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.“You are in Flanders Lane, I tell you,” replied Alan.“It’s other name is Little Hell!”The doctor dropped his voice.“I can see nobody.”“They are sitting on their doorsteps watching us,” answered Alan in the same tone.“What a night for The Ringer!”Near at hand and from some miserable house a cracked gramophone began to play.Loudly at first and then the volume of sound decreased as though a door were shut upon it.Then from another direction a woman’s voice shrieked:“Pipe the fly doctor! ’Im that’s goin’ to get The Ringer!”“How the devil can they see?” asked Lomond in amazement.Alan shivered.173“They’ve got rats’ eyes,” he said.“Hark at the rustle of them – ugh! Hallo there!”Somebody had touched him on the shoulder.“They’re having a joke with us.Is it like this all the way, I wonder?”Ahead, a red light glowed and another.They saw a grimy old man crouching over a brazier of coke: a watchman.For a second as he raised his hideous face, Lomond was startled.“Ugh! Who are you,” he demanded.“I’m the watchman.It’s a horrible place, is Flanders Lane.They’re always screaming – it’d freeze your blood to hear the things I hear.”His tone was deep-sepulchral.“She’s been hangin’ round here all night – the lady?” he said amazingly.“What lady?” asked Wembury.“I thought she was a ghost – you see ghosts here – and hear ’em.”Somebody screamed in one of the houses they could not see.“Always shoutin’ murder in Flanders Lane,” said the old watchman gloomily.“They’re like beasts down in them cellars – some of ’em never comes out.They’re born down there and they die down there.”At that minute Lomond felt a hand touch his arm.“Where are you?” he asked.“Don’t go any farther – for God’s sake!” she whispered, and he was staggered.“Cora Ann!”“Who is that?” asked Alan turning back.“There’s death there – death” – Cora’s low voice was urgent – “I want to save you.Go back, go back!”“Trying to scare me,” said Lomond reproachfully.“Cora Ann!”In another instant she was gone and at that moment the fog lifted and they could see the street lamp outside Meister’s house.Atkins was waiting under the cover of the glass awning, and had nothing more to report.“I didn’t want to break the door until you came in.There was no sound that I could hear except the piano.I went round the back of the house, there’s a light burning in his room, but I could see that, of course, from under his door.”“No sound?”“None – only the piano.”Alan hurried into the house, followed by the manacled Hackitt and his custodian, Atkins and the doctor bringing up the rear.He went up the stairs and knocked at the door heavily.There was no answer.Hammering on the panel with his fist, he shouted the lawyer’s name, but still there was no reply.174“Where is the housekeeper?” he asked.“Mrs.K.?”“In her room, sir.At least, she was there a few hours before.But she’s deaf.”“Stone deaf, I should say,” said Alan, and then:“Give me any kind of key – I can open it,” said Hackitt.They stood impatiently by whilst he fiddled with the lock.His boast was justified – in a few seconds the catch snapped back and the door opened.Only one big standard lamp burnt in the room, and this threw an eerie light upon the yellow face of Meister.He was in evening dress and sat at the piano, his arms resting on the top, his yellow face set in a look of fear.“Phew!” said Alan, and wiped his streaming forehead.“I’ve heard the expression ‘dead to the world’, but this is certainly the first time I’ve seen a man in that state.”He shook the dazed lawyer, but he might as well have shaken himself for all the effect it had upon the slumberer.“Thank Gawd!” said a voice behind.It was Hackitt’s trembling voice.“I never thought I’d be glad to see that old bird alive!”Alan glanced up at the chandelier that hung from the ceiling.“Put on the lights,” he said.“ See if you can wake him, doctor.”“Have you tried burning his ears?” suggested the helpful Hackitt, and was sternly ordered to be quiet.“Can’t a man express his emotions?” asked Mr.Hackitt wrathfully.“There’s no law against that, is there? Didn’t I tell you, Mr.Wembury? He’s doped! I’ve seen him like that before – doped and dizzy!”“Hackitt, where were you in this room when you felt the hand?” asked Alan.“Take the cuff off.”The handcuff was unlocked, and Hackitt moved to a place almost opposite the door.Between the door and the small settee was a supper table, which Wembury had seen the moment he came into the room.So Mary had not come: that was an instant cause of relief.“I was here,” said Hackitt.“The hand came from there.”He pointed to the mystery door, and Wembury saw that the bolts were shot, the door locked, and the key hung in its place on the wail [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]