"A painted butterfly!" Audrey's lip curled at the phrase. It exactly described the kind of woman her father's animal nature would be drawn to. In her mind's eye she saw the pathetic figure of her mother trying to recover her faded prettiness with Madame Coralie's assistance, so as to win back a love that required to be stimulated by mere beauty of form and face. And a music-hall artist!
"Is she respectable?" asked Audrey, suddenly.
"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Mellop, laughing artificially. "But I wonder why you ask?"
"Oh, I merely heard her name," answered Audrey, quietly. "Why do you laugh?"
Mrs. Mellop tried to stop tittering. "Oh, my dear, I can see it all," she said gaily; "your face betrays you. To think that he should run after her!"
"He? Who?" asked Audrey, drawing up her slight figure, and wincing at the thought that this gossiping woman was about to pronounce her father's name.
"Why, Mr. Shawe, of course."
"Mr. Shawe!" The girl grew violently red. "He doesn't run after Miss Pearl."
"Oh, I know he loves you, dear," said the widow, in a tantalising way. "Anyone can see that when he's in the room, and everyone knows that he is as good as engaged to you, although your father won't hear of your marrying the poor man. But"--she made a gesture of contempt--"he's a man after all."
"Have you any ground to say that Mr. Shawe runs after--"
"Only your face, dear, and your strong desire to know about Miss Pearl."
"If that is all," said Audrey, with quiet scorn, "you can exonerate Ralph from being an admirer of Miss Pearl. I know that he is true to me."
"And you call him Ralph," said her visitor, glibly; "my dear, what will your father say? He wants you to marry Lord Anvers."
"What! That puny little racing man? He has never said anything to me about it, Mrs. Mellop, and if he does I shall certainly refuse to entertain the idea. And since you have hinted that all the world knows my business," she went on, looking the widow straight in the face, "you can inform everyone, on my authority, that I intend to marry Mr. Shawe, and that we are engaged."
"With your father's consent, dear?"
"Never mind." Audrey was glad to see that Mrs. Mellop's attention had been taken off the name of Rosy Pearl, as she did not want, for obvious reasons, to talk about the lady. "My father and I understand one another."
"Oh, I dare say, dear; but do your father and Mr. Shawe understand one another? I'm sure I hope so, as it means so much money to Mr. Shawe."
"Ralph marries me for myself, and not for my money," said the girl, hotly.
"No doubt, dear; but he's got an eye to the main chance, like the rest of us."
Audrey again looked straightly at the pretty, artificial, frivolous face. "I think not," she said coolly; "Ralph is not like other men."
"Ah!"--Mrs. Mellop became serious--"we all think men are angels until we marry them, dear. And this Rosy Pearl attracts--"
"She doesn't attract Ralph," interrupted Miss Branwin, resolutely, and saw the necessity of drawing another red herring across the trail. "I told you that I merely asked about her because the name had struck my fancy. And now I have to give you a message from my father."
"Yes, dear?" said Mrs. Mellop, anxiously; for now that Sir Joseph was a widower she had a sudden vision of possible matrimony.
"He has gone to Brighton for a week or so, since the doctor has ordered him the sea air. He told me to ask you to chaperon me while he was absent, as he does not like the idea of my being alone. But I am afraid you will find it rather dull here. I am in mourning, you know."
The widow gasped with delight. That Sir Joseph should select her from amongst all his friends to stay at Camden Hill as a temporary companion to his only daughter surely showed that he took a deep interest in her; and such interest could only mean that marriage-- "Oh," cried Mrs. Mellop, shutting her eyes to conjure up more clearly the golden vision, "how sweet of you! I like a quiet time, as my poor husband did not leave me very well off, and it is so expensive to go about in London; besides, your darling mother was a good friend to me, and my heart is wrung."
Audrey knew perfectly well that Lady Branwin had been a very good friend indeed to Mrs. Mellop, who was something of a parasite, and knew also that the lady's heart was not wrung in the least. She had used the phrase because it sounded well, and because she wished to ingratiate herself with the heiress. Not that Mrs. Mellop was a bad-hearted woman. She was simply frivolous and incapable of feeling any deep emotion. In her own silly way she had been attached to the late Lady Branwin, because she had found her a useful friend. In the same way she was prepared to lavish her shallow affections on Audrey.
