is short and stout and red of face, and he has not a hair on his head,” Zena explained. “Once seen he can never be mistaken. But, surely, you are wrong in saying that the man is still in gaol, because, as a matter of fact, John Garcia was with me in the tea shop this afternoon.”
“Really,” Wendover exclaimed. “Now, you know, I took particular note of that man. So far as I know I have never seen him before, though his voice struck me as being familiar. When I was spying on you this afternoon I caught the sound of the words that he said, and I knew that I had heard that voice before. I was worried, because I could not couple it with any particular individual. But it did not matter much, except that forewarned is forearmed. With this knowledge I shall be still more useful to you.”
“Then you are going on?” Zena asked. “You are not afraid, even of John Garcia.”
“Without boasting, I don’t think I’m afraid of any man,” Wendover said. “My dear Zena, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. It seems to me that, as you have placed in my hands the means of getting inside that chamber and attending a meeting of the Brotherhood, I should be a poor sort of creature if I did not avail myself of it. I have taken greater risks than that. Oh, I shall be safe enough. They would never dare to lay violent hands upon me, under the roof of the Ambassadors’ Hotel.”
But Zena was not listening. She was watching a man in evening dress, making his way through the crowd in the direction of the corridor. She gripped Wendover by the arm.
“Look,” she whispered, “there is Garcia himself.”
“You are quite sure of that?” Wendover asked.
“Oh, I cannot be mistaken, I know the man so well. That is John Garcia, beyond a doubt. He must have escaped from prison, as you suggested, or he has cleverly contrived for the police to arrest somebody else.”
“I begin to see it,” Wendover said. “It becomes as plain as daylight to me. By some means or another Garcia discovered his danger, and induced that unfortunate Leo Detmar to impersonate him. Then, when Garcia was safely out of Switzerland, Detmar obtained his release. He was on his way here to-night to attend the meeting of the Brotherhood, and was, no doubt, foully murdered in the alcove by the very man whom he had served so well. He was lured into the alcove by means of an advertisement in the ‘Agony’ column of my own paper. I only found that out by accident this afternoon. Then, after the crime was committed, Garcia hid himself in the locked council chamber for a few moments, and now he has come out again for some purpose of his own. Yes, the more I think of it, the more sure I am of my facts. Detmar is out of the way now, his disappearance will convey nothing to the rest of the Brotherhood, and Garcia will be here to-night, masked and unrecognisable, and probably tell the Brotherhood that he is representing Garcia, and that the latter is still in gaol. You can see for yourself how this course will help that murderous scoundrel to get all that money into his own hands.”
“How wonderfully clever you are,” Zena said. “But you may never leave that council chamber alive. You see, that room belongs to these people. They pay a big rent for it, and it cannot be used by anybody else. The door fastens with a patent lock, and there are only so many keys, all of which are in the hands of the Brotherhood. I believe the manager of the hotel has one, but it is merely so that the room can be cleaned out from time to time, and a supper laid once a year. It is a cold supper they have, a luxurious meal with the choicest wines, but no waiters are present. The hotel people regard the Brotherhood as a set of eccentric millionaires, who meet once a year to celebrate some particular occasion, and, as they pay well, always in advance, no questions are asked.”
“Oh, I quite understand that,” Wendover said. “London is the only place in the world where people can do those kind of things. But never mind that. You have given me all I need; but what about these identity discs! I suppose the other halves are somewhere.”
“In the safe,” Zena explained. “A measure of precaution. If anybody tries to get into the council chamber with a forged disc, it will be compared with the other half, and if the ragged edges do not fit, the imposter would be detected at once. Do you know that I took those things you have from Detmar’s dead body in the vain hope that I might find some friend to use them for me. I tremble to think how I could have done it.”
“It was a brave thing to do,” Wendover said. “And now, for your dear sake–-“
Zena held out her hands impulsively. The tears were trembling on her lashes now, like twin diamonds, her whole heart was in her face.
“Dear little girl,” Wendover whispered, “wish me good luck. It only wants a few minutes to midnight, and I must be up and doing. Now, take your courage in both hands, and behave as if nothing had happened. I suppose you have at least one friend here to-night.”
“Just one,” Zena replied, “the actress friend who lent me this dress, and who is here somewhere.”
“Very well then, seek her out, make her find you a partner or two, try and behave as if you had nothing on your mind. I will be back as soon as I can.”
As Wendover spoke, a big clock in the neighbourhood struck the hour of midnight. He jumped hastily to his feet, and strode away in the direction of the corridor, leaving Zena seated there, a prey to a thousand fears.
But, from that moment, Wendover had resolutely put her out of his mind. With his courage strung to the highest pitch he pushed his way along till he came to room No. 75.
The well-oiled lock gave instantly to the key, and a moment later, after he had donned his mask, and felt the gold disc safely in his pocket, he passed through an ante-room, into the council chamber itself.
As he did so, the big marble clock on the mantelpiece struck twelve. The great adventure had commenced.
V - THE TIME LOCK
Wendover glanced about him casually. His first care was to convey the impression that this was by no means the first time that he had been present in the Council Chamber.
He saw a large, well-lighted room, elaborately and artistically furnished, in the centre of which was an oval table set out with supper for apparently half a dozen people. It was an extravagant cold repast, and on a sideboard in one corner of the room stood a number of bottles capped with gold foil. To the left of the draped and curtained window was a writing table, and over this, let into the wall, the door of a safe that swung open, as if pulled back by unseen hands, at the very instant that the clock on the mantelpiece finished striking twelve. There was something almost uncanny, almost forbidding in that quiet movement.
There were five men in the room besides Wendover, each of them wearing a similar gold-fringed mask to the one that covered the daring adventurer’s face. No one took the slightest notice of him, no one bowed as he took his place, indeed, it seemed as if his intrusion had been more or less expected. He was face to face now, and well he knew it, with a handful of the most desperate criminals in Europe, each of which would have slit his throat without the slightest hesitation if only he made one false step. But he knew that his credentials were good, he had the gold disc in his pocket, and his mask was in perfect order. Then, cautiously, but with an air of careless indifference, he began to take stock of his companions. He saw a little man, with a dark olive complexion and closely trimmed beard, and yet another one, tall and swarthy, and spare to leanness. There were two others, one slender, yet wiry looking, with hair of a peculiar flaming red, with a touch of orange in it, and the last man short
