For the space of ten minutes after that staggering discovery Dollops, who had followed closely on his "Gov'nor's" heels, stood watching him trot round and round that field, not unlike one of the colts on the other side of the hedge.
Presently, as Cleek stood by a clump of golden gorse, Dollops saw him throw back his head and give a little laugh of triumph.
"Dollops," he called to the watching lad, "cut back to the Inn, and tell Mr. Narkom to send Lennard up to Cheyne Court with the car. I'm going back to nose around again, and may need them both."
"Yes, sir," said Dollops, obediently, "and shall I come back?"
"Please yourself," was the laughing reply. "I shall want you to keep an eye on the Wynnes, though. There's something there I'm not quite sure of——"
Dollops showed a sudden outburst of joy.
"You trust 'em to me," he said, excitedly. "I always did say as 'ow that young party was up to no good, but I'll look after 'em all right. You leave 'er to me."
With a little nod, Cleek turned back and Dollops sped off on his errand. At the beginning of the lane, however, his mind always on the alert, he looked back, and like his master a few minutes before, he had the surprise of his life. The field was one unbroken seat of grass and gorse bushes. Cleek, too, had disappeared!
For a moment Dollops stood stunned by the shock. Then he moved as if to turn back, but he had had his orders and as there had been neither sight nor sound of anything suspicious he turned once more, and ran as hard as he could in the direction of the village.
It was some half an hour later when the limousine drew up outside the door of Cheyne Court, and Dollops hopped out of it.
"Gawd send 'e's safe," said he, his teeth chattering like a monkey's.
"It gave me the fair 'ump, Mr. Narkom, when I looks back and 'e was gone, vanished clean off the map, so to speak. Wot if 'e ain't 'ere, after all? S'pose those devils, Pentacle gangers they was fer sure, nipped 'im? I ought never to 'ave left 'im!That's wot I oughtn't to 'ave done. An' if anything 'appens to 'im it'll be all my blooming fault!"
The Superintendent frowned, though to tell the truth, he was as anxious as Dollops himself over Cleek's strange disappearance. He jumped out of the vehicle in Dollops' wake and entered the house.
Just then the ballroom door opened swiftly and Cleek came out, his eyes shining and a look of utter satisfaction on his face.
"Thank goodness you're safe, Cleek!" the Superintendent said, striding up to him, "though how you got here, without being seen beats all, for we had a man on the road you know."
Cleek smiled.
"Precisely, Mr. Narkom," he replied, serenely, a queer little smile on his face. "All roads lead to Rome, you know. By the bye, is Lennard outside?"
"Yes," said Mr. Narkom. "But what is it? Don't tell me you've discovered the truth at last?"
Cleek gave out a little triumphant laugh.
"Discovered?" he said. "No, I am only at the beginning yet," and he fairly pushed Mr. Narkom before him out of the house.
"Lennard," said he, "streak it to the Natural History Museum, Kensington, and drive like the wind. There isn't a moment to spare."
The door of the limousine flashed open and shutagain, the car leapt forward and sped down the drive and into the lane. A second later it was on its way Londonward, the astonished Superintendent and Dollops being left to wend their way slowly toward the village.
They found the Inn there filled to overflowing with a crowd of men whose business soon showed itself to be that of ferreting out facts, true or untrue, for an inquisitive world—reporters on every paper in the country that boasted a column of police news. The disappearance of Lady Margaret Cheyne had recalled the romantic history of the whole family, and both Sir Edgar and Lady Brenton writhed at the amount of publicity they were being forced to endure at the hands of the press. When, too, it leaked out that the famous jewels were missing, public excitement ran riot.
Meanwhile Petrie, Hammond, and their satellites kept faithful watch round Cheyne Court, and so concentrated were the efforts of the local police that when late in the afternoon the gaily-painted caravans of a travelling circus camped out on the vacant meadow adjoining the Court estate, for the first time in local history, no notice was taken of it, save by the youthful denizens of the neighbourhood. To them an inquest could hardly be expected to offer the same absorbing interest as the joys of"Professor James' Marsupial Circus," which legend was inscribed on the carts and gaudy placards that were hastily pasted up. Kangaroos, Muskrats, Civet-cats, Opossums, and other specimens of Australian fauna were promised to be shown at the opening performance on Monday, and it was no wonder that the youthful section of Hampton were content to spend every hour of their leisure in a vain effort to quench their sudden thirst for natural history on the cheap.
Constable Roberts, however, had looked with a keenly professional eye at Professor James and his caravans, for these vehicles invariably spelt gypsies, and gypsies and jewel thefts went hand in hand.
Accordingly, when at about five o'clock of the following day Cleek appeared in the neighbourhood of Cheyne Court, that worthy stopped him and begged the favour of a word immediately.
"Gypsies, sir," said he with some disgust in his voice, "they've planked themselves there in this field," he pointed in a general direction, "since this morning and whether to send 'em away or not just beats me."
Cleek stood at the side of the motor, and regarded the Constable with a face as blank as a brick wall.
"Gypsies, eh, Roberts? Surely all circuses are not composed of gypsies, are they?" he said, finally."It's a funny time of the year to start a circus, I must say. I thought they appeared later in the season!"
"So they does, sir," responded the Constable, emphatically, "an' what makes it more funny still, I don't believe there ain't no animals at all, sir—leastways, not live ones."
"Well," said Cleek. "You don't mean to tell me it's a circus of dead animals, do you? That is a bit too much."
The Constable shrugged his shoulders.
"No, sir, I don't go so far as to say that, but what beats me is that you can't see no signs of any animals about and what's more you can'tsmell'em, either. And I never knew no circus wot yer couldn't smell 'arf a mile off."
Cleek laughed, but in an instant was serious again.
"Come to think of it, Roberts," said he, "you're right on that point. I think I'll take a look round on my own before I join the Superintendent. Can you come with me? No, I think it would be better not. We might frighten the birds away, and perhaps it's just as well, if they are not on the straight, to catch them red-handed. As it is, you've done enough to earn promotion twice over." Speaking, he jumped back into the car. With a few words to Lennard, they drove away into the oncoming dusk.
With the blinds pulled down, and Mr. Narkom's faithful locker at his command, Cleek got busy, so that when some few minutes later he had reached the little camp, a burly Australian swagman dismounted from the car. Swaggering up to what was presumably the tent of the proprietor, he gave a loud "Coo-ee!" that might have been heard easily on the other side of the river.
It had the desired effect of bringing out "Professor James," a man of decided Cockney appearance and little trace of ever having been out of the country.