Mrs. Mellop duly arrived with many boxes, and was given a charming suite of apartments, luxuriously furnished with all that civilisation could provide in the way of comfort. Certainly the life was somewhat quiet, as Audrey rarely left the grounds, and even when in the house preferred to be alone with her books and music. But the surroundings were costly, the food was excellent, and there were innumerable servants ready to obey the widow's beck and call. Mrs. Mellop, during her three weeks' stay, felt that she was already the wife of the millionaire, and took advantage of the opportunity to go out daily in one of the luxurious motor-cars to shop extensively and run up many bills, on the assumption that Sir Joseph would certainly pay them when he proposed. And the shopkeepers, who hitherto had been rather shy of the pretty little widow, trusted her readily when they knew that she was chaperoning Miss Branwin, and saw that she used Sir Joseph's up-to-date vehicles. Also, she might have dropped a hint or two that she had come to stay at the Camden Hill house. But, at all events, during that halcyon time Mrs. Mellop assuredly gathered together a wardrobe and a quantity of jewellery which stood her in good service afterwards when the gates of this millionaire Eden closed behind her. But as yet she never believed that they would close; or, if they did, that she would be within as the second Lady Branwin.
Meanwhile, since the chaperon was discreet, and Sir Joseph was at the seaside, Audrey saw a great deal of Ralph. Because of her mourning for her mother she could not meet him as usual in Kensington Gardens; but he came to afternoon tea, and sometimes to dinner. Mrs. Mellop, only too anxious to get Audrey married, so that she could prosecute her matrimonial plans when the millionaire returned, was rarely present at these meetings, or if she was speedily got out of the way on the plea of fatigue, or that she had to write letters. Audrey might have had no chaperon, so far as Mrs. Mellop was concerned, and it was evident that the little widow had taken the hint given by the girl at that first candid interview. But Mrs. Mellop wrote Sir Joseph gushing letters about his sweet child, without mentioning the almost constant presence of the young barrister.
Audrey and Ralph did not talk like lovers now. The girl was consumed by a fierce desire to hunt down the assassin of her mother, and talked of little else but the chance of tracing the murderer. Ralph assured her that he had kept in touch with Inspector Lanton and with the police generally, to say nothing of his frequent visits to the detectives at Scotland Yard. "But nothing can be found out," said the barrister, sadly.
"Something must be found out," cried Audrey at the last of these interviews; "and if the police fail we must succeed."
"But your father--"
Audrey made a gesture of contempt. "My father thinks that he has done his duty by offering this thousand pounds' reward. He will not lift a finger to find the assassin of my poor mother. He is glad she is dead."
"Oh! surely not," remarked Ralph, rather shocked by this blunt speech.
"Surely yes," said the girl, bitterly. "I did not tell you before, Ralph, because I was ashamed to tell you, but my father is going to marry again."
Shawe was startled. "Mrs. Mellop?" he asked, after a bewildered pause.
"No. Although his mere invitation to Mrs. Mellop that she should be my chaperon has caused her to entertain ideas of marriage. Do you know Rosy Pearl?"
"The music-hall dancer? Yes."
"Well, she is to be the future Lady Branwin."
"Oh! Audrey," cried Shawe, greatly astonished, "you must be mistaken."
"I had the information from my father's own lips," insisted Audrey. "What do you know of this woman?"
"Very little. She is a handsome woman in the style of Juno, and is a wonderful dancer. I heard that Sir Joseph had been paying attentions to her, but I did not dream that he contemplated marriage with her."
"He does, then. Mrs. Mellop calls her a painted butterfly."
"She's a very substantial butterfly," said Shawe, with the ghost of a smile; for Audrey was too much in earnest to tolerate lightness of any sort. "And I believe she is rather a respectable woman."
"Such a woman as should stand in the place of my dead mother?" asked Audrey, looking searchingly at his face.
"No," rejoined Ralph, promptly. "And yet I can't say that I have heard a word against Rosy Pearl. I simply mean that you would not like one who had been a dancer to be your stepmother."
"I certainly should not," said Audrey, decisively; "and yet if I object, my father--as he hinted--is quite capable of turning me out of doors. He will do that in any case, unless I marry Lord Anvers."
"What!" Shawe flushed. "That little reptile, who--"
"I know a great deal about him," said Audrey, cutting him short, "and I do not wish to hear any more. I shall leave this house rather than marry him, and rather than see this Pearl woman occupying my mother's place."
"Come to me, darling," said Ralph, holding out his arms. "Let us get married at once and defy your father."
"I should lose my money then, dear."
"Oh, what does that matter? I want you and not your money."
"Dear"--she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his keen grey eyes, now filled with the love-light--"I am too fond of you to allow you to ruin yourself for my sake."
"Ruin myself"--his arms slipped round her waist, and he placed his cheek against hers--"how could you do that, you silly darling?"
"Very easily," she replied, in a tired voice; for all she had gone through was wearing her out. "You have just enough money to get along with, as a bachelor. But what is enough for one is not enough for two, in spite of the proverb. If I married you in haste we should both repent at leisure. Not only would we be poor, but my father, being thwarted, would do his best to hinder you."
