could not immediately solve all her difficulties. "But———"

At that moment the door of Miss Lamotte's private consulting room was opened without ceremony, and Moira Phillimore, looking considerably excited, and waving a newspaper, burst in upon them.

"I say, Miss Lamotte!———" she began. Then, stopping short and glancing about her, "What on earth are all you people doing here?" she said. "I thought Miss Lamotte was alone—it's half an hour to her private audiences yet. Is some one ill?"

"Maisie is not very well," said Goulburn.

"And I'm not at all what I should be," said Chris pathetically. "I wish I felt as well as you look, Miss Phillimore."

"Then my looks must belie my feelings, Mr. Aspi​nall, for I don't feel too well myself," said Moira. "I suppose it's the weather. We really must get out of London. But I rushed in to tell Miss Lamotte the news—I know she never reads the newspapers until evening. I say, Miss Lamotte, you know the Countess of Maxton—that baby-eyed, fluffy-haired, dolly-woman who has been consulting my Uncle van Mildart so often lately?"

"Yes, of course," replied Miss Lamotte.

"All her diamonds have been stolen!"

Christopher Aspinall let forth a sharp whistle.

"What!" he exclaimed. "The famous Maxton diamonds!"

"Oh, you know something about them, do you?" said Moira. "Yes, the famous Maxton diamonds—clean disappeared!"

"Why, they're worth every penny of two hundred thousand pounds," said Chris.

"Two hundred and seventy-five thousand, according to the paper," said Moira. "Look here!"

She held up a newspaper as she spoke, and they, gathering round her, saw the announcement of the theft in big black letters.

​"That," said Moira, "is quite a lively heading—much more lively than is usual in English newspapers. But the thieves must have been clever. Here, Mr. Christopher Aspinall, as you revel so in crime, and think yourself so clever, read the terrible details to the company. I know they'll interest Miss Lamotte."

"Why me particularly?" asked Miss Lamotte.

"Oh, I know. I'm pretty smart at knowing what interests people," said Moira, seating herself on the edge of the lady-doctor's desk, and playing a tattoo on it with her fingers. "Read, Mr. Christopher, read!"

"Ahem!" said Chris, taking the stage in approved fashion. "Thus it runs:—

"'A jewel robbery of an exceptionally daring nature was reported to the authorities at Scotland Yard late last evening. The information so far supplied to the press is of very scanty nature, the police being naturally reticent in the matter; but it may be stated at once that the famous Maxton family jewels, including the world-celebrated "Maxton Star," have been stolen, and are now in the hands of what is probably a remarkably clever gang of thieves.

"'The facts of the robbery as communicated to the press are as follows: The Maxton jewels when in London have always been kept in the Earl of Maxton's private safe at his bankers', a well-known house in the city; and whenever they have been taken out or deposited, it has been by either Lord or Lady Maxton in person. They were always contained in a stout leather ​box about eighteen inches square, which was secured by an ordinary patent lock, was clamped with brass at the corners, and had a handle by which it was carried.

"'There was occasion for the use of the jewels again last evening, when the Earl and Countess were to attend the Duchess of Richminster's dance at Richminster House. As on all previous occasions, they were fetched from the bank in person—this time by the Earl. On the case being opened about nine o'clock last night, it was found to contain a quantity of lead, of tissue paper, and cotton-wool.

"'On the 25th inst., Lord and Lady Maxton giving a dinner and reception in honour of the Grand Duke of Friedstein, the jewels were fetched from the bank by Lady Maxton herself, and were worn by her that night. They were kept in a safe in his lordship's dressing-room (and it may here be stated that, following the usual custom, his lordship himself saw the jewels safely deposited in the case, himself locked them up and kept the key, and that the key has never since been out of his possession) for the rest of the night, and at eleven o'clock next morning were taken to the bank by the Countess, who deposited them in the private safe in the presence of the manager.

"'The mystery of the matter is at present literally inexplicable. The coachman who drove the carriage which conveyed the Countess and the jewels to the bank on the morning of the 26th inst. is positive that no break was made in the journey at any place, and the ​footman corroborates his statement. Both servants agree that the Countess passed into the bank carrying the case. The bank manager, hastily interviewed at a late hour last night, says that the Countess proceeded straight to his office, and that the case was deposited, as usual, in the private safe in his presence.

