_ PART I. THE SEALED ROOMS
CHAPTER VI. A LAPSE FROM AN IDEAL
'If you please, sir,' said Simon Shawn, when he brought Hugo's tea the next morning, 'I am informed that a man has secreted himself on the summit of the dome.'
Hugo, lying moveless on his back, and ignoring even the tea, made no reply to this speech. He was still repeating to himself the following words, which, by constant iteration, had assumed in his mind the force and emphasis of italics: _'So grateful for your sympathetic help. When next I see you, if there is opportunity, I will try to thank you. Meantime, all is well with me. Please trouble no more. And forget.'_ Such were the exact terms of the note from Camilla Payne delivered to him by Albert Shawn. Of course, he knew it by heart. It was scribbled very hastily in pencil on half a sheet of paper, and it bore no signature, not even a solitary initial. If it had not been handed to Albert by Camilla in person, Hugo might have doubted its genuineness, and might have spent the night in transgressing the law of trespass and other laws, in order to be assured of a woman's safety. But under the circumstances he could not doubt its genuineness. What he doubted was its exact import. And what he objected to in it was its lack of information. He wished ardently to know whether Ravengar and Tudor, or either of them, had been wounded, and if so, by whose revolver; for he could not be certain that it was Camilla who had fired. An examination of the revolver which he and she had passed from hand to hand had shown two chambers undischarged. He wished ardently to know how she had contrived to settle her account with Tudor, and yet get away in Tudor's brougham, unless it was by a wile worthy of the diplomacy of a Queen Elizabeth. And he wished ardently to understand a hundred and one other things concerning Camilla, Tudor, and Ravengar, and the permutations and combinations of these three, which offered apparently insoluble problems to his brain. Nevertheless, there was one assurance which seemed to him to emerge clearly from the note, and to atone for its vagueness--a vagueness, however, perfectly excusable, he reflected, having regard to the conditions in which it was written--namely, that Camilla intended to arrive, as usual, in Department 42 that morning. What significance could be attached to the phrase, 'When next I see you, _if there is opportunity_,' unless it signified that she anticipated seeing him next in the shop and in the course of business? Moreover, he felt that it would be just like Camilla to start by behaving to him as though nothing had occurred. (But he would soon alter that, he said masterfully.) He was, on the whole, happy as he lay in bed. She knew that he loved her. They had been intimate. In three hours at most he would see her again. And his expectations ran high. Indeed, she had already begun to exist in his mind as his life's companion.
Simon coughed politely but firmly.
'What's that you say?' Hugo demanded; and Simon repeated his item of news.
'Ha!' said Hugo; 'doubtless some enthusiast for sunrises.'
'He has been twice perceived in the little gallery by the men cleaning the roof garden,' Simon added.
'And who is it?'
'His identity has not been established,' said Simon.
'Can't you moderate your language a little, Shawn?' Hugo asked, staring always absently up into the dome.
'I beg pardon, sir. I have spent part of the night with Albert, and his loose speech always drives me to the other extreme,' Simon observed, repentant.
'Has Albert seen the burglar?'
'No, sir, if it _is_ a burglar.'
'Well,' said Hugo, 'he's quite safe where he is. He can't get down except by that door, can he?' pointing to a masked door, which was painted to represent a complete set in sixty volumes of the 'Acts of the Saints.'
'No, sir.'
'And he could only have got up by that door?' Hugo pursued.
'Yes, sir.'
'Which means that you were away from your post last night, my son.'
'I was, sir,' Shawn admitted frankly. 'When you and Albert and the lady ran off so quickly, I followed, as far as I judged expedient--beg pardon, sir. The man must have slipped in during my absence. I remember I noticed the masked door was ajar on my return. I shut and locked it.'
'That explains everything,' said Hugo. 'You see how your sins find you out.'
'Yes, sir.'
'I say, Shawn,' Hugo cried, as he went to his bath, 'talking of that chap up above, play me the Captives' chorus from "Fidelio."'
'It is not in the repertoire, sir,' said Simon, after searching.
'Not in the repertoire! Impossible!'
'No, sir.'
'Ah well, then, let us have the Wedding March from "Lohengrin."'
'With pleasure, sir.'
But Simon was unfortunate that morning. The toilet completed, Hugo came towards him swinging the gold token, the bearer of which had the right to take whatever he chose from all the hundred and thirty-one departments of the stores in exchange for a simple receipt.
'I will interview the burglar,' said Hugo. 'But just run down first and get me a pair of handcuffs.'
In ten minutes Simon returned crestfallen.
'We do not keep handcuffs, sir,' he stammered.
'Not--keep--! What nonsense! First you tell me that "Fidelio" is not in the repertoire, and then you have the effrontery to add that we do not keep handcuffs. Shawn, are you not aware that the fundamental principle of this establishment is that we keep everything? If we received an order for a herd of white elephants--'
'No doubt our arrangement with Jamrach's would enable us to supply them, sir,' Simon put in rapidly. 'But handcuffs seem to be a monopoly of the State.'
'Evidently, Shawn, you are not familiar with the famous remark of Louis the Fourteenth.'
'I am not, sir.'
'He said, "_L'etat, c'est moi_." Show me the catalogue.'
Simon, bearing on his shoulders at that moment the sins of ten managers, scurried to bring an immense tome, bound in crimson leather, and inscribed in gold, 'Hugo, General Catalogue.' It contained nearly two thousand large quarto pages, and above six thousand illustrations. Hugo turned solemnly to the exhaustive index, which alone occupied seventy pages of small type, and, running his finger down a column, he read out, Handbells, handbell-ringers, handbills, hand-embroidered sheets, handkerchiefs, handles, handsaws, hansoms, Hardemann's beetle powder, hares, haricot beans....'
'Lamentable!' he ejaculated--'lamentable! You will tell Mr.--Mr. Banbury this morning to procure some handcuffs, assorted sizes, at once, and to add them to the--the--Explorers' Outfit Department.'
'Precisely, sir.'
'In the meantime I shall have to ascend the dome, and face the burglar without this necessary of life. Give me the revolver instead.' _