"Cooe-ee," sang out the stranger, "your little bunch of carts is like a sight of home. Say, pard, trot out one of your blessed kangaroos. I'll grease yer palm, all right."
The lined, swarthy countenance of the Professor looked even more glum at this request.
He shook his head.
"Circus not ready yet; can't do anything for you," he said gruffly. Thereupon the stranger plunged his hand into his pocket and brought out a £5 note.
"Give us a look of a kangaroo for the sake of old country," he said, roughly, and held the note significantly before the "professor."
The man's eyes gleamed, and it was evident that the offer was a very tempting one. But he had obviously received other orders.
"Clear out," he said, threateningly. "I don't want you or your precious money hanging about here."
He came forward with clenched fist and the stranger recoiled a little, then, turning on his heel, he gave an uncomfortable laugh.
"All right, Guv'nor," he said, "no harm meant. But of course if you're going to be nasty——"
He lurched away in the opposite direction, singing at the top of his voice an old-time music-hall ditty while the "professor" looked after him somewhat regretfully.
It was nearly seven o'clock that evening when Mr. Maverick Narkom, pacing uneasily up and down the little room which he had taken at the Hampton Arms, saw the door swing open and shut again without a suspicion of a sound. He looked up to find Cleek standing within a few paces of him.
"At last!" he ejaculated. "Gad, my dear fellow, I never was so thankful to see you in my life! Things seem to have got into an awful mess somehow since you've been gone. You'll never guess what's happened, Cleek; after all my instructions to that stupid idiot Roberts he's let the Hindoo gang escape. They went up to the station, so I'm told, and made their get-away."
"It does not matter," said Cleek, calmly. "I have come to the end of the riddle at last, my friend."
"The end!" gasped Mr. Narkom. "Man alive, tell me."
Cleek held up a restraining hand and gave a little satisfied laugh.
"Patience, Mr. Narkom. Perhaps I ought not to have said so much, for some few things remain to be discovered," he responded, serenely, "but the first thing to do is to get all the jewels, where they can be easily secured to-morrow in broad daylight."
"What jewels?" exclaimed Mr. Narkom, who had apparently lost sight of that factor of the case, in view of the murders which occupied his mind.
"The Cheyne jewels, of course," replied Cleek, "and most of all, the 'Purple Emperor'——"
"Good Heavens, I had forgotten them. It's that poor young girl I have been thinking about," said Mr. Narkom, excitedly. "Ten chances to one, but what she's murdered, too, and——"
"I think not," responded Cleek. "I have just one more thread to gather up, and then to-morrow I rather fancy she will be in a position to clear things up for herself. But I've so much to tell you, that it's difficult to know quite where to begin. And we can't talk here. Come down to Cheyne Court with me."
"Delighted," responded the Superintendent with alacrity, but once in the car, the two sat in silence, for Mr. Narkom saw how deeply Cleek was absorbed in thought, until the rusty gates were passed. But once the car drew up at the house, Cleek roused himself from his reverie.
His voice full of excitement, he said, "get the constables stationed round the house, right out of the way. Put them and the other men where they won't be able to see or hear what goes on at the back. Then make some excuse of having to examine the body in reference to new evidence that I have brought back with me. I'll join you there in half an hour."
Mr. Narkom gave a nod of comprehension and vanished up the path where his men had been stationed, leaving Cleek to carry out his plans.
Thirty minutes later, with his customary soundlessness, he came up out of the gloom of the neglected gardens and entered Cheyne Court, joining the Superintendent in the ballroom, where in a hastily constructed coffin lay the body of the stranger—a stranger no longer to Cleek.
He stood with frowning brows and regarded the dead man steadily.
"So it was a failure after all, Blake," he said, softly. "After escaping the price all these years,to be caught like a rat in a trap for the sake of a purple stone! Well! life is a queer mixture at best. But you've drunk your glass to the dregs, Blake, and it owes nothing at least toyou!"
"Blake," ejaculated Mr. Narkom, "do you mean to say that you have found out—that this—no, no—surely not—not James Blake—the head of the Pentacle gang? The greatest set of rogues that ever saw their names in the calendar. NotthatBlake, Cleek?"
Cleek smiled.
"The very same," he responded, gravely. "Give me but a few hours now, and I will put the whole gang into your hands, but now there's something I want to finish up here. I didn't want to do it this morning, and I don't know but what we are too late now. Try and find the very centre of this room for me, there's a good fellow, and stand there while I do a little measuring and counting."
Mr. Narkom took out his torch and sent it sweeping round the great room, until he found what he took to be the exact centre and announced the fact.
"Good!" said Cleek. "We'll make sure to save time. Now, let's see; here is one piece of wood. Now for the five others."
He paced slowly over the floor, marking at regular intervals with a piece of chalk a little dark piece of the parquet flooring.
"Three, four, five, six—the six points right enough. Now to find the centre."
Kneeling down, Mr. Narkom watched him draw long white chalk lines from point to point.
Finally he gave a little satisfied grunt, stood up, and surveyed his handiwork.
"Move a little away, Mr. Narkom, and if we aren't too late, we shall see what we shall see," he cried, excitedly.
Advancing into the centre of the room, he bent down over the centre piece of wood. As he did so, there came the horrible moaning cry, causing even Mr. Narkom's hardened nerves to fail him. With a crash the torch fell from his fingers, leaving them in total darkness!
"I forgot; I ought to have warned you—it's quite all right," said Cleek, taken aback.
"Gad, Cleek, it startled me. What is it?" whispered the Superintendent. "Have I ruined your plans?"
Cleek felt for his own torch and snapped it on so that the little disc of white light fell distinctly upon the floor.
"Never mind," said he, serenely. "It doesn't matter now, I have learnt all I want for the present. Come, let's get out of this.Thatis the answer to the riddle, and we are only just in time."
In the big uncurtained ballroom of Cheyne Court the next morning, a plentiful gathering assembled for the inquest which had been postponed from the week before, and Mr. Narkom, who had entered with Cleek and a number of strangers that to an observant eye would have revealed themselves as plain-clothes men, watched the entry of every newcomer with almost morbid expectancy.
Early arrivals were Lady Brenton and Sir Edgar, who at Cleek's request had returned from town that same morning, after a presumably futile search for any trace of Lady Margaret. The boy's face was lined and anxious, his nerves evidently strained to breaking point. Close beside him sat Lady Brenton, her arm clenched tight in his, and Cleek smiled a little as he noticed that she wore a gold scarf—obviously the one which had been given such unwonted publicity the preceding week. It was not exactly morning attire, but she had evidently worn it in defiance of all gossip.
