Mysterious Mr. Sabin

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

Even as they crossed the threshold the room was plunged into sudden darkness; they had but a momentary and partial glimpse of the interior. Wolfenden saw a dark, slim figure bending forward with his finger still pressed to the ball of the lamp. The table was strewn with papers, something—somebody—was fluttering behind the screen yonder. There was barely a second of light; then with a sharp click the lamp went out, and the figure of the man was lost in obscurity. Almost simultaneously there came a flash of level fire and the loud report of the Admiral’s revolver. There was no groan, so Wolfenden concluded that the man, whoever he might be, had not been hit. The sound of the report was followed by a few seconds’ breathless silence. There was no movement of any sort in the room; only a faint breeze stealing in through the wide-open windows caused a gentle rustling of the papers with which the table was strewn, and the curtains swayed gently backwards and forwards. The Admiral, with his senses all on the alert, stood motionless, the revolver tense in his hand, his fiercely eager eyes straining to pierce the darkness. By his side, Wolfenden, equally agitated now, though from a different reason, stood holding his breath, his head thrust forward, his eyes striving to penetrate the veil of gloom which lay like a thick barrier between him and the screen. His fear had suddenly taken to itself a very real and terrible form. There had been a moment, before the extinction of the lamp had plunged the room into darkness, when he had seen, or fancied that he had seen, a woman’s skirts fluttering there. Up to the present his father’s attention had been wholly riveted upon the other end of the room; yet he was filled with a nervous dread lest at any moment that revolver might change its direction. His ears were strained to the uttermost to catch the slightest sign of any movement.

At last the silence was broken; there was a faint movement near the window, and then again, without a second’s hesitation, there was that level line of fire and loud report from the Admiral’s revolver. There was no groan, no sign of any one having been hit. The Admiral began to move slowly in the direction of the window; Wolfenden remained where he was, listening intently. He was right, there was a smothered movement from behind the screen. Some one was moving from there towards the door, some one with light footsteps and a trailing skirt. He drew back into the doorway; he meant to let her pass whoever it might be, but he meant to know who it was. He could hear her hurried breathing; a faint, familiar perfume, shaken out by the movement of her skirts, puzzled him; it’s very familiarity bewildered him. She knew that he was there; she must know it, for she had paused. The position was terribly critical. A few yards away the Admiral was groping about, revolver in hand, mumbling to himself a string of terrible threats. The casting of a shadow would call forth that death-dealing fire. Wolfenden thrust out his hand cautiously; it fell upon a woman’s arm. She did not cry out, although her rapid breathing sank almost to a moan. For a moment he was staggered—the room seemed to be going round with him; he had to bite his lips to stifle the exclamation which very nearly escaped him. Then he stood away from the door with a little shudder, and guided her through it. He heard her footsteps die away along the corridor with a peculiar sense of relief. Then he thrust his hand into the pocket of his dinner coat and drew out a box of matches.

“I am going to strike a light,” he whispered in his father’s ear.

“Quick, then,” was the reply, “I don’t think the fellow has got away yet; he must be hiding behind some of the furniture.”

There was the scratching of a match upon a silver box, a feeble flame gradually developing into a sure illumination. Wolfenden carefully lit the lamp and raised it high over his head. The room was empty! There was no doubt about it! They two were alone. But the window was wide open and a chair in front of it had been thrown over. The Admiral strode to the casement and called out angrily—

“Heggs! are you there? Is no one on duty?”

There was no answer; the tall sentry-box was empty.

Wolfenden came over to his father’s side and brought the lamp with him, and together they leaned out. At first they could see nothing; then Wolfenden threw off the shade from the lamp and the light fell in a broad track upon a dark, motionless figure stretched out upon the turf. Wolfenden stooped down hastily.

“My God!” he exclaimed, “it is Heggs! Father, won’t you sound the gong? We shall have to arouse the house.”

There was no need. Already the library was half full of hastily dressed servants, awakened by the sound of the Admiral’s revolver. Pale and terrified, but never more self-composed, Lady Deringham stepped out to them in a long, white dressing-gown.