CHAPTER XIIITHE EARL OF LEDBURY INTERVENES
My firstthought, when I knew that Violet’s confession was still undestroyed, was to hide the fact from her. I must spare her the torturing apprehensions that I felt myself. Fortunately she did not seem to be thinking of her own danger; at all events, she put no questions to me about the letters. Perhaps she took it for granted that I had secured them, or that they were no longer in existence. At all events, the possibility that they might be in other hands as dangerous as Weathered’s did not seem to strike her at the moment. The idea that I had murdered Weathered overpowered all her faculties.
Again and again I went over with her all that had happened.
“I don’t believe that I killed him,” I told her with the utmost earnestness. “Surely you can trust me to know what I was doing. I am not an ordinary doctor. I have made a special study of poisons, as the pupil, I may say the favourite pupil, of the greatest expert alive. I am prepared to swear to you or in any court of justice that the dose I gave him would not have killed any man in a normal condition of health. Sir Frank Tarleton and I both observed symptoms that point to some other drug having been administered to Weathered. Remember that youwere not his only patient, and you are not likely to have been the only one whose confidence he abused. The Domino Club probably swarmed with his enemies, in fact the manageress as good as told us so. His own step-daughter asserts that there were other women with whom he had mysterious relations——”
“Other women!” She interrupted me with a cry of dismay. “Do you mean—does she know anything about me?”
I recollected Sarah Neobard’s fierce denunciation, and the scene she had described, when she sat with her hired spy in the restaurant watching the persecuted girl. I tried to explain away my unlucky slip.
“No, no; I didn’t mean that for a moment. She told us that her step-father had dealings with some of his women patients, and one of the waiters in the Club described some women who were there that night. He described me among others; that is to say, he described the costume I was wearing. But he suspected that it was worn by a man. He must have keen eyes.”
“Then you are under suspicion!” Her anxiety was instantly diverted from herself to me again.
“Not at all,” I answered. “No one has the least suspicion who the wearer of the costume really was. The police made inquiries, and all they learned was that a similar costume had been supplied to you a year ago. They followed up the clue, and found that you were down here on the night, so that it musthave been someone else in the Club. Now you see why I sent it back to you. If Sir Frank Tarleton says anything about it, all you have to do is to say that you remember having such a costume, and offer to find it and show it to him. He and the police will naturally believe that the one worn at the Club that night was a duplicate.”
Violet looked a little uncertain, as she had some excuse for being. I thought I might venture now to ask her to come back to the house to meet my formidable chief.
“Sir Frank will be there by the time that we get down,” I said. “He has gone for an hour’s stroll in the park.”
She put her hand to her head as she stood up and prepared to come with me.
“Will he ask me anything else? What were you going to tell me just now?”
“The numbers,” I reminded her. “He will ask you if you know what they meant.”
“Ah! Must I tell him that? Must he know about the letters? Will everything come out?—O Bertrand!”
Her gasp of anguish wrung my very heart-strings.
“No!” I cried. “Don’t give way to such thoughts. You don’t know Tarleton. He is the soul of honour. He is delicacy itself. He won’t ask you one word more than he can help. You need tell him nothing more than that Weathered gave you a numberto use in writing to him. You can trust Sir Frank not to ask you what the letters were about.”
“But he will know—he will know!” she sighed despairingly. And I could say little in reply.
We found the door unlocked that led from the house into the ruins, and we parted in the corridor, Violet going upstairs to her room while I made my way back to the library into which I had been shown at first. Waiting for me outside the door I found my friendly manservant.
“You’ll find the other gentleman inside,” he whispered. “He’s been back about five minutes.”
I went in trying to look unconcerned, and found Tarleton comfortably seated in an armchair engaged in the familiar rite of waving his mascot to and fro as if it were a censer with which he was offering invisible incense to the Sphinx.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, sir. I have been taking a look at the ruins of the old Castle.”
“I have had a look at them, too,” was the enigmatic answer. “Twelfth century, I should think. One of the first castles put up by the Normans when they began penetrating South Wales.”
I could only hope that that was the extent of his observations. I could not bring myself to ask.
