"Bloodstains?"
Three pairs of feminine lips voiced that sinister word simultaneously: Lady Paula's, Cynthia's, and Maud Duggan's.
"But how, Mr. Deland?— But why?— And upon Cynthia's dress, too!"
"Well, I'll swear I never had anything to do with it, anyhow!" threw in Cynthia emphatically and in a voice of astonishment. "Howcouldthey be bloodstains, Mr. Deland? and how could they possibly get onmyfrock? Solve that question, if you please, first of all."
"Quite a simple one, Miss Debenham. Just this: The murderer—or one of them, as the case may be—entered this room by that middle window, stabbed Sir Andrew with the stiletto, stolen for the purpose, of course—then, in a frenzy lest he be discovered, caught hold of the nearest thing and wiped the bloodstained instrument upon it, and then made off as quickly as possible. You happened to be the nearest, no doubt. So you were the person chosen. Did you not feel anything at all of the action?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing that I remember. We were all so astonished when the light failed that I don't remember anything at all about it. If it was done, it was done gently—and my skirt is wide."
"And you think the murderer, the perpetrator of this wicked crime, was a man, then, Mr. Deland?" put in the soft voice of Lady Paula at this juncture.
Cleek spun around toward her, nodding emphatically.
"I do, indeed. No woman could have arranged the thing like this, Lady Paula. The electricity would have been too difficult a problem for her, in the first place, and then the shooting——"
"And how do you account forthat, Mr. Deland?"
"Ah, that is a more difficult matter. How? By whose hand? We will get back to our stage rehearsal for that, I think. Mr. Narkom, would you sit down again in the chair? Thanks very much. It's only just for a moment. Now, if you ladies would take up your positions again as they were, I'd be very much obliged. Let me see. The shot entered the temple here above the left eye and passed clean through the head into the wall of the room beyond. An acute angle of fifty degrees. H'm. That would bring it to about over there and to a level with the top of that wood-panelling. Then the bullet must be located somewhere in that vicinity, from all logical reasonings. But where?Come, Mr. Narkom, just a moment. Lend me your keen eyes, will you? And we'll have a look together. It'll want careful looking, I'll warrant. But the panelling's in fine condition and shows every mark. I— Gad! and here it is too!"
His finger paused upon a slight, dark puncture in the darkness of the wood, and he whirled round and faced them all, eyes alight, face aglow, and marking the spot with his finger-nail. "Here, lend me your knife, my friend, and we'll dig it out. That will establish a pretty good clue, I can promise you. And a soundless pistol-shot—an air-gun. It ought to be easy to trace the owner ofthat, in desolate parts like this. Well, here goes!"
A moment's careful prodding with the point of the knife, and the thing was done. The bullet—an infinitesimal thing—fell out into the palm of his hand. Then, of a sudden, he swung around in his tracks toward them. His face was grim.
"Look here," he said, in the sharp staccato of excitement, "what I want to know is, who of this company possesses an air-gun? For that someone does I am certain. That shot must have been fired at close range—by the depth to which it was embedded in this wood. Mr. Duggan, do you happen to own an air-pistol?"
The last remnant of colour drained itself out of Ross Duggan's already pale cheeks. His eyes narroweddown to pin-points in the frame of his face. Then his chin went up.
"I do, Mr. Deland."
"H'm. I thought as much. And if you were standing there, opposite your father, and with no one at the right side of you, and only the space of the bow-window between you and the outside world—taking into consideration the enormous amount of misguided reason which you might have to commit such a terrible crime—as I said before, if you moved quickly over there, side stepping, so that the shot might miss any of the ladies opposite after passing through Sir Andrew's brain, and—if the lights failed at a given and arranged moment, and you whipped out your revolver and fired, itmightbring about just this identical result."
"I ... my God! man, you're not accusing me of murdering my own father, are you? You're daft—insane—idiotic!"
Cleek held up a silencing hand.
"I'm not accusing anybody, Mr. Duggan; simply reconstructing matters for the purpose of finding out the true assassins. And, as I told you last night, every one, according to English law, may be considered guilty until he be proved innocent. Suspicions seem to point heavily to you, I must say. But we've got to have more facts, of course.
"He didn't do it, Mr. Deland! Of course he didn't do it!"
Cynthia shrilled out these words suddenly, rushing toward Cleek and fastening her hands about his arm. "You're mad to suggest such a thing, to even think it! My Ross wouldn't stoop tomurderfor a beastly inheritance! You don't know him as I do—as all these others do. It's incredible."
