Being left to myself after thoroughly thrashing out the whole case with Dr. Mainwaring and the chief constable, who both agreed with me that the circumstances were the most extraordinary they had ever heard of, I sat down to consider matters by myself.
Here was I, a country gentleman of moderate estate, trying to eke out a smallish income by literature, plumped down into the centre of as fine a tangle of mystery as ever came out of theArabian Nights Entertainments.
I got up and looked at myself in the glass, and saw there a clean-shaven tall man of thirty whose black hair was already turning white at the temples; about my grey eyes, alas, there were already crows' feet, the price I had paid, I suppose, for taking honours at Oxford.
I sat down again and thought deeply.
"Bill Anstruther," I said to myself, "you're in for it. You've consented to receive the confidences of that old lady, who, poor soul, was in the direst need of help and friendship without doubt when she called you in the night before last. You're bound in honour to go through with it, and try to help her, or at any rate carry out her wishes, be she dead or alive."
Thus I reasoned, and in this, it seemed to me, my duty lay. Obviously the first thing to do was to obtain possession of the packets again and ascertain their contents. I knew, of course, that they were directed to me and possibly contained some request of the old lady. I marvelled very much what the connection between her and the man with the glass eye could possibly be, but could form no guess even in the matter. It was very evident that he was a bloodthirsty scoundrel, and I had little doubt in my own mind that it was he who had wounded her, perhaps unto death.
While I thought of it, I decided to go down to the office and make inquiries concerning Saumarez.
I found he had left during the morning.
"Mr. Saumarez went up to town, sir," explained the clerk, "by the twelve-twenty."
"Thank you," I said, and walked away to the smoking-room to have a good think again. Eating for the present was out of the question.
After three cigarettes I arrived at the following conclusions. I would go up to town in the morning, secure the packets, and read them in my lawyers' office.
I would not trust myself to carry them about with me while that man Saumarez was at large. It was very evident that the safe and its contents possessed a great attraction for him; probably with very good reason.
I caught the morning train to London, and arrived in Lincoln's Inn about two o'clock, after lunching early at my club. There Messrs. Blackett & Snowdon's managing clerk handed me the registered packet which I had sent off the evening before from the post office in Monmouth Street, Bath.
With this in my hand I retired to the private office of Mr. Snowdon, who was away from town, his room being placed at my disposal by the managing clerk when I told him I had some important papers to examine.
I sat down at the desk, cleared it of the few papers lying there, then prepared to open my precious parcel.
First I tore off the registered envelope.
Yes, there were the two packets which I had thought so much of in the hours I lay awake during the night. There was the key; there was the handkerchief.
I took this latter up and examined it carefully by the light. It was of the finest cambric, and bore in the corner the letter C.
Then there remained the two packets to examine.
They were both addressed to me in a small, old-fashioned handwriting which I took to be that of the old lady, poor soul! One was heavy, felt hard, and contained evidently a box of some sort, the other was soft and I took it to be composed of papers. I broke the seals—a C—and opened it. My surmise was correct, it contained several sheets of thick correspondence paper, covered with writing. It was dated the day I first met her. When I spread it out this is what I found it to contain—
"DEAR MR. ANSTRUTHER,—I have little doubt but you consider me merely a crazy old woman.
"Perhaps I am, Heaven knows I have had enough trouble in my life to make me so, and the trouble and anxiety I am enduring now is by no means the lightest I have had to bear. That is why I had the resolve to trust you, taking a sudden fancy, as I have done before without regretting it, to a resolute open face.
"I believe that you will carry out what I ask of you to the letter; I believe you will do it honestly and truly, for the reason that you love to be honest and true.
"So much for my trust in you. Now for the object of my appealing to you.
"I am threatened with a great peril, a peril which may cost me my life, I expect it, I do not fear it. I have held my life in my hands for years past.
"But there is something in my case which I value more than my life; this I would preserve at all costs. It is contained in the small box in the second packet which I have prepared for you.
"I think I have thought of every contingency and may reasonably count upon being left in peace until I see you at five to-morrow. I do not doubt for one moment but that you will keep your appointment. Should I, however, have to send you to the safe, instead of handing you these packets, I have prepared even for that.
"The request I am about to make you is, I know, an unreasonable one, yet I believe you will carry it out.
"Upon opening the other packet, which I shall leave you with this, you will find a small carved casket which is locked; with it you will find sufficient money for your journey—of which presently.
"Mr. Anstruther, I want you to take the casket to Aquazilia and to deliver it to the person to whom it is addressed."
"Aquazilia!" I exclaimed, putting down the letter, "why, that is the big Republic the other side of Brazil which once upon a time used to be a Monarchy! That's rather a tall order!" I took the letter up again and went on:—
"I know the journey is a long one, but it will repay you. When you told me you were a writer, I knew at once that such a journey would be one from which you would draw profit both in experience and otherwise. In doing it you will earn my undying gratitude. Go, I beseech you! To you I confide that which is dearer to me than my life. Go, I implore of you. I ask it in the name of Truth and Honour. Go, and earn the eternal thanks of
"D'Altenberg, d'Altenberg," I muttered as I finished. "It seems a familiar name!"
I now turned my attention to the second packet, and opened that. It contained a small wooden box with the lid tied down with string. Upon taking this off, I found within a very beautifully carved oblong casket, made of ebony, inlaid with gold. It was a most finished piece of workmanship, and measured, I should think, about six inches by perhaps two and a half. In raised letters on the lid was carved the letter C as on the seals. On a small parchment label firmly secured to it by silk was:—
"To His Excellency the Senor JUAN D'ALTA,Valoro,Aquazilia."
It was fastened by no less than three locks, all of different sizes, and by its excessive weight, even for ebony, I should say was lined with some metal.
