Room 13 · Chapter 26 (2/2)

From a small cupboard he took a telephone, and pushed in the plug at the end of a long flex. He had some time to wait for the number, but presently he heard a voice which he knew was Marney’s.

“Is that you, Marney?” he asked softly, disguising his voice so cleverly that the girl was deceived.

“Yes, daddy. Are you all right? I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Quite all right, darling. Johnny and I have made a very interesting discovery. Will you tell Barney to go to bed, and will you wait up for me⁠—open the door yourself?”

“Is Johnny coming back with you?”

“No, no, darling; I’m coming alone.”

“Are you sure everything is all right?” asked the anxious voice.

“Now, don’t worry, my pet. I shall be with you at two o’clock. When you hear the car stop at the gate, come out. I don’t want to come into the house. I’ll explain everything to you.”

“But⁠—”

“Do as I ask you, darling,” he said, and before she could reply had rung off.

But could Jeff make it? He would like to go himself, but that would mean the employment of a chauffeur, and he did not know one he could trust. He himself was not strong enough to deal with the girl, and, crowning impossibility, motorcar driving was a mystery⁠—that was one of the accomplishments which a long stay in Dartmoor had denied to him.

But could Jeff make it? He took a pencil from his pocket and worked out the times on the white tablecloth. Satisfied, he put away his pencil, and was pouring out a glass of champagne when there was a gentle tap-tap-tap at the door. He looked up in surprise. The man had orders not under any circumstances to come near Room 13, and it was his duty to keep the whole passage clear until he received orders to the contrary.

Tap-tap-tap.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened. A man stood in the doorway. He was dressed in shabby evening clothes; his bow was clumsily tied; one stud was missing from his white shirtfront.

“Am I intruding upon your little party?” he asked timidly.

Emanuel said nothing. For a long time he sat staring at this strange apparition. As if unconscious of the amazement and terror he had caused, the visitor sought to readjust his frayed shirt-cuffs, which hung almost to the knuckles of his hands. And then:

“Come in, Mr. Reeder,” said Emanuel Legge a little breathlessly.