For two or three minutes the driver occupied himself in taking the blanket off his horse and adjusting the harness. Then he mounted the box and drove off slowly in the direction of the Strand.
At once a wild desire came on Darrel to ascertain the reason of the red-headed man's strange behaviour. Almost without thinking he crossed over to the second cab and opened the door.
"Follow that first cab," said he to the driver, "and I'll give you half a sovereign."
"Hullo!" replied the man, noting suspiciously the dress of his fare, "wot's yer little game?"
"Police business worth half a sovereign," was Darrel's diplomatic reply.
"Blimme, that's all right, sir," said the driver, accepting this explanation with alacrity. "Jump in, an' I'll ketch up t'other keb in two shakes!"
Confident that the driver would earn his money, Darrel lay back on the cushions, and wondered what would be the outcome of his pursuit. That the red-headed man should have turned away at the very goal towards which he had requested guidance was most extraordinary. If he had no special business in Mortality-lane, why had he inquired for it? and if he had a reason for going, and his reason was an innocent one, why did he not ask the policeman in Drury-lane instead of applying to a complete stranger? Frank, ever on the alert for romance, asked himself these questions, but could find no answer to them. However, he hoped to gratify his curiosity when he caught up with the stranger who was the cause of it--provided the stranger was willing to afford an explanation.
The cab--presumably following the other vehicle--drove down Bell-street, and turned into the Strand, now almost emptied of traffic. It rolled along the thoroughfare as far as Trafalgar-square, then turned down Northumberland-avenue, passed along the Embankment, and up Arundel-street into the Strand again. Darrel was greatly puzzled by this circular route--the more so when he found his cab driving up Drury-lane. Then a sudden thought struck him.
"The red-headed man fancied I was watching him," he said to himself, "and drove away to get rid of me. I should not be surprised if the first cab, with him inside, returns to the entrance to Mortality-lane."
This proved to be the case, for following almost the same route as he had conducted the stranger, the first four-wheeler drove into the little square and took up its old station at the mouth of the lane. But by this time the third cab left behind had disappeared.
"'Ere y'are, sir!" said Darrel's driver, opening the door. "We've both come back 'ome an' never stopped the whole bloomin' time. Carn't mek out wot 'Enry's fare's bin arter."
Frank, as puzzled as the cabman, jumped out, and, walking to the first vehicle, looked inside. To his surprise, the red-headed man had vanished.
"Wot's wrong with moy keb, mister," said the gruff voice of the driver.
"The man--the man with the red hair?" inquired the amazed Darrel.
"Oh, 'e's all right. Don't y' fret yerself about 'im. Wot y' poll-pryin' 'ere for, eh?"
"Y'd best taike care, 'Enry," remarked the other cabman, sauntering up. "This gent's to do with the perlice."
The insolence of Henry gave place at once to respect. "Didn't know you was a 'tec, sir. Might the cove with carrots be wanted?"
"He might be," said Darrel, not thinking it wise to disclaim the profession attributed to him by the two cabmen. "When did he get out?"
"Well, y' see, sir, he were never in, so to speak."
"What do you mean?"
"'Twas this way, sir. The carrots cove comes 'ere, an' sez: 'A man'--you, sir--''e's follerin' me. I'll give y' five bob to let me pass through yer keb an' down thet there lane. Then,' sez he, 'jes y' drive orf an' drive back, an' y' can pick me up and taike me 'ome.' So while I was talking the blannkit orf he whips in at one door, an' out of t'other, and down thet lane like mad. I drives orf, an' larfs when I sees you was follerin'. So 'ere I am back agin t' pick 'im up; but I don't see the bloomin' cove," concluded Henry, with a glance round.
It was with great amazement that Darrel listened to the story of the cabman. Strange indeed must have been the errand of the red-haired man to Mortality-lane, when he was so suspicious of a stranger and took such elaborate precautions against discovery. The word discovery no sooner flashed into Darrel's brain than he repeated it aloud. Discovery of what? With, perhaps, unpardonable curiosity, Frank made up his mind to acquaint himself with the reason of the man's strange conduct.
"Well," said he in reply to Henry, "I'll wait here with you until this man reappears."
"Y'll wait by yerself, then," said Henry, getting on his box. "It's past one o'clock, an', fare or no fare, I ain't a-goin to stay all night."
When he drove off Darrel was left alone with the other cabman, and turned towards him in some perplexity. "Are you going too?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. Moy missus'll be expecting me," replied the man; "But," he added, taking down one of the cab lamps, "If y' think the gent's in that lane I'll go down with yer, an' look him up. Then I can drive y' both t' Bow-street."
With great alacrity Frank assented to this, and they went down the middle of the lane. As the gas lamps were few, the cabman flashed the light he carried from right to left. Mortality-lane is not very long, and they were soon close to the end where it opens into Lincoln's Inn Fields. Here the cabman uttered an oath as he stumbled over a body. Darrel looked, and, in the circle of the light cast by the carriage candle, beheld the red-haired man stone dead, with an ugly wound over the heart.
CHAPTER II
THE BLONDE LADY
On Monday morning Darrel lingered over his breakfast, considering the woful issue of his Saturday night's adventure. The alarm having been given by Bike, the cabman, the police had taken charge of the body and of the case and had requested Darrel to hold himself in readiness to be called as a witness. But the novelist, although willing to give evidence, wished to take a more active part in the matter. He desired to learn the motive for the crime, to discover the criminal, and ascertain by what means the murdered man had been lured to his death in Mortality-lane. In a word, Darrel wanted to change from spectator into actor, and to turn detective for the unriddling of this extraordinary enigma. To him the experience as he conceived, would be a liberal education in literary work.
While thus meditating, a card was brought to him inscribed, rather abruptly, with the curt name, "Torry." Who he might be Darrel could not guess, but the owner of this baronial appellation seemed to think that it was sufficient to introduce him, as one not unknown to renown. Somewhat amused by this hinted vanity, Darrel gave orders that the visitor should be admitted, and speedily found himself face to face with a short little man, smiling and voluble. Mr. Torry was extremely stout, with a plump, red-cheeked face, clean-shaven; very white teeth, and a fringe of scanty brown hair encircling a polished bald head. At first sight he looked a kindly, frivolous creature, but a closer inspection shewed that his eyes contradicted this opinion. These were of a greyish-blue, keen and penetrating, and changed colour in accordance with the emotions in their owner's mind. A man with such eyes could not be a fool, and, with characteristic caution, Darrel held his peace until the visitor should explain his business.
This was done in a moment.
"I have called," said Mr. Torry, taking a chair uninvited, "to see you about this Mortality-lane affair."
"From Scotland Yard?"
"From New Scotland Yard, to be precise. I am Torry the detective, and the case I spoke of has been placed in my hands for elucidation."
"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Torry," cried Darrel eagerly, "and any evidence I can give is at your disposal. But I have a favour to ask of you."
"A favour!" cried Mr. Torry, in his turn, "Granted. I love doing favours."
"Then do me this one," said Frank. "Let me assist you in the conduct of this case."
Mr.