Jennifer Wynne and her brother were there, too, pale both of them, with eyes that told a tale of sleepless nights. Close beside them stood the immaculate, dapper figure of Gunga Dall, his dark eyes flashing from one face to the other, and lingering with a little smile on the perturbed countenance of Lady Brenton. It seemed as though he were quite satisfied with his work.
For a little while Cleek appeared to take no notice whatsoever of his surroundings, and it was not until the Coroner had got through the preliminaries of the inquest and proposed calling a witness that Cleek roused himself from his reverie, and said in a clear, incisive voice:
"Witnesses are unnecessary, Mr. Coroner, for I will venture to call on the murderer himself."
Had a bombshell fallen near the assembly it could not have caused more consternation, and Cleek, as he took the centre of the room, let the queer, one-sided smile travel up his face. There was a theatrical touch in this announcement which pleased him considerably.
"Yes, one murderer," he continued, "the other, fortunately, is dead. No, Mr. Wynne," he continued, rapidly, "please don't try to get to that door, they are all guarded and the windows, too. So if you don't mind——"
Suddenly he leapt swiftly in Bobby Wynne's direction. The startled young man was standing as if rooted to the spot, powerless with terror to move a step further. But with a spring Cleek bore down upon the figure of the man who was sitting smiling and complacent beside him—the figure of the Hindoo, Gunga Dall!
"Got you, you beauty! Got you!" he exclaimed, as the man tried to fight him off. "Thought to evade justice by casting the blame upon another, eh? But you came to the wrong person this time. Here, Petrie, Hammond, snap the bracelets on him, for he's as slippery as the proverbial eel, and I've no desire to have my wrists broken. That's it! Now the fish is caught at last. The game's up, Jimmy my lad."
Speaking he bent forward and stared into the man's dark, furious face. As he did so, the man's lips opened, and from his mouth issued a stream of cockney vituperation which would have shamed a Billingsgate barrow-holder.
"'Ere what yer gettin' at, blarst yer!" ended up the erstwhile Gunga Dall as his breath failed him. "And why does yer call me Jimmy? Just like yer bloomin' cheek, damn yer!"
"And just like my blooming knowledge, too, my friend," responded Cleek with a little harsh laugh."I don't forget friends quite so soon as you do, Blake. Remember me now?"
Of a sudden his features writhed, twisted, altered, and the man whom he addressed as Blake, looking up into his eyes, turned white and shrank back with a sudden, overpowering fear.
"God! the Cracksman," he ejaculated, and his head fell forward upon his breast.
"Yes, and now—just Cleek, of Scotland Yard," came the reply.
"Cleek!" exclaimed the Coroner in amazement, and the name echoed from every mouth in that crowded room.
"Just Cleek," was the reply.
Suddenly Blake's face underwent a change.
"I don't care who you are, blarst yer! I haven't done nothing but get up as an Indian, and there's nothing criminal inthat!"
"No, my friend," said Cleek, quietly. "But there is in murder and when it comes to killing your own brother—what's that? Oh, yes, it is. I know the dead man now: Sam Blake, tipster and member of the Pentacle Club. And you—you are James Blake, head of the Club, the biggest gang of jewel thieves in the world!"
"It's a lie!" shrieked the man. "I am not. I did not kill him!"
"You did," flung back Cleek. "You killed him with a little white pellet of prussic acid. I daresay—yes—they are——" His deft fingers felt in one of the resisting man's pockets.
With a little gasp of triumph, he held up a small box, and opening the lid, showed about a dozen white pellets similar to the fragment found in the mouth of the dead man. His face grew tense and grim as he surveyed them.
"See, here is the weapon," he said, "and if you want further proof, I have it here in finger-prints. These are the official prints of James Blake, and they correspond to the marks on the dead man's throat. One more thing, the footprints——"
Diving into his pocket, Cleek produced the roll of papers over which Dollops had taken such care.
"See," he said in sharp tones, "these are the marks of the footprints which led direct from the body itself. These, too, are the footprints which I found in Miss Jennifer Wynne's garden, at the foot of a certain window. To make things more sure, I think you will find that this"—he held up a scrap of gray tweed material—"is proof that this interesting gentleman climbed up by means of the wistaria plant, and obtained the prussic acid and magnesia from old Dr. Wynne's surgery."
A startled cry burst from the lips of the brother and sister, and their eyes met with such a mutually significant look that a little smile crept into Cleek's eyes for a moment. It so obviously explained the situation between them; each had suspected the other, and each had wished to shield the other.
Then Cleek turned his gaze back to the prisoner, who was a picture of sullen dejection.
"There is one more overwhelming proof of my story," Cleek said, and taking out his notebook, he scribbled something rapidly. Then detaching a leaf, he continued, "If Mr. Narkom will fetch it and if I am right, I do not think Mr. Coroner need hesitate any further."
Mr. Narkom gave but one glance at the scrap of paper in his hand, but those standing near him heard his exclamation of astonishment. Then he was gone, and attention was once more rivetted on Cleek's slim figure.
"You made a mistake, my friend, in drawing my attention to the gold scarves last week for I knew that you lied in saying that you had given Lady Margaret that scarf. It was her father's gift, not yours, so your effort to draw a red herring across the path was a failure," continued that gentleman as he peered into the face of the prisoner. "You made a bigger one to-day in leaving off that sealring which left its mark on your brother's throat last week."
A string of vile expletives followed this statement as the bound man strove feebly to wrench his hand from the firm grasp which held it.
At this, a little cry burst from the lips of Dr. Verrall, and again Cleek smiled.
"You jumped to the conclusion too quickly that it was Miss Jennifer's ring, Doctor," he said, softly. "Not even a strong woman could have subjugated a man like Blake."
Dr. Verrall gave a little groan as he met Cleek's quizzical eyes, but Jennifer, who was standing near, stared at him in open-mouthed amazement. Then she said almost under her breath:
"Oh, Edgar, you thought that I—that it was poor old Dad's ring on my hand. Is that why you wanted me to put it away?"
Swiftly Dr. Verrall turned to her and even as he did so, the attention of the people around was speedily withdrawn, for the door of the room was opened, and Mr. Narkom stood in the doorway.
"Was I right?" said Cleek, a trifle anxiously.
"Right as a trivet," was the complacent reply. "And here she is——"
He stepped aside, and then a cry arose, for framed in the doorway, pale and worn, but otherwiseunharmed, stood the missing heiress, Lady Margaret Cheyne herself!
A scramble ensued, but it was Sir Edgar who reached her first, and disregarding the surging crowd around them gathered her bodily into his arms.
"Margaret, my darling!" he said in a choked, broken voice.