When I had lifted this casket out of the box I found beneath it two ordinary long envelopes both addressed to me and open. On the first I took up was:—
"To William Anstruther, Esq.For the expenses of the journey to Valoro."
I opened it and found it to contain four fifty pound notes. On the other was my name, and beneath it:—
"A slight honorarium by way of compensation for time lost on the journey."
It contained a Bank of England note for one thousand pounds. I sat with the note in my hand for some time; it was the first for that amount which I had ever come across.
However, not without some considerable satisfaction, I admit, I put up the note into its envelope again and packed it with the other into the box. I very carefully replaced the ebony casket after a glance of admiration at its beautifully inlaid workmanship.
I closed the box up as before, and, making free with Mr. Snowdon's stationery, put it in a fresh linen lined envelope and sealed it up again. This time with my own seal. I treated the letter in the same way, packing it up with the hankerchief and the key, then directed the two to myself, care of my lawyers. I intended to leave both in their care as before. I had ample confidence in their strong room. I had barely completed this task and thrown the old wrappers into the fire, when there came a knock at the door; the managing clerk entered with rather a scared look on his face.
"There are two men waiting to see you downstairs, Mr. Anstruther," he announced, "and I rather think they are police officers."
Instinctively as he spoke I thrust the two packets before me into pigeon holes of the writing table I was sitting at, and he saw me do it.
Before I could make any reply, the door was pushed open behind him, and two men entered; the foremost of them walked up to the table.
"Are you Mr. William Anstruther?" he asked.
He was a tall, dark, fresh-coloured man with sharp grey eyes, his companion had the appearance of an ordinary constable in plain clothes.
"Yes," I answered, rising, "I am William Anstruther."
"Then I arrest you, William Anstruther," he said, "on suspicion of causing the death of an old lady, name unknown, whose body was discovered at daybreak this morning on Lansdown, near Bath, with her throat cut. You'll have to come with us down to Bath to be charged."
Here was a terrible development!
My first thoughts were of pity for the poor old lady. How I wished I had been able to save her life.
"Very well," I answered as coolly as I could. "I suppose there is no help for it, and I had better go with you. Perhaps, Mr. Watson," I said, turning to the managing clerk, who was standing by as white as a sheet, "perhaps you will see that this man has proper authority for taking me."
"Certainly, Mr. Anstruther," he answered, then turning to the detective he asked for his papers.
"Show me your warrant, please," he said. "I shall not allow Mr.Anstruther, our client, to leave with you unless you do."
The fresh-coloured officer smiled, and produced from his pocket a blue paper, together with some other documents. These seemed to satisfy Watson.
"There seems no help for it, Mr. Anstruther," he said, with them in his hands. "I am afraid you will have to go with him. This is a proper warrant signed by a magistrate on sworn information."
"Who are the informants?" I asked.
He referred to the warrant and read out the names.
"Inspector James Bull, Frederick Redfern, surgeon, and AnthonySaumarez, gentleman."
"Saumarez!" I exclaimed, "the scoundrel and would-be murderer!"
"You had better be careful what you say," remarked the police officer, "as I may have to take it down, and it will be used against you."
"Yes," confirmed Watson, "you'd better say as little as possible. No doubt the whole matter is a mistake."
I took up my overcoat and the managing clerk helped me on with it; meanwhile, the police officer walked to the desk I had been sitting at and laid his hands on some papers. I looked upon the packets as lost.
Watson, however, stopped him at once.
"You mustn't touch those papers," he said hastily. "They are the property of Mr. Snowdon, a member of our firm."
"Then what ishedoing here?" asked the man, with a jerk of his head towards me.
"Mr. Anstruther," replied Watson, "was attending to some business correspondence at Mr. Snowdon's desk, that gentleman being away."
"Where's the correspondence?" asked the detective, with a quick glance at my two packets sticking out of the pigeon holes. I looked the man straight in the face.
"My correspondence is finished," I answered, "and in the hands of this firm."
A little smile about Watson's mouth and a hasty glance at the packets, convinced me that he understood my remark.
"Very well, then," said the police officer, "we'd better come along. Provided you come quietly," he observed to me as I followed him out, "it won't be necessary for me to handcuff you."
That was a comfort I thought, as I went downstairs and through the office, full of astounded clerks, who had all known me well for years.
We got into a cab and were driven to Paddington Station, reaching it about dusk, much to my satisfaction, as I should not at all have appreciated making my appearance in such a place with the two police officers.
We got into a third class compartment all to ourselves right at the end of the train, near the engine, and there I sat between the two men, who hardly exchanged a word the whole way, but who sat trying to read newspapers by the bad light. They would hold no conversation with me.
When we got to Bath they hurried me quickly down the stairs into a fly, and then we drove straight through the town.
As we passed the police station and my hotel—towards which I cast longing glances, for it was not far off dinner time—I asked a question of the tall, fresh-coloured man.
"I understood that you were going to take me to the police station?" I said.
The man shook his head.
"We are taking you to the prison," he said, "for the night. You will be brought before the magistrates in the morning."
I sank back in the corner of the fly thoroughly dejected, and the vehicle drove out by what I knew to be the Warminster Road. We now left the lights of the town behind, and then the journey was entirely between two hedgerows, which bordered the road, with an occasional field gate by way of variety—all else beyond was blank night, for there was no moon.
My two guardians began to show signs of fatigue, not unmixed with a certain disgust, at the length of the journey.
They began yawning and stretching their arms, with very little regard for my comfort.
When at last the fly pulled up with a jerk, after a good deal of bumping over a rough road, the two men were very unceremonious in ordering me to quit the vehicle.
"Now then, Ugly," remarked the fresh-coloured man with a push of his foot, which was remarkably like a kick, "out you get!"
He stepped out himself and I followed, knowing full well it was useless to resist, but I made a mental resolve that I would report him.
