CHAPTER XV
MAJOR JONES' ERRAND
When Laurence visited his father's room at daybreak next morning hefound that the doctor had not left the bedside since he had first beencalled in. The Squire was progressing as favourably as could beexpected, Bathurst said, but it had been such a near squeak that theutmost care was necessary. To explain the nature of the attack on theold gentleman was, strange to say, more than the doctor could do withmuch accuracy. All he knew was that the patient's neck had almost beenbroken, the peculiar attitude of the body when found being the result ofa powerful attempt by some person unknown to actually kill the victim bybreaking his neck!
The doctor went on to recommend that a nurse should be sent down fromtown, suggesting that one of Burton's "private assistants" would be ofpeculiar value. It may be as well to mention that these "assistants"were men who were able to act very skilfully in their capacity of nurse,and were also reputable unofficial detectives.
The idea of working with a detective had suggested itself to Laurencebefore now, but, as has been said, he had feared to call in professionalaid lest his father, who was so anxious to retain the secret which heundoubtedly shared with his desperate enemy, might object to the man'spresence.
Now, however, things were in a different state. The Squire wasunconscious, and, according to Bathurst, might possibly be so for days.At the best he would have to keep his bed for several weeks. During thattime, with the assistance of a trained investigator, it seemed probablethat the deep mystery which enshadowed Mr. Carrington might be clearedup.
Laurence accordingly despatched a telegram to Burton, the founder of thePrivate Assistance Bureau, requesting him to "kindly send down an ableassistant at once," and then, after remaining a short time with Mrs.Featherston (the housekeeper), who had taken charge of the patient onthe doctor's departure, he went downstairs to find the two ladieswaiting for breakfast. Mrs. Knox was quite well again and inclined toabuse herself for the loss of her head on the previous night. Herindisposition had not, moreover, seriously affected her appetite. Lenalooked pale and tired. She had hardly slept during the night, and nowonder. She alone, with the exception, of course, of Laurence, knew allthe details of the mystery, and with the knowledge of the weird attackson her host and of the unfathomable secrets of the Dene and the Mansebarn, sleep was quite impossible. How numerous had the events ofyesterday been! First, the message from the Major, then Laurence'sproposal, afterwards her anxiety for the safety of the man with whom inthe short time she had known him she had fallen desperately in love.Next, the attempted murder of Mr. Carrington, and, finally, thediscovery that the master of Durley Dene had visited the grounds of theManse at midnight for some mysterious purpose as yet unknown. Mrs. Knox,though she plainly demonstrated the unwelcomeness of the idea, wascompelled to suggest that she and her niece should no longer trespassupon the kindness of their young host, when so much extra work wouldnecessarily be the result of the Squire's serious illness. However,Laurence would not hear of their going, and Mrs. Knox did not take thetrouble to make any further suggestions on the subject.
As soon as they could leave the dining-room without raising Mrs. Knox'ssuspicion that her niece knew more than she seemed to do, Laurence andLena went out together into the garden, when the former told Miss Scottthat a nurse-detective was coming from London to assist in the solutionof the mystery. The fact that he was anything but an ordinary male nursewas to be kept a secret--even from Mrs. Knox herself, for such Laurenceknew to be one of the particular requests made to all employing Burton'sassistants.
"Well, Laurence," said the girl after a pause in the conversation (shehad taken to calling him by his Christian name since his departure toDurley Dene), "well, and have you thought of any more clues?"
"Alas, no. I spent the night thinking, but am no nearer the solutionthan before. This secret seems inviolable, but perhaps Burton's man willbe able to help us. One or two things, though, have impressed me asworthy of consideration.
"First, as I have already told you, it seemed to me at the commencementof my interview that Meadows (we will call him by that name, though Idoubt his right to it) was a wonderful actor. If he was playing a parthe played it well. Not only did he pretend not to know me, but seemedboth surprised at and interested in my carefully guarded assertions ofhis connection with my father. Yet, later on, when I mentioned thedog-whip (on which alone hangs a secret, I am sure), and afterwardssignified my intention of exploring the house, he did not in the leastdegree disguise his concern. This leads one to think him a very pooractor, for had he some secret to keep he need not fear, since, as to thelatter remark of mine, I could not have explored far in the darkness,particularly when I was one man against at least two others; while, asto the other matter, if he could bravado my assertion that he and theSquire had some secret, why did he turn pale and grow nervous when Ireminded him of the purchase of the dog-whip? It was in no way aremarkable article to buy, nor one I would be likely to connect with adeep, unsolvable problem.
"A second matter worth noticing is this, that the servant, whom hismaster had addressed as Smith (though that is probably not his name),and the doctor himself apparently are not on the best of terms with oneanother. The servant certainly does not respect his master. Why?Because, if your idea is a correct one, Meadows knows that Smith isslowly sealing my father's doom (as the Squire himself said). He mayreally be a harmless man, though I doubt it, and Smith may knowsomething about his past, for instance, which prohibits him fromdischarging the servant, though he knows exactly what is going on. Butthen, if this were the case, what was Meadows doing in the yard atmidnight, after his interview with me last evening? No, clearly he isone of the gang who are at such enmity with father.