Cleek smiled.
"You found her where I said?" he asked, addressing the Superintendent who stood breathless but triumphant beside him.
The query reduced the roomful of people to a state of breathless silence as Mr. Narkom nodded vigorously.
"Yes," said he, briskly. "She was in Gunga Dall's house, and bound and gagged, poor child, although she seems to have recovered herself very well now."
He smiled at her as she stood crimson and shy beside the upright figure of her lover, and she gave him a smile in return.
"Yes," she said in a soft voice, looking up into Sir Edgar's eyes, "I am perfectly recovered, thank you!... No, Edgar, you mustn't," as that gentleman sprang forward in Gunga Dall's direction and made as if to attack him; "he will meet with the justice he deserves, dear, soon enough."
"Well said," threw in Cleek with an approving smile at this philosophical young person, "I agree with Sir Edgar's sentiments, Lady Margaret, so long as theyremainsentiments and nothing else. But now what about that story which we are all waiting so breathlessly for? Do you feel up to relating your adventures, just to clear away the curiosity which I see written on every face?"
He set a chair for her and she thanked him with a gesture. Seating herself, she blushed crimson at the sight of the crowd that surrounded her.
"Of course I will tell you my story," she began in a low voice, "but first of all I want you to believe that I did not kill that man. I truly did not!"
"What man, my dear young lady?" asked the startled Coroner before any one else could speak.
"Why, the man who impersonated my poor aunt!" she responded, tearfully. "But Mr. Dall said everybody was looking for me, and he intended to take me out of the country. I did not want to go—it is all too wicked!" She clung trembling to Sir Edgar, who was divided between his longing to wreak his vengeance on the prisoner who stood sullen and discomforted and his efforts to restore Lady Margaret.
"You need not fear any trouble on that score, Lady Margaret," said Cleek, quietly, smiling at her. "It was Gunga Dall himself who murdered the man,his own brother. And all we want to find out is how your scarf came to be involved. When did you discover the trick that had been played?"
"I never thought of there being any trick," she said with a little shiver. "Poor Auntie was always very queer and undemonstrative, even when I was a child, and, too, she always disliked me. That was why she kept me so long at school. So I never thought of its being any one else till I came down to meet Edgar—on the terrace. Then the sound of the laughter, and all men's laughter, caused me to look into the room. When I saw what I had believed to be my aunt, with her wig half off, smoking a big cigar and holding up my jewels——" She broke off with a little shudder and Ailsa Lorne, who stood near, leaned forward and took Lady Margaret's shaking hand into her own.
"What happened afterward, Lady Margaret?" Cleek then asked. "Can you tell us? It is necessary evidence, you know——"
"Yes," she said, bravely, "they gagged me and bound my eyes and laid me on a couch in the ballroom.... I don't know what happened then, but I found myself at last in the wine-cellar with the servant Aggie keeping watch over me. It seemed ages and ages before Gunga Dall came to me, and while Aggie was sleeping—she had been drinking allthe time she was with me—he got me through the window, and out into the lane, where he had a carriage waiting. He said he was going to drive me to Lady Brenton, but when I found he was not, I got frightened and wondered if you had got the bit of paper I slipped from the window when I saw you.Didyou get it?" she turned to Ailsa, who nodded.
"Yes, dear, and gave it to Sir Edgar."
"Oh, I am so glad!" she said in a broken voice. "Well, after that he drove me to his own house, and promised to fetch Lady Brenton to me!"
"The devil!" burst out Sir Edgar, impetuously, his face crimson with fury, his whole figure shaking, "as if he couldn't have brought you direct to us if he had wanted to——"
"I never thought of that," she responded. "All I thought of was getting away from Cheyne Court. He said then that all the countryside was looking for me as I was accused of having murdered that awful creature whom I had believed to be my aunt. I wanted to confront them, but he wouldn't let me go. At last he said if I would give him my gold scarf, it would be the means of setting me free...."
A little one-sided smile crept up Cleek's face as he listened to the girlish recital.
"The clever devil!" he ejaculated. "He went straight back to Blake, not knowing perhaps that thejewels were already in their possession and took the scarf as a proof that he had Lady Margaret in his power...."
Then he turned on his heel and faced the prisoner.
"Come, Blake, own up—the truth. It will serve you best."
The prisoner scowled blackly and stared into Cleek's eyes with hatred in his own.
"What's the good?" he muttered, angrily. "You seem to know it all just as if you were there. It's true enough. I went to Sam, who had no business to have acted without me, and told him I'd got the girl and would let on to the police if he didn't give me a share. I didn't know it wasn't the old girl herself, till the day before when I followed them up to London, then I recognized Sammy. Considering I had been away in Paris for over a year planning how to get hold of them jewels, and even joined up with that there crowd of Hindoo niggers, in order to have assistance—they only wanted the 'Purple Emperor,' said I could have what I liked if I helped them to get that, without their having to take life—well, it isn't surprising that I didn't mean to be bested by Sam and his pals."
Cleek nodded as if in approval, though it was really the proof of the correctness of his own theories that caused the unconscious movement.
"But the law was one too many for both of you, Jimmy my lad," he interrupted, "and you came to grief at last. But what I want to know is how did you get into Cheyne Court?"
"Through a secret entrance hidden in the wall, if yer wants ter know!" replied James Blake, sullenly. "Might as well know it first as last. There's a hole in the dried-up moat what leads to the foundations and I happened to discover it when I was hiding there. So I nipped in and then stumbled upon Lady Margaret, lying in the cellar, and saw it was a chance to get even with Sammy. But he only laughed at me when I said I'd got her and told me I'd never find the jewels where he'd hidden 'em. Blast 'im, I never have. But we came to blows then and he clutched at the scarf I held and nicked a piece out of it, just as he fell, then I scuttled upstairs and threw it back into the girl's room—and that's all the blooming story."
"Back into her room?" ejaculated Sir Edgar, furiously, at the end of this recital. "So he threw suspicion on my dear girl. Well, I'll wring his damned neck for him as a little return for his trouble!"
He leapt forward, but Cleek caught at his shoulder, and with a smile drew him back.
"A very creditable performance, my friend," said he, serenely, "but I don't think I should carry it out.As Lady Margaret herself suggested the law will take its course and mete out full justice. Meanwhile, there is still more work to be done. This part of the case is clear enough. This man, James Blake is his right name, although we have all known him as Gunga Dall, is the head of the Pentacle Club, and the murdered man Sam, his brother, was also a member of the gang. As you see, it has been a deeply laid plot on their part to secure that ill-fated 'The Purple Emperor,' and as I have long imagined, the Hindoo priests are still on its track. When I went up to London to find out about James Blake, I learned by chance of the existence of this brother and then I knew what had happened. There is no doubt, as I shall prove to you, that Sam had made ingenious arrangements to get the jewels safely away before the return of his brother, and it was the knowledge of a safe hiding place which led him to be defiant, and that was obviously the cause of his death.