There was silence between us till Violet came into the room. The change in her amazed me. She was rather pale but perfectly composed. Her manner was full of courteous dignity. It was the first time that I had seen her as the Lady Violet Bredwardine,the daughter of a noble house, conscious of her claims to deference from strangers.
The consultant rose from his seat with every mark of respect and consideration, and I clumsily imitated him. She was the first to speak.
“Sir Frank Tarleton?—I am told that you wish to see me on urgent business. I am sorry that you have been kept waiting, but I had gone out for a walk. Won’t you sit down?”
She included me in the invitation by a slight, distant bow, as she seated herself facing us.
“It is very good of you to see me, Lady Violet.—Dr. Cassilis is my assistant.” Another distant bow. “I have been called in as a physician in the case of another medical man who had the honour to include you among his patients, I believe—Dr. Weathered.”
A bow in the affirmative, still colder, if possible.
“I regret to have to inform you that Dr. Weathered has died—of heart failure.”
A little gasp, natural enough in the circumstances. A gasp of relief in my ears, relief at hearing the death described as natural. A gasp of surprise, I could only hope, in the keen ears of my chief.
“Dr. Weathered’s death was rather sudden. It is desirable for the sake of his family to dispense with an inquest if possible, but it has been necessary to make some inquiries into his affairs, and I have had to go through his appointment-book, thebook in which he entered the names of his patients who came to see him, you understand.”
“I understand.” Just a tremor, immediately subdued.
“Naturally your name appears in the book among others. And it happens to be one of several that have numbers attached to them, as if for purposes of identification. If you know, or can suggest, the reason for that, I shall be very much obliged by your telling me.”
Violet straightened herself up and spoke very distinctly. It was clear to me that she had prepared her answer carefully.
“I can tell you exactly. When Dr. Weathered’s patients had to write to him about whatever he was treating them for, he gave them a number to use instead of their own names. The letters were confidential.”
Tarleton’s face told me that he had grasped the full situation, as I had grasped it half an hour before. He looked at me instead of her, but he failed to hide his consternation altogether.
“What is the matter? Why do you look like that?” the startled girl exclaimed.
The specialist pulled himself together.
“There is nothing the matter, Lady Violet. I was staggered for a moment at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t taken the precaution of coming here and questioning you. I will see that this correspondence is destroyed unread as soonas I get back to town. Unless, that is, it has been destroyed already. Dr. Weathered may have burnt the letters as soon as he had read them.”
The explanation was not very happy. Poor Violet’s dignity forsook her as she realized for the first time that the outpouring of her heart, the record of her secret shame, were at the mercy of whatever stranger first gained access to the dead man’s repository. She did her best to keep her eyes from straying in my direction, but the half turn of her head towards me before she spoke to Tarleton was enough to tell me what she felt.
“Do you mean,” she faltered, “that there is a danger of someone finding these letters?—someone who might make use of them?”
I had not often seen my chief at a loss, but he was plainly put out now.
“My dear young lady, there isn’t the least fear of that. It may ease your mind if I tell you more than I intended. Dr. Weathered’s death occurred in a club in Chelsea, and the proprietress or manager, whichever she really is, sent for the police. They thought the death might be due to foul play, and they have been making some inquiries. Meanwhile, they have had their eyes on everyone who would be at all likely to have anything to do with the case, and you may be sure that if the doctor left any secret correspondence it will be secured and burnt immediately.”
Violet had glanced at my face while he wasspeaking, and had read in it, no doubt, that it would be her best course to appear satisfied. She murmured a “Thank you.”
“There is one other question I should like to ask you, but I hope you won’t think it concerns you personally. The doctor’s death took place on Wednesday night, and as you were more than a hundred miles away, no one supposes that you can throw any light on what took place in the Club that night.”
He paused for a moment, as if to give her a chance of asking how he came to know that she was so far away. But of course I had already given her the information, and she was afraid to speak.
“But it seems that you have a double, or rather that someone was impersonating you that night. The attention of the police was drawn to the presence of a dancer wearing a fancy dress which the costumiers consider to represent Zenobia, the famous Queen of Palmyra who fought against the Romans in the third century. They made inquiries, and heard that a similar costume had been supplied to you about a year ago.—Can you tell me what has become of it?”
