Before leaving her newly-discovered aunt Audrey extracted permission from her to reveal what she had been told to Ralph. At first Madame Coralie had made some objection, but on being assured that Shawe could and would keep his own counsel she consented that he should be told about the diamonds. "If he's hunting for the assassin, and thinking that I am the one," said Madame Coralie, "he will learn beforehand that I have the jewels, and will not be ready to credit me with disposing of stolen gems. Eddy is sometimes so careless that I fear lest the police should know."
"I think it would be best to tell the police," said Audrey, wisely.
"No; the interest in the case has died away," said her aunt, "and not even Joseph's reward of one thousand pounds can revive it. Tell Mr. Shawe, by all means, but warn him to keep his own counsel!"
Audrey left Madame Coralie with the strange feeling--so close was the resemblance between the sisters, dead and alive--that she had been conversing with her mother. She returned home in a dream, and then thought disconsolately that she was no nearer learning what she wished to know than she had been before. But it was necessary to disabuse Perry Toat of the idea that the proprietress of the Pink Shop was guilty, and Audrey determined to call at the appointed hour the next day. Afterwards she could see Ralph and detail what she had learnt. But to interview both her lover and the detective was not an easy task, owing to the watch that was kept on her every action.
However, Providence stood her friend unexpectedly. Sir Joseph wished to drive some people down to Richmond for afternoon tea at the Star and Garter. He invited Mrs. Mellop to join the party, but to punish Audrey for the way in which she had behaved to Lord Anvers he ordered her to remain at home. His daughter disguised her satisfaction with difficulty, and sent a wire to Ralph asking him to meet her at Perry Toat's at half-past three o'clock. By that hour she would have put the detective off the scent, and then could take Ralph aside and tell him all that she did not wish Miss Toat to learn. Having arranged this, she accompanied Mrs. Mellop to the door, where Sir Joseph, in a magnificent motor-car, was waiting.
Mrs. Mellop was rather doleful, as she now knew that the millionaire had made up his mind, on the authority of Audrey, to marry Rosy Pearl. But the widow did not intend to lose the prize without a struggle, as it was much too valuable. Besides, having seen Miss Pearl on the music-hall stage, she did not think her a particularly formidable rival. She determined, on this day, to be as fascinating as possible in order to carry off Sir Joseph from under the very nose of Rosy Pearl. And, as Mrs. Mellop had a very good opinion of herself, she thought that she would succeed. So happy was she in the hope of success that she kissed Audrey in the hall.
"You poor dear, I wish you were coming," she said affectionately.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself about me," said Audrey, who quite understood what the kiss meant. "Give all your attention to capturing my father."
"Wouldn't you like me for a stepmother?" asked Mrs. Mellop, coaxingly.
"I would like you better than Rosy Pearl," said Audrey, drily. "You will have my undying gratitude if you can save him from that woman."
"Darling!" Mrs. Mellop pecked again at Audrey's cheek with great delight at having enlisted her sympathy so far. "I shall do my best."
When the car glided away Audrey laughed. She felt sure that Mrs. Mellop would do her best. She was also very certain that she would fail, as Sir Joseph never changed his mind. He had declared, with indecent haste, that he intended to marry the music-hall artist, and he would do so, whatever obstacles were placed in the way. Moreover, Rosy Pearl was just the kind of fine woman whom the millionaire admired. Mrs. Mellop was a mere shrimp beside Miss Pearl's massive proportions, and Sir Joseph did not care for diaphanous creatures of the widow's type. However, Mrs. Mellop had intense faith in her own cleverness and in man's stupidity, and went forth to conquer. No wonder that Audrey--knowing her father's adamantine nature--laughed as the would-be Lady Branwin fluttered out, all smiles and chiffons. "If she's going out for wool, she will come home shorn," thought Audrey, and went away to put on her quietest frock.
When she arrived at Buckingham Street, Strand, Miss Toat was duly waiting to hear what she had learnt. Audrey had already arranged in her own mind what to say, and sat down feeling quite cool and composed. So calm did she seem that Miss Toat laughed in a vexed way.
"So you have been unsuccessful--you have learnt nothing," she said promptly.
"How do you know?" asked Audrey, quickly.
"You would be more excited if you had found a clue. Well, Miss Branwin"--she leant her elbows on the table--"perhaps I am wrong. If you have learnt anything likely to be of value, let me hear it."
"I have learnt nothing," said Audrey, cautiously; "nothing of any value."
"You got Madame Coralie to remove her yashmak?"
"Accident did that for me. It was ripped off by a tack as she rose."
"Well?" asked Perry Toat, eagerly.
"Well," replied Miss Branwin, coolly, "that's all."
"But you had some conversation with her?"
"Yes. But she could tell me nothing. She merely repeated what she had said at the inquest--that she left my mother in bed and came up the stairs to the still-room."
"Did you mention anything about the discrepancy in time?"
"Oh!"--Audrey was really dismayed--"I quite forgot to."