"When the detective comes he will start from the assault last night,interview all the servants, and start his inquiry, so that it is of nouse for us to do that now, but I am thinking that examination of theroom may reveal some traces or clues. At any rate, now that we havecalled in the man, we must play second fiddle to him. It will be aswell, too, to tell him all we know, and then do our best to run the poorold man's enemies to earth.
"Let us now, if there is nothing better to do, stroll down to the placewhere we saw the man Meadows last night, and see if he has left any cluebehind him."
Together they crossed the lawn, and entered the courtyard in which stoodthe barn.
"That's where he was, that's where he went through the bushes andclimbed over the palisade," said Lena, pointing in the direction of theDene.
"Where did he start, though?" asked Laurence.
"Probably in the barn, or----" She ran forward, as though spurred by asudden impulse. Carrington followed her in amazement to the little cycleshed, which she had entered.
"Look," cried the girl, and she pointed towards a corner in which stoodthe missing bicycle, caked with mud, and having the saddle lowered asthough for some short rider.
"Gracious me! What made you think that the bicycle would be returned?"asked Laurence, when he had recovered from his surprise, caused by thereturn of the machine.
"Common sense," replied the girl, with a light laugh. "It suddenlyoccurred to me that it was just as likely the Major would go out atmidnight to the cycle shed as to the barn, for we know that he couldhave no reason for visiting the latter----"
"Wait," Laurence interrupted. "You are wrong there. He might wish to seethe mysterious creature who displayed gymnastic tricks for my solebenefit the night before last."
"My dear Mr. Carrington," replied Lena (and she used that title onlybecause she wished to see his look of regret), "your memory is failingyou. Why, you told me yourself that the monkey-like creature--orpresumably it--was now within the walls of Durley Dene."
"You astound me, Miss Scott," replied Laurence; "really, I have norecollection of making such a statement."
"You silly boy," answered Lena, with ill-disguised mirth, "what aboutthe strange cry that disturbed your interview with Smith as you wereleaving the house last night?"
> "Ah! Then you think that cry proceeded from the mouth of the person whomI encountered on the moor and again in the barn?"
"Well, it certainly appears to me that there is something similar inyour description of the two sounds. But you yourself can judge better ofthat than I can."
"Yes; but why should this horrible creature scream as I was leaving theDene, and if Smith is my father's would-be murderer, who is the personthat used the barn as its headquarters?"
"If you knew that, Laurence, there would probably be no mystery at all.It is as to these points we have yet to decide."
"Then, do you mean that, in your opinion, the creature in the barn wasnot the attempted assassin?"
"We practically decided that last night when we noted the possibility ofSmith having crept through the palisade and attacked your father in hisroom. From what you tell me about the man, I think it more than probablethat we are at last on the right track. In brief, we have now come tothe following conclusion--or, rather, supposition, for there is just thechance that we are wrong.
"Smith has some long-standing and, undoubtedly, fierce grudge againstyour father, which can only be paid off by death. He also has somecontrol--powerful control--over this man Meadows. He compels the latterto take Durley Dene, and lets out through the house agent someridiculous story about an invalid military gentleman of retiringdisposition having taken the house. Learning the Squire's movements, hefollows him to the Marquis's on your bicycle, which he kindly takeswithout asking your leave. Being shorter than you, he has to lower thesaddle. After the attempt to murder the Squire by setting light to thehouse, he learns somehow or other that you have left, overtakes andshadows the carriage, and eventually attacks it. On being repulsed, hemakes for home, concealing his tracks, as you are aware, by taking offhis boots and carrying the bicycle into the Dene. He afterwards compelsMeadows to return the cycle to the shed. Knowing who you are, henaturally objects to your having an interview with the sham Major, andis hardly polite when you apply for one.
"However, wishing to make a second attempt on the Squire's life, and tocarry out his vile design, he conceives the plan of getting you out ofthe way."
"Good heavens! I believe you are right."
"He knows you to be energetic and suspicious, and arranges an interviewfor you with the 'Major,' during the course of which he manages to getinto the house and attack the Squire, whom he presumably thinks he haskilled. He gets back in time to take up my message, delivered by thebutler, to you. Why he induced you to give him money I do not know.Possibly he would have done more--would have enticed you into someroom--yes, and murdered you--had it not been for that shrill cry thatsuddenly disturbed him."
"Lena!" (the pet name slipped out unnoticed by both in Laurence'sastonishment)--"Lena, you are a genius. You have solved the mystery."
"On the contrary, I am more in the dark than ever, for in addition tothe secret of the man's enmity against your father, we have now todiscover who is the strange creature of the shrill voice and ape-likeagility, what his connection is with the people of the Dene, and,lastly, why, as I am firmly convinced, he is imprisoned in the basementof the house you visited last night."
The House of Strange Secrets: A Detective Story Page 15