Once outside the fly, I found myself apparently at the foot of a tower, a door stood open in front of me, and on the doorstep a man holding a lantern.
I was, however, given very little time to contemplate this scene; the big man seized my right arm, and his companion my left; between them, they rushed me up a flight of steps immediately inside the tower.
These steps constituted a spiral staircase which wound round the interior of the tower; ever and anon as we passed a small window I saw the lights of Bath twinkling in the distance.
Beyond a few walks during the ten days I had spent there—my first visit—I knew very little of Bath or its neighbourhood, therefore I had no opportunity of taking my bearings.
I was urged up this staircase in a manner which I should have thought unusual had I not remembered the men's complaints of the long journey—which they had made twice—in the fly.
Finally we reached a door, and they simply pushed me through it into a large room. It was evidently the top storey of the tower and had windows looking all ways. It was perfectly circular in shape, was fairly clean, and had a fire burning in a grate with a wire screen before it; in one corner was a bed.
The two men released their hold as I looked around, and the dark one went to a corner and picked up a chain.
"Come here!" he shouted to me roughly.
His colleague assisted me by giving me a shove in his direction. Then, in a twinkling, he fixed a steel ring to my left ankle, snapped it there and locked a small padlock on it.
I was chained up like a dog!
Having thoroughly searched me, they prepared to leave; the taller man addressed me.
"I suppose you know," he remarked, as the two moved towards the door, "that if you make any attempt to escape, you'll be shot?"
With this parting caution he closed the door, and I heard a key turn in the lock.
I took one turn round the room, the chain being long enough, with many a yearning look at the distant lights of Bath; then, horrified at the clanking of my fetters, which were fixed to a staple in the wall, I threw myself as I was on the bed in the corner, and there, being tired out, almost immediately fell asleep.
I awoke with a feeling of intense cold, the fire was out, and I was lying outside the bed without covering.
The day had fully broken, and there was even an attempt on the part of the sun to pierce the heavy mists of a November morning. I looked around out of the windows, and saw the hills topped with cloud in every direction.
Drawing the rough blankets over me, I lay and thought. My first yearning was for something to eat; I had tasted nothing since lunch the previous day; I was fearfully hungry.
I had lain thus perhaps half an hour between sleeping and waking, when a key was put in the door and it opened, admitting a big, dark man with a long, black beard; he bore in his hands a small table which he placed in the middle of the room.
"Now," I said to myself, "this means breakfast."
I was mistaken.
He brought in next a square box, not unlike the case of a sewing machine, and placed it on the table.
"What can this be?" I muttered as I watched him closely.
In a few minutes footsteps were heard on the stairs, and another man joined him. A great strong fellow with a fair moustache. The two of them wheeled a large chair with glass arms to it, which I had not noticed before, from one corner of the room, and placed it on one side of the table.
The preparations now had all the appearance of the commencement of some performance; it only needed the principal actor to appear.
He was not long in coming.
Meanwhile, I wondered why the chair had glass arms to it.
I noticed that the two men, who now stood idly looking out of the windows, did not wear uniforms. They were dressed in ordinary rough-looking clothes of foreign cut; it struck me as very strange. I asked them who they were.
"Are you the warders of the prison?" I said.
"Hein!" the dark one inquired.
"Are you the warders of the prison?" I repeated.
"Find out,verdammt Englander," the man replied.
Then I felt certain I was in no English prison. Where was I?
The question was soon answered, the door once more opened andSaumarezentered. I sat up on the bed and fairly gasped; the whole matter was perfectly unintelligible to me. After the first thrill of astonishment my glance went to his eyes.
They were complete; he had another glass one in the socket, and it exactly matched the real one.
He came towards me with a little bow, and a smile on his red countenance.
"Good morning, Mr. Anstruther," he began, "we seem to be always meeting."
I could not restrain my feelings.
"That is my misfortune," I answered.
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps so," he answered casually, "that remains to be seen."
He said some words in German to the two men, which I imperfectly understood, but it seemed to be an order to lift me off the bed, for they immediately did it.
Then one of them unlocked my chain, and the two of them carried me to the chair, and sat me in it.
I now realised that I was in a desperate condition.
"I insist on knowing," I cried to Saumarez, "why I was brought here.It is very evident that I have been tricked."
Saumarez laughed—a low laugh of enjoyment.
"You certainly came here under a false impression," he sniggered; "as for the reason of your coming, you will soon know it. Now, to begin with, where is the key of the safe at 190 Monmouth Street. You have been thoroughly searched and we cannot find it.
"You are not likely to," I answered. "It is in a place where you cannot get at it."
"Indeed!" replied Saumarez. "What place is that?"
"I shall not tell you."
"We shall see," he remarked laconically.
As he spoke, he motioned to the two men to do something with the box on the table.
As they moved towards it, I heard the double report of a sporting gun not far off. Evidently some one was out shooting.
The men went to the table, and, taking off the square lid of the box, disclosed a large galvanic battery!
My blood began to run cold as an awful idea formed itself in my mind.
"Secure him in the chair!" Saumarez said sharply in German.
Before the men could reach me, I darted out of the chair towards the door, but they were too quick for me and caught me before I reached it. They carried me back struggling to the chair, and one held me down in it while the other passed thick straps round me, holding me fast in it, hand and foot. I found, when they had done with me, that my two hands were strapped firmly to the glass arms of the chair.
Lying back in the chair I noticed high up in the roof an old cobwebbed window, the top of which was standing open for purposes of ventilation. It looked as if it had not been interfered with for years.
In the position I was in, I could not very well see what was going on in the room, but the next thing I experienced was feeling my wrists being encircled apparently with wire. I gave one convulsive struggle to get free, but it was useless I knew well now what they were going to do.
They were going to torture me by giving me galvanic shocks, and passing strong currents through my body.