"Ah, my dear young lady"--Perry Toat looked vexed again--"that is the most important question of the lot. Although, I daresay," she added consolingly, "you would not have had a true reply. I must look into the matter myself."
"There is nothing to be learnt, Miss Toat. I am quite sure that Madame Coralie is innocent."
"What makes you think so?"
"I observed her face, and she did not change colour. She told me all that I have told you with the greatest frankness."
"Naturally," said Miss Toat, doubtfully, "she would be on her guard with you."
"I don't think she was," replied Audrey, with studied simplicity; "besides, she has promised to help me to find the criminal. She is most anxious to do so, because of her business."
"I don't see how discovering the real criminal will improve the business."
"Well"--Audrey looked pensive--"Madame Coralie is rather revengeful."
"And very cunning. What is to be done now? You have failed."
"I have not looked into everything yet, Miss Toat. I intend to call again on Madame Coralie."
"I shall do so also," said Perry Toat, with determination; for she recollected the large reward, and felt anxious to obtain it.
Her visitor did not wish to forbid her calling again at the Pink Shop, as such a request might have awakened Miss Toat's suspicions. So she said nothing, feeling certain that Madame Coralie was perfectly well able to look after herself. Meanwhile, Miss Toat, having gathered all she wished to learn, and feeling a faint suspicion that Audrey had not told her everything, made up her mind to look into things for herself. Then she turned the conversation, so that Miss Branwin should not gather her intentions.
"You made a conquest the other day," said Miss Toat, while Audrey rose to take her leave and smoothed her gloves.
"Really!" The girl blushed. "What do you mean?"
"Colonel Ilse fell in love with you."
Audrey blushed again. "That nice military man who came as I went yesterday, you mean, don't you? He is really charming--such a nice smile. If I wasn't engaged to Mr. Shawe I might follow up my conquest."
Miss Toat shook her head. "You would be disappointed. Colonel Ilse has buried his heart in the grave of the wife who died over twenty years ago. If he can only find the daughter who was stolen from him he will be quite content."
"Then I must be the same with Ralph," said Audrey, laughing. "Do you know, Miss Toat, Colonel Ilse put me in mind of someone. I can't think who."
The detective nodded. "Curious you should say that. I had an idea that I had seen someone like him. But then, these military men are all cut to one pattern. See one and you see the lot. Ah! Come in!" She raised her voice as a knock came to the door.
Ralph entered, looking smart and lover-like. "Here I am, Audrey," he said.
"Oh!" laughed Perry Toat, rebukingly, "do you think that this is Cupid's Bureau? What an unromantic place to meet in."
"We have to meet in all manner of places," said Audrey, with a smile. "My father doesn't approve of our marriage, and will not let Mr. Shawe come to the house. Good-day, Miss Toat. We must be off."
When she went out, looking up into her lover's face, Perry Toat sighed. The little office seemed more dingy than ever now that rosy love had flown away. The detective returned to her papers rather discontentedly. She also wished to walk out with a lover; but there was no chance of that unless she gained this one thousand pounds which Sir Joseph Branwin offered for the detection of his wife's assassin. The episode of Ralph meeting Audrey at the office, and the sight of their love, made the little woman more determined than ever to win the reward. "They are the butterflies," said Miss Toat, shuffling her papers, "and I am only the grub as yet."
So while the poor grub worked in the dull room the butterflies fluttered in the sunshine. To be precise, they drove in a taxi-cab to their favourite meeting-place near the Round Pond. Here Audrey related how she had seen Madame Coralie, and what had taken place. Shawe was not easily astonished, but on this occasion he confessed that he was. It was surprising to learn that Madame Coralie was the sister of Lady Branwin, and more surprising still to hear that she so easily confessed to having possession of the long-lost diamonds.
"Oh, she must be innocent," said the barrister, after an astonished pause. "I can't conceive she would admit so much if she were guilty. The very possession of the jewels would make the police certain of her guilt."
"But the police must never know," said Audrey, anxiously. "Remember, I tell you all this under seal of secrecy."
"Oh, I shall say nothing," Ralph assured her seriously--"especially as your aunt has been so candid as to dispel any suspicions that I may have entertained regarding her complicity in the crime."
"Then you don't believe in Perry Toat's theory?"
"No, I certainly do not. I have my own views."
"What are they?"
Shawe hesitated. "I shall tell you what they are when I am more certain of my suspicions."
"Then you do suspect someone?" asked the girl, swiftly.
"Yes and no; that is, I have found a mare's nest."
Audrey looked at him carefully. It struck her that his face was thin and pale, and that his eyes looked remarkably dull. "You are worrying, dear."
"Yes, over this case. I really think"--Shawe passed his hand across his forehead--"that it would be best to leave it alone. Audrey"--he took her hands and looked entreatingly into her face--"why not let sleeping dogs lie?"
She shook her head. "I must learn who killed my mother. Aunt Flora--that is, Madame Coralie--will help me. Why do you wish things to be left alone?"