"However, there is one thing to console ourselves with, and that is that he but anticipated the law. There is little doubt that he was the murderer of Miss Cheyne, and also the perpetrator of another crime in the East of London—the murder of an 'ole clo' woman. He stabbed her to death for a bundle of second-hand clothing and a wig. That shows the nature of the man, doesn't it? But that is the wayhe obtained the clothing to dress his part, and the little second-hand clothes dealer's case passed out of the public eye under the screen of 'found murdered by person or persons unknown.' But her death and Miss Cheyne's are avenged. We have Mr. James Blake to thank forthat!"
He paused a moment and looked about him at the expectant faces of the audience, then bent and whispered something to Mr. Narkom, who nodded vigorously and spoke to the Coroner.
Then Cleek spoke again.
"I don't think there is anything more to be done now so far as the public is concerned," he said in a clear voice which penetrated to the ends of the crowded room, "and I think they may safely consider the case at an end. I shall be glad, therefore, if they will leave this room as quickly and as quietly as possible."
They left forthwith, as the prisoner was led away, but once out in the spring sunshine, it came to them suddenly that that very clever gentlemen had left off at the most critical point—and that the hiding place of the famous Cheyne Court jewels had never been revealed.
A hubbub of voices sounded for a few minutes as the crowd wended its way out of the house and toward the village, there to relate the amazing occurrences of the morning, and in the ballroom there fell a momentary hush. Still almost dazed by the trend of events, the little knot of people present looked at Cleek who stood gazing fixedly at the floor.
Then he gave a little shake of his shoulders.
"And now, my friends, having cleared up one part of the mystery, there is still a question of the jewels' hiding place.... What's that, Sir Edgar? How did I find out where Lady Margaret was hidden and by whom? Well, Blake gave himself away finally last week by his efforts to throw suspicion on the owner of that gold lace scarf. It seemed clear to me that had he Lady Margaret in his power, the evidence of her scarf would be a dangerous weapon against her, and one that would enable him to retain a hold over her. Then, again, I had recognized fromthe beginning that he was not an Asiatic; his eyes, dark though they were, had no yellow tinge, nor were they set Eastern fashion. His accent, in moments of excitement, left much to be desired. As to his brother and the Pentacle Club: they had evidently meant to make this house their headquarters, and they took advantage of its construction in order to make what would have been a safe deposit bank for their loot.
"Poking about here, I discovered that the cellars, below this, were in reality kitchens and there is no doubt that originally this room was a huge dining room, to which food was brought up from below. What's that, Lady Brenton; impossible without a lift? Wait just one moment. Look down on this parquet floor. Do you see over here, for instance, a little piece of the wood, darker than the rest?"
Every eye turned in Cleek's direction searching the big floor carefully.
"Yes, and here's another," cried Jennifer Wynne, suddenly.
"And another!" put in Dr. Verrall with some excitement. A minute or so later and three more were discovered joining what at first sight seemed to be a disconnected circle.
But Cleek took out a piece of chalk from his pocket.
"I need hardly tell you that a pentacle is a six-sidedstar very frequently used in masonry and the East," he said as they looked at him in some mystification.
"I knew that the murdered man was a member of the notorious Pentacle Club, since a pentacle was tattooed on his arm—Dr. Verrall will bear me out in that—and the pentacle was therefore in my mind's eye when I did this."
Kneeling, he swiftly joined up the points, and beneath the eyes of the interested watchers the white chalk marks, standing out clearly on the dark floor, grew into the ancient sign of a huge pentacle which spread across the centre of the room.
"Now," said Cleek, after they had surveyed his handiwork in amazement, "let us find the centre. And now look at this——"
Standing in the centre of the pentacle he stooped down and pressed hard on one of the little pieces of dark parquet.
As he did so a cry of astonishment broke from all those present, for a section of the floor, about the size of the space covered by a large tray, very gently sank in front of them, and they saw Cleek carried noiselessly and gently down into the darkness beneath.
Another minute and he was up again, a little smile on his face.
"When I discovered this," he went on, "it gave me plenty of food for thought and my further explorations still further solved the mystery. Mr. Narkom, if you will add your torch's gleam to mine it will give us light enough to complete my task. Come, you need not fear the lift will give way, it has carried down bigger and stranger burdens, I promise you."
A little hesitating murmur came from the ladies, but their curiosity overcame their fears, and two by two they descended down to the bottom of what looked like a well, lit as it was by the circle of light given out by Mr. Narkom's torch. Once down, however, they discovered that they were in an underground vault, which had certainly been used as a kitchen, for the old-fashioned stoves still stood against one side.
"You see," said Cleek, in quiet, reassuring tones, "having once discovered this arrangement it is no wonder that Blake conceived this method of getting hold of the Cheyne jewels. With only poor eccentric Miss Cheyne to dispose of, the task was an easy one. It only remained to get them into his possession through the agency of Lady Margaret, and if she had not discovered the trick that was being played on her, all would have gone off smoothly. As it was, however, Blake probably did not know whether she had contrived to warn someone or not!"
Lady Margaret herself intervened here in a quick, agitated voice.
"That's just it," she said. "I told him Sir Edgar knew and Lieutenant Deland and Miss Lorne as well and I said that you would all come after me and get the jewels back, too, which seemed to make him furious."
"That accounts for his plan to hide them securely, then," said Cleek, squaring his shoulders. "I see. But surely he conceived the strangest method of concealment that ever entered man's mind."
As if in illustration of his words, there suddenly burst forth the horrible sound, like the wailing of a dog in his death agonies, which had swept over the ballroom upon that first day of the inquest.
Jennifer and Lady Brenton both shrieked aloud and Cleek had as much as he could manage to silence them.
"It is all right, don't be afraid," he said, serenely. "For that is the jewel-case of the Pentacle Club."
"Jewel-case!" cried Dr. Verrall, excitedly, at this strange remark. "What are you talking about? That was a living animal's cry, I'll take my oath."
"Quite right, Doctor; look for yourself."
With a swift step toward a door back of him, Cleek threw it open and disclosed another room into which he beckoned them.
