CHAPTER FIVE
TRAPPED
1.
THE next three days were more miserable to Hugh than those he had spent in prison. He missed Margot keenly. He had become so used to her; she had waited on him so devotedly; had made herself so essential to him in a hundred little ways. Her sudden desertion of him when he most needed her filled him with dismay.
He felt injured, too. He had done a good deal for her. He had always been a perfect brother, respectful and courteous. If she had been a real sister, he could not have thought more of her. If he could get her back he would be even more considerate. He would take her to the cinema, to tea sometimes, even for a drive occasionally. The trouble was, if he went about with her, people would jump at wrong conclusions. Well, in future, let ’em jump. He would buy that cottage and she should keep house for him. He wondered if it would be possible to legally adopt her as a sister. Then she could live with him until she found the man she wanted to marry. Why not?
Where was she? In Paris, no doubt; taking up the weary struggle once more. She would surely write soon, then he would go and fetch her. Why had she left most of her clothes, he wondered? All the things he had bought her? Perhaps she did not want to take them. The sight of her abandoned garments made him lonelier than ever.
She must have left just before the crime. If she had been there, it might not have happened, she always kept such a watchful eye on the old man’s door. How shocked she would be. She had been so fond of the professor, fussing over him, doing things for him. Poor man! So that was the end of all his grandiose schemes. And the system was useless, for only he, Hugh, had the key. Well, he was glad it had been stolen. He had always hated it. There had been something so uncanny about it. Although it was always successful, it seemed to bring misfortune on all connected with it.
He felt the shadow of the tragedy penetrating even to his room. The concierge who had identified him as the murderer, had discreetly gone on a vacation; but Hugh had gathered dubious details of what had happened. About ten o’clock the assassin had mounted to the old man’s room. The concierge had seen him enter, but had not seen him leave. About midnight the occupant of the room below, a Casino employé, had heard groaning; but by the time the door had been opened the old man was dead. He was lying face downward in a pool of blood with a knife stab just under the ribs. The safe was open and empty; the room ransacked.
That was all Hugh could learn. It was vague and confusing enough. The Monaco police seemed to be in no hurry to clear up the mystery and probably would allow it to swell the list of the Principality’s undiscovered crimes.
Oh, for a word from Margot! He was growing anxious about her. Then one day the postman handed him a letter.