Chapter XIIIHaving at last found something definite to do Cynthia proved herself a very able organizer. By lunch-time the next day she had extracted an invitation from the Campbells, squared Lady Staveley and packed her trunk. Directly the meal was over she started for Carlisle, brimming with enthusiasm for the task she had set herself.Her departure was followed almost immediately by the arrival of Gregg on his daily visit to Lady Kean. He had barely turned the first bend on the wide oak staircase before Fayre was on his bicycle, riding his hardest in the direction of Gregg’s house.His disappointment at finding the doctor out was convincing enough to impress the maid, who showed him into the little surgery, assuring him that her master was certain to be in soon, as he was always at home to patients from four to six in the afternoon. Fayre, after a moment of apparent hesitation, decided to await his return and settled down to the inspection of the very stale literature provided by Gregg for the use of his patients. The maid, recognizing him as the gentleman who had called on a previous occasion, departed with a clear conscience to the back regions, leaving him to his own devices. He waited till she was out of sight and then, with a rather guilty smile at the thought of Lord Staveley’s injunctions of the day before, cautiously opened the door leading into the study. A quick glance through the window assured him that the small front garden was deserted and that he could carry out his plans unobserved. The farther door, which led into the front hall, was shut and he opened it carefully, leaving it ajar, that he might be sure of hearing the footsteps of the maid should she return. Then he sat down at the writing-table and went quickly, but efficiently, through the mass of papers with which it was littered. As he expected, none of them had any bearing on the subject he had in mind. Neither was there anything of interest to be found in the top drawer, which he found unlocked.The desk was of a standard make and closely resembled one he had used in his office in India, the key of which he still carried on a ring in his pocket. He tried this key and, to his relief, it fitted the two rows of drawers on each side of the knee-hole. The first two drawers proved disappointing, but at the back of the third he found a packet of letters, tied together and docketed: “Baxter.” He glanced hastily out of the window once more, but there was no sign of Gregg and, slipping out the first envelope in the pile, he opened it.It contained a letter from Baxter to Gregg and, as Fayre read it, he felt himself grow hot with shame at the part he was playing. If it had not been for Leslie’s danger and the unworthy part he believed Gregg to be playing in this game of life and death, he would have bundled the letters back into the drawer and locked it, for the letter was that of a broken man to a friend from whom he had no reservations. It seemed to have been written more in grief than in anger and in it Baxter said that he had traced his wife to Brighton, where she had been staying openly with Captain Draycott and that he proposed to do his utmost to persuade her to return to him. It was evidently in answer to a letter from Gregg, urging him to take action. This, he declared, he did not intend to do unless he were persuaded that the step would insure his wife’s happiness and then only on the undertaking from Draycott that, in the event of a divorce, he would marry her. It was an honest, straightforward letter, pathetic in its complete selflessness. On the envelope Gregg had scribbled a pencilled note:“L. has seen her in Paris several times with a man whose name he was unable to discover. Comparing dates I have ascertained that Draycott was in Egypt at the time. L., knowing I was interested, took the trouble to trace them to their hotel, but is convinced that they were staying there under an assumed name. Useful evidence, if she interferes with the boy and I shall not hesitate to use it. Draycott will not stand for that sort of thing!”This note had evidently been made after her divorce and subsequent marriage to Captain Draycott and suggested that, for some reason, Gregg was wishful to retain a hold over her and proposed to use this hold if necessary. It looked as if Gregg’s power to harm her had ceased with Draycott’s death, in which case he could hardly have used his knowledge to force her to meet him at the farm. At the same time, Fayre realized that he had at last stumbled on a possible motive for an assignation. Supposing that Gregg’s power over her still held and that, for some reason, he had decided to put on the screw. Given the man’s bitterness against her, combined with his obviously uneven temper, it was not