CHAPTER XIII
Berrington's exclamation of surprise was not lost upon Inspector Field.He stood obviously waiting for the gallant officer to say something. Asthere was a somewhat long pause, the inspector took up the parable forhimself.
"In a great many cases that come under our hands, so many give us achance," he said. "We allow something for luck. More than once inlooking up one business I have come across a burning clue of another."
"What is the meaning of all this philosophy, Mr. Field?" Berringtonasked.
"Well, I think it is pretty obvious, if you care to see it. We areengaged, just for the present, on looking for a private hansom, paintedblack, in which is seated a lame gentleman. The rest of ourinvestigation does not matter just now, because we have beyond doubtactually traced the parties who conveyed the body of Sir Charles fromthe hotel. When the lame gentleman is spoken of you say something aboutNo. 100, Audley Place. It is quite obvious that you know something ofthe man, or at any rate you think you do. May I point out that it isyour duty to help us if you can."
Berrington looked uncomfortable. As a matter of fact he had made up hismind to say nothing as to Audley Place.
"There are several Audley Places in the Directory," Field went on. "Iam sure you would not put us to the trouble of looking them all up, sir.Tell me all you know. Anything that you may say will be treated asconfidential."
"I quite see your reasoning," Berrington replied. "Let me tell you thatI should have said nothing--for the present, at any rate--had I notbetrayed myself. Look here, Field, I might just as well inform you thatwe are treading on very delicate ground here. As soon as I begin tospeak, Sir Charles's daughter comes into the business."
"You mean Miss Darryll--Mrs. Richford, I should say. How, Colonel?"
"Because I am quite sure that she knows something of the matter. In thefirst place you must understand that the marriage was the reverse of alove match. Sir Charles's affairs were in anything but a prosperouscondition at the time of his death."
"In fact he was on the point of being arrested in connection with acertain company," Field said coolly. "I got that information from theCity Police. It was a mere piece of gossip, but I did not identify it asin any way connected with the subsequent tragedy."
"Well, I should not be surprised to hear that it had an importantbearing on the mystery. As far as I could judge after the wedding therewas a quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. Richford----"
"Ah!" Field exclaimed. His face was shrewd and eager. "Can you tell mewhat about?"
"Indeed, I cannot. I cannot even guess. But I can't see what that has todo with it."
"Can't you indeed, sir?" Field asked drily. "Mrs. Richford shall tell meherself, presently. But we are getting no nearer to the lame gentlemanin Audley Place."
"Oh, yes we are. Let us admit that quarrel. I am certain of it becauseyesterday Mr. Richford had luncheon at the same table as myself. Heordered a steak and potatoes. When it came, he asked the waiter who hadbeen putting salt on his plate. Sure enough there _was_ salt on theplate _and in the shape of a bullet_. Directly Richford saw that, hiswhole aspect changed. He was like one beside himself with terror. He didnot know that I was watching him, he knew nothing beyond the horror ofthe moment."
"You mean that shaped salt had some hidden meaning, sir?" Field asked.
"I am certain of it. Now don't run your head up against the idea thatyou are on the track of some political society, or that Anarchism hasanything to do with it. It so happens that I have seen that salt signbefore in India under strange circumstances that we need not go into atthe present moment. The man who pointed it out to me disappeared and wasnever heard of again. The sign was in his own plate at dinner. A littlelater I was enabled to get to the bottom of the whole thing; the storyshall be told you in due course.
"Well, I wanted to see what Mr. Richford would do next. Was the sign animperative one or not? Evidently it was, for he got up, finished hisbrandy, and left the table without having had a single mouthful of food.Under ordinary conditions I should have taken no action, but you seeMrs. Richford is a great friend of mine, and I was anxious to see howfar her husband was in with these people. To make a long story short, Ifollowed Richford's cab and traced him to No. 100, Audley Place, whichis somewhat at the back of Wandsworth Common. There I was so fortunateas to find a policeman who had been in my regiment, and he gave me allthe information he could as to the inhabitants of the house. The gist ofthat information was that the owner of the house was a lame gentlemanwho sometimes went out in a bath chair. _Now_ you do see why I cried outwhen the cabman finished his story to-day?"
Field nodded thoughtfully. He saw perfectly well. For a little time hewas silent, piecing the puzzle together. On the whole he was more thansatisfied with the morning's work.
"I see," he said at length. "The lame gentleman, of course, sent themessage to Mr. Richford. Within a few hours the body of Sir Charlesdisappears. Why, then, was this message sent? So that the lame man couldget posted in all his facts with a view to stealing the body. In otherwords, Mrs. Richford's husband was a party to that daring crime. Whythat body was fetched away we cannot inquire into, at present. What Iwant to know, and what I must know, is what Mrs. Richford and herhusband quarrelled about."
Berrington winced. He had no pleasant vision of Beatrice beingcross-examined by this sharp, shrewd policeman. And yet the thing wasinevitable. Field's eyes asked a question.