The final question was put abruptly. It was well that Violet had been prepared for it. She kept perfectly cool; if anything, too cool. I should have liked her to show a little more disturbance.
“I have no idea. I suppose my maid has put it away somewhere among my things. But I will ring for her, and ask.”
“Permit me, Lady Violet.” Tarleton sprang to the bell before she was out of her chair. It was answered by the manservant, whom her ladyship dispatched in quest of her maid.
I watched my chief while we were waiting. I flattered myself that I had outmanœuvred him in this direction. His lowered brows told me that he was puzzled. He must have come down to Tyberton expecting to find the costume missing, and to receive some made-up story to account for its disappearance.
A woman came into the room, an elderly person, of very plain appearance, whom I put down as Lord Ledbury’s housekeeper. I didn’t think his lordship’s means were sufficient to provide his daughter with a lady’s maid.
“Oh, Henderson, do you know what has become of that fancy dress of mine with the helmet and breastplate? Can you put your hands on it?”
Henderson showed no surprise.
“Certainly, my lady. It is in the drawer at the bottom of your ladyship’s wardrobe.”
“Just go and fetch it, will you?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She went out with the movement of a well-drilled actor, leaving me with the uncomfortable impression that the scene had been rehearsed, and that Tarleton could hardly miss coming to the same conclusion. He muttered some vague expression of regret for the trouble he was giving to Lady Violet,and then sat with his lips pursed up in rather ominous fashion, and his eyes fixed on the door.
Henderson reappeared rather too quickly. She carried all the articles that made up the much-talked-of costume, the paste-board armour coated with silver paint, the flowing shirt, even the sandals which the Wardour Street Israelite had deemed appropriate footwear for a desert queen.
Tarleton gave them the barest glance, as they were spread out on the table, and bowed to Violet.
“I have to thank your ladyship.”
He was in the act of rising when the door of the room was thrown open abruptly.
The figure on the threshold presented the appearance of a man just roused from sleep and inclined to resent the interruption of his dreams. He was tall and thin, and seemed to hold himself upright with an effort. His gray hairs straggled over his head in unbrushed disorder, and his clothes hung on him as though they had been dropped where they were in a fit of absence of mind. In spite of these signs of neglect there was an air of dignity about him that left me in no doubt as to his identity.
The Earl of Ledbury advanced into the room, turning a glance of disapproval from Sir Frank Tarleton to myself, and addressed his daughter.
“Violet, what business have you with these gentlemen?”
What excuse she would have made if it had beenleft to her to answer, I don’t know. Tarleton instantly took the burden on himself.
“My business with Lady Violet is official, my lord. I am right, no doubt, in thinking that you are the Earl of Ledbury?”
“Official?” The word sounded like a snarl. “Who are you, sir?”
“I am the principal medical adviser to the Home Office. My name is Sir Frank Tarleton, and this gentleman is my assistant, Dr. Cassilis.”
I was already on my feet. I gave the Earl a deferential bow which only seemed to increase his irritation.
“And may I ask what you mean, gentlemen, by coming into my house and interviewing my daughter behind my back?”
Tarleton was not the man to let himself be addressed in that fashion.
“I think you forget yourself, my lord. The Lady Violet is of age, I believe. We are here in the discharge of our duty, and I need not remind your lordship that the law is not a respecter of persons.”
Lord Ledbury’s look of anger changed to one of amazement and alarm.
“Good heavens, what do you mean, sir? What has the law to do with Lady Violet Bredwardine?”
“Very little, I hope, but it was necessary for us to see her ladyship and put a few questions to her, for her own sake.”
The Earl turned suddenly. “Henderson, leave the room.”
“One moment, please.” The physician detained the woman by a gesture. “Can you tell me if this costume has been where you just found it during the whole of last week? Would it have been possible for anyone to take it without your knowledge, send it away, and put it back again afterwards?”
It was a fatal question, the one question I ought to have anticipated and prepared for. Violet’s face must have betrayed her to a duller eye than my shrewd chief’s. As for Henderson, she gazed stupidly at her mistress in the evident need of prompting.
The irascible father could see this as plainly as ourselves.
“The truth, woman!” he thundered. “Tell the truth this instant.”