I had heard of the torture being applied in Russia to political prisoners.
I had, when a boy, patronised those machines which professed to try one's "nerve." I had held the two handles and watched the proprietor draw out the rod from the coil to increase the strength of the current. I knew how unbearablethatfeeling could become even with aweakbattery. What would it be with thisstrongone?
Saumarez' voice broke in upon me.
"Where is the key of the safe?"
I was enraged at the sound of his voice.
"You shall never know, you vile devil!" I cried.
"Give it to him," he exclaimed sharply to the two men in German. As he spoke I heard the sharp report of two sporting guns, one charged with black powder, one, from its quick sharp crack, with smokeless,quite near. There were two sportsmen.
Then—oh my God!—began that awful torture of a strong current of electricity passing up my arms.
I threw back my head and cried with all my strength, directing my voice to the open window far above me in the roof of the tower—
"Help! Murder! Help!"
And immediately, to my great joy, I heard an answering shout!
"Donner und blitzen!" cried Saumarez, "he has attracted their attention! Stop his mouth!"
Immediately I felt a handkerchief being rammed into my mouth, but from far below came the sound of hard knocking on the door of the tower, and men's voices shouting.
Saumarez rapped out a fearful oath, and gave an order to the men.
"You must carry him down below and drop him through the trap door into the vaults," he cried. "You will have plenty of time to do it if you are quick. Unbind him, sharp now!"
The two men commenced to do as he told them and very soon had the straps off me, then they carried me between them towards the door after firmly securing the gag in my mouth.
They had got about half-way down the spiral staircase with me, Saumarez following behind, and I was in an agony of mind that they would succeed in reaching the vaults with me, when I heard the door burst in below, and a cheer from several voices, followed by rapid footsteps on the steps.
"It's no good," cried Saumarez with another oath, "drop him and follow me up to the roof."
They did drop me very roughly on the stone stairs, but before they wentI heard one of the men cry out—
"Don't kill him in cold blood!"
Then there came the click of a pistol lock followed by a deafening report, and a bullet struck the step I was lying on about an inch from my temple. There was a scuffling of feet on the stairs above, mingled with words of remonstrance in German; the two men were hurrying Saumarez away.
The report and the impact of the bullet had half stunned me, but I sat up, and my hands being free, tore the gag out of my mouth. At the same time, rapid footsteps came up the stairs, and, in a few moments, I found a very familiar face, with an absolutely astounded expression on it looking down into mine.
"In Heaven's name!" a well-known voice cried, "what are you doing here,Bill?"
It was my cousin, Lord St. Nivel, a subaltern in the Coldstream Guards!
Looking over my cousin's shoulders were two other faces, one covered with rough hair, and evidently belonging to a game-keeper, the other the beautiful face of my cousin, Lady Ethel Vanborough, St. Nivel's sister.
"Poor fellow!" she remarked sympathetically. "What have they been doing to you?"
I could hardly believe my eyes, and passed my hand wearily across my forehead.
St. Nivel turned to the keeper.
"Give me the brandy flask," he said.
The man produced it, and my cousin poured some out in the little silver cup attached to it.
"It's a lucky thing for you, Bill," he observed, while I greedily drank the brandy down, "that I thought of bringing this flask with me this morning. Ethel was against it; she's a total abstainer."
"Except when alcohol is needed medicinally," she interposed in an explanatory tone, "then it is another matter."
I now took a good look at her; she was wearing a short, tweed, tailor-made shooting costume, and carried in her hand a light sixteen bore shot gun.
"You look just about done," continued her brother. "Whatever has happened to you?"
"You would look bad," I answered, "if you had had nothing to eat since lunch yesterday."
St. Nivel was a soldier and man of action.
"Botley," he said to the keeper, "the sandwiches."
"Now," said the guardsman invitingly, when I had ravenously disposed of my second sandwich, "tell us something about it."
I had just opened my lips to speak, when there came a great cry from the roof of the tower above, and a black body shot past the little window near which I was sitting.
We all ran to the window but could see nothing.
Then St. Nivel made a suggestion.
"Let us mount up to the roof," he said, "and see what is to be seen.You, Botley, had better go down to the foot of the tower."
The keeper touched his forelock and commenced his descent of the spiral staircase. Meanwhile, Lady Ethel, her brother and I mounted up to the top.
We passed the room in which I had been imprisoned, and went up a very much narrower flight of steps to the roof, coming out at a little door which was standing open. The roof was flat and covered with lead.
"Take care how you tread," cried St. Nivel. "I expect it is all pretty rotten. In fact, Ethel, I think you had better go inside."
Ethel, however, was not of that way of thinking; she was a thorough sportswoman and wanted to see all the fun.
"All right, Jack," she rejoined cheerily. "You go on, I'll look after myself without troubling you."
It was very evident at the first glance that there had been an accident, a piece of the low stone wall which surrounded the roof was gone. It looked as if it had recently tumbled over. St. Nivel was evidently right when he said the place was rotten. Rotten it certainly was.
Stepping very gingerly we all approached the embattled wall, and, selecting the firmest part, looked over, one at a time. I had the second peep and was just in time to see two men, one limping very much—this I am sure was Saumarez—disappear into a neighbouring wood. A countrified-looking boy was running up from the opposite direction.
At the foot of the tower, however, was another matter; huddled up in a heap was the body of a man, with a coil of rope and some shattered masonry lying all around it.
By the body stood Botley, the game-keeper, scratching his head.
It was now very evident what had occurred.
The three miscreants who had tried to torture me had endeavoured to escape by letting themselves down by a rope from the top of the tower. Two had succeeded and one had been killed. The reason of this was obvious, the rope had been fixed round one of the battlements and it had not been sufficiently strong to maintain the weight of the three men. The two lowest had probably got off with a shaking, the man who had got on the rope last had lost his life. All this was perfectly evident.