"All right, Inspector," Berrington said, not without some irritation."I'll go and see the lady, and let her know what you have already foundout. I suppose it is fatal to try and conceal anything. This comes of alady marrying such a sweep as that."
Beatrice listened calmly enough to all Berrington had to say. It wasnot nice to have to tell her story over again, but she decided toconceal nothing. She had done a foolish thing, a wrong thing to save herfather, and the world was going to know the whole sordid truth. But solong as Mark stood by her, what did the opinion of the world matter?
"Ask Inspector Field in here," she said. "No, I do not blame you, mydear old friend. Is it not far better that everything should come out? Adreadful crime has been committed and the guilty should be punished,whoever they are."
Inspector Field came in, very sorry and very apologetic for the troublehe was causing. He was quite different from the hard man who had beencross-examining Berrington outside.
"I fancy you can give me certain information," he said. "I have somelittle hesitation in saying anything personal as to the character of Mr.Richford----"
"You need not hesitate," Beatrice said bitterly, "on my account. I amgoing to speak freely, and all the more so because I see the possibilityof having to repeat it all in the witness box. I married my husband withthe sole idea of saving my father from dis----"
"Unpleasantness," Field said swiftly. "There is no occasion for anythingof _that_ kind to come out in the witness box. For family reasons youbecame Mrs. Richford. There is no reason why your sacrifice should havebeen altogether in vain."
"That is very good of you," Beatrice said gratefully. "Let me say that Iam not in love with the man whose name I am supposed to bear. Hadanything happened to my father before yesterday, my marriage would neverhave taken place. My quarrel with my husband was that he knew my fatherwas dead two hours before the ceremony was fixed to take place."
Hardened as he was, Field started. This information was unexpected as itwas dramatic.
"I am not speaking idly," Beatrice went on. "I came back here, directlymy father's death came to my ears. In his room I found a telegram. Itwas dated yesterday, the hour was clearly marked upon it--about teno'clock yesterday morning. That telegram was addressed to my husband; itwas found by me close to my father's body. The doctor said that SirCharles had been dead some hours before he was discovered. Therefore Ihad conclusive proof in my hands that my husband had seen my father'scorpse and that he had stolen out of the room and said nothing, knowingthat I should never be his wife if he spoke the truth."
"It seems
almost incredible," Field muttered. "What did Mr. Richfordsay?"
"What could he do or say beyond admitting the truth of my accusation?Even his cunning failed before the production of that fateful telegram.He had to admit everything, he had to admit that the telegram belongedto him, that he had occasion to see my father very early on pressingbusiness, and that he had not raised the alarm because he knew if he didso he would lose me. At one time the suite of rooms in which we standwas rented by Mr. Richford; indeed his term has not expired yet, andthat is why my father came here. I can tell you little if any more. WhatI said to my husband does not matter in the least. I told him plainlythat I had done with him, and I hope that I may never see him again."
Field had few questions to ask further. A hundred theories were flyingthrough his nimble brain. Beatrice seemed to divine something of this.
"In common fairness I am bound to say that Mr. Richford could have hadnothing to do with my father's death," she said. "In the first place hehad everything to gain by Sir Charles keeping his health. I know thedoctors are suspicious that there is foul play somewhere, but recollectthat they are prepared to swear to my father's death some hours beforehis body was found. A little before ten, Mr. Richford must have been athome or he could never have had that telegram. Therefore it was afterten before he sought out my father, who, according to the medical viewof the cause, had passed away hours before."
"That is very cleverly and logically reasoned," Field said, not withoutadmiration. "And in any case Mr. Richford would be able to give a reallyconvincing account of the reason why he remained silent--especiallyafter a jury had seen you in the witness box."
It was a pretty compliment and a tribute to Field's sound judgment as tohuman nature, but Beatrice did not appear to heed his words.
"I had better finish and tell you everything," she said. "I have saideverything I can, in common fairness to my husband. I feel convincedthat if there was foul play he had no hand in it, no actual hand, thatis. But there is another side to the question. I have already told youall about the Countess and the General. I told you how my suspicionswere aroused, and when I came up to my room as quickly as possible--thedoor was shut and two people were talking inside. You asked me just now,Inspector Field, if I could recognize the man again--the man who was inthe room when the Countess was actually taking impressions of the sealson the door, and I said I could. Can you guess who that man was?"
The inspector looked puzzled for a moment, then the light ofillumination came over his face. He glanced up eagerly; his dark eyeswere dancing.
"You don't mean to say that it was Mr. Richford?" he asked.
"Indeed I do," Beatrice said quietly, "I had intended to keep that pieceof information to myself, but you have forced my hand. Of actual crime,of actual _murder_, I am quite sure that Stephen Richford is innocent.But as to the rest I cannot say. At any rate I have concealed nothingthat is likely to injure the course of justice."
The Slave of Silence Page 13