"Because the wording of that anonymous letter haunts me," said Shawe, irritably. "If you search into this matter you will experience some very great grief. Is it worth risking that?"
"For the sake of my mother's memory it is," said the girl, firmly.
"My darling, I assure you that your mother will rest no more quietly in her grave because her assassin is hanged. Why not abandon the whole business and marry me at once? I have not much money, it is true, but what I have is enough for both of us to live quietly."
"No, no, no!" said Audrey, insistently. "We discussed this matter before, and I told you that I would not drag you down and hinder your career by saddling you with a poor wife; and if I marry against my father's wishes I am bound to be poor. Besides, I have sworn to myself never to rest until the murderer of my poor mother is brought to justice. If you won't help me--and you certainly do not seem anxious to do so--I must work alone."
"Of course I shall help you," snapped the barrister, sharply. "I want to get at the truth as speedily as possible, so that we may be married. And to aid you in your search I now make a suggestion."
Audrey looked at him with interest. "What is it?"
"You say that your father admired Madame Coralie when she was Flora Arkwright of Bleakleigh. Very good! Flora Arkwright may have admired your father, and may have grudged him marrying your mother. Now, why not go to Madame Coralie straight away and rouse her jealousy?"
"Rouse her jealousy?"
"Yes. The Deceased Wife's Sister Bill is law now, and there is no bar against Madame Coralie marrying Sir Joseph."
"Yes, there is. You forget Eddy Vail."
"Oh, the deuce!" cried the barrister, in dismay, "so I do. Never mind, it is as well to try the experiment. Tell Madame Coralie that Sir Joseph is to marry Rosy Pearl, and see what she will say. For your dead mother's sake, if not for her own, she may resent the marriage."
"Of course, the idea is absurd," said Audrey, pettishly. "My aunt has not a shadow of excuse to object to my father marrying anyone. What ever feelings she may have entertained for him once, they have been parted too long for such feelings to exist now."
"Well, the experiment is worth trying," insisted Ralph, anxiously.
Audrey thought for a moment, then rose and walked across the grass. "To set your mind at rest I shall see my aunt at once and tell her."
"Good! I shall wait at the door of the Pink Shop and hear your report."
With this understanding the two strolled across the Gardens to Walpole Lane, and while Ralph lingered on the pavement Audrey passed into the Turkish shop. She had chosen rather an awkward hour for an interview, as Madame Coralie's clients were rolling up in carriage and motor-brougham. But the proprietress of the shop was upstairs in the still-room, and sent down word that she would see Miss Branwin at once. The girl soon found herself in the presence of her aunt, while Badoura, who had introduced her, returned to look after the customers, who were being served by the other three girls. "I can only give you five minutes, my dear," said Madame Coralie, who was again wearing her yashmak. "Is there anything wrong?"
"Nothing particularly; but I thought that it was just as well you should know that my father has made up his mind to marry again."
"What!" Madame Coralie gave a roar like that of a wounded lioness. "Who is the woman?"
"Miss Rosy Pearl, of the--"
"That music-hall creature--impossible!" Madame Coralie clenched her hands, and her black eyes looked extremely angry. "Why, it was Rosy Pearl who was my other customer who slept in this house on the night of the crime!"
"Oh!" Audrey grew pale. In a flash she saw what Madame Coralie meant.
After that significant hint, Madame Coralie refused to speak any more, alleging that she was extremely busy and could not afford the time. However, she told her niece to call and see her again, when she would be more explicit. Meanwhile, the girl was obliged to return to her lover with what meagre information she had gleaned, Passing through the perfumed shop, now crowded with fashionable women, she rejoined Ralph on the pavement. Together they strolled up Walpole Lane in the direction of Kensington Palace.
"I told my aunt, as you suggested, about my father's intention to marry Miss Pearl," said Audrey, abruptly. "And you are right. She is jealous. Strange, is it not, after all these years? Besides"--Audrey shrugged her shoulders in a contemptuous way--"fancy any woman remaining faithful to my father."
"Women have odd tastes," said Shawe, quietly, "and your father is so masterful a man that he is certain to be successful with the fair sex. Humph! She is jealous, is she? Well, and what did she say?"
"Very little. It was her manner of speaking more than what she said. When I told her, you should have seen her eyes flash above the yashmak."
"Oh, never mind her eyes flashing, Audrey," said Shawe, impatiently. "What were her words?"
"All she said was that Rosy Pearl was the customer who slept at the Pink Shop on the night of the crime."
"What!" Ralph stopped suddenly, and stared. "The lady who refused to allow her name to be given--who slept in the upstairs bedroom?"
"Yes. And I think that my aunt means to hint--"
"Oh, I see what she means," interrupted Ralph, quickly. "Her jealousy gives the hint very plainly. Rosy Pearl was in the house; Rosy Pearl wants to become the second Lady Branwin, so Rosy Pearl gets rid of--"
"No, no!" interrupted Audrey in her turn, and looking pale. "I can't think that she strangled my mother."