"He could not do that," declared Shawe, who believed that he was capable of defying the world, much less Sir Joseph.
"Oh, yes, he could, and he would. He would use his money and his influence to prevent any solicitor giving you a brief. He would turn people against you, and would give you a bad name. I know my father's hard nature, and his pertinacious way of following up things. My poor mother told me how he had ruined and disgraced several people who had crossed his path."
Ralph pushed her slightly away from him, and taking her hands looked into her eyes. "And do you think that I am ready to give you up because your father would act in this way?" he demanded. "I am not afraid of Sir Joseph, or of any man. Two people can play at every game, and if your father tries to crush me, he will find that I am not a man to be cast out of his path. If he has money, I have brains, and I am quite willing to pit my intellect against his wealth. Hang Sir Joseph, and a dozen like him; I beg your pardon, dear, for, after all, he is your father."
"A father in name only," said Audrey, admiring her lover's indignation, which was righteous and masterful in her eyes. "You know what I think of him, Ralph. I wish I had a better opinion of his nature, but my experience and my mother's experience--what she has told me--show that my father is a hard man with a strong will. He does not care what anyone suffers so long as he gets his way. The mere fact that he has already decided to marry again--and marry a music-hall artist--shows how callous he is. It's like Hamlet's mother," ended Audrey, bitterly, "with the funeral baked meats not yet cold, as in the play."
Ralph took a turn up and down the room, with a frowning brow and looking deeply perplexed. "What's to be done, then?" he demanded, stopping before the girl. "Things can't go on in this way. You won't marry me--"
"For your own sake I won't marry you at present," interpolated the girl.
"Audrey, you say that your father intends to marry Rosy Pearl as soon as he possibly can without shocking public opinion. When he does, you can't stay in the house, as you declare, and also you say that you will not marry Lord Anvers. Your father, so you tell me, is bound to turn you out if you refuse to obey him, so it seems to me that the evil day is only postponed for a few months."
"I daresay, Ralph. But much may happen in a few months. For one thing, we--you and I--may find out who killed my mother. And even if you had money and could offer me a home, I should refuse to marry you until that truth comes to light."
"But it's impossible, and, after all, can do little good."
"It's not impossible, and can at least punish the assassin. No one but myself cares for my poor mother's memory, and I must avenge her death. Come, dear"--she placed her arms round his neck--"you will be my knight-errant?"
"Yes," said Ralph, promptly, and kissed her. "But where shall I begin?"
"Begin?" replied Audrey, seriously. "Begin at Madame Coralie's--at the Pink Shop."
"At the Pink Shop?" repeated her lover. "Good! I shall start to-morrow."
Influenced by Audrey's love, and touched by her devotion to her mother's memory, Shawe had committed himself beyond withdrawal to therôleof knight-errant. Like those of old he was going out, if not to redress a cruel wrong, at least to revenge it. He quite understood why the girl wished to punish the assassin of her mother; but he could not see how the fulfilment of the task she had set him would bring about their marriage. Sir Joseph cared so little for his late wife that he was quite willing to bury the bitter fact of her existence in oblivion. To reawaken recollections of the objectionable Lady Branwin by bringing her murderer to justice, and thus revive the whole terrible episode for the benefit of the public, would not be pleasing to the millionaire.
Moreover, if Shawe did accomplish his aim, Branwin would only pay to him the already promised reward. He would be ready enough to give the money, since he had ample means at his disposal, but he certainly would remain firm on the question of the marriage. Of course, Ralph knew well enough that Audrey would not fail him and would remain true. But since she refused to marry him because she fancied she would hinder his career, and since Sir Joseph certainly would disinherit her if she so persisted, and thus she would not bring him any money to aid that career, it seemed that there was but a faint hope she would become Mrs. Shawe. Still, he had promised, and it only remained for him to keep his promise, with the hope that events would so turn out that the desire of his heart might be fulfilled. With this idea in his mind Shawe returned to his chambers in the Temple and set about making a start. But it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
In the first place, Shawe did not see how he could enter Madame Coralie's shop and ask questions from the woman and her assistants; yet, if he wished to learn anything, it was absolutely necessary to do so. Madame Coralie herself would certainly refuse to answer any questions, since Shawe was not an accredited agent of the police. Moreover, for obvious reasons connected with business, she wished the murder to be relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes. The trail assuredly started at the Pink Shop, as Audrey had stated; but if he could not find anyone likely to give him a clue to the beginning of things, Ralph disconsolately considered--and very sensibly--that there would be little chance of success. It was at this point of his meditations that he thought of Perry Toat.