"Quite true, Miss Debenham. But let's ask Mr. Narkom what he thinks of it. He's kept his peace during this session, proving himself, no doubt, a wiser man than I. Mr. Narkom, give us your views, please. Who doyouthink has committed this crime, according to present evidence?"
"That man!" Mr. Narkom pointed excitedly in Ross's direction, his fat face red with excitement, his forehead perspiring with the heat of his excitement. "Hefired the shot. But the stiletto—that is a more difficult question."
"And you think Mr. Duggan actually did kill his father, then? No, no, sir, I beg of you, let us finish this discussion before you interrupt. It might lead to something really enlightening. You think that, Mr. Narkom? Considering the position in which the shot was fired, and the position in which Mr. Duggan himself stood last night?"
"Decidedly I do."
"H'm. I'm sorry. But I'm inclined to agree. But the evidence, I admit, is at present slight—the actual circumstantial evidence, I mean. You're not going to—arrest—him on that, I hope?"
Arrest! The fateful word fell upon that assemblage with truly sinister meaning. Arrest Ross! Arrest him! Impossible! Upon every face these thoughts might be read—except upon Lady Paula's, where, indeed, a sort of secret and hidden triumph seemed to glow like a light lit from within. Cleek flashed his eyes over every face. He paused at Lady Paula's for one moment, and then went on to Ross's—and ended up at length upon Catherine Dowd's. It was transfigured! Transfigured with hate of himself, with love of Ross: the two most intense feelings in human nature warring with each other upon it to be uppermost. That look of hatred made him positively shiver. If the woman had had any real reason for the crime, could she not have been the perpetrator of the stabbing episode? But she hadn't any reason, at least none that could be at present discovered. One would have to go deeper than that for motive.
"Well, Mr. Narkom?"
The Superintendent was looking frankly uncomfortable. Cleek's direct action in front of them all had somewhat winded him. He was not used to such out-and-out tactics, even in the methods of a man who was the most amazing beggar he had ever struck.
"I—I—well, hardly that, my dear chap," he responded awkwardly. "We've got to have more proof than that, you know. A judge won't hanga man upon the evidence of his possible position in a room when the light went out. It—it isn't feasible!"
"Well done, well done!" Cleek laughed the words softly into his ear. "So, Mr. Duggan, you are free—for the present. But understand, you are on parole and must not leave this house unaccompanied by a constable or plain-clothes man. This thing's got to be sifted to the bottom, and, what's more, it's going to be, too. And whoever has murdered that poor old man will swing for it, so help me God!"
The silence that followed this last solemn remark of Cleek's was fraught with unknown, tremendous issues. One could have heard a pin drop in the still room. Then at last Lady Paula stirred.
"You have finished, Mr. Deland— Mr. Narkom? I may go now?"
"In one more moment, Lady Paula. There is simply the matter of the will now to be thrashed out before you disperse and leave us to work out the problem as best we may. You have, no doubt, put it away, Mr. Duggan? I didn't see it here when I investigated early this morning."
"I've done nothing of the sort, Mr. Deland."
"Oh!—-is that so? I beg you pardon. Then perhaps you, Miss Duggan?"
"Certainly not. I've never laid a finger upon it!" returned she, with a shake of the head and amazement written all over her countenance. "I've never thought about it again from that moment to this! Why, of course it must have been upon the table when—when poor Father met his—death.He was just about to alter the name when the light went out."
"Then you were using the electric switch last night instead of the customary lamp, I take it?"
"Yes. Father did use it at intervals, and I suppose in this case he thought it better for seeing with. For it was certainly on. A lamp could never have failed as that light did, Mr. Deland. No doubt it would have been better if we had not used the electricity, for the dreadful thing could never have taken place then, could it?"
"And so we must put that down to Ross, and lay the whole blame uponhim, at any rate!" snapped out Lady Paula in an angry voice; and Cleek thought, for a woman so shortly bereft, she was singularly well recovered from the shock—if it had ever been one in the first instance. "For if he had not installed this dreadful thing, then surely, surely my poor, poor husband would never have met with his death at all!'
"Oh, have done with your nagging, Paula!" responded Ross irritably as she ceased speaking.
And Cleek obtained silence simply by stepping into the breach himself.
"Well," he said serenely, "the will has disappeared, at any rate. No servant has touched it, I suppose? Or entered this room last night before I came, Miss Duggan?"
"None that I know of. It's peculiar, to say the least of it."
