“No—we—do—
He broke off, made a movement enjoining silence, then went swiftly to the door, opened it a few inches, and listened.
“Ah, here she is! Always punctual! Always to the minute! She isn’t a woman—she’s an alarm clock. I’ll clear out. Say you don’t know where I am.”
He slipped out of the room and almost immediately the front door banged.
Two minutes later Mrs. Frazer came into the room.
Rendell rose and they surveyed one another for some moments in silence.
Mrs. Frazer was a total contrast to her husband. She was sturdily built, still handsome—although her features were coarsened by overwork and worry—but resolution and capability surrounded her like an aura.
Her scrutiny of Rendell evidently culminated in a favourable impression, for her first remark did not relate to his presence.
“Was that my husband went out just now?”
“Yes. You must wonder who I am and what I’m doing here. It’s like this. I came to inquire about Mr. Trent and——”
“How did you know he was here?” she interrupted.
“It’s in to-night’s paper.”
He picked it up and showed her the paragraph.
“I see,” she said at last. “That’s my husband’s doing.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Rendell replied, greatly mystified.
“He’s friendly with an out-of-work journalist. He must have told him about Mr. Trent. And now he’ll share with him whatever the paper paid for the paragraph. Did you tell him it was in to-night’s paper?”
“Yes, I told him.”
“I see.” There was immense resignation in her tone. After a pause, she added: “And did he go and ring someone up soon after you had told him?”
“He did,” Rendell replied.
“That was the journalist. And now he’s gone to meet him—to drink the money. Well, if there’s trouble, it’s not my doing.”
“I’ll be frank with you, Mrs. Frazer. My name is Rendell. I’m a mining engineer and am at a loose end at the moment. I came here to-night to inquire about Mr. Trent. Your husband imagined I had booked a room and had come to claim it. I had done nothing of the kind, of course. But, finding this room vacant, it would—as it happens—suit my plans to take it. That is, if it’s available, of course—and if you are agreeable.”
She looked at him narrowly for some moments before she asked:
“Are you a friend of Mr. Trent’s?”
“No. I’ve never even seen him. I’m interested in him, that’s all.”
“Well, the room’s free, and you may as well have it as anyone else.”
They discussed terms and arrangements. Finally Rendell said:
“That’s settled then. I don’t know how long I shall be here. And now, if you’re not busy for a minute, I’d like to ask you one or two questions about Mr. Trent.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Were you expecting him last night?”
“Yes. He was coming here for several months to work.”
“Does he always come here to work?”
“Yes, always,” Mrs. Frazer replied. “He’s had the rooms at the top of the house for years and years. He’s written all his books up there. Why do you want to know?”
“For two reasons. I’m interested in his books—and I was told that he always wrote them abroad. What—exactly—happened last night?”
Mrs. Frazer looked over her shoulder towards the door, then took a step nearer Rendell.
“I never had such a shock in my life—never! It must have been about nine o’clock—somewhere about. I happened to be in the hall—luckily. Suddenly, I heard someone beating on the front door, beating desperately with clenched fists. I was fright-ended, and I’m not easily frightened.”
She broke off, but almost immediately she went on breathlessly:
“I opened the door. He looked like a ghost with great staring eyes—I said something—I don’t know what—and he fell to the ground, senseless. I thought he had dropped dead.”
“Well—and then?” Rendell asked, after a long pause.
“Two of the men in the house carried him up to his room and put him on the bed. He began to rave. I couldn’t make out what he said. Something about a man he had seen—some man who had appeared out of the fog on the Embankment. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid to leave him. He was terribly excited. Kept wanting to go to the window and look out. He leapt about till I thought he’d have a fit. So I stayed with him—and got someone to telephone the doctor. It was terrible.”
“You’d better sit down, don’t you think?”
She sank mechanically into the chair Rendell placed by her side.
“All to-day it’s been the same,” she went on. “I had to go out a quarter of an hour ago—but it was the first time to-day. The doctor wanted him to go to a nursing home, but the mere idea made him terribly angry. So the doctor has sent in a nurse. She’s with him now.”
“Has he ever been ill here before?”
“Never! I can’t believe it! I never thought to see him like this.”
“I can understand you’re upset,” Rendell said slowly. “After all, you’ve known him a long time.”