It was a good idea, as she was the very person he required for this especial purpose. Peronella Toat--called Perry for business purposes--was a woman-detective with whom he had come into contact over a divorce case. It was mainly owing to her shadowing of the guilty couple that the petitioner had obtained his freedom, and the judge had complimented Miss Toat on the way in which she had managed the business. Moreover, as she was a woman, she would easily be able to penetrate into a shop entirely devoted to the needs of women, and once within those sacred walls might be able to learn what was necessary in the way of clues.
"I shall write to her at once," Shawe said to himself, and drew writing materials towards him. "She's a clever little woman, and I daresay can cajole or force Madame Coralie into answering what questions are necessary to be put; but I'm hanged if I can see where, or how, she's going to start."
His letter brought Miss Toat next day to his chambers at ten o'clock, before he started for the Courts. She was an undersized, colourless little woman, with a white face and drab-hued hair. Her mouth was firm, with thin, pale lips, and her eyes were of a sharp grey, almost steely in their glitter. Quietly arrayed in a tailor-made costume, she looked very businesslike, and her crisp, decisive manner showed that she knew the value of time. In silence she listened to Shawe's exposition of the case. "It's a difficult mystery to unravel," she said, when he had finished.
"Where's the mystery?" asked Ralph, somewhat surprised. "The murder was no doubt committed for the sake of the diamonds. The motive is clear."
"How did the assassin know that Lady Branwin had jewels with her?" asked Perry Toat, fixing her pale eyes on his face "How did he know the position of the room in which she slept, and how did he gain admission into the court?"
"I can answer that last question," said Shawe, easily. "He gained admission into the court by means of a skeleton key, which is now in the possession of the police. Inspector Lanton has it, I believe."
Miss Toat drummed on the table with her thin fingers, which were not unlike the claws of a bird of prey. "If the assassin used such a key," she remarked, "he must have examined the lock and have bought a key to fit. That would take some time, Mr. Shawe."
"Well?" asked the barrister, puzzled.
"Well," she repeated, raising her sandy eyebrows, "can't you see that the procuring of the key would take some time? Yet Lady Branwin slept at the Pink Shop on the spur of the moment, as it were, and merely had the diamonds with her by chance; since--according to her daughter--she was taking them to be reset by a jeweller. If I am right," added Miss Toat, with emphasis--"and I think that I am right in my surmise--the assassin must have had some idea beforehand that Lady Branwin would sleep in the room wherein she was murdered, and would have the diamonds with her."
"But if, as you say, she slept there on the spur of the moment--"
"Exactly. Therein lies the difficulty--the mystery to which I alluded. The arrangement of Lady Branwin to stay was decided in five minutes, let us say; yet the key to the door of the court must have taken a longer time to procure. And it is strange also," mused Perry Toat, "that the assassin should have known the plan of the shop. How did he learn that when within the court he would be able to gain entrance into the bedrooms, let alone the fact that he could not be sure any visitors were sleeping in them?"
"Then you infer," said Shawe, promptly, "that the assassin must be someone attached to the Pink Shop?"
"Why not--on the grounds that I have stated?"
"Because the evidence went to show that everyone connected with the business accounted for their time. Madame Coralie, her husband, Zobeide, Badoura, and Parizade, to give them their fantastical names, were in the room devoted to preparing the wares on or about the very time the murder was being committed, according to the medical evidence. Peri Banou was in the shop, and is the only person who was on the same floor as that of the bedroom wherein the crime took place. Do you accuse her?"
"I don't accuse anyone as yet. I shall go to the shop and ask questions."
Shawe shook his head sceptically. "If things are as you hint, no one will answer any questions."
"Oh, I think so," said Miss Toat, quietly. "I know how to ask questions."
"Madame Coralie may not allow you to enter the shop."
"Give me a five-pound note," said the detective lady, irrelevantly; and after Ralph had placed one in her hand, she continued: "With this I shall buy a few things to make me beautiful for ever"--there was a faint smile on her grey face as she spoke--"between whiles I shall keep my eyes open, and find out what I wish to know."
"If you do, you're a wonder," said the barrister, quickly, for he was very doubtful of the success of her enterprise.
"You can say that," said Miss Toat, in an unemotional tone, "when I indicate the assassin of Lady Branwin. Good-day."
"But when am I to see you again?" asked Ralph, following her to the door.
Perry Toat looked back with a demure face. "When I have something to report."
"You'll do your best?" Shawe urged her.
"I always do my best for my clients," she said, in a tone of faint rebuke.
"But in this case there is much money also."
"Oh, I shan't charge you much, Mr. Shawe."
"I am not alluding to that. I shall pay you well. But if you lay hands on the assassin you shall have the thousand pounds' reward offered by--"
Peronella Toat interrupted with a flushed face. "One thousand pounds!" she said, drawing a deep breath. "Yes, I forgot that. I must earn it. If I do, I can gain my heart's desire."
"What is that?"