H'm. Then among this little company around and about him Cleek registered the fact that one might include a thief and a murderer. Not any too pleasant a thought, when the guilt could not definitely be fixed upon any single one. But stay!—there was the boy Cyril, and if that will had been stolen, why should not he have done it as much as anybody? He and his mother would benefit more if the will disappeared entirely than by the simple bequests which Maud Duggan had told him had been left to them. A widow had always a third share by law, that was an understood thing; and a third share of this enormous estate meant a good deal more than one at first imagined. The boy Cyril must be interviewed in due course.
Then there was another point to be taken up, the question of Captain Macdonald's presence in these grounds last night, shortly after the murder had taken place. That gentleman must account for his movements in the proper quarter. And if by any chance there were footprints outside that very window, then—b'gad! he, too, might be included in the circle of possible criminals.
He strode quickly over to the window and leaned out of it, looking down upon the flower-bed beneath it, just a matter of three feet or so, and the little walled-in courtyard that girt it about. Eh? what? There were marks in the soft earth, and plenty of 'em!
Then the assembled company fairly gasped at hisnext action, while Mr. Narkom, knowing him better than they did, pelted over to the window and leaned out of it. For Cleek had climbed upon the ledge and had let himself down—light as a cat—down on to the bed, and stood looking in through the window at them with serenely smiling face.
"Gad!" he ejaculated excitedly. "Well, and why not? Footprints!... Constable, just nip along into the village, and fetch me back Captain Angus Macdonald. I want to speak to him rather particularly. Tell him it's the Law—and that he's got to come—and he'll come along pretty lively, I can promise you."
The constable nipped along forthwith, while of a sudden Maud Duggan's flushed face went white as a dead face, and her eyes fairly blazed at him.
"Captain Macdonald! Oh, it's ridiculous, Mr. Deland!—absurd! What on earth are you dragginghimin for? You must be mad to think for one moment——"
Cleek held up a silencing hand before he dropped to the ground and began peering at the footprints in the soft earth through a magnifying glass.
"I don't think, Miss Duggan—it's a policeman's business toknow," he retorted; and then set about his task, while those others in the fateful room crowded about the open window and stood looking down at him with blank, unhappy faces.
Carefully he measured their length with his littlefoot-rule and noted the size down in his pocketbook. Then he fitted one of his own slim feet into the indentation, saw that it was rather larger and broader, stepped back upon the courtyard and faced them, all clustering about him, with serene countenance.
"A fair-sized boot, ladies and gentlemen," he remarked; "quite a fair-sized boot! Number tens, if I know anything of sizes. And looks like hunting-boots, too. Evidently a chap who rides. Now, this Captain Macdonald, Lady Paula——"
"One of the finest horsemen in the country," she returned, with a shrugging of shoulders and an uplifting of brows.
"Ah! Just so. That was what I imagined when I saw—when I encountered him here in these grounds last night. Light of foot, and the proper build, too. He'll no doubt be along in the course of another three quarters of an hour (if Jameson doesn't have a dickens of a job locating him), so in the meanwhile, if Mr. Narkom is willing, we'll take a little turn together and talk over things, and then come back to you here in the allotted time. Willing, Mr. Narkom?"
"Perfectly willing."
And so it came about that, arm in arm, the two friends went off together down by the wide driveway that led to the great doors of wrought-iron which Rhea so ably guarded, and Cleek, stopping in the pathway, pointed up to the statue etched out againstthe sky in sinister outline, and told Mr. Narkom the story of it.
"Cinnamon! But what a magnificent thing it is!" ejaculated that gentleman with awe, when the tale was finished. "That's something to be proud of—eh, old chap? Now, if I had a fellow like that for an ancestor there'd be no living with me at all! These old families!—there's certainly something in this thing they call Birth and Race—though for the life of me I never can make it out."
"No," thought Cleek, with a smile, "you wouldn't." But he said nothing, merely passed on toward the iron gates, and seeing that they had been left ajar, clanged them to sharply behind them.
"He'll ring his great bell when the latch falls—that's his ceremonious way of welcoming the coming and speeding the parting guest," threw in Cleek with a laugh. "I'm going to shove down the latch now, so watch him, my friend. Here goes!"
He sent the door clanging to with a vigorous pull, but—not a sound rang out over the still air. Rhea had failed in his duty for once in his whole long, dutiful lifetime. Cleek spun round and looked at him, face gone suddenly blank.
"What the—that's the funniest thing! It's never failed before, except last night, when I found it conveniently ajar," he ejaculated, staring up at the sky. "Unless—perhaps it would have failed last night, too. There's no knowing. But MissDuggan assured me positively that the thing had never been stopped. But if ithadbeen stopped for this very happening last night, to silence the approach of an unwanted visitor, what's to prevent 'em from swaddling the clapper up—and not had time to undo it again? And yet, when the Inspector came it rang all right. No—thattheory won't hold water, my friend."