"Who is it?" shouted Lord St. Nivel to the keeper below.
"Doan't know, me lord," came back the answer, "he's a stranger to me."
The keeper had now been joined by the countrified boy, and the two turned the body over on to its face. I could see that it was the fairer of the two men who had acted under Saumarez' orders.
"I think we had better go down," suggested my cousin, the Guardsman; "we may be of some service there."
On the way down the winding staircase, a thought struck me.
"What has become of that body," I asked, "that was found on Lansdown yesterday morning?"
"What body?" replied my two cousins together.
"The body of an old lady."
"We have heard nothing of it," replied St. Nivel, "and we ought to have done so. But you have not told us what happened toyou."
Going down the old stone staircase, I gave them a brief account of my arrest in London and journey down there, with my imprisonment during the night in the tower.
"Well," remarked St. Nivel, while his sister murmured a few words of sympathy, "I haven't quite got the hang of the thing yet, but you must tell us more at lunch."
We found that the man lying at the foot of the tower was certainly dead; his neck was broken.
We could therefore do nothing but leave the gamekeeper in charge of the body while we despatched the boy to warn the police and fetch a doctor.
With a shilling in his pocket to get his dinner, the young yokel set off on his journey, and we strolled away.
"I don't think we'll shoot any more this morning, Jack," Ethel said, "this affair has made me feel a bit shaky."
"Then you had better come up to the house with us, Bill," said her brother, slapping me on the back, "and have some lunch. Then you can tell us all your adventures."
I readily agreed, and we had walked some little distance when I heard footsteps running behind us; we stopped and turned. It was the country boy we had sent to the police.
"I forgot to show you this yere sir," he said, opening his hand, in which he held something carefully clasped.
"What is it?" I asked as he addressed me.
"It's this yereheye, sir," he answered. "It don't belong to the dead 'un; he's got two."
I glanced into his open palm and beheld two halves of a brown artificial eye, made of glass, and much shot with imitation blood!
* * * * *
"No," observed my friend, Inspector Bull, "there's been no body found on Lansdown, and I should have heard of it if there had been without a doubt."
The inspector finished a liberal tumbler of Lord St. Nivel's Scotch whisky and soda, and set the tumbler carefully down on the table as if it were a piece of very rare china.
My cousin, who was standing on the hearthrug, laughed heartily.
"That was only another piece of the rogue's plot," he said. "They must have had a clever head to direct them."
"Yes," I put in, "a clever head with only one eye in it, if I'm not much mistaken."
The inspector gave me a doubtful look; then his eye reverted to the whisky decanter upon which it had been fondly fixed. St. Nivel observed it and pushed the whisky towards him.
"Thank you, my lord," said the police officer, helping himself with a look of intense satisfaction; he did not often get such whisky. "It's a curious thing, however, that this man with one eye should ha' been doing all these pranks right under my nose as it were, and I never even heard of him before."
Being aware of his methods, I was not at all surprised.
Even now, knowing that I was respectably connected, he even suspected me, and regarded me as an impostor with rich relatives.
This story of the finding of the body on Lansdown only confirmed his views of my powers of invention.
"As a matter of fact," observed Lord St. Nivel, "I am only a stranger in these parts, having borrowed a friend's house for a week's shooting; but no doubt you can tell me what this tower is, where my cousin was kept a prisoner, and which my sister and I came across by the merest chance."
"Cruft's Folly," replied the beaming inspector, with his whisky glass in his hand. "Cruft's Folly has stood where it does nearly a hundred years. It was built by some gentleman, I believe, a long while ago, to improve the landscape, just like Sham Castle over yonder."
"But does nobody live in it?"
"No, I've always understood it was quite empty and nearly a ruin."
"Then I have little doubt," said my cousin with a chuckle, "that your friends, Bill, simply appropriated it for their own uses."
"I suppose you'll have the place thoroughly searched, Mr. Bull, won't you?" I asked. "There may be something hidden there which will give you a clue to my assailants."
"You may rely upon that, Mr. Anstruther," replied the inspector, rising and slapping his chest, "but we shall have to communicate with the owner first."
Thus through the red-tapism of the law the chance was lost. Had the old tower of Cruft's Folly been searched at that moment the remainder of this history most certainly would never have been written.
When I got back to the comfort of the Magnifique, though my "cure" was but half completed, yet I determined to bring my visit to Bath to a close; it had been too exciting. I would come back and finish the course of water drinking and baths some other time.
At any rate the little twinge of rheumatism in my shoulder which had brought me there was all gone. I think possibly the shocks of electricity combined with my agitation of mind had cured it.
St. Nivel and Lady Ethel, being tired of the "rough" shooting for the time being, and perhaps having a sneaking liking for their cousin, decided to come in to Bath and take up their quarters with me at the big hotel in the town. However, at the end of three days, being thoroughly rested, and nothing whatever having been heard of Saumarez, I decided, finally, on account of the sensation I was creating in the hotel, which was becoming an annoyance, to accept St. Nivel's invitation to put in a fortnight's shooting with him at his place in Norfolk. I had the very pleasantest recollections of it, though I had not been there for two shooting seasons.
"If you behave yourself and are very good," explained Ethel, "perhaps we may take you to one of the big shoots at Sandringham. Jack is going to one, and they are always glad to have an extra gun if he happens to be such a good shot as you are."
I bowed my acknowledgments to my pretty cousin with much mock humility, but in my heart I felt very proud of the prospective honour. I had never yet occupied one of those much-coveted places in a royal shooting party. Besides, I knew that the Sandringham preserves were simplychock-fullof pheasants and were, in fact, simply a sportsman's elysium.
"You'll be able to put in five days' shooting a week with us, Bill, if you like," St. Nivel said, "before we go over to Sandringham. My invitation is for next Thursday week, so you'll be able to get your hand in."
