The White Room

by Fergus Hume

The other felt his pockets. "No, I don't think so. Can you see anything? Oh, no matter. I dare say--what can I have dropped?"

The two searched for a time without success. At length the stranger shook his head positively, and felt his pockets again. "You must be mistaken," he remarked. "I don't think anything is missing. However, if you do find anything, you can give it to me when you see me next. You are usually on this beat?"

"For the next three nights, sir."

"Ah then, we are sure to meet. I often come here. Good night." And with a wave of his hand the gentleman walked rapidly away. At the turn of the street he looked back and again waved his hand. It might have been that he was anxious to see if the constable was watching him. But no such suspicion occurred to Mulligan. He was too pleased with the half-crown.

"A fine upstanding young gentleman," was the policeman's verdict; "free with his money"--he here produced the cigarette--"and his tobacco, good luck go with him."

As the inspector was not within sight, and indeed would not be until Mulligan returned to the fixed point in Achilles Avenue, the policeman decided to solace himself with a smoke. After lighting up he threw away the match. It fell almost in the middle of the road, and flamed up brightly in a pause of the wind. Although it went out with the next gust, Mulligan, in the short time, caught with his keen eye the glitter of steel. Striking another match, he searched round, and picked up a latch-key, long and slim and with scarcely projecting wards. "He'll not get to his bed this night," said Mulligan, looking towards the corner. "If I was to run after him now------"

But this, he decided, was impossible. The gentleman, walking at an unusually rapid pace, would be some distance away, and also in the meantime he might have met with a hansom. Also Mulligan had to return to the fixed point, as failure to meet his superior officer would meet with a sharp reprimand. "Ah well," said the philosophic policeman, "the young gentleman will be here to-morrow night, or maybe his sister will be still up, and I can give the key to her."

On the chance of securing another half-crown, Mulligan decided that this latter course would be the more diplomatic. Astutely adopting it, he walked smartly to Achilles Avenue. A consultation of his Waterbury watch assured him that he had nearly twenty minutes to spare before the arrival of the inspector. He therefore sought out Ajax Villa, being guided thereto by the fact that the light was still burning on the first floor. But he heard no singing. However, the light showed that the lady was still in the room, though doubtless the servants--as was shown plainly by the stranger's conversation--were in bed. Mulligan walked up to the door and rang. With some foresight he argued the lady would come herself to the door, whereby he would be more certain of his money.

The wind was dying down, now that it was close upon midnight, and everything in the house and garden was absolutely still. Walking up the path under the umbrageous shelter of the elms, Mulligan saw the colours of the flowers in neutral tints under a faint starry sky. There was no moon, but a kind of luminous twilight pervaded the atmosphere. Mulligan, being a Celt, was not impervious to the charm of the place which might have been Juliet's garden, so strangely had the magic of night transmuted its commonplace into romance. But his housemaid was expensive, and he hurried to the door, anxious to obtain a reward for the return of the key.

Several times did he ring, and although he heard the shrill vibration of the bell echo through the house, no one appeared in answer to its imperative summons. Thinking he might have made a mistake, the constable stepped back into the garden. But he was right. This was the villa out of which the young man had issued, for there burned the guiding light on the first floor. Mulligan felt puzzled by the inexplicable silence and rang the bell again. Indeed he pressed his great thumb on the ivory button for nearly one minute. The bell shrilled continuously and imperiously. Still no one came. Mulligan scratched his head and considered. "Something's wrong," thought he. "If I'd the key I'd enter and see if the lady is ill. Queer, the bell don't waken the servants. Augh! The lazy beasts."