"What's that you're mumbling about, Cleek?" threw in Mr. Narkom at this juncture. "Clapper swaddled up? You surely don't think the bell's been stopped for any purpose?"
"No—simply to protect the sensitive ears of the housekeeper," threw back Cleek with a contemptuous laugh; and then whirled around upon him and caught him by the shoulder. "Forgive me, old friend. My tongue scampers ahead of my heart sometimes, which is a very poor trait for a policeman to possess. What I mean to say is simply this: Up to yesterday that bell rang—even when we came here for the first time—for I have the evidence of my own ears to prove it. And now—it doesn't ring. So what's prevented it? I'm going up to see."
"Cleek, my dear fellow!—to climb that height! And in daylight, too!"
"What's the harm? say I—if you'll keep watch and tell me of approaching visitors. Here goes! Keep your eyes peeled upon the high-road, Mr.Narkom, because it wouldn't do to be seen, y'know and if any one approaches, whistle 'God Save the King,' and I'll slip into a hiding-place somewhere until the coast's clear. And don't tell any strangers who you are, will you?"
Mr. Narkom acceded to all these requests with a quick nod, took up his post by the gateway leading out upon the road, and let his startled eyes travel backward now and again at Cleek's nimble, crawling figure climbing steadily up the sides of the huge gates, like a lizard upon a wall. Up, up, up he went, scaling the height and clinging here and there to the twists of iron and bronze that made an easy foot-hold—until, just as the summit was reached, and he was standing abreast of the enormous figure and looking up into its great face, with the bell dangling from the bar of iron upon which he stood, he heard the sound of "God Save the King" floating up to him in Mr. Narkom's whistle, darted quickly through the giant's legs, and drew himself up against the back of him and—hoped for luck. The sound of two men's voices—and one of them the Superintendent's—reached him where he stood upon the narrow ledge. He recognized the other as that of the bailiff, James Tavish, whom he had encountered upon the high-road only yesterday.
Mr. Narkom dallied with him for so long, passing the time of day and making tactless inquiries about the murder, in his blunderbuss fashion ("Dear oldbungler!" Cleek apostrophized him inwardly), that he began to wonder when the man would ever go. Then at length the voices ceased, and he saw Tavish's fine, well-set-up figure swing off in front of him up the driveway, and then himself slid back to the outer side of the statue, lest the bailiff look back, and waited until Mr. Narkom whistled "Coast all clear" again.
This done, Cleek swung himself down carefully, clinging on with knees and feet in a most impossible and seemingly dangerous position which brought a hasty warning from Mr. Narkom, and—found the clapper of the bell at last. It wasn't such a big bell—not much bigger than a man's head, but wrought of solid bronze, which made it almost impossible for him to swing it up on its chain to the platform upon which he hung poised above it. But somehow he managed to do the thing, and Mr. Narkom, watching with his heart in his mouth, saw his hand dive down inside of the bell and fumble there a moment. Then he heard Cleek's quick whistle of surprise as he swung the bell silently back again, and came down once more—empty-handed!
"Well, what did you discover?" hastily exclaimed the Superintendent as Cleek came to earth at last and stood dusting himself. "Or wasn't there anything at all? Was the bell muffledbeforelast night's tragedy, Cleek—or is it simply a bird's nest that'slodged there and stopped the thing? I'm on tenterhooks to know."
"And know you shall, old friend," said Cleek, straightening himself from his self-imposed task and giving his cravat a twitch with nimble fingers to its correct position once more. "It wasn't a bird's nest—not by a long chalk! More like a hornet nest, I should say, between you and me; but that's apart from the question. And it wasn't muffled before the tragedy, either, Mr. Narkom. It was muffledafter! Pretty strange, isn't it?... Yes, I thought you'd think so. Well, anyhow, I'm coming to-night to remove the 'muffling' object when the rest of the people are in bed, and I want you to help me by keeping on the watch-out. We're due for a full moon to-night, and that'll help matters. So Rhea's in the mystery, too, is he? Umm. A difficult subject to tackle as well, on account of his silence. But he's told me something this day that has unravelledoneportion of the riddle, at all events. And when I've unravelled the remainder, you shall hear what it is.
"Now for Dollops, and the Three Fishers. I'm anxious to hear that 'Crown and Anchor' story from his own lips. And I've other work for him. So come along."