This gave a much-needed change to my ideas, but before I packed up to leave Bath I went down and had another look at 190 Monmouth Street.
I rang the bell and a woman opened the door with a baby in her arms.
"I'm the sergeant's wife, please sir," she said in reply to my inquiry."We was put in here by Inspector Bull."
"Then nothing has been heard of the old lady?" I asked.
"No, sir," she replied, "nothing. The neighbours hardly knew she was here, she showed herself so seldom; but the woman that used to come in and do odd jobs for her says she's been living here ten year."
"Ten years!" I repeated in astonishment. "How on earth did she pass her time?"
"The woman says, sir, she was always writing, writing all day."
"How was she fed?" I asked anxiously. "I suppose no tradesmen called?"
"No, sir," the sergeant's wife replied, "the woman I am speaking of, who lives in the country, used to come three times a week and clean up for her, and each time she would bring her a supply of simple food, eggs and milk and such-like, to last her till she came again."
I put my hand in my pocket and gave her half a crown.
"I suppose you don't mind my looking round the house," I suggested. "I should like to see it once more before I leave Bath."
"Well," she said hesitatingly, "I'm afraid it's against orders, but——"
The woman who hesitates is lost; she let me in.
I went with her straight down to the sitting-room. It was locked, but she had the key for cleaning purposes, and let me in.
"It looks very dreary now, don't it, sir," she queried, "in spite of all the china and finery and that?"
Yes, she was right, the room by daylight looked very dismal; the broken looking-glass over the mantelpiece did not improve its appearance.
I would have given a good deal to have been able to open the safe again if I had had the key with me and to see if it contained any further secrets, but this, for the present, was out of the question.
I had, however, the satisfaction of knowing that the place was well guarded, and was not likely to be interfered with perhaps for years. I went into the other rooms—the sergeant and his wife were occupying the kitchens—and found nothing there but dust. One or two were locked up, but it was perfectly impossible to see what was in them. An inspection of the keyholes revealed only darkness. I came down from the top storey with a sigh at its desolation.
I left the old place and walked rather sadly down the long street back to my hotel.
I wondered as I went what had become of the poor wounded old lady; whether she had died and her body was thrust away somewhere in hiding without Christian burial, or did she by some miracle still live? But this latter suggestion seemed an utter impossibility from the state in which I had left her. So I packed up, and on the next morning, with my two cousins, left the tower of Bath Abbey behind and starteden routefor Bannington Hall, the Mid Norfolk mansion of Lord St. Nivel.
The Vanboroughs were relatives of my mother's; she was one of that noble family, and the present peer's aunt. Dear soul, she had long since gone to her rest, following my father, the Chancery Judge, in about a year after his own demise.
The Vanboroughs were celebrated for their beauty, and my mother had been no exception to the rule. My rather stern, sad features had, I suppose, come from my father, but still I think I had my mother's eyes, and a look of her about the mouth when I smiled.
At least my cousin, Ethel Vanborough, said I had.
There was always something like home about dear old Bannington to me, with a sniff of the sea when you first stepped out of the carriage at the door.
The big comfortable old landau with its pair of strong horses had now, however, given place to a smart motor car, upholstered like a little drawing-room.
My cousin, Lord St. Nivel, was certainly fully up to date, and his sister, Lady Ethel, was, if possible, a little more so. They were twins. Left orphans as children, the two had grown up greatly attached to one another naturally, and being the sole survivors of a very rich family and inheriting all its savings and residues, they had an extremely good time of it together without any great desire to exchange their happy brother and sisterhood for the bonds of matrimony. Still they were very young, being only four-and-twenty.
I spent a very happy ten days with them in the glorious old mansion full of recollections and relics of bygone ages. Its very red brick peacefulness had a soothing effect upon me, and I will defy any one to experience greater comfort than we did coming in tired out after a day's tramp after the partridges—for St. Nivel was an advocate of "rough" shooting—and sitting round the great blazing fire of logs in the hall while Ethel poured out our tea.
I will admit that Ethel and I indulged in a mild flirtation; we always did when we met, especially when we had not seen one another for some time, which was the case in the present instance.
Still it was only acousinlyflirtation and never went beyond a pressure of the hand, or on very rare occasions a kiss, when we met by chance perhaps, in the gloaming of the evening, in one of the long, old world corridors, when no one was about.
Shooting almost every day, I soon got back into my old form again.
"Yes, you'll do," remarked my cousin, when I brought down my seventh "rocketter," in succession the day before the royal shoot. "If you shoot like that to-morrow, Bill, you'll be asked to Sandringham again!"
A few words from my cousin to the courteous old secretary had gained me the invitation I so desired; I was determined to do my very best to keep up my reputation as a good sporting shot. We motored over the next morning; Ethel with us. It was always understood that St. Nivel's invitations included her, in fact, she was a decided favourite in the royal circle, and being an expert photographer, handy with her snapshotter, always had something interesting to talk about when she came across the Greatest Lady.
We found the members of the shooting party lounging about the terrace, for the most part smoking and waiting for their host. Several motor cars were in readiness to carry them off to the various plantations.
Presently our host arrived, and we were complete; I heard him remark to one of the guests as he got into his car—
"There are three more of those lazy fellows to arrive," he said, laughing, "but they must come on by themselves in another car."
Our first shot was on the Wolverton Road about half-way down towards the station, and here the birds were as plentiful as blackberries. I never before had seen such a head of game. The beaters entered the plantations in a row, standing close together, and movedone stepat a time, each step sending out perhaps a dozen pheasants, who were, as a rule, quickly disposed of by the guns around.
Of course there were exceptions: there were those who missed their birds both barrels time after time, or still worse sent them away sorely wounded with their poor shattered legs hanging helplessly down.
