trouble.'
Doing what is familiarly known as 'wringing his hands,' Alfred departed.
Presently he returned with a tray, and having by now realised that his protests were useless, he worked with a nervous energy quite surprising.
As Bundle had seen, the shelves were easily detachable. She took them down, ranged them upright against the wall, and then stepped in.
'H'm,' she remarked. 'Pretty narrow. It's going to be a tight fit. Shut the door on me carefully, Alfred – that's right. Yes, it can be done. Now I want a gimlet.'
'A gimlet, my lady?'
'That's what I said.'
'I don't know –'
'Nonsense, you must have a gimlet – perhaps you've got an auger as well. If you haven't got what I want, you'll have to go out and buy it, so you'd better try hard to find the right thing.'
Alfred departed and returned presently with quite a creditable assortment of tools.
Bundle seized what she wanted and proceeded swiftly and efficiently to bore a small hole at the level of her right eye. She did this from the outside so that it should be less noticeable, and she dared not make it too large lest it should attract attention.
'There, that'll do,' she remarked at last.
'Oh, but, my lady, my lady –'
'Yes?'
'But they'll find you – if they should open the door.'
'They won't open the door,' said Bundle. 'Because you are going to lock it and take the key away.'
'And if by any chance Mr. Mosgorovsky should ask for the key?'
'Tell him it's lost,' said Bundle briskly. 'But nobody's going to worry about this cupboard – it's only here to attract attention from the other one and make a pair. Go on, Alfred, someone might come at any time. Lock me in and take the key and come and let me out when everyone's gone.'
'You'll be taken bad, my lady. You'll faint –'
'I never faint,' said Bundle. 'But you might as well get me a cocktail. I shall certainly need it. Then lock the door of the room again – don't forget – and take all the door keys back to their proper doors. And Alfred – don't be too much of a rabbit. Remember, if anything goes wrong, I'll see you through.'
'And that's that,' said Bundle to herself when, having served the cocktail, Alfred had finally departed.
She was not nervous lest Alfred's nerve should fail and he should give her away. She knew that his sense of self-preservation was far too strong for that. His training alone helped him to conceal private emotions beneath the mask of a well-trained servant.
Only one thing worried Bundle. The interpretation she had chosen to put upon the cleaning of the room that morning might be all wrong. And if so – Bundle sighed in the narrow confines of the cupboard. The prospect of spending long hours in it for nothing was not attractive.
Chapter 14
THE MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS
It would be as well to pass over the sufferings of the next four hours as quickly as possible. Bundle found her position extremely cramped. She had judged that the meeting, if meeting there was to be, would take place at a time when the club was in full swing – somewhere probably between the hours of midnight and two a.m.
She was just deciding that it must be at least six o'clock in the morning when a welcome sound came to her ears, the sound of the unlocking of a door.
In another minute the electric light was switched on. The hum of voices, which had come to her for a minute or two, rather like the far-off roar of sea waves, ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bundle heard the sound of a bolt being shot. Clearly someone had come in from the gaming room next door, and she paid tribute to the thoroughness with which the communicating door had been rendered soundproof.
In another minute the intruder came into her line of vision – a line of vision that was necessarily somewhat incomplete but which yet answered its purpose. A tall man, broad-shouldered and powerful looking, with a long black beard. Bundle remembered having seen him sitting at one of the baccarat tables on the preceding night.
This, then, was Alfred's mysterious Russian gentleman, the proprietor of the club, the sinister Mr. Mosgorovsky. Bundle's heart beat faster with excitement. So little did she resemble her father that at this minute she fairly gloried in the extreme discomfort of her position.
The Russian remained for some minutes standing by the table, stroking his beard.
Then he drew a watch from his pocket and glanced at the time. Nodding his head as though satisfied, he again thrust his hand into his pocket and, pulling out something that Bundle could not see, he moved out of her line of vision.
When he reappeared again, she could hardly help giving a gasp of surprise.
His face was now covered by a mask – but hardly a mask in the conventional sense. It was not shaped to the face. It was a mere piece of material hanging in front of the features like a curtain in which two slits were pierced for the eyes. In shape it was round and on it was the representation of a clock face, with the hands pointing to six o'clock.
'The Seven Dials!' said Bundle to herself.
And at that minute there came a new sound – seven muffled taps.
Mosgorovsky strode across to where Bundle knew was the other cupboard door.
She heard a sharp click, and then the sound of greetings in a foreign tongue.
Presently she had a view of the newcomers.
They also wore clock masks, but in their case the hands were in a different position – four o'clock and five o'clock respectively.
Both men were in evening dress – but with a difference. One was an elegant, slender young man wearing evening clothes of exquisite cut.
The grace with which he moved was foreign rather than English. The other man could be better described as wiry and lean. His clothes fitted him sufficiently well, but no more, and Bundle guessed at his nationality even before she heard his voice.
'I reckon we're the first to arrive at this little meeting.'
A full pleasant voice with a slight American drawl, and an inflection of Irish behind it.
The elegant young man said in good, but slightly stilted English:
'I had much difficulty in getting away tonight. These things do not always arrange themselves fortunately. I am not, like No. 4 here, my own master.'
Bundle tried to guess at his nationality. Until he spoke, she had thought he might be French, but the accent was not a French one. He might possibly, she thought, be an Austrian, or a Hungarian, or even a Russian.
The American moved to the other side of the table, and Bundle heard a chair being pulled out.
'One o'clock's being a great success,' he said. 'I congratulate you on taking the risk.'
Five o'clock shrugged his shoulders.
'Unless one takes risks –' He left the sentence unfinished.
Again seven taps sounded and Mosgorovsky moved across to the secret door.
She failed to catch anything definite for some moments since the whole company were out of sight, but presently she heard the bearded Russian's voice upraised.
'Shall we begin proceedings?'
He himself came round the table and took the seat next to the armchair at the top. Sitting thus, he was directly facing Bundle's cupboard. The elegant five o'clock took the place next to him. The third chair that side was out of Bundle's sight, but the American, No. 4, moved into her line of vision for a moment or two before he sat down.
On the near side of the table also, only two chairs were visible, and as she watched a hand turned the