outside the bounds of possibility that he had been exasperated beyond endurance at her refusal to accede to his demands and had shot her in a moment of blind rage. Fayre, knowing Gregg, could not bring himself to believe that the thing was premeditated. He did, on the other hand, consider him perfectly capable of using the revolver as a threat, probably with no intention of firing it.Fayre slipped the letter back under the string before extracting the one underneath it and was glad he had done so for, while he was in the very act, his ear caught the sound of an approaching motor. Quick as lightning he threw the packet back into the drawer, closed and locked it and was back in the surgery before Gregg was out of his car.He heard him open the front door and go down the passage, where he was evidently met by the maid, for, a few minutes later, he appeared at the surgery door and invited Fayre into the study.His manner was no less cordial than it had been on the previous occasion, but, this time, Fayre had the impression that he was waiting rather sardonically for an explanation of his visit. He hastened to assure him that he had come as a patient and went on to describe certain perfectly genuine recurrent symptoms, the result of the heavy bouts of fever he had suffered from in the East, complaining that they seemed to be becoming more frequent, probably as the result of the English climate.Gregg listened to him in silence and, when he had finished, asked him the usual questions, making notes on the pad at his elbow as he did so. He finished by subjecting him to a very thorough examination.“You’ve taken up bicycling lately, I see,” he said, as he thrust his stethoscope back into his pocket.“Yes. Anything against it?” asked Fayre, who was standing before the glass over the mantelpiece, refastening his collar.“Nothing. You’re in as perfect a state of health as any one can expect to be who has lived the greater part of his life in the Tropics. In fact, you’re an admirable example of what temperate living will do for a man in a hot climate. I congratulate you!”The words were harmless enough, but Fayre, suddenly catching sight of Gregg’s face in the glass, was not taken in by them. He realized, and the discovery was anything but pleasant, that the doctor was laughing at him in a grim way all his own.“I’ll make you up a prescription, if you like,” he went on, unaware that Fayre was watching him, “but I warn you it will probably be the same as the one you’ve got already.”“Thanks,” said Fayre warily. He was waiting for the other’s next move. “I suppose I may count myself lucky to have got off so lightly.”“You can thank your own common sense,” was Gregg’s curt rejoinder, as he turned to his writing-table.Fayre slipped his hand into his breast pocket and the doctor gave him a quick, sidelong glance.“There’s no fee,” he said abruptly.Fayre’s colour deepened as he took out his note-case and opened it, but he waited in silence for Gregg’s explanation. It came with startling clarity.“You didn’t come here to consult me, Mr. Fayre. You could have done that any day at Staveley. And I doubt if you took up bicycling for the sake of exercise. And that paint you got on your coat the other day was put there on purpose. Oh, I know it was paint, all right,” he cut in, as Fayre opened his mouth to speak. “I verified that, as you thought I should. I also discovered that you went straight from here to Stockley’s garage, as the result, I suppose, of something my man told you. He described you, by the way, as ‘a very chatty gentleman’! It was unfortunate for you that I paid my bill at Stockley’s that evening and had a word with him. Stockley is a chatty gentleman, too. The thing I want to know now is, what’s it all about?”He had risen and was sitting on the edge of the writing-table, his hands in his pockets and his truculent eyes on Fayre’s.“Leslie’s your friend, I understand, and I can only imagine that you’re working in his interests,” he went on. “I should like to mention that he’s also mine and that there’s nothing that would give me greater pleasure than to hear that he’s been cleared. That being the case, I should be obliged if you’d tell me your object in hanging about here and questioning my servants. Anything you wish to know I prefer to tell you myself.”Fayre was silent for a moment. When he spoke he chose his words carefully, but it was evident from his whole bearing that he was saying frankly what was in his mind.“I’m not sorry it’s come to this,” he said, meeting Gregg’s angry gaze squarely. “To tell you the truth, I’m not proud of the part I’ve been playing and it’s relief to me to come out into the open. In answer to your question, let me put one to you. Why have you concealed the fact that Mrs. Draycott was an old acquaintance of yours?”The doctor’s eyes shifted ever so slightly. Evidently he was unprepared for so bold an attack.