"'The value of the missing diamonds is, roughly speaking, about £275,000. All are family heirlooms, with the exception of a necklace which was given by the present Earl to his wife on their marriage.'"

"I think that's one of the smartest things I've heard of for a long time," said Moira, as Chris made an end of the newspaper account. "Don't you think so too, Miss Lamotte?"

Miss Lamotte coughed—a deprecating sort of cough.

"Really, I don't know anything about such matters," she said. "It seems very strange to me that the diamonds could be abstracted at all if the facts are as the newspaper says. It is a very remarkable case."

"It is a most remarkable case," agreed Chris, with a judicial air. "Now I have given some slight attention to these affairs, and———"

But before Christopher could ventilate his theories the door of the consulting room was opened, and the parlour-maid announced—

"Mrs. Ponsonby-Smith and Miss Georgina Ponsonby-Smith to see Miss Lamotte by appointment."

As Miss Lamotte's patients (or patient in charge of ​a doting mamma) sailed into the room the four young people went out of it. In the hall Moira looked at Maisie.

"Are you coming upstairs?" she asked, somewhat abruptly, "or was it just a professional call?"

"Quite professional," replied Maisie. "I wanted to know whether I am going mad or not. And I've such a lot to do this morning. Come along, Christopher."

"Well, you're all dining here to-night, aren't you?" said Moira. "Au revoir!"

Maisie and Chris tripped down the steps together; Goulburn lingered, looking at Moira, who was gazing abstractedly at a recessed bronze figure. She turned and looked at him with half-shut eyes.

"Well?" she said.

"You don't seem well," he said anxiously.

"I'm not well, I'm anything but well. I want to yawn all day long. Do you want to smoke? Come into the library—it's cool there."

She led the way into the room in which Goulburn had first met Dr. van Mildart, and flung herself into one of the easy-chairs with a heavy sigh.

"I don't know what's the matter with me," she said.

"Of late I'm so tired all day. I suppose, of course, it's nothing but the heat. I don't like the English climate. I think I shall go back to the States and settle down there."

"You don't mean that?" he said, with something of a tremor in his voice.

"Frankly, I do mean it," she said. "Why should I ​not mean it? I'm not given to saying things that I don't mean."

"No, indeed," he exclaimed. "But———"

"Well?"

"If you go, I shall follow you there," said Goulburn, in a low voice.

She regarded him calmly for a time and then nodded her head.

"Yes," she said, "I expect you would."

"You know I should. You know very well I love you!" he burst out.

Once more she regarded him calmly; once more nodded her head.

"Yes," she said, "I know."

He came nearer to her, bent over her.

"And you?" he whispered.

She did not look at him for a while, but at last she gave him one quick glance that set his blood on fire.

"Yes, I expect it's so with me too," she said. "No, don't want to kiss me now—please. I'm—I'm troubled."

"Troubled! You?"

"Yes, I."

"What is it? Tell me, please."

"Not yet. But I will tell you later. Look here, will you go away now? I want to be alone—to think. You will see me to-night."

"Answer me one question," said Goulburn: "are you going to marry me, Moira?"

She hesitated for a moment, and then said—

"If I answer you, will you promise to march straight ​away out of that door without another word? We can talk to-night."

"I promise faithfully."

"Very well: yes."

Goulburn carried out his promise, but was never afterwards quite sure how he did it. Nor was he quite sure how he spent the remainder of the day except that he visited several jewellers' shops in Bond Street, selecting an engagement ring, on which he spent a sum that would have purchased a small estate. It seemed hours before evening arrived, and they were all reassembled within Dr. van Mildart's hospitable walls.

The doctor had never been so genial or so talkative. His attention had been called to the Maxton Diamond Case, and he discoursed learnedly upon similar occurrences. He was still talking on the subject to Goulburn and Christopher over their coffee and cigars in the library when Pimpery suddenly opened the door and announced—

"The Earl and Countess of Maxton!"