Chapter Twenty-two

When Michael Dorn left the police station he hurried his car to Charlotte Street. At such an early hour of the morning there was no sign of life in this thoroughfare. He expected to be kept waiting before there came an answer to his knocking. But had he known something of old Mackenzie’s habits, he would not have been surprised at the promptitude with which his signal was answered.

The old man was in his dressing-gown and had not been half an hour in bed when Dorn arrived. He looked with mild suspicion at the visitor--a suspicion which was intensified when he learnt the object of his visit.

“Yes, sir, Miss Elizabetta Smith is in the house. Are you from the police?”

“Yes,” said Michael, without stretching the truth. “Can I speak to Miss Smith?”

“She came in late and very distressed. I understand that the good countess has promised to do all in her power to secure the release of my young friend, Miss Reddle. It is indeed an awful thing to have happened. Will you come in, sir?”

Michael followed him up the stairs to his little room and sat down whilst the musician went up to arouse Lizzy. She also had heard the knocking and was waiting in the doorway of her room when Mackenzie came up.

“Dorn, is it?” she said viciously. “I’ll come down and Dorn him! He’ll be ‘sunset’ by the time I’ve finished with him!”

She came into Michael’s presence a flaming virago.

“You’ve got a nerve!” she said. “After swearing away the life of poor Lois----”

Michael shook his head.

“She’s not here?” he interrupted with a touch of asperity.

“Here? Of course she’s not here! She’s in the police station, and how you could----”

“She’s not in the police station, she’s been released, and I want to find the man who released her.”

Something in his tone silenced the girl.

“Isn’t she with Lady Moron?” she asked.

“I am going to Chester Square, but I don’t expect to find Miss Reddle there. I locked her up to save her life--I suppose you realise that? There have been two attempts made to kill her, and I had information that the third would be more successful. I knew her mother was on the point of being released from prison--she was in fact released last night. It is vitally necessary that I should have Lois Reddle under my eye.”

Lizzy had collapsed into a chair.

“Her mother released from prison?” she said hollowly. “What are you talking about? Her mother’s dead. And killing? Who’s going to kill Lois? Why! It was an accident--the balcony.”

“It was no accident,” said Michael quietly. “The balcony has been unsafe for a year past and was condemned by the borough surveyor on the advice of a local builder who was brought in to repair the slab. Until Miss Reddle occupied that room in Chester Square the French windows leading to the balcony had been kept locked up.”

Lizzy gasped.

“But the servants----”

“The servants were all new. None of them had been longer in the house than a fortnight. Sergeant Braime came up from Newbury, and even he knew nothing.”

“Sergeant Braime?” she repeated, wide-eyed.

“Braime is an officer of the Criminal Investigation Department, who has been in the countess’ household for six months,” was the staggering reply. “Nobody was allowed to go on to the balcony. A gate was fixed to prevent the servants from forestalling the plan--it was removed the night Lois went to her room.”

“By whom?” asked Lizzy quietly.

Michael Dorn shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows? I shall discover later.”

“Where is Lois now?”

“That is exactly what I want to know. I’m going to Chester Square right away. Will you come with me?”

She was out of the room in a flash.

“But, Mr. Dorn, this is a terrible thing you say; that any person should conspire against the life of that innocent lassie!” said old Mackenzie, horrified. “You will surely find Miss Reddle at the good countess’ home.”

“I hope so, but I very much doubt it, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Michael.

The old man’s lips were tremulous.

“Is there anything I can do? It is not my habit to leave the house, but I would even take that step----”

Michael shook his head.

“I am afraid you can do nothing, except in the unlikely event of Miss Reddle returning here. You will see that she does not go out again, and that she does not receive visitors in any circumstances. I very much doubt,” he smiled faintly, “whether you will be called upon to render this help. I can only wish to heaven that you will be!”

Lizzy was down in a very short time, dressed for the street, and, as they drove towards Chester Square, she told him the part she had played in securing Lois Reddle’s release.

“I went and found the countess; she was at a friend’s house, and told her about Lois. She was very much upset. I’d never seen her before to speak to, but she was quite decent to me.”

“Did she have anybody with her? Do you know Chesney Praye?”

Lizzy shook her head.

“No, I’ve heard of him from Lois, but I’ve never seen him.”

Michael described the man and again she shook her head.

“No, he was not there.”

“What did the countess do?”

“She telephoned to somebody and said she was sending a letter to the police officer in charge. She told me to go home to Charlotte Street and wait in patience until Lois came back.”

Michael nodded.

“You could rest in patience because she knew that Lois wasn’t going back to Chester Square!” he said grimly. “And if she hadn’t come back to Chester Square and you were there waiting for her, you would have wanted to know where she had been taken.”

The car drew up before 307, and Michael got out and pressed the bell. There was no reply. He rang again, and followed this up by knocking. Still there was no answer. Stepping out from under the porch he looked up at the windows, just as a sash was raised and a tousled head thrust forth. It was Lord Moron, and apparently he was sleeping on the floor which was usually given over to the household staff.

“Hullo! What’s the trouble, old thing?”

“Will you come down?” called Michael, and the head was withdrawn.

They waited for a longer time than it would have taken for him to reach the ground floor, before the door opened, and then the explanation for the delay was unnecessary, for with him the countess stood in the hall, wrapped in her cloak, a majestic and imposing figure.