Here the morning light streamed in through windows and gratings let into the walls, and it was evident that they gave upon the old moat outside. But this they hardly noticed, for an amazing sight met their eyes. Round the walls were ranged cages big and small, every one with a living occupant. Cage after cage contained small kangaroos, oppossums, civet-cats, in fact, every variety of marsupial animal.
"Good Heavens," gasped Sir Edgar, "what is it? Are we mad or dreaming? It's like a circus."
"Which is what it would have been," said Cleek, complacently, "but if Mr. Narkom's men have done their work properly, Professor James out in the meadow will wait in vain for his opportunity to transfer these creatures to his friendly caravans."
"Professor James?" said Bobby Wynne, speaking for the first time since the disappearance of Gunga Dall. "What has he to do with it, Mr. Headland?"
"Everything, as you will see for yourself," said Cleek, "but for the moment, I want to rescue some of the Cheyne jewels which, if I am not mistaken, would have vanished forever after to-night."
"But where are they?" said Jennifer.
"Here in front of you, for the most part," responded Cleek, serenely, "surely in the strangest jewel-case that was ever conceived." Speaking, hedarted over to the cage of one of the small kangaroos, and with the aid of his coat succeeded in catching fast the struggling animal. Plunging his hand into the pouch he withdrew it, holding up a shining pendant in his fingers. A little gasp came from all present.
"Good Heavens!" said Sir Edgar. "Do you mean to tell me the jewels are hidden like that?"
"I do," said Cleek. "It is no wonder that Sammy Blake felt assured of his booty, for unless his accomplices betrayed him he was safe beyond all discovery. He knew that between the police searching for them, and his own pals thirsting for revenge, he would stand a very poor chance of getting them away hidden in any ordinary manner. Hence the circus. It was ingenious, to say the least of it!"
"But how did he get them in?" asked Lady Brenton.
"Very simply, as I will show you. But first I will try and relieve some of these animals of their burden. Sir Edgar, Doctor, and Mr. Wynne, if you will lend me a hand——"
Suiting the action to the word, they made the round of the cages. In nearly every case Cleek abstracted some valuable jewel from its occupant's pouch. He had left the cage containing one kangaroo to the last. The animal was a large one, andit took the united efforts of the men to overpower it. But at last they succeeded, and Cleek gave a little cry of triumph as he held up to their astonished gaze a huge amethyst-coloured stone, flashing and quivering in the dim light of the torches.
"The Purple Emperor," cried Lady Margaret, breathlessly, and Cleek, with a little bow, passed it to her.
"Yes, Lady Margaret, and the quicker you get that into custody of the bank the safer your life will be, and——"
He stopped short, alert and intent, for a sound had come to his trained ears. Someone else had entered the vault. Quickly he stepped back into the shadow of the cages where he was hidden from view. There came a sound at the back of the room, a snarl, half human, half animal. But it was a man's figure that leaped across and snatched the great jewel away from the soft hands of Lady Margaret. Both the girl and her companions were too dazed by the sudden appearance of this uncouth being, his clothes covered with green mould, his hair dishevelled, his eyes glaring, to do anything but stare at him in utter astonishment.
"It's mine at last!" he shrieked, and turned to go back the way he had come.
But Cleek was in front of him and the entry closed.Noiselessly and swiftly he had worked his way round, and now stood looking at the man who but a few short hours back had had him trussed and bound in the wine-cellar on the other side of the house.
"Not so fast, my friend!" he said. "Your circus must wait awhile. Up with your hands."
He drew a revolver, and held it in front of the man's face. His shaking arms went slowly upward, his furious crimson countenance turned a sort of pale drab, he swayed a moment, tried to regain his balance, staggered, and then dropped to his knees. Mr. Narkom promptly snapped the bracelets upon his wrists.
Cleek hauled him promptly into the circle of light.
"Curse you!" snarled the man. "Why didn't I kill you the other day?"
"Yes, why?" said Cleek, lightly, "a mistake on your part." Stooping down he took possession once more of the Purple Emperor. "No stone is worth imperilling your life for, my good John."
A little cry broke from the blanched lips of Lady Margaret as she peered at the dishevelled figure.
"Why, it is the butler, the man who watched over me alternately with Aggie in that awful cellar!" she cried.
"It's the man who saw Bobby, and said——" Jennifer broke off abruptly, biting her lips in vexationat having thus betrayed herself, and Cleek, looking at her significantly, took up the thread.
"Yes, the man you tried to bribe, Miss Jennifer, who ran away so quickly and disappeared in an empty field. I will show you how he did it. Dollops, bring him along, and follow me, people. There is still more to this astounding riddle."
He switched on his heel, and passed through the door which he had opened behind them and across the vaulted kitchen, followed by his companions. Then, climbing up a few steps, they went through still another door which led them out into the open.
"The moat," said Lady Margaret, softly, as she looked up at the blue sky, high above their heads.
Cleek said nothing, but bending over twitched aside a little clump of green shrubs.
It disclosed a dark opening like a cutting let right into the earth.
"This slopes up," said he. "I have already tried it, and if you noticed those cages, you would have seen that every one was fitted with wheels. This enabled them to be wheeled down this passageway, and to-night probably they would have been transferred to the circus and thence to London. I do not think that either the police or the other members of the gang would have thought of searching in so queer a hiding place, do you?... What's that, SirEdgar? How did I come to think of it? Well, when I discovered the animals last week, I was struck with their excited condition, and the strong smell of musk told me that something had been done recently to them to rouse them up to such a pitch. A little link of broken chain in a cage and a hastily made experiment told me the rest of the tale."
While Cleek was speaking they were moving along the strange passage and soon noticed that they were walking up an incline. Just as their heads began to reach the level of the earth, an iron gate barred their way.
Cleek pushed it back, and they discovered that it was the entrance to the vaults of Cheyne Court cleverly hidden by the gorse bushes of the meadow belonging to the house.
In this meadow Professor James had pitched his circus, secure in the permission of "Miss Cheyne," and here he had waited for an opportunity to get hold of his precious freight.
Cleek and his followers were in the centre of affairs before the spectators even had time to wonder from whence they had sprung.
"Beg your pardin', Mr. Narkom, sir," began Petrie, a look of chagrin on his face. "We've got the caravans and all the rest of the stuff, but the man himself had got clear away."
Cleek smiled.
"All right, Petrie," said he, serenely. "Not so clear as he thought, for Dollops has got him safe and he is here, right enough. Get him down to the village and charge him with the robbery of the Cheyne jewels."
A light of satisfaction gleamed in Petrie's eyes as they lit on the figures of Dollops and his captive, and a look of relief crossed his face. It would have been the first time a suspected person had ever slipped through his grasp, and the fact that he had failed Cleek at a critical moment had filled him with dismay.
