aside, but they found nothing to serve as a clue. Itwas, however, evident that the unfortunate girl had approached, on herreturn from Burghfield, and dismounting, had wheeled her cycle up to thegate and placed it there while she rested. Here she had undoubtedlybeen joined by someone--as the grass and weeds bore distinct traces ofhaving been trodden upon by two different persons--and then, havingremounted, she rode down beneath the railway bridge, and while ascendingtowards Stratfield Mortimer, had been foully shot.
The position in which both the body and the cycle were found pointed tothe conclusion that she was riding her machine when fired at, butdismounting instantly she had staggered a few uneven steps, and thensank dying.
From the gateway the mark of the cycle could be traced with ease awaytowards Burghfield; indeed, a few yards from where the unknown personhad apparently met her there were marks of her quick footsteps where shehad dismounted. For fully a quarter of an hour the detectives searchedboth inside and outside the gate trying to distinguish accurately thefootprints of the stranger whom she had met, and in this they wereactively assisted by the village constable and George, all being carefulnot to tread upon the weeds and dust themselves. But to distinguishtraces of footprints at night is exceedingly difficult; therefore theysearched long and earnestly without any success, until at last somethinghalf-hidden in some long rank weeds caught George's eye.
"Why, what's this?" he cried, excitedly, as putting out his hand he drewforth a purely feminine object--an ordinary black hairpin.
The detectives, eager for anything which might lead to the discovery ofthe identity of the assassin, took it, examining it closely beneath thelight of one of their bull's-eyes. It was a pin of a common kind, andwhat at first seemed like a clue was quickly discarded, for on taking itback to where the body was lying and taking one of the pins that heldthe unfortunate girl's wealth of fair hair, it was at once seen incomparison to be of the same thickness and make, although of a slightlydifferent length.
Half a dozen pins were taken one by one from her hair and compared, butstrangely enough all were about half an inch shorter than the onediscovered by George.
"Anything in this, do you think?" one of the detectives asked the other,evidently his superior.
"No," the man answered promptly. "Women often use hairpins of differentlengths. If you buy a box they are often of assorted sizes. No, thatpin evidently fell from her hair when she put up her hands to tidy it,after dismounting."
So the vague theory that the person who joined her was a woman wasdismissed. George had said nothing of his appointment with Liane atthat spot, deeming it wiser to keep his secret, yet he was sorelypuzzled by the fact that Nelly should have been there at the same hourthat Liane had arranged to meet him. Perhaps his well-beloved had senther with a message, as she had on previous occasions. If not, why hadshe returned from Burghfield by that lonely lane instead of ridingdirect along the high road, which was in so much better condition forcycling? He had only known her to ride along Cross Lane once before.Indeed, both she and Liane had always denounced that road with itsflints and ruts as extremely injurious to cycles.
The assassin had got clean away without leaving the slightest trace.Even his footsteps were indistinguishable where all others were plainlymarked, for during the day the dust had been blowing in clouds,carpeting the unfrequented lane to the depth of nearly half an inch, sothat every imprint had been faithfully retained.
The detectives, after spending nearly two hours in futile search, werecompelled at length to acknowledge themselves baffled, and preparationswere made to acquaint Captain Brooker with the sad news, and to removethe body of Nelly Bridson to his house. At first it was suggested thatGeorge should go and break the sad tidings to the Captain, but he atonce declined. He had never yet met Captain Brooker, and shrank fromthe unpleasantness of such a first interview with the man whose daughterhe intended marrying. The duty therefore devolved upon the police, andthe village constable was despatched with strict injunctions from Georgenot to tell Miss Liane, but request to see the Captain himself alone.He knew what a blow it must prove to his well-beloved to thus lose undersuch terrible circumstances the fair-faced girl who had been her mostintimate companion and confidante through so many years; therefore heendeavoured to spare her any unnecessary pain. Her father would, nodoubt, break to her the sad truth best of all.
George thought it useless to seek her that night, therefore when theconstable had left he took a long farewell glance at the white upturnedface, and mounting, turned the mare's head towards the Court. Onward herode in the darkness across the open country to Broomfield Hatch, thenturning to the right into the Grazely Road, cantered down the hilltowards the lodge gates of Stratfield Court.