"She had every reason to," said Ralph, grimly. "And as Madame Coralie admits that she has the diamonds, robbery cannot now be given as the motive for the committal of the crime."
"Do you believe that Rosy Pearl really did murder my mother so that the way might be opened to her to be my father's second wife?"
"I can't say for certain, until I examine into the matter more closely," said Shawe, anxiously, "but it certainly looks like it. Sir Joseph is a millionaire, and from the sudden way in which he announced his intention of making her his wife it is evident that the two discussed the matter while your mother was still alive." He paused, and thought for a few minutes. "I tell you what, Audrey, I shall go at once to Perry Toat and tell her this."
"Can I come also?" asked Audrey, again feeling the detective fever.
"No. It is just as wise not to arouse your father's suspicions."
"Why should they be aroused?" asked Audrey, quickly. "He knows nothing of Rosy Pearl's doings on that night."
"No, I daresay he doesn't," replied Shawe, turning away his face; "but if he thought that you were looking into this case, and that Miss Pearl was suspected, he might make trouble. Go back home, Audrey, my darling, and leave me to deal with the matter."
"Very well; but you must promise to come and tell me all about it. Meet me at the usual place in the Gardens to-morrow afternoon at three."
"Yes." Ralph glanced at his watch. "I must get a taxi and drive as hard as I can to Buckingham Street, or Miss Toat may leave her office. It's after five o'clock as it is."
"What are you going to do exactly, Ralph?" asked Audrey, detaining him.
"Explain matters to Perry Toat, and ask her to look up Miss Pearl," said the young man, hastily, and fairly ran away from the girl.
Audrey returned to her home filled with anxious fears. There was something strange about her lover's unwillingness to discuss matters freely with her. Also, she could not conceive why he wished her to obey the instructions of the anonymous letter and abandon all further search for the assassin. With the instinct of a woman in love, she felt that there was a veil between her and Ralph. But why there should be, she could not conceive. "The only thing to be done is to wait patiently," Audrey thought, as she dressed for dinner. "Sooner or later I shall learn why Ralph is behaving so strangely."
Meanwhile, Shawe, never thinking that Audrey was puzzled by his odd reluctance, had found Perry Toat on the point of leaving her office. When he breathlessly explained his errand she sat down to gather details. The idea that Rosy Pearl had been sleeping in the Pink Shop on the night when Lady Branwin had been murdered revealed matters in a new light. Had she known about the diamonds being in Madame Coralie's possession, she might have been still more certain; but since Ralph had solemnly promised Audrey to keep silent on this particular point, he could not impart all his suspicions to the detective. However, she learnt enough to suggest the building up of another and more feasible theory.
"Of course, Rosy Pearl's desire to become Lady Branwin the second provides a strong motive for the commission of the crime."
"But we don't know that Miss Pearl is anxious to marry Sir Joseph. He is anxious to marry her, but that is quite a different thing."
"Miss Pearl, to my knowledge, is a woman who has always had an eye to the main chance," said Perry Toat, drily. "She has kept herself highly respectable, so that she might make a good match. Branwin is wealthy, and can give her rank and position. She would do much to become his wife."
"Would she commit a murder?" asked Shawe, doubtfully.
"She might, and she might not. I can say nothing more until I learn precisely what she was doing on that night."
"How can you learn?"
"I shall question Parizade."
"The blind girl? What can she tell?"
"I don't know, but I shall be able to get all information from her, whatever she may know."
"But, being blind, she can see nothing."
"She may haveheardsomething," said Perry Toat, with emphasis. "Having lost her eyesight her hearing has become very keen, and also she has a very powerful sense of smell."
"What," Ralph joked, "do you expect her to nose the trail like a dog?"
"I don't know what I expect; but the fact is, Mr. Shawe, I have made friends with all the four girls in the shop. Madame Coralie for her own sake will say nothing, but if those girls know anything I may induce them to speak. Badoura"--Miss Toat ticked off the names on her fingers--"can be worked by appealing to her jealousy, as she loves Eddy Vail. Zobeide, who is deaf, is anxious to get money and retire with her mother, whom she dearly loves, to the seaside. Peri Banou is an extravagant little minx, who is always in want of cash; while Parizade has a lover."
"Really!" Ralph expressed his astonishment. "But she is blind."
"She is pretty, and the man who loves her is an artist. Now, if I offer to share the reward of one thousand pounds with any one of these girls I may learn much; in fact, I am going to the shop to see Parizade to-night."
"I thought you had learnt all you wished to learn from her," said Shawe, uneasily. He had been told on a previous occasion what the blind girl knew, and the information had not pleased him.
"I wish to check her statements," said Miss Toat, quickly. "However, to-morrow something may be learnt worth your hearing from Badoura. She is one of the witnesses for the alibi, and I intend to ask her at what time Madame Coralie left the still-room to see Miss Branwin at the door of the shop."
"But I don't quite see--"
"How can you, Mr. Shawe? You are not a detective. Everyone to his trade."