"Did you get the woman, Aggie?" asked Mr. Narkom, briskly.
"Yessir," said Hammond, smartly, "fought like a wild cat, she did, too, but we got her all right, and Constable Roberts has taken her down to the station."
"Good," said Cleek, "I think, then, that is all we need do here."
"But there are still points to be cleared, Mr. Cleek. Come up now to the Towers, where we can be at peace," said Lady Brenton. "I want to get this child," she smiled at Lady Margaret, "into safety, but we will have lunch first, for I am sure you are all absolutely worn out."
It was an hour later in Lady Brenton's drawing room, and the principals in this strange drama were assembled together. They were filled with curiosity to hear how this man, the greatest detective the Yard possessed, had contrived to elucidate the mystery; a mystery which they felt sure would have remained unsolved forever had he not chanced to take up the case. It would have certainly ended in the death of the young girl who now sat smiling and happy by the side of her lover.
Cleek looked round at his attentive audience and flung back his shoulders as though he would cast the burden of this riddle forever from them.
A smile came to his clean-cut lips, a triumphant light shone in his eyes, and for a moment, as he stood there, the little group about him could not fail to note the power of the man. He turned to Lady Margaret and reached out his hand to her.
"I am glad, more glad than I can say, that you are safe," he said, gravely, as her eyes met his, "forI felt myself in a measure responsible for having unconsciously driven you into the very centre of the danger."
"You, Mr. Headland?" The exclamation came involuntarily from her lips.
Cleek smiled.
"Yes," he said, serenely. "I am the man who did it, Lady Margaret. Lieutenant Deland and George Headland are one and the same person. See." For a second his features writhed, twisting themselves into the semblance of the dapper lieutenant, and then before the astonished circle could speak a word, Mr. Headland stood before them again. "You see," he went on, smiling at the amazed faces of those who did not know of his amazing birthright gift, "it is convenient sometimes, in the interests of the law, to change one's personality. I have changed mine often, and will no doubt continue to do so still oftener. It was I who drove you to Cheyne Court that night, and therefore it is right that I should save you from—other things—now. That is fair enough, isn't it?
"You have been the victim of a plot laid in Paris by James Blake, acting in conjunction with the envoys of the Hindoo priests. From them you will always have to be on guard.
"The story of the theft of the Eye of Shiva will behanded down from generation to generation, and if it were not making too great a sacrifice, I would advise you to send them a message through the Indian government, and let them make terms with you. They would probably gladly give you many other jewels in order to regain the sacred Eye."
Lady Margaret nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh, if you think theywould!" she said with a little catch of the breath. "I will do it at once. When I was in that dreadful vault, I said I would give anything just to be free again. Now I am willing to pay. The priests shall have their Purple Emperor. It has already caused enough trouble in the world."
Cleek nodded his approval.
"You are a very wise young lady," said he, "and you will be the gainer in the end; of that I am sure. The Purple Emperor had always brought disaster in its wake, and, the story goes, will continue to do so until it is returned to its proper resting place in the empty eye-socket of Shiva. But time is short and I must go on with my story. If it bores you, simply tell me, but——"
"Boresus, Mr. Headland?" exclaimed Lady Brenton, excitedly. "When all our hearts are bound up in it? I can hardly wait to hear the end."
Cleek smiled.
"Then you shall not, dear lady," he responded, seating himself.
"Well, in the first place, I soon found that there was a connection between the murder of Miss Cheyne and that of her old servant Elsie McBride. This Elsie McBride was the ole clo' woman I mentioned before who was murdered for apparently no reason whatever in the neighbourhood of Drury Lane. And that connection was the Cheyne Court jewels. Sam Blake formerly an actor himself I believe, no doubt by chance saw the photograph of Miss Cheyne, which she had given her servant on her marriage. From that time onward Blake the younger plotted and planned to find some scheme by which he could enter the house and eventually secure the jewels. Some scheme, that is, which didn't include his brother James. The fact of this stranger who visited the shop only wanting old woman's clothes and the theft of wigs pointed to the need of a disguise. When I found that the finger-prints of the impostor at Cheyne Court coincided with those of the dagger with which the old woman was killed, I knew I was on the right track. Then the smell of jasmine, which clung to everything, puzzled me. It is, as you are all doubtless aware, a favourite scent in the native bazaars of India, and for that reason I suspected the priests of Shiva when I knew them to be in the neighbourhood.For a time I even believed that it was one of their number that I saw cross the lawn of Cheyne Court on the night of the first murder until I metyou, Miss Wynne. Then the smell of the jasmine and your footprints told me that you were there on that night, as well as on the night of the second murder. Did you then suspect your brother of having committed both murders, that you tried to bribe the butler, John? What were you doing at Cheyne Court the night when the real Miss Cheyne was shot?"
He fixed his piercing eyes on Miss Jennifer, who had risen from her seat, her lips white and trembling.
"What do you mean?" she said in a low, tense voice. "I don't understand! Are you some wizard or——"
"Not quite such a fool of a policeman as you might once have thought," he responded, quietly. "I saw you cross the lawn that night, though I know you had no hand in the murder itself. Can you not tell us the reason of your presence there?"
"I followed Edgar," said Miss Wynne, speaking unwillingly enough, a wave of scarlet surging over her face at the significance of the words. "I saw him go up to the door, and I slipped in. It was open—unlatched, that is. But Miss Cheyne was furious at his appearance and I heard her drive himout again and lock the door afterward. Knowing her, I was afraid of her tongue if I should dare to reveal myself, so I crept away, and directly it was quiet, I got out into the grounds. I heard the shot, but did not attach any importance to it. Indeed, when later I heard the wheels of your motor driving away I put it down to a burst tire. It was not until a week or so later when Bobby told me he was in trouble with heavy racing debts that I thought of Miss Cheyne again. Then in sheer desperation I thought I would ask her to lend me a little money. And that was the opening of the mystery to me, for I knew directly I saw her that a trick was being played; that it was not Miss Cheyne herself. I soon found out that it was a man by the trick of throwing——"
"Throwing!" interrupted Lady Brenton suddenly. "How could you tell by throwing, Miss Wynne?"
"I tossed her the roll of papers I had brought," said Miss Wynne, quietly. "And she brought her knees together instead of spreading them apart to make a lap as any woman would. It was then I guessed the truth. I taxed him with it, and the man revealed himself then as Sammy Blake, the tipster. I was helpless then, because Bobby was in this very man's power——"
Her voice broke a little and Cleek slid his fingersinto one of his pockets and drew forth something which he held up for her to see.