“I had my own reasons,” he said curtly, “and I’m not accountable to you or any one else for them, at present, at any rate.”“You admit that you did know her?”“I admit nothing.”“And if I tell you that I have proof that you not only knew her but were intimate with both her and her husband at one time?”“I still admit nothing and I deny your right to question me.”“Let me put it to you in another way, then,” went on Fayre, firmly keeping a hold on his temper. “You say you are a friend of Leslie’s. He is lying at this moment under the shadow of an accusation that we both know is totally unfounded. In the face of that, do you still refuse to say anything?”Gregg laughed suddenly and bitterly.“We both know! There’s a sting there, isn’t there? If by clearing him you mean confessing to a murder I didn’t commit, I certainly do refuse. I suppose that’s what you’re driving at, but you’re taking a good deal for granted, aren’t you?”Fayre suddenly lost patience.“Good heavens, man,” he cried, “if you had nothing to do with it, why not say so, and if you can prove it, so much the better. I’ve only one motive in all this, to clear Leslie. Why work against instead of with me?”“Because I resent your insinuations. If you think you’ve got anything against me, prove it. You’ve apparently had the damned impertinence to rake up my past and pry into my private affairs and you’ve all but told me to my face that I killed Mrs. Draycott. Well, take your story to the police and see what ice it cuts with them! If they’ve any questions to ask me I’m ready to answer them. Meanwhile, I advise you to take your amateur detective work elsewhere.”Fayre hesitated for a moment; then he decided to make one more effort towards conciliation.“I’m very sorry you’ve taken this line,” he said. “Frankly, I have hoped all along that you would be able to give some satisfactory explanation of your attitude towards the whole affair. I can very well believe that the subject is a painful one to you and I can sympathize with your reluctance to drag it up again after all these years, but you must admit that your behaviour has been open to suspicion. Once more I appeal to you to act reasonably, if only for Leslie’s sake.”Gregg’s only answer was to stride heavily to the door and fling it open.“I have already told you that I resent your interference,” he said shortly. “If I make any statement, it will be to those who have a right to demand it. You can hardly be surprised if I don’t consider you one of them. Take what steps you please, but I warn you that I am quite prepared to meet them.”Without a word Fayre took out his note-case once more. He walked over to the writing-table and picked up the prescription Gregg had written, leaving two guineas in its place. Then he took his hat and coat and left the room with such dignity as he could muster. As he passed through the hall he heard the crash of the study door as Gregg slammed it, and realized that in the first encounter, at any rate, the honours of war were to the doctor. Either the man was innocent or he had put up the most amazing bluff Fayre had ever encountered.And the worst of it was that, as Gregg no doubt guessed, he was not in a position to act. His information, as far as it went, pointed to but one thing: Gregg’s deliberate attempt to conceal from the police his former connection with Mrs. Draycott. Beyond this, Fayre had nothing to go on, unless he could trace the mysterious car to Gregg. According to Stockley, the proprietor of the garage, he had taken out the hired car at five-thirty. This would give him ample time to drive to one of the several other garages within a radius of ten to fifteen miles, change his car, pick up Mrs. Draycott and arrive at the farm at about the time the murder was presumably committed. But here the London number on the car described by the carter arose as a distinct stumbling-block, for it was extremely improbable that a local garage would have a London car for hire. On the other hand, if by some extraordinary chance one of them had let out such a car, it should be easy enough to get on the track of it; but Fayre realized that the doctor had him at a hopeless disadvantage unless he could manage to trace his movements on the night of the twenty-third, and he recognized the cleverness of the man in forcing his hand before his investigations were complete. And yet, for the life of him, he could not make up his mind whether Gregg’s outburst had been mere bluff or the genuine anger of a man smarting under the sting of a false accusation. Either way Fayre had cut an uncommonly poor figure and he was painfully aware of the fact.