"Her trade," corrected the barrister, quietly, as a return for the snub. "However, I shall see you to-morrow, and I trust that you will have something to tell me."
"I shall do my best. I can't do more," replied Perry Toat, with a shrug. And with this mild assurance the young man was obliged to be content.
Perry Toat had already arranged her plans. She had learnt on the previous day from Badoura, with whom she was in communication, that Madame Coralie was going to the theatre with her husband that evening. Therefore, when she arrived in Walpole Lane, she was not surprised to find the forewoman in a bad temper. This was natural, seeing that she loved Eddy Vail to such an extent that she resented his going out with his lawful wife. This was illogical; but Badoura, having been tricked into caring for the handsome scamp, was far past reason.
"I wish I hadn't fallen in love with him," she wailed to Miss Toat, when that businesslike lady arrived at the shop. "He treats me so badly."
"What can you expect, my dear? As a married man he should remain true to his wife. The mere fact that he pretended to love you when he should not, shows the kind of profligate he is."
"But Madame Coralie is so old," said Badoura, with a flush, which made her look very pretty. "She won't live for ever, and then--"
"Then you hope to marry Eddy Vail. My dear girl, I wouldn't count too much on that if I were you. Mr. Vail will do what suits him best."
"I shall make him marry me," said Badoura, fiercely.
"Can you?" asked Perry Toat, sceptically. "Yes. I know something."
"What is it?"
"I shan't tell you. Eddy Vail has no hold over me, as I have always kept myself to myself, so far as he is concerned. It is only because I am in love that I make such a fool of myself. But I know!" And she nodded.
"Come, tell me," coaxed Perry Toat, seeing in a flash how she could bring the girl to betray whatever she knew about Mr. Vail.
"I shan't. You are a detective, and I'm afraid of you. If I did right I should tell Madame Coralie how you come here as a spy."
"If you do you will lose any chance of sharing the reward with me," Miss Toat assured her, coolly. "Besides, the mischief is done, and I know a lot."
"But you say that you will share the reward with the other girls."
"Of course. I shall share it with anyone who can put me on the right scent to trace the murderer. If you know anything"--she looked very straightly at Badoura--"remember you risk five hundred pounds by not telling me."
"I shall tell nothing," said Badoura, resolutely, "unless Eddy proves false to me." And she cut short the conversation by going out for a walk.
Perry Toat immediately resolved in some way to prove to the girl that Eddy Vail was falseness itself. "But I wonder what she knows?" the detective asked herself as she went in search of Parizade.
The blind girl was in her bedroom lying down, as the heat of the day and the hard work in the shop had tried her delicate constitution somewhat severely. The moment she heard Miss Toat's step she called her by name.
"How did you know it was me?" asked the newcomer, taking a seat beside the bed.
Parizade laughed. "Oh, I can tell your footsteps," she admitted; "that is one way, and the other is by that scent you use."
Miss Toat sniffed her handkerchief. "Peruvian Fragrance," she said with a laugh; "yes, it is an uncommon scent. George brings it to me; he's a purser on a steamer, you know."
Parizade, in her darkness, groped for the detective's hand. "Yes, dear, I know, and it is because you are in love, as I am, that I like you so much. I don't mind your being a detective at all, but I do hope you'll marry soon and give up the horrid business."
"There's no chance of my marrying George until I get this thousand pounds' reward which Sir Joseph Branwin offers."
"And I am to get half of it, if I can help you, remember," said the blind girl. "Like yourself, I can't marry Walter until we have money. Then we can live in the country in a tiny cottage, and he can paint his pictures while I look after the household."
"But can you do that, Parizade, seeing you are blind?"
"Oh, I have eyes at the end of my fingers," said the other, caressingly. "Why, I know every bit of this large house, so it will not be difficult to learn all about a small cottage. But fancy Walter loving a blind girl like me."
"You are so pretty, Parizade."
"I am glad of that, and it's all really genuine. Oh"--Parizade fell back on her pillows with a sigh--"how glad I shall be to take my own name and leave this horrid Pink Shop. Has what I told you given you any help? I do so want my share of the reward."
"I have got no help from it so far," said Miss Toat, shaking her head. "Tell me again exactly what happened."
"Oh, I have told you over and over again," said Parizade, petulantly. "There was another person in the house on that night."
"I know; Rosy Pearl," said the detective, swiftly.
"Yes; she was the customer who slept in the upstairs bedroom, and who did not wish her name to be known. Inspector Lanton was told by Madame, but as Miss Pearl knew nothing she was not called as a witness at her own request. But how did you learn the name, Miss Toat? Madame warned the girls not to tell it to anyone."
"I learnt it indirectly from Madame herself," said Miss Toat, evasively. "I suppose she was the person you heard breathing in the passage?"
"No," said Parizade, decisively. "I am sure that person was a man."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because the breathing was so heavy, and there was that smell of Harris tweed--you can't mistake that smell--and only men wear Harris tweed."
