CHAPTER LV. THE CORNER HOUSE AGAIN.

There was no chance for Balmayne from the first. He was perfectly conscious all the time; he was to have anything that he required. He was absolutely cynical and callous as to the future. He had always played the coward's part all his life, and now, strangely enough, when he came to die he showed the greatest indifference.

He smiled into the face of the man whose good name he might have cleared, but he gave no sign. So hard and callous a nature was impervious to kindness. Anybody who did a kind action for its own sake was a fool in Balmayne's eyes.

There was only one that he cared to see, and that was Hetty. In a curious way the girl's goodness and purity appealed strongly to him. As to his future he cared nothing. He wanted to know if anything had been seen of Leona Lalage, and when Hetty replied to the contrary he seemed to be greatly astonished.

"You are sure she has not been near Lytton Avenue?" he asked.

Hetty was quite sure of that. Only that day the magnificent decorations of No. 1, Lytton Avenue, had been sold on the premises, and nobody could have been there besides those who were interested in the sale.

"Strange thing," said Balmayne to himself. "A most remarkable thing! Miss Lawrence, will you do a favour for me. I would not trust anybody else. But if you will give me your promise I shall be easy. There is only one thing I have done that I really am sorry for, and you can set it right for me."

"I will do anything I can to make your mind easy," Hetty said.

"Ah, you are a good girl. If I had seen more like you I should have been a better man. But I was brought up in a hard school. It's about Mamie. Did it ever strike you that the child was no relation to Leona Lalage?"

"My uncle has always said so," Hetty replied.

"And he is perfectly right. That wonderful man always is right. Mamie is the only child of a sister of mine who lives in Florence. I wanted her once to impoverish herself to help me in one of my schemes, and she refused. By way of revenge I had her child stolen. That is some four years ago. She never knew I had a hand in it; she deems Mamie to be dead. When I am gone I want you to write to my sister and tell her what I am saying. Only you must get the address."

"Only tell me," Hetty exclaimed. "Poor woman! What is the address?"

"I cannot tell you from memory. But I am going to ask you to find the address. You know the little bedroom I used to occupy at the top of the Lytton Avenue house. There is a cupboard in the corner, and the board next the fireplace comes up. In the recess you will find a little box full of papers. On one paper is my sister's address. The other papers I will ask you to burn unread."

"If I could get into the house," Hetty said, "I would cheerfully do what you ask."

"That is quite easy. I have a latchkey in my waistcoat pocket. You have only to go and get the papers, and nobody will be any the wiser. I felt quite sure you would do this thing for me."

Balmayne murmured something more and closed his eyes. When the nurse came up to him an hour later he was dead. He had passed away quietly in his sleep. How he came by his death, and who his assailants were nobody knew. There were many dark passages in that dark life known only to itself and its Maker.

It was a few days later before Hetty thought of her promise to Balmayne. It was a fine bright afternoon with a strong sunshine, so that even the deserted house in Lytton Avenue looked almost cheerful. With a feeling that she might have been taken for a burglar or a house-breaker, Hetty let herself in.

Everything was gone, even to the electric fittings. The place was dismantled and dirty, the floors grimy with the tramp of many feet. A door closed with a sullen bang, and Hetty started.

"How dreadful it all looks!" she murmured. "I hope I shall never see it again. Some houses seem to be given over to misery and crime. Now to find those papers."

The little room was at the top facing the blank windows of the Corner House. Hetty had no difficulty in finding the box, and a very brief search showed the address she was looking for. The box she emptied in the grate and set fire to the contents with a match she had brought for the purpose.

She watched the flames die away, and turned to go. As she did so she looked out for a moment at the Corner House. The sun was shining strongly on the grimy windows. It seemed as if somebody was moving inside. Hetty was certain that she could see a shadowy form there.

She waited just for a moment in eager expectation. There was the form again, and then the spurt and flare of gas. What would anybody want gas for at this time of the day? The question was answered immediately, for a hand went over the gas flame holding something that looked like a kettle to the flame. Then the hand disappeared and nothing more was to be seen, despite Hetty's patience.

She pondered over this discovery as she went home. It might mean a lot, it might mean a very little. It was more than possible that Mr. Charlton had left a caretaker in possession of the house with a view to avoiding further incursions upon his possessions. If so, that casual way of boiling a kettle was quite the course a caretaker would adopt.

All the same, Hetty decided to speak of her discovery to Lawrence. He was busy at his desk when she returned. He looked up quickly, for there was an expression on Hetty's face that told of some discovery.

"I have been to Lytton Avenue," she said, "to get that address I told you of. And then I made a discovery. Uncle, how long has there been a caretaker on those premises, who boils a kettle by the ingenious expedient of holding it over the gas until it is hot enough?"

Lawrence threw up his pen with a cry of delight "You've made a more wonderful discovery than you know," he said. "What a splendid scheme, and how foolish of me not to think of it before. My dear child, you have found the hiding place of Leona Lalage!"