Having at last found something definite to do Cynthia proved herself a very able organizer. By lunch-time the next day she had extracted an invitation from the Campbells, squared Lady Staveley and packed her trunk. Directly the meal was over she started for Carlisle, brimming with enthusiasm for the task she had set herself.
Her departure was followed almost immediately by the arrival of Gregg on his daily visit to Lady Kean. He had barely turned the first bend on the wide oak staircase before Fayre was on his bicycle, riding his hardest in the direction of Gregg’s house.
His disappointment at finding the doctor out was convincing enough to impress the maid, who showed him into the little surgery, assuring him that her master was certain to be in soon, as he was always at home to patients from four to six in the afternoon. Fayre, after a moment of apparent hesitation, decided to await his return and settled down to the inspection of the very stale literature provided by Gregg for the use of his patients. The maid, recognizing him as the gentleman who had called on a previous occasion, departed with a clear conscience to the back regions, leaving him to his own devices. He waited till she was out of sight and then, with a rather guilty smile at the thought of Lord Staveley’s injunctions of the day before, cautiously opened the door leading into the study. A quick glance through the window assured him that the small front garden was deserted and that he could carry out his plans unobserved. The farther door, which led into the front hall, was shut and he opened it carefully, leaving it ajar, that he might be sure of hearing the footsteps of the maid should she return. Then he sat down at the writing-table and went quickly, but efficiently, through the mass of papers with which it was littered. As he expected, none of them had any bearing on the subject he had in mind. Neither was there anything of interest to be found in the top drawer, which he found unlocked.
The desk was of a standard make and closely resembled one he had used in his office in India, the key of which he still carried on a ring in his pocket. He tried this key and, to his relief, it fitted the two rows of drawers on each side of the knee-hole. The first two drawers proved disappointing, but at the back of the third he found a packet of letters, tied together and docketed: “Baxter.” He glanced hastily out of the window once more, but there was no sign of Gregg and, slipping out the first envelope in the pile, he opened it.
It contained a letter from Baxter to Gregg and, as Fayre read it, he felt himself grow hot with shame at the part he was playing. If it had not been for Leslie’s danger and the unworthy part he believed Gregg to be playing in this game of life and death, he would have bundled the letters back into the drawer and locked it, for the letter was that of a broken man to a friend from whom he had no reservations. It seemed to have been written more in grief than in anger and in it Baxter said that he had traced his wife to Brighton, where she had been staying openly with Captain Draycott and that he proposed to do his utmost to persuade her to return to him. It was evidently in answer to a letter from Gregg, urging him to take action. This, he declared, he did not intend to do unless he were persuaded that the step would insure his wife’s happiness and then only on the undertaking from Draycott that, in the event of a divorce, he would marry her. It was an honest, straightforward letter, pathetic in its complete selflessness. On the envelope Gregg had scribbled a pencilled note:
“L. has seen her in Paris several times with a man whose name he was unable to discover. Comparing dates I have ascertained that Draycott was in Egypt at the time. L., knowing I was interested, took the trouble to trace them to their hotel, but is convinced that they were staying there under an assumed name. Useful evidence, if she interferes with the boy and I shall not hesitate to use it. Draycott will not stand for that sort of thing!”
This note had evidently been made after her divorce and subsequent marriage to Captain Draycott and suggested that, for some reason, Gregg was wishful to retain a hold over her and proposed to use this hold if necessary. It looked as if Gregg’s power to harm her had ceased with Draycott’s death, in which case he could hardly have used his knowledge to force her to meet him at the farm. At the same time, Fayre realized that he had at last stumbled on a possible motive for an assignation. Supposing that Gregg’s power over her still held and that, for some reason, he had decided to put on the screw. Given the man’s bitterness against her, combined with his obviously uneven temper, it was not outside the bounds of possibility that he had been exasperated beyond endurance at her refusal to accede to his demands and had shot her in a moment of blind rage. Fayre, knowing Gregg, could not bring himself to believe that the thing was premeditated. He did, on the other hand, consider him perfectly capable of using the revolver as a threat, probably with no intention of firing it.