"Yes and no. Ladies sometimes have dresses made of it. But describe exactly how you came to hear and smell this person."
"Oh"--Parizade yawned--"I have told you so often."
"Tell me again. Every time you tell me I get a fresh idea."
"Well," said the blind girl, lying back passively, "on the night of the murder--of course, we none of us knew anything about it until next morning--Madame and the girls went to bed just after nine o'clock, as we were all so tired. Madame, after she saw Miss Branwin at the door to say that her mother would remain for treatment, sent away her husband and retired. It was just after nine when I remembered that I left a present from Walter to me in the shop. I didn't want the other girls to see it, so I went down about half-past nine."
"In the darkness, of course?" said the listening detective.
"Yes. Darkness and light are the same to me. I know the house so well that I never stumble or miss my way. Well, I found the present--a pair of gloves--just where Peri Banou had been lying in the alcove--I believe she must have seen them. Then, in returning along the lower passage, I heard the sound of heavy breathing at the end near the door which leads into the court."
"That was locked."
"It always is; but it might have been open for all I know on that night. I knew someone was there, and guessed that it was a man, as I smelt the peculiar scent of Harris tweed so strongly. I fancied that Eddy Vail had not gone away, but had come back."
"You mean that he had remained in the house?" corrected Perry Toat.
"Oh, yes. At all events, I fancied it was Eddy; so, not wishing to get myself into trouble with Madame, as she might have asked him to stay, I went upstairs and said nothing. Next day I learnt about the murder, and both Madame and Eddy said that he had really left the house. Then I became certain that there had been a stranger in the passage."
"Rosy Pearl, perhaps?"
"No. She was sleeping upstairs. But you may guess that I said nothing to anyone about what I had heard and smelt."
"Why did you not? It might have given Inspector Lanton a clue."
Parizade shuddered. "Oh, I didn't want to be mixed up with the police. It was best, I thought, to hold my tongue. I never told anyone until you came and said you were a detective."
"Well, and why did you tell me? You were frightened when I told you my profession, if I remember rightly."
"Yes. But, somehow, your being a woman made it seem better. I don't mind a lady detective. Then when you told about the reward I thought I might help you and get half, so that I might marry Walter."
"You shall get it, if I am successful," said Miss Toat, emphatically. "But do you really think that there was a man in the passage on that night?"
"Yes, I do--near the house door that leads into the court. He escaped in that way, and I believe he murdered Lady Branwin. I could swear to it."
"It will be hard to trace the criminal, male or female, by the smell of Harris tweed alone," commented Perry Toat, doubtfully. "It's a blind clue."
Mrs. Mellop returned from the Richmond journey in a very bad temper, as she had wholly failed to get her own way with the wary millionaire. Indeed, she was so persistent in her attentions that Branwin put an end to them by hinting very plainly that he was engaged to be married. He also gave the widow to understand that it was time she brought her visit to a close, as he wished to send Audrey abroad for a time. Mrs. Mellop offered to accompany the girl, but learnt that arrangements had been made for the young lady to stay in Paris with a French family. No wonder the widow returned almost in tears, as she saw very well that the vintage was ended, and she had gathered but few grapes. Pleading a headache, she did not appear at dinner, and it was not until the next morning that Audrey learnt about her father's new plans. They did not please her.
"I shan't go abroad," she said bluntly, when Mrs. Mellop had explained matters. "Papa wishes to separate me from Ralph."
"And wishes you to marry Lord Anvers," finished Mrs. Mellop, maliciously.
Audrey laughed contemptuously. "I have refused Lord Anvers."
"He won't take a refusal, neither will your father."
"What does that matter to me?" cried the girl, passionately. "Do you think that I am going to place my happiness in Lord Anvers' hands? A man I detest with all my heart. I shall marry Ralph, and no one else."
"Then you will lose your money," said Mrs. Mellop, with a gesture of despair.
"I don't mind losing it, so long as I have love."
"Love!" The widow made a face. "Oh! love is all very well, but it isn't money, and money is a necessity."
"To you perhaps, Mrs. Mellop, not to me. Ralph would marry me to-morrow if I chose. But I don't choose, as such a marriage would hinder his career. We must wait for better times."
"Well, I'm sure I hope you'll get your own way. But you can have no idea how hard your father is," wailed Mrs. Mellop. "He throws me over as coolly as though I were an old shoe, and I shall have to go to-morrow. Oh! the man's mad," she added, in a petty rage, "to think of marrying that horrid woman."
"Well, you have had your chance," Audrey said, with a shrug; "and, as I told you, my father has taken his own way. I would rather you had married him."
"Then you love me, darling?" cried the effusive widow, caressingly.
"No, I don't," rejoined the girl, removing a pair of fond arms which had been thrown round her neck; "but of two evils I choose the least.
"You would make a better Lady Branwin than Miss Pearl."