She smiled demurely. "A husband," was her reply, and she vanished.
Ralph went back to his room with a look of wonder. It seemed impossible that this shadow of a woman should ever be able to gain a husband, even if she had a bribe of one thousand pounds to offer her bridegroom.
For more than a week Miss Toat remained absent, and during that period she haunted Walpole Lane. She sought out Madame Coralie, and declared that she wanted her complexion improved. The owner of the Pink Shop thought that there was much room for improvement, and did wonders for the five-pound note. This was a less charge than she usually made, but since the murder, business had been bad with Madame Coralie, and she was willing enough to capture small fish, as the big ones, for the moment, would not be enticed into her net. After Miss Toat's complexion had been renovated that wily person decided to undergo a course of treatment for hair and figure, which necessitated two or three nights' stay in the shop. It was for this reason that she wrote to Shawe and asked him to forward twenty pounds. He did so rather ruefully, for he was not well off, and the search for the assassin promised to be expensive. However, it was for Audrey's sake, so Ralph parted with very good grace with his hard-earned money.
Having thus obtained funds in plenty, the detective took up her abode in the very bedroom wherein Lady Branwin had been murdered. She knew that it was the fatal chamber, as she had seen the plan of the shop, which the daily papers had published when the murder was the sensation of the day. Madame Coralie was rather vexed when Miss Toat mentioned this artlessly to her, on being installed in the room.
"That murder will ruin my business," said the Medea of Walpole Lane, gloomily.
"Oh, I don't think so," said her client, sweetly. "I don't mind in the least sleeping in the room where a crime has been committed."
"You are a very sensible woman, Miss Toat," said Madame Coralie, energetically. "All my friends seem to have deserted me since the death of Lady Branwin."
"They will come back, Madame." Miss Toat nodded vigorously. "The event will soon pass out of their minds. By the way, has anything been heard likely to show who is guilty?"
"No," said Madame Coralie, savagely. "I wish I could find out. I'd kill the man for ruining my business."
"He will be killed in any case, and by the law," said Miss Toat, in a silky voice. "Let us hope that he will be caught."
"Amen to that. But I don't think he ever will."
Plainly, little evidence was to be got out of Madame Coralie, and probably she knew nothing of the truth. If she did, she would assuredly have denounced the culprit to the police, if only out of revenge. Miss Toat saw that she would get no clue in that direction, and submitted herself to the treatment for hair and figure with very good grace. But the proprietress of the Pink Shop would have been ill-pleased had she seen the little woman slipping about the premises in the dead of night like an eel. Being tiny and light-footed--especially since she wore list slippers--Miss Toat, when all the inmates of the place were buried in slumber, would take a dark lantern and steal round the rooms. She examined the shop itself, the passage running at the back and terminating in the door which opened on to the right-of-way, leading into Walpole Lane, and noticed that the house-door into the empty court was flush with those of the four bedrooms. To be precise--and Miss Toat in her investigation was very precise--a quartette of doors led to their several apartments, and the fifth door admitted anyone who was curious into the court. Miss Toatwascurious, and as she found the key on a nail in the still-room--as had been mentioned in the evidence at the inquest--she opened the door and explored the court from end to end.
When her hair had been burnished to a soft golden hue, and her figure had been made less angular, she took an effusive leave of the magician, and went round to make inquiries about her of this person and that. During her stay in the shop, and by dexterous questioning, both by word of mouth and by means of the deaf-and-dumb language, Perry had found out a great deal which Madame Coralie would have rather she had not known. Armed with this knowledge, she went from pillar to post, and added to her stock of information, finally presenting herself by appointment at Shawe's chambers to report progress.
The barrister scarcely knew her; for, instead of looking like a drab nonentity, she appeared quite pretty in an artificial manner. He really thought that thus transmogrified she would be able to gain the husband she had hinted at, and complimented her on her changed appearance.
"It's all in the way of business," said Perry Toat, disdainfully, "and as soon as I conclude my task I shall revert to my former state."
"But why?" demanded Shawe, wondering if her vanity would allow this sacrifice.
But it appeared that Miss Toat had no vanity at all. "Madame Coralie's adornments are too conspicuous for one of my calling," she explained, "and I attract attention in quarters where I wish to be unknown. Better to be the ugly duckling, Mr. Shawe, for then I can be more successful in my profession."
This remark recalled Ralph to the business in hand. "I sincerely hope that you have been successful in this instance?" he said eagerly.
The woman, with her artificial air of youth and her garish mask of aggressive beauty, looked thoughtfully at the young man. "I have learnt a great deal which may be of use to you," she said slowly; "but I cannot say--so far as my opinion goes--that I have been successful."
"Oh!" Ralph dropped back into the chair whence he had risen, and seemed extremely disappointed. "Then you have failed?"
