Wendover waved the suggestion aside. There came back to his mind the recollection of what Sutton Deane had told him and the mysterious advertisement in the ‘Agony’ column of the ‘Herald.’ it was quite clear to his mind now that some strange mistake had been made by the police, and that John Garcia was at large. Moreover, he had lured his victim here and had murdered him with matchless audacity in the midst of the dance. It was a crime worthy of the man called John Garcia.
“It matters little for the moment what I know about him,” Wendover said; “the question is—where is he now.”
“In room 75,” Zena said. “He had a latchkey to that room, and so have the others.”
“But why should he destroy his friend?”
“Why does that type of man always commit a crime?” Zena demanded. “For money, of course. These people call themselves patriots, they profess to wage war on capitalists, but what they all want is their share of the hundred thousand pounds which form the funds of the Brotherhood. And those funds are locked in that safe, in room No. 75. Some day all but one of those men will be dead, or hanged, and the survivor will be rich beyond his wildest dreams. My father was a visionary and an enthusiast, and the dupe of these men. That’s why he left all his money to the Brotherhood, and why I am compelled to earn my daily bread. Oh, if I only had someone bold and resolute to help me!”
“You have,” Wendover cried. “I will help you. I will do anything to help you, and all the more so because I myself am on the track of those scoundrels. I have been shadowing them for months. But this is a phase of their rascality that I had not contemplated. You see, Miss Corroda, I am a journalist, attached to the ‘Daily Herald,’ and adventure is the breath of life to me. It is incidental, perhaps, but there is no occasion for me to work for my daily bread, though I love the life for its own sake. And I am going to help you, because I want to, and because I want to rid the world of these poisonous scoundrels, and, if I can help you in the meantime, it would only add zest to my success. Now, perhaps, you will honor me with your confidence.”
Zena smiled gratefully into Wendover’s eyes as she produced from the folds of her dress a black silk mask, edged with gold filigree, and the half of a broken circular gold disc stamped with the figure 3. The gold disc had been broken across the centre, so that only half of it remained. And these things the girl handed over to the puzzled Wendover.
At the same time there was a third object that Zena laid on Wendover’s palm, which, for the moment he had overlooked—a small latchkey, apparently of the Yale pattern, though a little longer in the wards than is usually the case. But, for the moment, this did not hold the same fascination as the broken gold disc, with its section of a figure 3. Apparently the disc had been fractured across the middle, as if some strong hand had bent it backwards and forwards until it was broken.
“Don’t you think you had better begin at the beginning and tell me the whole story over,” he suggested. “At present these mysterious objects convey nothing to me. All I can see is that by great good fortune I can help you in more ways than one. As I told you just now, I have been tracking this infamous Brotherhood half over Europe during the last six months on behalf of my paper, and now I am going to track them on your behalf as well. I am going to lay them by the heels, and I am going to recover for you the money which is justly yours, and of which you have been robbed. Mind you, I am no child at the game. I am a strong man, with a love of adventure, and I am alive to all the cunning and chicanery of these cosmopolitan scoundrels. And, whatever happens, I am always and ever your friend.”
Zena’s dark eyes were full of gratitude.
“Then, my friend, I will tell you,” she whispered. “There is not much time, but I will do my best.”
IV - ZENA’S STORY
She bent towards Wendover, till he could catch the subtle fragrance of her, and the elusive perfume of her hair. There was entire trust and confidence in those luminous eyes of hers, a confidence that touched Wendover and stirred him as he had never been stirred before. He half inclined towards her, with an air of protection that she, in her loneliness, found infinitely sweet and soothing.
“You are very, very good to me,” she murmured, “to me, a stranger. I wonder why?”
“Because you are young and beautiful and lonely,” Wendover whispered passionately. “Because I am a man, and you appeal to me for protection. And most of all, perhaps, because you are you. Zena, do you know how lovely you are?”
The red blood flamed into the girl’s cheeks.
“I wonder if you know how good you are to me,” she said. “Oh, thank God. I have at last found a friend.”
“Go on,” Wendover said. “Go on.”
“Well, it’s like this. You have met my father, and you must know that he was both a scientist and a dreamer. More by good fortune than anything else he made a good deal of money over an invention of his. Then he got caught up in that dreadful Brotherhood. It was indeed an evil day for him when he first came under the influence of John Garcia. I always mistrusted that man myself. I hated that bald head and strong, oily face of his. I hated his manner, and the furtive way he looked at one. But he talked well, and he posed as the friend of mankind, and the inveterate foe of the oppressor in all walks of life. And that is how the war between the Brotherhood and the Big Trusts began. It was with my father’s money that that last corner in wheat was broken. But I am sure that Garcia was always a traitor.”
“Always,” Wendover said, “but go on.”
“He was one of the few men amongst the Brotherhood that I knew by sight. The rest of them had assumed names, and whenever they meet, they are always masked. There came a time when my father realised all his money and converted it into notes and gold. That money was placed in the safe in this hotel, and locked, by means of a time lock, which only opens automatically at a certain moment, once a year. No one else could open it, because, when once the combination has been arranged, the safe must remain secure for a given period, and that period is midnight of this very day, in every June. The room itself is always locked, and has a limited number of keys, one of which is in the hands of each of the Brotherhood. And that is one of the keys I have just given you. Once a year, the council meets here, to discuss its policy for the coming twelve months. On these occasions they allot certain funds for certain purposes, and these are distributed amongst various members of the council. But, roughly speaking, there is a hundred thousand pounds in the safe, but where it will be after midnight when the strong room opens automatically I cannot say. It may be all gone.”
“At any rate, it is safe for the moment,” Wendover suggested. “Now, I was under the impression that the man called John Garcia was safely locked up in Geneva. Things have happened during the last few hours that make me feel that I am not justified in that belief. I think now that Garcia managed to substitute someone for himself, and, that being so, he is enjoying a freedom from police supervision that he has not known for years. It was I who got him locked up, and I hoped, before he came out again, that I should be able to lay before the authorities such information as would lead to the scoundrel being hanged. But, apparently, he has baffled me, and eluded the police at the same time.”
“Have you ever met the man?” Zena asked.
“Only once,” Wendover explained, “and then in a bad light. I understand he is wonderful at disguises, but I think if I heard him speak