"I'm sure I should," assented Mrs. Mellop, with vigour, although she was rather daunted by the refusal of Audrey to accept her advances. "Oh! with all that money I would enjoy myself. And if I married your father, Audrey, I should get him to let you marry Mr. Shawe."
"You have no influence with papa, Mrs. Mellop. However, you are no worse off than you were when you came here."
"Oh! but I am," cried Mrs. Mellop, quite forgetting the jewellery and clothes that she had bought on the credit of her host's name. "Think of what people will say. My name has been coupled with Sir Joseph's, and it is a shame that he should behave so cruelly. But I shan't submit quietly to seeing him carried off by that woman," raged the widow, walking up and down biting her handkerchief. "I shall tell what I know."
"What do you know?"
"I know that Sir Joseph goes out night after night prowling about the streets. Ugh! the horrid old man."
"How dare you!" cried Audrey, flaming up. "Papa goes to help the poor."
Mrs. Mellop laughed contemptuously. "Sir Joseph never helped a single poor person in his life," she said sneeringly. "He goes out for no good purpose, you may be sure. Why, he was out on the night his wife was murdered," hinted Mrs. Mellop, malignantly. "I believe he had something to do with the matter."
Audrey had no reason to be fond of her father, who had always treated her selfishly. But this unfounded accusation was too much for her. She sprang at the little widow and shook her. "How dare you talk in that way?" she said in a cold, hard voice. "You can't connect my father with--"
"Oh, can't I?" interrupted Mrs. Mellop, extricating herself from the girl's grasp with a shriek. "Why, when I was waiting in Walpole Lane on that night I saw your father on the other side of the road."
"You are a fool!" said Miss Branwin, trying to conceal her agitation. "Even if you saw papa, that proves nothing. And you had better hold your tongue, or you will get into trouble."
Mrs. Mellop ran to the door of the room, so as to avoid another shaking. "I shall get Sir Joseph into trouble," she said spitefully. "He shan't play fast and loose with poor little me. I shall go back home to-day."
"Had you not better see papa?" asked Audrey, ironically, "and say what you intend to do?"
"I know what I intend to do," retorted the widow, tossing her head, "and it won't be pleasant for Sir Joseph when he knows. You're a horrid girl, Audrey, and worthy of your common father, who is only the son of a labourer, when all is said and done. I decline to associate with such riff-raff, so good-day to both of you." And Mrs. Mellop, bursting with spite, swept out of the room in what she conceived was a grand way.
Audrey shrugged her shoulders when the little woman disappeared, as she regarded the hinted accusation as merely due to spite; and without doubt it was, as Mrs. Mellop could not possibly prove Branwin's complicity in the crime. Sir Joseph certainly might have been in Walpole Lane, although Audrey did not think that this was probable. Yet, even if he had been, his presence, as the girl had already observed, proved absolutely nothing.
When Mrs. Mellop took her departure, bag and baggage--which she did in the afternoon--Audrey wended her way to Kensington Gardens to keep the three o'clock appointment with Ralph Shawe; but although she waited for over an hour he did not make his appearance. This omission made Audrey confident that there was something wrong, as it was not like Ralph to evade a meeting. Lately she had noted his unwillingness to answer questions connected with the search for Lady Branwin's murderer; and now that he so pointedly avoided her company--for what could be more pointed than a failure to keep his engagement?--she decided to see Miss Toat and ask questions. The detective certainly knew all that Ralph knew, and in what Ralph refused to speak about might be found his reason for behaving so strangely. With this idea the girl left the Gardens and took a cab to Buckingham Street.
For once Miss Perry was not in her office, but the grimy little boy--technically termed a clerk--told her that the detective would return in a few minutes. Meanwhile she was shown into the inner room to wait, and found there no less a person than Colonel Ilse. He rose politely when she entered, and looked at her so hard that Audrey blushed.
"I also am waiting for Miss Toat, Miss Branwin," said the Colonel, offering a chair. "Will you not be seated? I understand she will not be long."
"Thank you. How did you know my name, Colonel Ilse?"
"I must answer like a Yankee by asking another question, Miss Branwin. How did you know mine?"
"Miss Toat told me."
"And Miss Toat toldme," repeated the Colonel, smiling. "The fact is--I hope you will not mind my saying this, as I am old enough to be your father, young lady--you remind me of someone who was very dear to me. Curiosity made me ask your name."
"And curiosity made me ask what yours was also," said Audrey, quickly. "Your face--your eyes, to be particular--remind me of someone."
Ilse looked at her rather oddly. "Of whom, may I ask?" he said eagerly.
The girl shook her head. "I can't say; but I almost feel as if I had known you before. I daresay it is fancy."
"Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn't," said the Colonel, quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, Miss Branwin; only we may have met by chance."
The excuse did not satisfy Audrey, but she could not very well go on asking questions. She liked the looks of Colonel Ilse. He had a handsome but rather sad face, and his blue eyes were strangely kind and pathetic. "You are searching for your little girl?" she said impulsively. "Miss Toat told me."