It was a full hour by the clock when Captain Macdonald, in the hands of his burly captor, and looking as furious as it is possible for a man to look in such circumstances, entered the library at Aygon Castle, where already Mr. Narkom, Cleek, and all the other members of that ill-assorted and tragic party were already assembled, and, looking neither to right nor left of him, pushed past Maud Duggan's detaining fingers and went straight up to his man on sight.
"Look here!" he said angrily, as, hat in hand, he stood before Cleek, his countenance showing a little of what he felt inside his hot young heart. "What the deuce—what the dickens do you mean by sendin' a beastly policeman for me? That's what I want to know! I was on my way up here—the awful thing that has just happened I only heard this morning through my groom, who met one of the Castle grooms in the village, and he told him—and I was comin' up to see if I could be any help, when up comes my lord constable, seizes me by the sleeve, tips his cap, and says, 'You've got tocome along with me'—just as if I'd picked a blessed pocket or something! I'm dashed well furious I can tell you! And I want an apology at once. Thought there was somethin' decidedly fishy in your appearance here in the Castle grounds last night, and now I know what you were about for."
"But, unfortunately, I don't know whatyouwere about for, Captain," retorted Cleek with a one-sided smile. "And that's exactly what I sent for you to find out. After you have explained yourself so fully and so—so emphatically—in the presence of these ladies, I will now claim a little of your time and attention for myself.
"You were perfectly right. I happened to be coming here, upon this very unpleasant and tragic errand, at the summons of Miss Maud Duggan——"
"Maudsent for you?"
"She did. We had a prearranged signal—she'll probably tell you all about it"—he smiled at her sad young face, a hint of tenderness in his own. "You see, we happen to be friendsthroughfriends, if you can follow what I mean. Miss Duggan's school-mate and chum chances to be the lady who has done me the honour to promise to become my wife, and of course it was naturally a firm link between us."
"Maud's school-friend?" The Captain's voice was incredulous. "And you? A—a policeman! Damned funny!"
"As you say—veryfunny," returned Cleek, withan ironical bow. "But I must beg of you, my good Captain, to curb your language a little before the ladies. It's not done, you know, in the best society—even a mere policeman knows that. And as all this is entirely beyond the point I'm aiming at, let's get down to brass tacks at once. What I want to know is—what were you doing here last night, when the crime had only just been committed? And why did I encounter you, running from the direction of the house as fast as your feet could carry you? That's what I want to know."
A sudden gasp of amazement from Maud Duggan, hastily suppressed, brought Cleek's eyes round to her instantly. Meanwhile, the Captain, going red and white by turns, started to speak, hesitated, and then commenced again, looking the very picture of abject discomfort and unhappiness.
At last:
"Well, if you want so much to know—find out for yourself," he broke out in a sulky tone. "For I'm not going to tell you—that's flat! I've had nothing whatsoever to do with the beastly affair, and you know it. And if you don't know it, it won't take you long to find out. But what I was doing here last night is my private affair, and nothing to do with anybody."
"Oho!" said Cleek in two different tones, arching an eyebrow in Mr. Narkom's direction. "Still more emphatic, I must say! And 'absolutely refuse,'too! The Law takes no refusals, Captain Macdonald, and if you don't know that fact, you'd better learn it now. And if you and Mr. Ross Duggan happen to be friends——"
"We are friends—the best of 'em, eh, old chap?" from Ross himself.
"Very well, then. All I can say is that you are harming Mr. Duggan's case with your ridiculous silence, and if you're not pretty careful, might end in driving him into the prisoner's dock."
It was a "tall order"—and it almost carried, but not quite. For Macdonald gave out a smothered exclamation of amazement, swung around and looked at Ross, and then, meeting Maud Duggan's agonized eyes, tightened his mouth and faced Cleek again with the set expression upon his face.
"Ross Duggan's no murderer—and you know it, dash you!" he gave out in a harsh, curt voice. "And it's no business of yours what I was doing here last night. I'm a friend of the family——"
"But forbidden the house, I take it?"
Macdonald flushed an ugly crimson.
"You're exceedin'ly well informed upon family affairs, I must say!" he retorted tartly. "Yes—forbidden the house by the master of it (poor old chap!) and therefore—well, I'm not goin' to say any more. It may implicate someone else who's entirely innocent, and you won't get my mouth open with a sledge-hammer and a nail!"