Fayre slipped the letter back under the string before extracting the one underneath it and was glad he had done so for, while he was in the very act, his ear caught the sound of an approaching motor. Quick as lightning he threw the packet back into the drawer, closed and locked it and was back in the surgery before Gregg was out of his car.
He heard him open the front door and go down the passage, where he was evidently met by the maid, for, a few minutes later, he appeared at the surgery door and invited Fayre into the study.
His manner was no less cordial than it had been on the previous occasion, but, this time, Fayre had the impression that he was waiting rather sardonically for an explanation of his visit. He hastened to assure him that he had come as a patient and went on to describe certain perfectly genuine recurrent symptoms, the result of the heavy bouts of fever he had suffered from in the East, complaining that they seemed to be becoming more frequent, probably as the result of the English climate.
Gregg listened to him in silence and, when he had finished, asked him the usual questions, making notes on the pad at his elbow as he did so. He finished by subjecting him to a very thorough examination.
“You’ve taken up bicycling lately, I see,” he said, as he thrust his stethoscope back into his pocket.
“Yes. Anything against it?” asked Fayre, who was standing before the glass over the mantelpiece, refastening his collar.
“Nothing. You’re in as perfect a state of health as any one can expect to be who has lived the greater part of his life in the Tropics. In fact, you’re an admirable example of what temperate living will do for a man in a hot climate. I congratulate you!”
The words were harmless enough, but Fayre, suddenly catching sight of Gregg’s face in the glass, was not taken in by them. He realized, and the discovery was anything but pleasant, that the doctor was laughing at him in a grim way all his own.
“I’ll make you up a prescription, if you like,” he went on, unaware that Fayre was watching him, “but I warn you it will probably be the same as the one you’ve got already.”
“Thanks,” said Fayre warily. He was waiting for the other’s next move. “I suppose I may count myself lucky to have got off so lightly.”
“You can thank your own common sense,” was Gregg’s curt rejoinder, as he turned to his writing-table.
Fayre slipped his hand into his breast pocket and the doctor gave him a quick, sidelong glance.
“There’s no fee,” he said abruptly.
Fayre’s colour deepened as he took out his note-case and opened it, but he waited in silence for Gregg’s explanation. It came with startling clarity.
“You didn’t come here to consult me, Mr. Fayre. You could have done that any day at Staveley. And I doubt if you took up bicycling for the sake of exercise. And that paint you got on your coat the other day was put there on purpose. Oh, I know it was paint, all right,” he cut in, as Fayre opened his mouth to speak. “I verified that, as you thought I should. I also discovered that you went straight from here to Stockley’s garage, as the result, I suppose, of something my man told you. He described you, by the way, as ‘a very chatty gentleman’! It was unfortunate for you that I paid my bill at Stockley’s that evening and had a word with him. Stockley is a chatty gentleman, too. The thing I want to know now is, what’s it all about?”
He had risen and was sitting on the edge of the writing-table, his hands in his pockets and his truculent eyes on Fayre’s.
“Leslie’s your friend, I understand, and I can only imagine that you’re working in his interests,” he went on. “I should like to mention that he’s also mine and that there’s nothing that would give me greater pleasure than to hear that he’s been cleared. That being the case, I should be obliged if you’d tell me your object in hanging about here and questioning my servants. Anything you wish to know I prefer to tell you myself.”
Fayre was silent for a moment. When he spoke he chose his words carefully, but it was evident from his whole bearing that he was saying frankly what was in his mind.
“I’m not sorry it’s come to this,” he said, meeting Gregg’s angry gaze squarely. “To tell you the truth, I’m not proud of the part I’ve been playing and it’s relief to me to come out into the open. In answer to your question, let me put one to you. Why have you concealed the fact that Mrs. Draycott was an old acquaintance of yours?”