"Upon my word," said the Colonel, humorously, "Miss Toat seems to have told you a great deal. Yes, Miss Branwin, I am looking for my daughter who was stolen from me some twenty and more years ago. A hospital nurse took her away, and I have never been able to find her."
"Why did the nurse take her away?"
Colonel Ilse actually blushed through his tan. "It was in a fit of jealousy that she did so," he explained hurriedly. "That is, she--well, it is too long a story to tell you. But I have placed the matter in the hands of Miss Toat, and lately she has told me that she thinks she will be successful in finding my daughter."
Audrey shook her pretty head gravely. "It is a long time after the loss to think of finding her."
"I have been in India for many years," said the Colonel, who seemed to be singularly frank in his conversation, "and a military man has scanty time to attend to his own affairs. But lately I have retired, and as I have come in for a fortune, owing to the death of my uncle, I greatly wish to find my child, so that she may be my heiress."
"I hope you will be successful," said Audrey, sympathetically.
"I hope so too, and I think if we can trace this hospital nurse that the truth will become known. The nurse has-- Oh!"--Colonel Ilse stopped explaining as the door opened to reveal Perry Toat--"here is the lady. Miss Branwin, I shall leave you to discharge your business first. My interview can come later." And the Colonel bowed himself into the outer room.
Perry Toat took off her gloves and sat at her desk. By this time the effect of Madame Coralie's improvements had worn off more or less, and the detective was rapidly becoming the drab, unlovely personage she actually was. But Audrey liked her better without the mask of fictitious loveliness, as she had an honest if ugly face. The girl felt that she could absolutely trust her. And she wanted someone to trust, now that Ralph had failed her.
"Do you like Colonel Ilse?" asked Miss Toat when the door closed.
"Very much," said Audrey, frankly. "He seems to be a very nice man, but sad."
"Ah! it is my task to turn his sadness into joy," said the detective, looking keenly at her client.
"By finding his daughter?"
"Yes, by finding his daughter," assented Perry Toat, who looked a sharp little rat of a woman as she sat at the table. "And now, let us come to your business, Miss Branwin. I can't give you much time, so please state what you wish to see me about as speedily as possible."
"I speak in confidence, of course," hesitated Audrey, rather embarrassed.
"Of course, in strictest confidence. What is it?"
"It is about Mr. Shawe. I can't understand him."
"But you are engaged to marry him."
"Yes." Audrey flushed. "And I love him very dearly. I don't mind telling you this, as you are a woman and can understand. But lately there is something queer about him. I wish him to learn who murdered my mother, and he has been trying. But over a week ago he asked me to give up the search."
"Oh"--Perry Toat sat up alertly--"he asked you to give up the search. Why?"
Miss Branwin felt in her pocket and brought out the anonymous letter. "For this reason," she said, passing it to Perry Toat. "This letter warns me that if I persist in searching into the case I shall experience the greatest grief of my life."
"Oh!" said Perry Toat again, and ran her sharp eyes over the ill-written lines. "And Mr. Shawe agrees with this letter?"
"Yes. He is most anxious to get me to give up searching, and always avoids answering my questions as much as he can. To-day I had an appointment to see him in Kensington Gardens, but he did not appear. This is the first time he has ever behaved in this way, so I came at once to ask you if you can tell me the reason for his change of mind."
Perry Toat looked hard at the anonymous letter, and did not answer. After a time she went to a tin box and brought out some papers, with which she compared the missive addressed to Audrey. "Let me look at the envelope, please," she said after a long pause. "Oh, here it is." She picked it up from the table and examined the postmark.
"What do you make of it?" asked Audrey, impatiently.
"Of this letter? Oh, it is written by someone who wants the case stopped."
"By the assassin?"
"Why do you think it might be the assassin?"
"Because only the assassin would like an end put to the case."
"Humph!" said Miss Toat, anxiously. "That is one view; but there is another, Miss Branwin. A certain person may be anxious to prevent your learning the truth in case it should cause you great pain."
"So the letter says," said Audrey, quickly. "But I don't understand, unless--" Suddenly she stopped, with her mouth open. "Oh!" she gasped faintly, for it had just occurred to her what Mrs. Mellop had hinted, "you don't think that my father wrote it?"
"No." Perry Toat looked astonished. "Why should you think your father--"
"It was merely an idea," interrupted Audrey, feverishly. "The fact is, a certain spiteful woman hinted that my father was glad of my mother's death, so that he could marry Miss Pearl."
"In fact, this person said plainly that Sir Joseph was guilty," said the other, bluntly.
"Not exactly. But"--Audrey rose quickly and looked indignant--"it is quite ridiculous to think of such things."
"And yet"--Perry Toat tapped the anonymous letter--"the person who wrote this may have written it because he suspected your father."
"He? Then a man wrote it. What man? Can you guess?"
"I can do more than guess," said the detective, drily. "I know by comparison of handwritings. This anonymous letter was written by Ralph Shawe."
"Oh!" Audrey turned pale. "So that explains his conduct."