“We’ve got ’im safe. You see there’s a little girl he’s been after for some time. Mrs. Emslie’s daughter wot committed suicide. She’s workin’ as a nurse girl; but she won’t ’ave anything to do with ’im. Well, we got ’er to send ’im a note sayin’ she’d meet ’im at one o’clock in a room in a certain ’otel that’s a bit out of the way. ’E came all right; and, while he waited for her, we simply locked ’im in. ’E’s there now, ’ammerin’ at the door and ragin’ like a madman. We won’t let ’im out till you get back.”
“I’m feeling nervous.”
“Don’t be afraid. With that touch of make-up you’re as like ’im as two peas. You’ll fool ’em all right. ’Ere’s a key to the front door. Now run and jump into the car as if you were in a ’urry. Take this. It will steady you.”
Hugh took the small flask of brandy that Bender handed to him, walked quickly to the car and leaped in. The chauffeur did not even look at him. He touched the button that started the motor, moved into gear and the car shot forward.
As Hugh left the town below him his uneasiness increased. His excitement seemed to mount with the mounting road, his heart pounded like the straining motor of the car that bore him on. He took a pull at the brandy flask, and felt better.
They were now among the olive trees and still climbing. A sleepy quiet brooded around them. When they drew near the solitary house Hugh wanted to leap out and make for safety, but it was too late to draw back.
As the chauffeur drove the car around to the garage, Hugh mounted the front steps and opened the door. A rush of stale air met him. The hallway was dark and dirty. Vulning did not seem to have a caretaker and probably only slept there once in a while. The rooms leading off the hall were shuttered and dark. Hugh went into the library, threw back the shutters and unclasped the window. The light leaped in like a wild thing. He looked carefully out of the window. It gave on the terrace with a balustrade about three feet high. Below was the road leading to the garage, and beyond that dense shrubbery. He closed the window without clasping it, then drew the heavy curtains, plunging the room in mysterious gloom.
Once more he went out into the unlighted hall. How quiet and dark the house was! His footsteps awakened echoes everywhere. He went upstairs to where a door, slightly open, showed a chink of light. It appeared to be Vulning’s bedroom. The bed was unmade, the room untidy. He took off his overcoat and drew on a dressing-gown he found lying over a chair. On the tiny table at the head of the bed was a small automatic pistol. Seeing that it was loaded, he put it into his pocket.
He felt horribly “funky,” but a glance in the mirror reassured him. His sunburnt skin had been made up to resemble Vulning’s sallow one; little crowsfeet were round his eyes, and cynical lines about his mouth. His hair was parted in the middle and brushed back like Vulning’s. When he put on Vulning’s yellow glasses it would have taken a very clever man indeed to detect the substitution. If only his confounded nervousness would not give him away! He wound a silk muffler around his neck, noting as he did so how his hands trembled. That would never do! He took another big swig at the brandy flask. Courage glowed in him, even to the point of recklessness. He was ready to go down and face them.
As he descended the stairway somewhat unsteadily he saw that his guests were already awaiting him. How quietly they had come in! He had not heard them. Golaz and Gamba were in the hall and glowered at him with fierce and restless eyes as he passed. In the darkened library Castelli and the doctor were talking in low tones, bending over the table on which lay a large plan. They turned as he entered.