These were the sort of shots who were not required at Sandringham, and, as a rule, were not asked again. I, however, was fortunate; being in good practice and cool, I brought down my birds one after the other, as St. Nivel remarked afterwards, "like a bit of clockwork," and I had the satisfaction of hearing our host inquire who I was. We had finished one plantation very satisfactorily, as the heaps of dead pheasants testified, and were moving off to the next when I got a shock.
A motor car came rushing on to the road, and stopped quite near to where I was strolling along in conversation with one of the equerries.
"Ah! you lazy fellows!" exclaimed our host, "you are losing all the best of the sport."
A well-known foreign nobleman, a tall, dark, handsome fellow, got out first and advanced full of apologies, hat in hand.
My glance was fixed upon his very prepossessing face and I did not at the moment notice the gentleman who followed him. When I did I started violently and the equerry walking with me asked what was the matter.
"Nothing is the matter particularly," I answered, passing my hand before my eyes, "but can you tell me the name of that gentleman who has just got out of the car?"
"You mean the red-faced man with the black imperial?" he suggested.
"Yes," I answered.
"Oh! That is some Bavarian duke," he answered, "not royal, but a Serene Somebody. I forget his name myself, but I will ask some one, and tell you."
A friend in the Household was passing at the time and he caught his arm and whispered him a question.
"Yes, of course," he said, turning again to me; "he is the Duke Rittersheim, one of those small German principalities swept away long ago, and of which only the title and the family estates remain."
I turned and took another look at His Serene Highness. Yes, Duke of Rittersheim or not, the red-faced, dark-haired foreigner, who was advancing half cringingly, hat in hand and full of apologies, was none other than Saumarez, the man who had tried to torture me in the tower of Cruft's Folly!
That littlerencontretook my nerve away, and I shot very badly at the next plantation, so badly—I missed two birds—that I was almost inclined to give up and go home; but then lunch came—in a marquee—and its luxury and the delightful wine restored me. I shot well again all the afternoon.
Yes, it was a glorious day, and I enjoyed it immensely when I got Saumarez—or His Serene Highness—out of my mind. He was a superb shot, I will say that of him; he fired from the left shoulder as many men do, but in his case I knew it was on account of his glass eye.
Walking to the last plantation with one of the Household and casually discussing all manner of ordinary subjects, I ventured a chance remark concerning the Duke of Rittersheim.
"His Serene Highness is a fine shot," I said, "an old sportsman, it is easy to see."
"Yes," answered my companion, "he is supposed to be one of the finest shots in Germany."
"And yet he has a glass eye?" I ventured.
The man I was walking with turned round and stared at me.
"Now, how in the name of goodness did you know that?" he inquired. "It is supposed to be a secret, and the artificial eye looks so natural under his pince-nez that very few know of its existence."
"But you are quite right," he continued; "he lost it in a shooting accident when he was a boy."
This made the matter quite certain in my mind, and I determined to confront His Serene Highness at the first opportunity and see what effect it would have upon him; but I might have saved myself the trouble of this resolution; subsequent event proved pretty conclusively that he had recognised me from the first.
We were all arranged for the final shoot of the day, when to my astonishment I found myself next to the Duke of Rittersheim. He was on my right hand, and therefore had me well under his sound left eye.
I must admit that I felt uneasy when I saw him there; nevertheless, I went on shooting coolly and had the pleasure once or twice of "wiping his eye." I even heard a distinct "Bravo" come from him at one of my shots.
I was, however, far from comfortable in having him for such a close neighbour under the circumstances, and wished him a hundred miles away. We shot on until the light got very bad, but there were only a few more yards to be driven, so we went on. We had nearly finished when I noticed the Duke of Rittersheim send his loader away to pick up something he had dropped.
I noted the man run off to fulfil the request, and at the same moment my eyes were attracted by the last rays of the red sun, already set, reddening far away the waters of Lynn Deeps.
It was a lovely sight, and my gaze rested on it some moments; then I suddenly realised that I was practically alone with the Bavarian Duke, as my loader had walked on a few yards with his back to me.
The Duke was standing quite alone, and in that moment I saw his gun go up to his shoulder at a bird, then in a flash it turned towards me!
I realised my danger in a moment and threw myself flat on my face. As I lay there I heard the report of his gun, the swish of the charge, and a cry from my loader. He had shot him!
I sprang to my feet, and ran to the man, who was standing holding his arm; but quick as I was the Duke was there before me.
"Are you hurt, my man?" he asked in his sharp tone which I knew so well. "Where are you hit?"
"It's in the arm, sir," the Norfolk man answered; "it be set fast."
"Look here," said the Duke, quickly taking out a note case. "I can see you are not badly hurt. Take these bank-notes; here are twenty pounds. Go quietly away and say nothing about it and I'll give you another twenty. Do you understand?"
"Yes, me lord," answered the man, who probably had never had so much money before in his life. "I'll keep mum."
"Can you walk all right?" asked the Duke.
"Yes, Your Royal Highness," answered the poor fellow, who was getting mixed, feeling, no doubt, very faint.
"Then off with you at once," cried the Duke, "and send some one up in the morning to the Duke of Rittersheim for the other twenty pounds. Tell the people," he added, as the man went slowly off, "that you have had a bad fall."
"Yes, Your Majesty," answered the bewildered, wounded man as he disappeared in the dusk.
I stood watching the Duke as he went coolly back without a word to me to his place; this, then, was the cool, resourceful scoundrel I had to deal with!
* * * * *
Sitting by the big fire in the smoking-room at Bannington Hall that night after dinner, I told St. Nivel the whole of the incident of the shooting of the beater by the Duke of Rittersheim.
"Well, that's the limit," commented Jack, taking the cigar out of his mouth; "hemustbe a cool-headed scoundrel. I never heard of such nerve!"