"I don't say that."
"In that case you must have succeeded."
"I don't say that either," remarked Miss Toat, drily.
"You must have done one or the other," cried Shawe, exasperated.
"No. I have learnt nothing very definite; but there are certain facts." She drummed on the table--her usual gesture when puzzled. "It is a very difficult case, Mr. Shawe."
"I know that, and for such a reason I placed it in your hands," he retorted.
Miss Toat nodded. "I am gratified by your opinion of my skill," she said politely. "All the same, you can't expect me to work miracles."
"Is a miracle required in this case?"
"I think so." She produced a mass of notes from her bag, and laid them down before the barrister. "There you will find all that I have been able to learn," she said to her employer. "They contain information about Madame Coralie--information which reveals much she would give her ears not to have known. Read these notes."
Ralph turned over the loose papers. "I would rather hear what you have discovered by word of mouth," he said fretfully; for this beating round the bush annoyed him. "In a word, Miss Toat, do you suspect anyone?"
"Yes, I do"--the detective leant forward with bright eyes--"but only theoretically. I suspect"--she paused for effect--"I suspect Madame Coralie herself as having strangled Lady Branwin."
Ralph stared at the woman, then threw himself back in his chair with a short laugh. He was greatly disappointed in the reply.
"It is ridiculous to believe or even hint that Madame Coralie should be guilty," he remarked sharply. "She proved a very clear alibi. No less than four people--her husband and her three assistants--proved that she was in the still-room when the crime was taking place below."
"Yes," assented Miss Toat, leaning her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, "that is what puzzles me. The alibi is very clear, and yet--of course, you understand that I am merely theorising."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"--Shawe made an irritable gesture, for the strain on his nerves was great--"but the idea is ridiculous. If you had accused that dumb girl, who was in the shop on the ground floor when the crime was committed, it would have been more feasible. The bedroom is on the ground floor also."
"I see no reason to accuse Peri Banou," said Miss Toat, quietly.
"And you see a reason to accuse Madame Coralie?"
"Yes. My theory is--"
"Oh, never mind your theory, Miss Toat. Come to facts."
The detective was not at all put out by his short temper, as she saw that his nerves were worn thin, and sympathised with him. With a quick movement she drew the loose notes to her own side of the table. "Very good," she said in a brisk, businesslike tone. "Let us come to facts, if you please. Do you know why Madame Coralie wears a yashmak?"
"Inspector Lanton hinted something about it to me when at the inquest. It is to add to the attractions of the Turkish shop--to make it more mysterious, as it were."
"Ah!"--Miss Toat raised her pencilled eyebrows--"then the inspector did not tell you the exact truth. I expect Madame Coralie asked him to keep it quiet for obvious reasons."
"Obvious they may be," said Ralph, impatiently, "but I can't see them."
"Why, they are plain enough. The wearing of the yashmak is partly by way of a good advertisement, as it suggests mystery, and partly--this is the real reason, I expect--it is worn from necessity."
"From necessity?" Shawe stared hard at his visitor.
"Madame Coralie has a disfiguring birthmark on her right cheek, which, extending over mouth and chin, spoils her good looks. And she must have had some beauty when younger. Strange, is it not, Mr. Shawe, that she who can restore another woman's looks can do nothing with her own?"
"How do you know that she is marked in this way?"
"I saw it when she was asleep."
"But how did you enter her bedroom?" asked Ralph, much astonished.
The detective laughed. "When everyone was asleep I stole about the house investigating in list slippers and with a bull's-eye lantern. Madame Coralie lays aside her yashmak when in bed, so I easily saw that which she wishes to keep concealed."
"But why should she so very much want to conceal it?"
Miss Toat looked at him greatly amazed. "Have you not been listening to what I have been saying, Mr. Shawe? Why, if Madame's customers knew that she could not remove a birthmark from her face, it would be a case of 'Physician, heal thyself' with them. They would lose confidence, and--"
"Yes, yes!" Ralph assented impatiently, and waved his hand. "I understand now; very naturally they would doubt her capability, in spite of her reputation. But what has this birthmark to do with the murder?"
"Nothing," said Perry Toat, promptly; "yet I was glad enough to see it for all that, in connection with a case. But never mind," she broke off abruptly, "we can talk of that later. I tell you about the disfigurement because it is just as well that you should learn everything about a woman so closely connected with the death of Lady Branwin. Also, it will be a useful mark to know in case she tries to get rid of more diamonds."
"What!" Shawe jumped up with an exclamation. "Do you mean to say that she has pawned the diamonds? In that case she must be guilty."
"It would look like it; but I am only theorising, remember."
"Oh, hang your theories! I think--" He stopped short, conscious that he had been rude to the little woman. "I beg your pardon," he went on ceremoniously, "but my nerves are out of order. Don't be vexed with me. I apologise."
