The Green Rust

did he have time to show it."I want a word with you," said Beale."Twenty if you wish," said the doctor cheerfully. "Won't you come in?"Beale was h

is this interesting engagement to be announced?""It is announced at this moment," said the doctor. "The lady is on her way to Liverpool, where she will stay with an aunt of mine. You need not trouble to ask me for her address, because I shall not give it to you.""I see," said Beale."You come in here, I repeat, demanding with all the gesture and voice of melodrama, the hiding-place of my fiancee,"--he enunciated the two last words with great relish--"you ask to search my rooms and I give you permission. You lock yourself in through your own carelessness and when I release you you have a revolver in your hand, and are even more melodramatic than ever. I know what you are going to say----""You are a clever man," interrupted Beale, "for I don't know myself.""You were going to say, or you think, that I have some sinister purpose in concealing this lady. Well, to resume my narrative, and to show you your conduct from my point of view, I no sooner release you than you stare like a lunatic at my anatomical cases and dash wildly out, to return full of menace in your tone and attitude. Why?""Doctor van Heerden, when I came into your flat there were three anatomical cases at the end of that room. When I came out there were two. What happened to the third whilst I was locked in the room?"Doctor van Heerden shook his head pityingly."I am afraid, I am very much afraid, that you are not right in your head," he said, and nodded toward the place where the cases stood.Beale followed the direction of his head and gasped, for there were three cases."I admit that I deceived you when I said they contained specimens. As a matter of fact, they are empty," said the doctor. "If you like to inspect them, you can. You may find some--clue!"Beale wanted no invitation. He walked to the cases one by one and sounded them. Their lids were screwed on but the screws were dummies. He found in the side of each a minute hole under the cover of the lid and, taking out his knife, he pressed in the bodkin with which the knife was equipped and with a click the lid flew open. The box was empty. The second one answered the same test and was also empty. The third gave no better result. He flashed his lamp on the bottom of the box, but there was no trace of footmarks."Are you satisfied?" asked the doctor."Far from satisfied," said Beale, and with no other word he walked out and down the stairs again.Half-way down he saw something lying on one of the stairs and picked it up. It was a shoe, the fellow of that which he had in his pocket, and it had not been there when he came up.* * * * *Oliva Cresswell had read the story of the crime in the _Post Record_, had folded up the paper with a little shiver and was at her tiny writing-bureau when a knock came at the door. It was Dr. van Heerden."Can I come in for a moment?" he asked.She hesitated."I shan't eat you," he smiled, "but I am so distressed by what has happened and I feel that an explanation is due to you.""I shouldn't trouble about that," she smiled, "but if you want to come in, please do."She closed the door behind him and left the light burning in the hall. She did not ask him to sit down."You have seen the account in the _Post Record_?" he asked.She nodded."And I suppose you are rather struck with the discrepancy between what I told you and what I told the reporters, but I feel you ought to know that I had a very special reason for protecting this man.""Of that I have no doubt," she said coldly."Miss Cresswell, you must be patient and kind to me," he said earnestly. "I have devoted a great deal of time and I have run very considerable dangers in order to save you.""To save me?" she repeated in surprise."Miss Cresswell," he asked, "did you ever know your father?"She shook her head, so impressed by the gravity of his tone that she did not cut the conversation short as she had intended."No," she said, "I was a girl when he died. I know nothing of him. Even his own people who brought him up never spoke of him.""Are you sure he is dead?" he asked."Sure? I have never doubted it. Why do you ask me? Is he alive?"He nodded."What I am going to tell you will be rather painful," he said: "your father was a notorious swindler." He paused, but she did not protest.In her life she had heard many hints which did not redound to her father's credit, and she had purposely refrained from pursuing her inquiries."Some time ago your father escaped from Cayenne. He is, you will be surprised to know, a French subject, and the police have been searching for him for twelve months, including our friend Mr. Beale.""It isn't true," she flamed