"It's a nice thing to have a brute like that on one's track, isn't it?"I remarked dejectedly; "it makes life hardly worth living."
Jack sat and smoked placidly for some moments looking into the fire.He was thinking.
Presently he turned to me.
"Look here, Bill," he remarked, "Ethel and I had a talk this evening before dinner about matters generally and she has started what I call a very good idea."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Of course, she knows all about your promise to the old lady; you told her, you know."
"Certainly," I answered, "I told you both. I know you never keep secrets from one another."
"Well, she knows," he proceeded, "therefore, that you have made up your mind to go to Valoro with that packet the old lady gave you."
"Well?"
Jack brought his hand down with a smack on my knee.
"Let us come too, old chap," he cried—"both of us—Ethel and I."
The idea to me was both pleasant and astonishing. I had never thought of it.
"But won't Ethel find it rather a fatiguing journey?" I suggested.
He was quite amused at the idea.
"I can assure you," he said, "that she can stand pretty nearly as much as I can. She's a regular little amazon. That's what Ethel is."
"Very well, then," I replied, "nothing will suit me better than to have yours and Ethel's charming society. As a matter of fact I am beginning to look forward to the expedition keenly."
The next few days were given up to wild speculations on our coming journey and its results.
"I hear the country is lovely," exclaimed Ethel, poring over a map; "at any rate the voyage will be splendid!"
It was settled that we should start from Liverpool to Monte Video, thence make our way by rail across country to our destination, Valoro, a beautiful city in the mountains of Aquazilia, in the neighbourhood of which we were told we should get splendid sport.
Therefore we made a flying trip to town, especially to visit Purdey's and supply ourselves with the very latest things in sporting guns and rifles.
Out of the very liberal provision the old lady had made for my expenses, I felt justified in being extravagant, and provided myself with a beautiful gun—the right barrel having a shallow rifling for a bullet should we meet with very big game—and a perfect gem of an express rifle; these two were the latest models in sporting firearms.
Ethel and St. Nivel, having an unlimited command of money, ordered pretty nearly everything they were advised to take, with the result that we required a small pantechnicon van to take our combined luggage.
There was, however, one thing I was very particular about, and upon which I took the advice of an old friend who had travelled much.
I bought a first-rateTargetrevolver—a Colt—with which I knew I could makeaccurateshooting. I would not trust my life to one of those unscientific productions which are just as likely to shoot a friend as an enemy, and are more in the nature of pop-guns than defensive weapons. I had reason to congratulate myself later on that I had taken such a precaution.
"There's one thing you really must see to at once, Bill," exclaimed St.Nivel, one day when we were all busy making out lists of ourrequirements in the great library and posting them off to the stores."Youmustget a servant."
Now I had been, for the last three months, doing for myself; my old servant had left me some months before and I had not filled his place with another. Times, too, had not been very prosperous with me and I seriously thought of curtailing that luxury and brushing my own clothes.
The liberal allowance for my travelling expenses, however, plus the thousand pound note, put quite a different complexion on matters. I felt now thoroughly justified in providing myself with a first-rate man, and for that purpose I took my cousin's advice and put an advertisement in theMorning Post.
"A gentleman requires a good valet, used to travelling. Excellent reference required." I gave my name and St. Nivel's address to ensure getting a good one.
That was the wording of it, and I arranged to run up to town for a day to make my selection from them. From the numerous applicants I selected six, and told them to meet me at Long's Hotel.
St. Nivel accompanied me to give me the benefit of his advice, which was perhaps not likely to be of much service to me. He employed a refined person himself who asked and got £150 a year.
The man who took my fancy was an old cavalry soldier named Brooks who had been out of work for a time, but who yet bore the stamp of a man who knew his work and would do it. I closed with him for a modest £70 a year, and he was glad to get it.
"When will you be ready to come, Brooks?" I asked when we had settled preliminaries. "We shall be off by the next boat to La Plata, and I shall want you to get on with the packing as soon as you can."
"For the matter of that, sir," he answered, "I could come now. I've no chick nor child to hold me. I'm a widower without encumbrances."
I told the "widower without encumbrances" to come the next day, and St. Nivel and I jumped into a hansom to catch the five o'clock express, glad to get out of the thick atmosphere of London into the bright crisp air of Norfolk.
"I think you've done right," remarked St. Nivel in the train, "in getting an old cavalry man. He'll understand hunting things."
As I could not afford to hunt I missed the point of the signification.
Ah, those were happy days, those last few before we started!
All our serious preparations were finished and we had only to give a little general supervision to the packing of our respective servants. Ethel's experienced maid was going with her, of course.
This done, we used to stroll about together—the three of us—and enjoy the last few hours of the dear old place as much as we could in the beautiful bright weather.
I think Ethel and I even used to get a little bit romantic in the lovely moonlight nights, when the old oak-panelled corridors and staircases were bathed in the soft light. But we were very far from being in love with one another all the same.
I shall never forget that time of peace, which came in a period of storm and trial; the old red mansion with the river running not a hundred yards from it, and the graceful swans sailing to and fro, the glorious old trees of the avenue, the fine broad terrace with its splendid views over the low, undulating country, with a glimpse of Lynn Deeps on one hand and the white towers of St. Margaret's, the great church in the ancient town, on the other.
The dreamy, old-world air of the place, the smell even of the fresh-turned earth in the great gardens, the cawing of the circling rooks—it all comes back to me as if I had but walked out of it all an hour ago.
However, the morning soon came when we were to bid adieu to it all, and in the hurry and scurry of it and the race down to the station in the motor—for we were late, Ethel's maid having forgotten an important hat—perhaps we forgot all our peaceful happiness in our feverish speculations on our voyage across the Atlantic to that distant South American Republic, Aquazilia, and its mountain capital, Valoro.