"And no necessity for it, either—you dunderheaded young donkey!" thought Cleek amusedly. "For if you haven't given the whole show away, and made it perfectly plain to everybody that you were meeting your sweetheart—or about to do so—then my name's not Cleek—which, of course, it isn't! And there's no telling but that you're a better actor than you make out! And this may be a 'blind'—but at present there's no 'cover' to draw, so we'll be off cantering in the other direction until the scent's a bit stronger inyours." Aloud, he turned to the irate young man with a slight bow, and spoke in his easy, calm manner.
"Well, if you won't, you won't. These are not the days of the thumbscrew and the rack, Captain Macdonald, and a man's tongue cannot be made to speak by any other means than a little confinement in a prison cell. And I don't think that's really necessary, in your case, do you, Mr. Narkom? So we'll let that pass for the present. But I'd like you to understand that—on account of your refusing to acquaint us with the facts of your presence here in the grounds of this place last night—we are obliged, in the maintenance of Law and Order, to put you upon your parole."
"Thanks very much."
Captain Macdonald bowed, with much mockery of lip and gesture, and then, turning to the others in that silent little knot of spectators, made his wayover to the side of Maud Duggan, whose face was as pale as a dead face, and in whose eyes lurked the suspicion of a great fear, and laid his hand upon her arm.
They conversed for a moment or two in low voices utterly oblivious of those others who were searching their faces with curious eyes, while in the background Ross Duggan fidgeted with his watch-chain and sent his handsome eyes searching each figure in that still room, as though in an endeavour to find a clue therein which would lift the pall of hateful suspicion from his own shoulders.
Cleek surveyed them critically. It was an abominably personal sort of case, to say the least of it. And not much to his liking. But the element of mystery in the whole affair gripped his interest in spite of these other drawbacks.
Of course there was no truth in the cock-and-bull story of the Peasant Girl—that went without saying. But that it had been used as a "blind" to cover the real perpetrators of the crime was evident to his mind. And whytwoof them? For in each case death would have been caused instantaneously. He looked down at the spinning wheel standing there in the recess of the window, and tried to link the thing up with it. But there seemed no peg to hang a clue upon there. Obviously the thing had been "worked" with just such an idea to disguise its real purport.
Then he thought of the letters that he had found in the desk, hidden away and yellowed with Time's fingers, and tied about with faded ribbon. And of a sudden something flashed across his face which, Mr. Narkom watching him as a cat does a mouse and knowing to a nicety what those expressions so often meant, made that worthy gentleman positively jump with excitement.
Cleek smiled at him and shook a head over his eagerness. Then he turned to the rest of them.
"No need now to prolong this unpleasant and unhappy interview," he said quietly. "Mr. Duggan has given his parole, and also the worthy Captain over there. The Yard's men will do the rest. But I must renew my request that none of you leaves this house to-day, or goes beyond the walls of the garden, unless under special permission from Mr. Narkom or myself. Just for to-day, my friends. By to-morrow perhaps the riddle may be solved, or its end in sight. But for the next twenty-four hours I must beg your assistance, every one of you, to bring it to a successful and definite close."
His request had an immediate and almost eager response. For there was not one of that little band of anxious people who was not glad to be released from the unpleasant and searching questionings of the Law, as represented by this bland gentleman of the fine manner and the polished ways, who seemed, indeed, as good as they were (if not better),and who met them upon the grounds of an equality which was hardly to be expected from one of his calling.
Maud and the Captain walked away together conversing in low voices, their faces grave. Ross, Cynthia Debenham, and Catherine Dowd—lagging a little behind, and favouring Cleek with a look of venomous hatred cast back at him over her shoulder as she passed through the open door—turned toward the terrace, where they all sat down and discussed the thing from every point of view within their reach, and came to no definite ending at all; while Lady Paula, summoning Miss McCall with a regal gesture, rose from her chair, bowed charmingly to each of the two men left in the room, and withdrew to the safety and peace of her own boudoir.
When the door had shut upon the last of them, Cleek began pacing the room excitedly, pulling at his chin and gnawing at his lower lip, which gestures brought Mr. Narkom to the conclusion that he was indulging in a "jolly good think!"
"There's more in those letters than meets the eye," Cleek said aloud, apostrophizing the wall-paper and the fireplace in turn. "H'm. Not a doubt of it. 'Jeannette.' Something Scotch in the flavour of that, eh, Mr. Narkom?... Yes, that's my opinion, too. It wouldn't take a hammer and a nail to drivethatfact home, anyhow. And the date of 'emsome seventeen years back.... But it's the 'humming sound' which gets me, I swear. Can't account for that, anyhow. Might be a dynamo, but there isn't a dynamo in the place, and no need for it, either. Plain stabbing and shooting upon the face of it. We'll go for a prowl this afternoon, old friend, and see what new lands we can discover."