Henderson turned very red.
“I had no wish to tell anything else, my lord. The drawer wasn’t locked, that’s all I can say. I can’t tell whether anyone might have taken the costume out and put it back again, I’m sure.”
“Thank you. That is all I have to ask of you at present.” Nothing in Tarleton’s tone or look showed what amount of importance he attached to the answer he had received; and the woman, after gazing uneasily round at us all in turn, went out of the room with a subdued mien.
What the effect was on me, I need scarcely say.The whole question of Violet’s connection with the case had been reopened. If the astute investigator chose to follow up the clue he would not find it difficult to obtain evidence through the post office that a parcel large enough to contain the incriminating costume had been received by Lady Violet since the discovery of the crime. It might not be possible to trace it to me as the sender, but she might be placed in such a position that only a full confession on my part could clear her. That confession, of course, I had been ready to make all along, the moment it could do her the least service. My difficulty had been to make it without involving her as what the law calls an accessory before the fact. How could my chief, how could Inspector Charles, fail to draw the inference that we had acted in collusion, and that she had lent me her disguise knowing the use I meant to make of it?
The torturing problem racked my brain the whole time that Sir Frank was explaining the situation to Lord Ledbury. The explanation was a painful one. He did his best to soften the ugliest features, but it could not be concealed that Lady Violet had consulted a doctor without the knowledge of her father or her chaperon, that the doctor had died in suspicious circumstances, and that some suspicion had attached to the wearer of a fancy dress similar to the one spread out before us.
The shock would have been a terrible one for any father. It must have been doubly so for a man whohad lived for so many years out of the world, ignoring the changes that had come about since his youth. The whole story must have taken him out of his bearings. The society in which night clubs flourish, and girls as young as Violet are found in them, was as strange to him as it would have been to any parent of the Victorian age.
I could see his mood turning from surprise and bewilderment into growing fury as he listened. And his anger was no longer directed against Tarleton and myself.
“It comes to this, that my daughter’s name is mixed up with a murder case,” he exploded at last. “If she is not actually under suspicion her clothes are. Violet!” The stricken girl turned beseeching eyes on him. “Unless you can assure me that you had no more to do with this business than I had, you shan’t pass another night under this roof.”
The injustice of it nearly stung me into speech. The Earl had done nothing to deserve his daughter’s confidence. He had let her grow up a stranger to him. He had handed her over to a mercenary with no qualifications beyond those of a drill-sergeant or a prison warder. And he was ablaze with wrath because she had grown into a living creature with blood in her veins, instead of a wooden doll.
Violet’s eyes filled with tears.
“What do you want me to say?” she implored. “I didn’t even know that Dr. Weathered was dead till these gentlemen told me.”
“You knew him, it seems. What did you go to him for? You haven’t been ill.”
I began to feel anxious for myself as well as her. But she replied with unexpected spirit.
“I went to him as a doctor. He was a nerve specialist, and I went to him about my nerves.”
“Nerves!” His lordship spat out the word in scorn. “A girl of your age has no business with nerves. Did you tell Miss Pollexfen that you were suffering from nerves?”
“No.” Violet flared up with a touch of her father. “Why should I? Miss Pollexfen is no friend of mine. I didn’t choose her for a companion. I am old enough to decide for myself whether I want to see a doctor, without consulting her.”
Lord Ledbury was clearly taken aback. He can have had no real suspicion that his daughter had done anything seriously wrong, or he would hardly have cross-examined her before us. Little as he loved her, regard for his own good name would have made him refrain from going on.
“So you consider yourself independent, do you?” He pointed to the clothes. “Have you lent these things—to anyone?”
I held my breath. I dared not make the least sign to Violet. And if I had, she would not have seen it. She kept her eyes steadily fixed on her father’s.
“Yes.” It was the wisest answer to give nowthat so much had come out. A falsehood must have been detected in a few hours.
“Tell me her name.”
My heart seemed to stop beating. There was a tense pause in which the air of the room vibrated with suspense. Then the girl slowly shook her head.
“I cannot.”
“You mean you won’t. I command you, Violet. Do you hear?”
Her head sunk obstinately on her breast.
“I shall never tell.”