Miss Toat nodded in a friendly way. "I quite understand," she said smoothly. "People unaccustomed to be mixed up with criminal matters usually do let their nerves get out of order, although I can't say that they usually apologise. There you have the advantage of the greater part of my clients. But to come to business. It is now some six or seven weeks since the murder. I discovered, by various inquiries, which I made here, there, and everywhere, that two months ago Madame Coralie was in deep water--financially. Now she is more prosperous." Miss Toat paused. "You can draw your own inference."
"You mean to say that she committed the murder in order to steal the diamonds, and has sold or pawned them to realise the spoil?"
Miss Toat nodded again. "That is my theory." The barrister put his hands into his pockets and began to pace the room, as was his custom when perplexed. "I don't see what evidence you have to support your theory," he remarked, after a pause.
"Well, as we agreed at our first interview, Lady Branwin only arranged in five minutes to sleep at the Pink Shop, and it was merely by chance that she had the diamonds with her. That the murder was committed for the sake of the jewels is positive, since they are missing. Yet any outside person could not have known that the unfortunate woman was possessed of those jewels at that particular time. Madame Coralie knew--"
"Pardon me," interrupted Shawe. "In my own hearing she declared that she did not know what Lady Branwin had in the red bag."
Miss Toat shrugged her shoulders. "Naturally, for her own sake, she would say that, Mr. Shawe. But the fact remains that owing to the rapidity and unexpectedness of Lady Branwin's decision to sleep at the shop no outsider could have arranged beforehand to commit the crime for the sake of the jewels."
"But the key in the outside door of the court was--"
"That might all have been arranged as a false clue to throw the police off the scent."
"I doubt it," said Shawe, decisively, "and remember that your theory is entirely destroyed by the very strong alibi of Madame Coralie. The woman could not have been in two places at once."
"Well," said Perry Toat, cautiously, "I stated that I suspected Madame Coralie had strangled Lady Branwin, but I did not say that she had actually committed the deed herself."
"Oh! Then you think she employed someone else to commit the murder?"
"Yes, and for her own sake was careful to provide the alibi we know of. Lady Branwin came at five o'clock to the shop, and was murdered, according to the medical evidence, about eight. Madame Coralie had, therefore, ample time to tell her accomplice that Lady Branwin possessed the diamonds. Also, as Lady Branwin talked frequently of coming for treatment, and Madame always refused her, the evening when she agreed to give the treatment might have been arranged. Madame could also explain to her accomplice about the door in the outer wall of the court, and have arranged for the window of the bedroom to be open. Then--well, the rest is easy."
"But the woman declared that the window was shut."
"Of course, for her own sake, in the same way that she declared her ignorance of the diamonds being in the red bag. I said lately," went on Miss Toat, in an apologetic manner, "that the key in the outer door of the court might have been arranged as a false clue. I am right in one way, as the key was, I fancy, left in the door to avert suspicion from Madame Coralie. But her accomplice must have entered and escaped in that way, and afterwards, when Lady Branwin was dead and buried and the inquest was over, she must have met her accomplice to share the spoil. Hence she is now in possession of money which, according to many people, she sadly needed."
"Have you traced the diamonds?" asked Ralph, abruptly.
"No; and it will not be an easy task to trace them, especially if they have been unset and sold as separate stones. But I am shortly going round the pawnshops and to various fences--you know what a fence is, a person who receives stolen goods, I suppose, Mr. Shawe?--and if Madame sold them or pawned them herself the mark may help to identify her."
"I think not," said Shawe, grimly, "as she would probably wear a veil."
"Certainly not a yashmak," said Miss Toat, quietly. "However, I can but make inquiries, as I say. Moreover, I shall go back to the shop again and ask further questions. But I think--so far as I can judge--that my theory is a correct one."
Ralph again walked the floor. "Who do you think is the accomplice?"
"I can't say," said the detective, promptly. "At first I thought that Madame's husband might be the one; but he was with her and the three assistants in the still-room, and can prove as strong an alibi as his wife."
"What sort of person is this husband, and what is his name?"
"Edward Vail is his name, and he is what you would call a wastrel," replied Perry Toat, quickly; "one of those dandified idiots who walk the streets and dress loudly in order to attract the eyes of women. He is good-looking in an effeminate way, and has never done a stroke of work in his life."
"Strange that so clever a woman as Madame Coralie should marry such a character."
"It is the clever women who generally make fools of themselves in this particular way," said Miss Toat, enigmatically. "However, I don't think Eddy Vail--he is usually called Eddy, which to my mind stamps his character--I don't think he is the accomplice, owing to the alibi, unless--" The little woman paused suggestively.
"Unless what?"