"All right. I'm your man, Cleek—the same as always," returned Mr. Narkom affectionately, as he slapped Cleek on the shoulder with his broad hand, and then slipped it about his ally's neck and kept pace with him up and down the narrow room.
"Anything that's going—withyouin it—will find me on the spot, too. I'm a bit of a slow-mover, I know—but you're such a lightning-bug of a creature that there's not a soul on earth can keep pace with you. Have you looked into that laundry-bill question you were dickering about a while ago?"
Cleek threw back his head and laughed.
"I have. But there's nothing doing there, as yet. The particular maid I questioned has got a bilious attack this afternoon and can't go over the lists for me. But I'm to hear to-morrow morning for certain.... Itisrather a teaser for you, isn't it, old chap? But you must bear with me until I've unravelled the ends myself, and when that's done, I'll put 'em into your hands, and you can wind 'em up for me into a tidy little ball. Let's get amove on now, there's a good fellow. By the way, who's the guilty partynow, eh?"
Mr. Narkom scratched his head perplexedly and let a full minute elapse before replying.
"It's a dickens of a tangle, looking at it any way," he returned dejectedly. "I could have sworn that chap Ross Duggan had murdered his father for the simple motive of keeping his name in the will and of course the namewasn'terased, after all, was it? That's a black point against him. But this flustery-blustery-Captain-chap with his lord-high-almighty ways rather took the wind out of my sails. And when you said you had encountered him last night, Cleek, you could have knocked me down with a feather. How did it happen?"
"Oh—caught him running as hard as he could from the direction of the lawns beyond this window, and fell plump into him as the best way to attract his attention," returned Cleek serenely. "I thought it strange that he should be there at such a time. And he looked half-scared out of his wits, too. Expected me to tell the household, I suppose. Rather officious young chap, I must say—but I've a sneaking liking for him, all the same. D'you think he did the shooting, then?"
"Not a doubt of it!" Mr. Narkom was emphatic.
"Oh! And why, do you suppose?"
"Um—ah! Well, that's got to be discovered yet. Never know, Cleek; there might be some hiddenbusiness in this affair in which this Captain is involved. Anyhow, I doubt him—tremendously. Didn't ring true, I thought. Rather too noisy and all that."
"And you believe in the adage that 'empty vessels make the most sound,' I take it?" rejoined Cleek with a smile. "Well, perhaps you're right. Only I wouldn't call that young gentleman an empty vessel.... Anyhow, this evening will elucidate matters a little. For I'm going to remove that muffling for the nonce, and substitute another one. And it ought to prove quite an enlightening job, too!"
So saying, he swung out of the courtyard of the house, vaulting the window lightly, and reaching a helping hand up to Mr. Narkom, who came through less easily, perspiring at every pore. And suddenly Cleek's finger went up to his lips, and with a hasty "Hush!" for his wheezy comrade, he drew back into the screen of the bushes, standing as still as a statue, all eyes, while the amazing thing came to pass!
"Did you see that, Mr. Narkom? Did you see that?" rapped out Cleek excitedly, when—a few minutes later—he stepped free from the detaining bushes and beckoned the Superintendent from his hiding-place. "Recognize the cut ofthatlady—eh? And notice anything else about her?"
"Only that she looked like that Lady Paula Duggan who was here a few minutes ago," rejoined Mr. Narkom breathlessly. "But what had she got that black thing over her head for?—sort of veil, wasn't it? Couldn't see her face through—and gad! but how lightly she stepped!"
"Rubber shoes, my dear fellow! Where were your eyes?" snapped Cleek with a hasty exclamation. "Off somewhere where she doesn't want to be seen. I'll swear. And as this courtyard leads out into the backwoods of the place, to that forest ridge which girts it about, and thence on to the Great Free Road as it's called, she's meeting someone whom she doesn't want any one to see—and doesn't want to be discovered in the act, either....Hello! here's Dollops at last! Just the very chap I was wanting. Here, lad, there's work for you. Run along and track down that lady in black who is disappearing so rapidly up there by the right-hand side of the hedge—and keeping pretty close to it, too, for shelter from the watching eye in the household. Gad! lucky thing we came out this way, Mr. Narkom, and caught her napping. She never thought ofthat, I suppose. Seems a woman of one idea all through, doesn't she? The beautiful, sleepy-eyed cat-creature! I've met her kind before. All purr and softness when she's a friend—and a perfect she-devil when an enemy. Now, then, Dollops, your legs are nimble, so slip up after her, but don't on any account let her know you're doing it. And I'll follow in a moment or two. But don't let her get away without discovering where she's going to. Mr. Narkom, you wait here, will you, and keep watch in case she returns, or any one else in the know follows after, while I nip up to the lady's boudoir, and enquire where she has gone to. I'll dare swear she's 'lying down with a headache and has given orders not to be disturbed.'"