"By reason of these, eh?" he interposed, stretching out a soiled envelope toward her. A little cry broke from her lips, and Bobby Wynne, springing to his feet, gasped in relieved amazement.
"My I. O. U.'s," he cried, exultantly, as Cleek handed them to him. "He always promised to give them to me, but he never did."
"I found them in his pocketbook," said Cleek, then turned once more to Miss Jennifer and gave her an understanding nod.
"You need hardly say that you succeeded in getting money from Blake," he said, "for not even your whole garden full of hyacinths would have produced the £50 you gave your brother. That was the first thing that put me on the right track."
She stared at him in astonishment.
"How did you know?" she said, quickly. "But you are perfectly right. I had to account for the money somehow, and so I told him I had sold my flowers. And I blackmailed Blake! It was an awful thing to do but I was desperate. And I never thought of any harm coming to Lady Margaret, for he swore that she was in London, waiting for Sir Edgar at the Hotel Central. That is why I wired, afterward, so as to make up for it——"
"Wired?" cried Sir Edgar. "Do you mean to tell me it was you who sent me on that wild-goose chase to London?"
"I did not know it was that," she retorted a trifle angrily. "I thought it would get you into safety and give you back to her."
"But the telegram was an old one."
She blushed at the note in his voice, and looked at him defiantly.
"Yes," she said. "I sent it, and then—changed my mind. I got it back again before it reached you by intercepting the boy and bribing him with half a crown and the truth that I had sent it and then regretted it afterward. I had—my reasons!"
Sir Edgar looked away, as she lowered her head.
"But your good sense got the better of you later on, eh? And so you sent it along by a private messenger? I see——"
She lifted her head and looked at him very squarely in the eyes.
"Yes," she said. "I changed my mind again."
A moment's silence followed, then Bobby Wynne spoke.
"But I never knew a thing about Blake's impersonation, Jen," he said, apologetically, "and Inever guessed you'd go so far as to blackmail for me! I—I'm a bit of a rotter I know, but I'd never have let you dothat!"
"I know you wouldn't," she responded with a sudden smile as she looked at the boy's pale, shamed face. "You see," turning to the others, "I promised father always to look after him so that when I found a letter from Blake, telling Bobby to meet him at Cheyne Court, what else could I do but follow and go inside for the second time? I got into the house, but I was too late. I heard the sound of quarrelling though I couldn't tell if it were Bobby or not. So I hid myself on the landing until the voices stopped suddenly. I didn't dare to move, but I heard someone run upstairs right past where I had hidden myself in the landing linen cupboard. Then I got out and looked from the window. In the lane I saw Lady Brenton and recognized her gold scarf. What's more I saw Sir Edgar, too, and that frightened me! Then I went down myself and peeped in the dining room——"
She broke off with a little shudder of terror and Lady Margaret bent over and squeezed her hand impulsively.
"I could see the figure of Blake in his woman's clothes lying in the chair. I was just about to go over to him when a woman came through the window.She snatched up a revolver from the desk beside the window and shot straight at Blake.
"'You shan't do us, you devil, so don't you think it!' she cried, and threw the revolver down at Blake's side. I nearly died of fright for I recognized it as one that Miss Cheyne had treasured. It had belonged to Sir Edgar's father, she told me so herself once."
"It must have been Blake's own," interrupted Sir Edgar, in tones of deep conviction, "for I had the other one. Miss Cheyne threatened me with it a month ago, and I snatched it away and brought it home with me. But go on, Miss Wynne please."
"Just as I was examining it," continued Miss Wynne, ignoring the interruption in her eagerness to continue, "the man came in, and recognized me. I knew him to be one of the confederates of Blake and he said that he had seen Bobby kill the real Miss Cheyne but he would keep silent if I paid him. Outside in the lane I found Edgar—Dr. Verrall." She glanced shyly up at the pale young doctor, as if asking permission to finish her tale, and when he nodded emphatically, she continued speaking in a low, colourless voice: "He had heard the shots, and was about to investigate, but when he saw me, he was so afraid lest I should be seen and brought into the matter, that he turned back down the lane to see if the coast was clear. I should have escapedeven then had it not been for that gold scarf which I suddenly remembered I had left on the landing. I ran back for it, and it was then that that young assistant of yours caught me." She broke off, her story evidently finished.
"But who was the other woman?" put in Sir Edgar, as Jennifer sank back in her chair, apparently exhausted by the recital.
"I think," said Cleek, softly, "that Lady Margaret would probably know her."
"Aggie, the woman who waited on me," the girl cried. "Why, of course, that accounts for it. She came down into the cellar frightfully excited and did nothing but drink and drink. That was how the Hindoo, the other man I mean, was able to get me out of the vault. She had dropped off into a drunken stupor and nothing seemed to arouse her."
"I never thought of your being in the house," said Miss Wynne, as she looked piteously at Lady Margaret; "please forgive me! You don't know how desperate I was for money."
"It's all right," replied Lady Margaret, impulsively. "I don't think they would have hurt me, only when I discovered the trick, they did not know what to do. Thank Heaven I am safe out of it." She stretched out an impulsive hand to the other girl and their fingers met silently.
But Lady Brenton was eager to get on with the story.
"How did you come to discover where Margaret had been taken?" she asked Cleek who had sat silent during all this recital, listening to it with occasional nods as though he had heard it all already. "To think that I let that devil sit in my drawing room while all the time he was keeping her a prisoner——"
"I owe that to Dollops," said Cleek, with a friendly little nod to that worthy. "While making my investigations in the house, John and the woman Aggie caught me foul and made me a prisoner. They threatened indeed to kill me if I did not reveal where I had hidden Lady Margaret, which, of course, showed that she had been removed from the vault by someone unknown to them. At that time I was as much in the dark as they themselves, but a strong gleam of sunlight revealed caught in the window frame two little shreds, one of gold, the fatal gold scarf again, and one of tweed, smelling strongly of jasmine. I guessed then that she was either in the hands of Gunga Dall or of the Hindoo priests, and I was right.
"Afterward, when I found the animals down in the vaults and came upon the circus with no animals in it—not the temptation of a £5 note would procureme a look at one—I knew their purpose. It remained then but to see that they were not removed that night, and also to keep guard over the caravan, which you may be sure I did....
"Suspicion pointed to so many people—even including yourself, Lady Brenton," he added with an odd little smile at the lady's start of surprise.
"Would it astonish you very much to know that you yourself were really in Cheyne Court on the nights of both murders?"
A little gasp of amazement came from the listeners and Lady Brenton looked up with blanched face and dilated eyes.