The doctor’s eyes shifted ever so slightly. Evidently he was unprepared for so bold an attack.
“I had my own reasons,” he said curtly, “and I’m not accountable to you or any one else for them, at present, at any rate.”
“You admit that you did know her?”
“I admit nothing.”
“And if I tell you that I have proof that you not only knew her but were intimate with both her and her husband at one time?”
“I still admit nothing and I deny your right to question me.”
“Let me put it to you in another way, then,” went on Fayre, firmly keeping a hold on his temper. “You say you are a friend of Leslie’s. He is lying at this moment under the shadow of an accusation that we both know is totally unfounded. In the face of that, do you still refuse to say anything?”
Gregg laughed suddenly and bitterly.
“We both know! There’s a sting there, isn’t there? If by clearing him you mean confessing to a murder I didn’t commit, I certainly do refuse. I suppose that’s what you’re driving at, but you’re taking a good deal for granted, aren’t you?”
Fayre suddenly lost patience.
“Good heavens, man,” he cried, “if you had nothing to do with it, why not say so, and if you can prove it, so much the better. I’ve only one motive in all this, to clear Leslie. Why work against instead of with me?”
“Because I resent your insinuations. If you think you’ve got anything against me, prove it. You’ve apparently had the damned impertinence to rake up my past and pry into my private affairs and you’ve all but told me to my face that I killed Mrs. Draycott. Well, take your story to the police and see what ice it cuts with them! If they’ve any questions to ask me I’m ready to answer them. Meanwhile, I advise you to take your amateur detective work elsewhere.”
Fayre hesitated for a moment; then he decided to make one more effort towards conciliation.
“I’m very sorry you’ve taken this line,” he said. “Frankly, I have hoped all along that you would be able to give some satisfactory explanation of your attitude towards the whole affair. I can very well believe that the subject is a painful one to you and I can sympathize with your reluctance to drag it up again after all these years, but you must admit that your behaviour has been open to suspicion. Once more I appeal to you to act reasonably, if only for Leslie’s sake.”
Gregg’s only answer was to stride heavily to the door and fling it open.
“I have already told you that I resent your interference,” he said shortly. “If I make any statement, it will be to those who have a right to demand it. You can hardly be surprised if I don’t consider you one of them. Take what steps you please, but I warn you that I am quite prepared to meet them.”
Without a word Fayre took out his note-case once more. He walked over to the writing-table and picked up the prescription Gregg had written, leaving two guineas in its place. Then he took his hat and coat and left the room with such dignity as he could muster. As he passed through the hall he heard the crash of the study door as Gregg slammed it, and realized that in the first encounter, at any rate, the honours of war were to the doctor. Either the man was innocent or he had put up the most amazing bluff Fayre had ever encountered.
And the worst of it was that, as Gregg no doubt guessed, he was not in a position to act. His information, as far as it went, pointed to but one thing: Gregg’s deliberate attempt to conceal from the police his former connection with Mrs. Draycott. Beyond this, Fayre had nothing to go on, unless he could trace the mysterious car to Gregg. According to Stockley, the proprietor of the garage, he had taken out the hired car at five-thirty. This would give him ample time to drive to one of the several other garages within a radius of ten to fifteen miles, change his car, pick up Mrs. Draycott and arrive at the farm at about the time the murder was presumably committed. But here the London number on the car described by the carter arose as a distinct stumbling-block, for it was extremely improbable that a local garage would have a London car for hire. On the other hand, if by some extraordinary chance one of them had let out such a car, it should be easy enough to get on the track of it; but Fayre realized that the doctor had him at a hopeless disadvantage unless he could manage to trace his movements on the night of the twenty-third, and he recognized the cleverness of the man in forcing his hand before his investigations were complete. And yet, for the life of him, he could not make up his mind whether Gregg’s outburst had been mere bluff or the genuine anger of a man smarting under the sting of a false accusation. Either way Fayre had cut an uncommonly poor figure and he was painfully aware of the fact.