And his imaginings proved to be correct, for that was exactly the case. For Miss McCall, encountered in the outer passage from her lady's room, with coat and hat on, and pulling on a pair of neatly darned cotton gloves, met him, blushed like the timidlittle thing she was, and answered him in all faith that what she spoke was true.
"Lady Paula? I believe she's lying down, Mr. Deland. She told me on no account to disturb her and to let everyone else know that she wished a couple of hours' quiet," she said in her soft, gentle voice, lifting her timid eyes to his face. "It's been a shock, I suppose"—her face and voice hardened—"but she'll get over it—as she gets over everything else that happens to worry her. She said she'd be down for tea, however; and Master Cyril has gone off with Mr. Duggan and his fiancée for a walk round the laboratory. It's—it's all very sad, Mr. Deland, isn't it?"
"Very," rejoined Cleek. "Very sad, indeed. For a house divided against itself, Miss McCall—you know the rest of the biblical quotation. And I'm afraid that is exactly what will happen in this case.... Oh, well, lying down, is she? Then I won't disturb her. Going out?"
"Yes. Just along to Mr. Tavish's cottage, at the bottom of the drive," she responded a trifle drearily. "Mr. Tavish and I, you know, are—engaged. I have tea with him sometimes, and try to do some of his mending. It's hard for a man to live alone, as he does."
"Indeed it is. Engaged? Then may I offer you my congratulations, Miss McCall? I won't detain you any longer, as I know you must be anxious toget along. A little freedom in the fresh air will do you good. We shall meet again later, I've no doubt. Good-bye."
She nodded to him brightly and disappeared down the hill, and Cleek could hear her soft feet beating upon the carpet as she passed down the stairs.
Once out of sight of her, he darted into the room which he knew was Lady Paula's, and closed the door softly behind him, turning the key in the lock. It was just the sort of boudoir he would have imagined her choosing—a place all soft pillows and low divans, and hung in silks of Eastern colourings, so that it resembled nothing so much as the home of a sultan's favourite, from the low Turkish stool standing by the couch-side, with the little filigree box of cigarettes upon it, accompanied by a match-caseen suite, to a tiny jewelled inlaid holder bearing a half-smoked cigarette in it. Cleek picked it up, smelt it, smelt it again, and then pursed his lips up into a low whistle of astonishment.
"My lady indulges in a delicate drug now and again, does she?" he told himself, examining the thing with some distaste. "And for that reason one may find excuse for the hysteria of this morning. That lends fresh colour to the case, certainly. For a drug-fiend in plain parlance is little more than a fool, and a half-balanced fool at that.... I'll take a peep at those drawers in that secretaire, my lady, and see if you have anything to reveal to me. Foranambitiousdrug-fiend would stop at nothing to gain her own ends, and if those same ends should happen to be such a heritage asthisfor her son and herself.... Hello! what's this? Tablets, eh? But the bottle unmarked."
He drew one out of the little phial and laid it in the palm of his hand, and with the other thumb as piston, ground it down to fine powder and then, sniffed it, recollecting that story which Maud Duggan had told him of her suspicions with regard to the poisoning of her father. But after he had touched the tip of his tongue to it, he smiled a little.
"H'm. Nothing but aspirin. I thought as much, certainly, when she told me the story. So that explodesthatlittle theory once and for all—if there was anything in it from the beginning.... Nicely appointed chamber, I must say." He walked leisurely about it, lifting a pillow there, and dropping it back into its place, and straightening the set of a chair, pushed out of its usual position by a very obvious hurry of the room's occupant.
And he was just in the act of doing this trivial thing when he came upon a little screw of paper lying in a twisted ball beneath a chair which stood close up to the Turkish stool, and evidently dropped by accident (which undoubtedly was the fact). Cleek stooped to pick it up, smoothed it out in his fingers, and then of a sudden sucked in his breath, and every muscle in that well-organized frame of hiswent taut as iron. For the paper—innocent as it looked—contained news which certainly was enough to startle the most unsuspicious police-constable in existence. For, written across its surface, having neither name nor address nor date, and in a calligraphy which was undoubtedly foreign, were the words: