The Door of the Unreal Read online

  “We are up against a very tough proposition, Manders,” I began, and he nodded acquiescence—“up against the toughest thing you ever dreamt of in all the annals of crime: and I honestly believe that you are the only man in England—certainly the only man I can lay hands on—who can help me.”

  Manders shrugged his shoulders slightly in deprecation.

  “They are at the end of their tether at the Yard, anyhow,” he said, “and at their wits’ end how to carry the matter an inch further. I saw Blenkinsopp only yesterday; and he admitted in confidence, which he won’t mind my divulging to you, that it is a proper brick wall of a problem.”

  “Did he mention the German professor to you?”

  I asked.

  “Yes, and he interested me very much as a type. What has he got to do with it?”

  I liked his directness as a quick thinker.

  “Possibly everything,” I replied, “if my instinct be not playing a trick on me. I have a theory, strange and bizarre beyond all words in this humdrum twentieth century, one which touches a subject we discussed at considerable length one night in Rumania: and he is the key-stone, the pivot of the whole thing, which only came home to me as the result of my years of travel in the remote parts of the Near East. It is fantastic to a degree and may prove futile; and it is certainly not the sort of thing I would care to spring unsubstantiated upon cold-blooded officialdom for fear of being locked up in one of your polite lunatic asylums for the rest of my life. But I must have help—immediate help; and that is where you come in, if you will give up a month, or possibly less, of your valuable time. Time is of the utmost urgency to forestall the possibility of even worse happenings.”

  “It’s the vacation fortunately,” he said, “and apart from the last few pages of those proofs”— waving his hand in the direction of the big table in the window overlooking the gardens—“I have nothing to do but golf according to programme. So come along and unburden yourself fully to me. I certainly shall not think you mad,” he concluded, with a little laugh.

  And then and there, walking up and down the room as I often do when thinking hard and talking at the same time, I laid my whole weird theory before him, recapitulating the story of the Brighton Road affairs and picking up my points as I went along, laying special stress upon the reasons which had connected Professor Wolff with them in my mind and keeping nothing back.

  Manders proved a splendid listener as he absorbed his brief, so to speak: and I was delighted at the fact that, beyond starting once and raising his eyebrows, he did not turn a hair as I unravelled my fantastic theory. I covered a good deal of ground, recalling much of our talk in Rumania, and spoke for nearly an hour in my anxiety to prove the possibility, if not the probability, of the suggestion I was propounding.

  When I stopped and threw myself back in the armchair a trifle exhausted, he gave one long low whistle.

  “My God,” he said, passing me another cigar almost mechanically: and then he put me through as searching and strenuous cross-examination as ever it has been my lot or most other people’s to face.

  “Now what do you want me to do?” he asked, when he had concluded. “I do not call you mad, and to my mind you have made out a terribly strong case: and I’m with you to see it through to the end, however ghastly it may prove. As you say, above all things we must try and forestall worse happenings, if what you surmise be true. No, obviously there is not a moment to be lost.”

  “I must stay on the spot and watch any possible developments,” I said. “I am convinced that it is my plain and obvious duty, pending the elaboration of a sufficiently strong case to take action upon. Preventive action I shall take myself at all hazards, if all else fail; and then I may require your assistance in your professional capacity if the authorities object subsequently. The situation is so tense at the present juncture that I dare not go away myself and get out of touch, or risk anything delaying my return at the critical moment: so I must fall back on someone else—you, I sincerely trust—to go abroad immediately and make inquiries into the past and the habits of this Professor Lycurgus Wolff of Berlin and Vienna. With your cosmopolitan habit, your knowledge, and your brains, you are the ideal man for my purpose, especially as your inquiries may lead you further afield into the Near East, of which you, like so few people, have a more than superficial knowledge. I hardly like to mention the subject,” I added, “but money, either by way of fee or expenses, is no object. I fortunately haven’t to worry about that side of things in life, and will draw anything you may want this afternoon.”

  Manders laughed: and it relieved the situation.

  “That’s all right, old chap,” he struck in. “The cost of a week or two’s travel fortunately doesn’t matter much to me either, especially as my wife, apart from myself and my earnings, is pretty well off: but I appreciate the thoughtful suggestion. A fee I would not hear of, thank you all the same: but I am your man, and there’s my hand on it.”

  “Thank God,” I exclaimed, taking his outstretched hand and wringing it with more feeling than I am usually in the habit of showing—” and thank you! You have taken a great weight off my mind.”

  “What I can do, I will do, and you may rest assured that I will not spare myself,” said Manders, solemnly; “and I am with you to the end of this ghastly business. We will see it through together.”

  There was a moment of silent reaction, both of us thinking deeply.

  “There must be no delay,” I said. “It is now the tenth of April, and the thirtieth is Walpurgis Nacht.”

  Manders gave a little start.

  “Yes, I know. I’ll start this very evening by the boat train. Two or three hours, fortunately, will see these beastly proofs through and ready for the printer; and then I’ll get back home, collect a few things, and appease my wife. She’s all right,” he interjected, with a laugh, “a real good sort who will understand without being told too much, when she gets a hint that it is of vital importance.”

  “Then, if she does not raise any objection, we might have an early dinner together at the Travellers’ and a final talk,” I suggested. “Meanwhile, I will see about tickets, money, etc., for your journey, and we can have a square up later on. You will at least give me the satisfaction of standing in upon expenses, as I can’t go myself? Manders made a little gesture.

  “As you insist then—halves,” he agreed; “and I’ll leave all that to you, as time presses. My man will take my luggage to the train and see about my seat. And now to work! Don’t think me inhospitable in not asking you to lunch, but time won’t admit. Mine will be some sandwiches at my writing-table—not for the first time.”

  “Of course, I understand,” I answered, rising. “I’ll leave you at once. We will meet at the Travellers’ at a quarter to seven. I am most deeply grateful to you, Manders; you have taken an enormous weight off my mind.”

  “Rot, old chap,” was his answer in characteristic English fashion, as he showed me out, “I’m just as keen as you are to get this whole business cleaned up before any more hell’s play takes place.”

  No words will ever express my relief as I made my way up through the Temple into Fleet Street, and hailed a taxi to take me first to my bank and then to Cook’s in Ludgate Circus; and I did not realize that it was two o’clock before I had got all arrangements made, and I was thoroughly hungry.

  I drove to the Travellers’ and lunched heartily, with a temporary sensation of relief as the result of my morning’s success; and then, during the afternoon, I diligently pursued inquiries as to what was known of Professor Wolff through certain scientific channels open to me, and by calling upon two or three leading men in the scientific world I knew. The result of my investigations proved that, while they knew comparatively little of him personally, his name and his work was quite familiar to them, and that he had a very considerable reputation. I felt restless, but at the same time so absorbed by the fascination of the business in hand that, rather than seeking the society of friends or acquaintances, I was anxi
ous to avoid anyone to whom I should have to talk upon indifferent or personal subjects.

  Eventually I made my way back to the club soon after five and wrote certain letters of introduction for Manders, which might prove helpful. Then I dropped Burgess a line to tell him that I had seen Manders, and would be back the next afternoon at half-past four, as I had some business to transact in the morning: and I was very glad when my guest turned up sharp on time.

  Over dinner and a bottle of old Chambertin I went over the whole groundwork of my case again, and he asked me a good many shrewd questions elucidating details; and I told him about my inquiries of the afternoon.

  “You had better go straight through to Berlin and on, in due course, to Vienna,” I suggested, “and after that Heaven only knows where your information may take you—farther East in all probability, if you don’t find out anything we can go upon. Fortunately the Professor is so well known in the scientific world that it is not like seeking out anyone obscure; and I have got here some letters of introduction which may prove helpful. The one thing, however, that stands out is urgency; and the sooner you are back the better—not later than, say, this day fortnight. Keep me advised by cable if you can; and let me have addresses, whenever possible, in case I require to communicate with you. I leave the contents of your cables to your discretion in view of the alive condition of the local post-office and the fact that the Professor is a local man.”

  “I shall call the gentleman ‘John,’ if I refer to him” said Manders, with a laugh, as we drank success to his journey. “There is one good thing however much we may suspect him of the most extraordinary things, no one will suspect us.”

  After dinner I handed over the money and the tickets to Manders, together with the letters.

  “We’ll settle up when you return,” I said: and we left it at that.

  We were almost silent in the taxi on the way to Charing Cross, as people often are when they have said all that is to be said upon a serious occasion.

  Only once Manders spoke.

  “By God,” he burst out, “it seems all too wildly impossible in solemn old foggy London!”

  "I know,” I said almost humbly.

  “Not but what,” he added, laying his hand on my arm, “I feel sure that you are right. My instinct tells me so; and, if we succeed—and we shall succeed—you will be instrumental in ridding the world of a ghastly pest, of a most evil thing.”

  “We,” I said with emphasis, feeling mightily cheered.

  Manders’ man was waiting at the train by the door of the carriage, everything ready and arranged with the deft correctness of a good body-servant; and I found that Manders was taking him with him.

  “Can’t do without Pycombe on a journey,” he said, with a laugh. “Best courier in Europe, and saves a lazy chap like me no end of bother.”

  And he waved me good-bye out of the window as though there was no trouble or wickedness in the world, and he were just off on an ordinary vacation jaunt But I felt the pressure of his final grip, strong and reassuring, long after the boat-train was out of the station.

  II

  The next morning I spent first at my gun-maker’s, going over my guns and testing two or three rifles, which I ordered to be sent down to me without delay at Clymping Manor, together with a couple of Browning automatics, to supplement the one which, as an old traveller, I always carry from long habit. Then I went on to my solicitor and put a few little outstanding matters in order, informing him incidentally that, in the course of the next day or two, I should be bringing or sending him a sealed document under cover to be held on my behalf, but to be taken without a moment’s delay to Major Blenkinsopp at Scotland Yard in the event either of my death or of my arrest. I know it sounded rather melodramatic, and he looked at me a bit curiously: but, after ten or twelve years of my unexpectedness, he is getting too case-hardened to offer comment or advice.

  It’s all right,” I said, unable to resist the temptation “It may be murder this time, and it will be up to you to defend me. Above all, don’t forget to brief Fitzroy Manders. I regard him as a very coming man.”

  And then I made my way back to the club for lunch, stopping on the way to buy a present for Ann—one of those handbags with all sorts of unnecessary bottles that women like to bother themselves with, and the usual chocolates—and two or three boxes of rather special Ramon Allones for old Burgess, who loves a big cigar after dinner.

  At the club I picked up a man I hardly knew and made him lunch with me, talking about anything and everything to keep my mind off the real thing and give it a rest.

  Dear old faithful Burgess was on the platform waiting for me, and I could see that he was noticeably relieved at my appearance.

  “Well, old chap,” I asked, as we greeted each other, “what’s the news? “All well,” he replied cheerfully, “but nothing particular to report. Young Bullingdon is much quieter and more rational, though frightfully weak, but can’t make out where he is. His mind appears blank about the whole affair and what led up to it. The wounds are going on splendidly, the doctors say. Sir Humphrey has just left: and for the first time he allows himself to take a really hopeful view of the case.”

  “That’s good,” I said, as we got into the car. “Perhaps it is the Professor’s magic ointment which has worked the cure. How is he, by the by, and what is the news of him?”

  “None at all,” answered Burgess. “He has not been up again, and I have not been down.”

  “We must go and return his call one day very soon,” I said, speaking lightly. “I came across one or two big scientific folk in town, who tell me that he is a very big man in his own line. It will interest me to see something of him and his collection, if he will show it.” Then I changed the subject: “How’s Ann?”

  “Splendid. She has quite got over the first shock, and is very interested in the nursing and ‘her patient,’ as she will call young Bullingdon, though, naturally, she is not allowed to do anything for the present at any rate, except run the ‘hospital’ on the first floor and play at matron.”

  “Good,” I said warmly. “It is a very great thing at the moment for her to have something to interest her and take her mind off the awful side of the whole affair. It is splendid that she has reacted so well, and shows what a healthy state she is in mentally as well as physically. And poor old Mutton and the C.I.D. men?”

  “Poor old Mutton,” echoed Burgess, with a laugh I was glad to hear, as he had struck me as a bit overstrained, “he is like a bear with a sore head; and the C.I.D. men are kicking their heels and trying to invent clues.”

  I smiled a bit grimly in the dusk. I had hardly expected them to be any further forward if my own theory were correct. If it were, there was no question of suspicions or half-measures. It was the whole thing—and a very horrible thing—or nothing, merely the fantasy of a usually cool and collected brain running riot as the result of weird experiences in elemental parts off the beaten track of the ordinary.

  Then came the question I had been fearing, knowing that Burgess would expect my full confidence, which I was not prepared to give him for the first time in the history of our long and intimate friendship.

  “And what is your news?” he asked with a nervous abruptness, which concealed both his eagerness and a certain umbrage, which I could not but appreciate. “Were you successful in what you went up to see Manders about?”

  “Yes, quite, thank you,” I replied, “in so much as I have enlisted his help; and it has carried things appreciably forward, if my idea should prove correct. I found him very cordial and receptive; and he went abroad last night at my request upon an important mission in connexion with the business, a thing that neither you nor I could be spared to do at the moment under the existing conditions down here. Don’t mention this journey of his to the police or anybody else, by the way.”

  “Of course I won’t,” answered Burgess after a pause which was barely noticeable; but I could feel that he, not unnaturally, was annoyed that I showed no sig
n of taking him fully into my confidence. So we lapsed into silence.

  I felt the position quite as keenly as he did, and turned things over in my mind again most carefully: but it was obvious that I could do no good by burdening him with the details of my bizarre theory, which, to be frank, he was the last person in the world to fall in with, unless substantiated by solid facts and not merely recounted to him like a wild and preposterous chapter out of a hypersensational novel. I knew his limitations and his prejudices as no one else did; and, frankly, he was about the last man I would have chosen in cold blood to make a confidant of in such a matter, especially as he was so nearly concerned in it. It could do no good, and it might even do harm, loyal as he was: and it could only make him miserable to go about with the burden of it on his mind.

  “Burge, dear old friend,” I said at last, breaking the strained silence, as we drew near the house, “you must trust me a little longer and leave me to work this business in the way that seems best to me. I told Manders because Manders can do something immediate to help. At the moment neither you nor I can do anything but await developments which, if I prove correct, cannot be delayed many weeks—most probably not beyond the end of this very month of April. If anything should arise to alter the position and you can do anything, you may rest assured that I will not delay one hour, not one moment, in telling you the strange idea in my head. To do so prematurely could and would only make you miserable in more ways than one; and, if the whole thing turns out to be only a wild twist of my imagination, I would never forgive myself if I had put it into your mind unnecessarily. We are at the moment faced with a position extraordinary beyond words; and that is my only reason, my only excuse. I hardly know how to express myself. I feel so rotten about the whole thing, which must seem so queer to you. It is on our old and close friendship that I rely; and on its account I do beg your indulgence to work this thing my own way.”