"Unless the three assistants have been bribed or threatened into providing the alibi. For her own sake, of course, Madame would say she was in the still-room; but Zobeide, Badoura and Parizade may have been bullied or cajoled into supporting a false statement."
"It is possible," said Shawe, musingly; "and if Madame or her husband is guilty, it is easy to see how they could have learnt beforehand about the diamonds. How can you get at the truth?"
"By working on Badoura's jealousy. She is in love with Eddy, and as she is a pretty girl, the unscrupulous scamp has encouraged her, in spite of the fact that he is a married man. I intend to go back to the shop and to get her to state what she knows."
"If she knows anything."
"Quite so; but if she does, her jealousy of Eddy Vail will make her speak. I don't know exactly how to unloosen her tongue, but I shall try to."
"But it seems ridiculous that Eddy Vail should be in love with a dumb or blind girl."
"I didn't say that he was in love with her," said Miss Toat, drily, "but that she was in love with him, which is quite a different way of looking at the matter. Moreover, Badoura, as the forewoman, is in possession of all her senses, Mr. Shawe. Zobeide is deaf, Parizade is blind, and Peri Banou is dumb. Badoura is all right, and is simply a pretty, commonplace girl who has been attracted by Eddy Vail's good looks."
"Well," said the barrister, after a long pause, "I hope you will be successful, although I am bound to say that you have no evidence that I can see to support your wild theories."
"They may not be so very wild after all. Wait until I can make Badoura speak. Yes," added Miss Toat, with an after-thought, "and Peri Banou also."
"The dumb girl, who was in the shop when the crime was committed. Humph! I suppose she may know something."
"She may. I am going to ask her. Meanwhile I must have more money--say, another twenty pounds."
Ralph looked rueful. "I can get it for you to-morrow," he said doubtfully, "for to tell you the truth, Miss Toat, I am not very well off just now. Can't you do without it?"
"No, Mr. Shawe," she replied plainly. "I would if I could. But it is necessary that I should go back to the Pink Shop and spend money, as that is the only way in which I can come into contact with Badoura and Peri Banou in order to question them. Of course, if you wish me to give up the case--"
"No, no--certainly not!" he exclaimed hastily. "I shall send you the twenty pounds to your office to-morrow before twelve o'clock. The solution of this mystery means a lot to me, and I am willing to spend my last farthing on it."
"I don't think you will have to do that," said Miss Toat, getting ready to go. "I expect to get some tangible clue from those two girls;" and with this piece of comfort she departed, leaving Ralph rather disconsolate.
While the case was being examined into, Shawe had seen very little of Audrey. Sir Joseph had returned unexpectedly from Brighton, for he had grown weary of the seaside and wished to get back to business. Mrs. Mellop still remained at the house on Camden Hill, as the millionaire, finding her an amusing woman to have at his dinner-table, asked her to chaperon his daughter for a longer period. The widow augured from this that Branwin was really in love with her, and did all she could to fascinate him still further. She was glad that he had come back to be under her spell.
But Ralph was far from pleased by this unexpected return, as he could not visit the house so freely as formerly. Twice or thrice he did call, but Sir Joseph was so grim and glacial in his welcome that the young man thought it was best to remain away. Also, Mrs. Mellop, taking her cue from the millionaire, behaved disagreeably, and kept a closer watch on Audrey. Ralph was very unhappy, and could only see his sweetheart at odd times and in odd ways. The course of true love was not running smoothly by any means.
Shawe, however, busied himself with searching into the case with the assistance of Perry Toat. That wily person came to him again and again, and related various details which she had learnt from Badoura, Parizade and Peri Banou, which more or less helped on the matter. But so busy was the barrister in fixing the pieces of the puzzle together--for by this time he had learnt some tangible scraps of evidence from Perry Toat's investigations--that he quite neglected Audrey. He was not, therefore, surprised to receive a note from her asking him to come to the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens the next morning at seven o'clock. At that hour neither Sir Joseph nor Mrs. Mellop was likely to be up, and Audrey would be free from their watchful eyes. Ralph promptly decided to go, but sent no answer to the note, since it might fall into the hands of his enemies--for so he regarded the millionaire and the widow who wished to marry the millionaire.
Early as he was at the rendezvous Audrey was still earlier, and came towards him hurriedly, a pathetic figure in her black dress. She kissed him hastily, then at once announced the reason why she had sent for him.
"I have received an anonymous letter," said Audrey, unexpectedly.
"An anonymous letter," repeated Ralph, curiously. "What about?"
"You can read it for yourself." She produced it from her pocket. "It advises me to refrain from investigating the murder of my mother. If I do, it declares that I shall suffer the greatest grief of my life."
Shawe was evidently startled. "Show me the letter," he said abruptly.