The Great Secret | Page 5

amazement kept me motionless. The

thing was impossible, or I could have sworn that my feet were brushed
by the skirts of a woman's gown, and that a whiff of perfume--it was
like the scent of dying violets--floated past me. Then the door of my
room, from which I had withdrawn the bolt, was flung suddenly open,
and almost simultaneously my fingers touched the knob of the electric
light fittings. The whole place was flooded with light. I looked around,
half dazed, but eager to see what had become of my assailants. Both
rooms were empty, or apparently so. There was no sign or evidence of
any other person there save myself. On the threshold of my own
apartment was standing the night porter.
"Have you let them go by?" I called out. "Did you see them in the
corridor?"
"Who, sir?" the porter asked stolidly.
"Two men who forced their way into my room--look at the door. One
was short and stout and wore glasses, the other was taller and thin.
They were here a few seconds ago. Unless they passed you, they are in
one of the rooms now."
The man came inside, and looked around him.
"I can't see any one, sir! There wasn't a soul about outside."
"Then we had better look for them!" I exclaimed. "Be careful, for they
are armed."
There was no one in the adjoining room. We had searched it thoroughly
before I suddenly remembered the visitor who had been the innocent
cause of these exciting moments.
"By Jove!" I exclaimed, "there's a wounded man by the side of my bed!
I quite forgot him, I was so anxious to catch these blackguards."
The porter looked at me with distinct suspicion.
"A wounded man, sir?" he remarked. "Where?"

"On the other side of the bed," I answered. "It's the man all this row
was about."
I hurried round to where I had left my terrified visitor hiding behind the
bed-curtain. There was no one there. We looked under the bed, even in
the wardrobes. It was obvious, when we had finished our search, that
not a soul was in either of the rooms except our two selves. The porter
looked at me, and I looked at the porter.
"It's a marvellous thing!" I declared.
"It is," the porter agreed.
"You can see for yourself that that door has been battered in," I
remarked, pointing to it.
The fellow smiled in such a manner, that I should have liked to have
kicked him.
"I can see that it has been battered in," he said. "Oh! yes! I can see
that!"
"You perhaps don't believe my story?" I asked calmly.
"It isn't my place to believe or disbelieve it," he answered. "I certainly
didn't meet any one outside--much less three people. I shall make my
report to the manager in the morning, sir! Good night."
So I was left alone, and, extraordinary as it may seem, I was asleep in
less than half an hour.
CHAPTER III
MISS VAN HOYT
I was awakened at about nine o'clock the next morning by a loud and
persistent knocking at the door of my room. I sat up in bed and shouted,
"Come in!"

A waiter entered bearing a note, which he handed to me on a salver. I
looked at him, around the room, which was still in some confusion, and
down at the note, which was clearly addressed to me, J. Hardross
Courage, Esq. Suddenly my eyes fell upon the smashed door, and I
remembered at once the events of the previous night. I tore open the
note. It was typewritten and brief:--
"The manager presents his compliments to Mr. Hardross Courage, and
would be obliged if he will arrange to vacate his room by midday. The
manager further regrets that he is unable to offer Mr. Courage any other
accommodation."
"Tell the valet to let me have a bath in five minutes," I ordered,
springing out of bed, "and bring me some tea. Look sharp!"
I was in a furious temper. The events of the night before, strange
though they had been, left me comparatively unmoved. I was filled,
however, with a thoroughly British indignation at the nature of this note.
My room had been broken into in the middle of the night; I had
narrowly escaped being myself the victim of a serious and murderous
assault; and now I was calmly told to leave the hotel! I hastened
downstairs and into the office.
"I wish to see the manager as soon as possible," I said to one of the
reception clerks behind the counter.
"Certainly, sir, what name?" he asked; drawing a slip of paper towards
him.
"Courage--" I told him, "Mr. Hardross Courage!"
The man's manner underwent a distinct change.
"I am sorry, sir," he