"It's a strange affair," he muttered aloud. "Strange indeed, that Nellyshould have ridden along that bad road if not with the intention ofmeeting someone by appointment. Yet she would scarcely make anappointment at that spot, knowing that I had arranged to meet Lianethere. No, poor girl, I can't help feeling convinced that she wasawaiting me to tell me of Liane's inability to be there. Again, howcame she possessed of the missing miniature? What motive could anyonepossibly have in murdering her? Ah! what motive, I wonder?"
Deep in thought, he allowed his mare to jog onward beneath the beecheswhich at that point nearly met overhead, rendering the road almost pitchdark. Once he thought he detected a slight movement in the impenetrablegloom, and pulling up, strained his eyes into the high bushes at theroadside. For a few moments he sat perfectly still in the saddlelistening intently. Then, hearing nothing, he started forth againmuttering:
"I could have sworn I saw something white fluttering over there; butbah! I'm unnerved, I suppose, to-night, and after all it was merefancy."
Once he turned to glance back; then resolutely set his face along thedark avenue of chestnuts, homeward.
Little sleep came to his eyes that night. He was thinking of his ownfuture, of Liane's love, and of her sad bereavement. Times withoutnumber he tried to formulate some theory to account for the miniaturebeing in Nelly's possession, and the foul assassination of the bright,happy girl, whose merry laughter had so often charmed him. Yet it was amystery, absolute and complete.
The great house was quiet, for its irascible master was dead, and itsson, held in esteem by all the servants from butler to stable lad, wasruined. The very clocks seemed to tick with unaccustomed solemnity, andthe bell in the turret over the stables chimed slowly and ominously aseach long hour passed towards the dawn. At last, however, still in hisclothes, George slept, and it was not until the morning sun wasstreaming full into his room that he awoke. Then, finding that the twodoctors had returned to London, he went to the library and wrote a briefnote to Liane, asking her to meet him at the lodge gates at eleveno'clock. Sir John was now no more, therefore in the Park they mightwalk together unobserved. At first he hesitated to invite her there soquickly, but on reflection he saw that he must see her at once andendeavour to console her, and that the leafy glades of his dead father'sdomain were preferable to the highways, where they would probably benoticed by the village gossips.
At nine he sent the note down to the village by one of the stable lads,who brought back two hastily scribbled lines, and at the hour appointedshe came slowly along the dusty road, looking cool and fresh beneath herwhite sunshade.
Their greeting was formal while within sight of the windows of thelodge, but presently, when they had entered the Park by the winding pathwhich led through a thick copse, he halted, took her in his arms andimprinted upon her soft cheek a long passionate kiss. Her own full lipsmet his in a fierce affectionate caress, but their hearts were too fullfor words. They stood together in silence, locked in each other's arms.
Then he noticed for the first time that her eyes were swollen, and thatshe wore a white tulle veil to conceal their redness. She had no doubtspent the night in tears. The tiny gloved hand trembled in his grasp,and her lips quivered.
At last he spoke softly, first lifting
her hand reverently to his lips.
"Both of us have experienced bereavement since last we met, two daysago, Liane. You have my sincerest sympathy, my darling."
"Is Sir John dead?" she inquired in a low husky voice.
He nodded.
"Then our losses are both hard to bear," she said, sighing. "PoorNelly! I--I cannot bear to think of it. I cannot yet realise theterrible truth."
"Nor I, dearest," he answered, echoing her sigh. "But we mustnevertheless face the facts if we desire to discover the assassin."
"They told me that it was you who first discovered her," she saidfalteringly, her eyes overflowing with tears. "Tell me how it allhappened."
"There is very little to tell," he responded. "I found her lying on theroad dead, and went at once for the doctor and the police."
"But what were you doing in Cross Lane?" she inquired.
"I went out to meet you as we had arranged."
"But surely you knew that I could not meet you," she exclaimed, lookingat him quickly.
"How could I?"
"I sent you a letter telling you that my father had an unexpectedvisitor, and that we must therefore postpone our meeting until thisevening."
"A letter!" he cried, puzzled. "I have only this moment left the Court,and no letter has yet arrived."
"But I gave it to Nelly to post before half-past twelve yesterdaymorning, therefore you should have received it at five. She must haveforgotten to post it."
"Evidently," he said. "But have you yet ascertained why she went downCross Lane? To the police the fact of her having ridden down there inpreference to the high road is an enigma."
"No. According to the inquiries already made it has been ascertainedthat she went to Talmey's at Burghfield, purchased some silk, and hadreturned nearly to Stratfield Mortimer when she suddenly turned, wentback about half a mile, and then entered Cross Lane. She was seen toturn by two labourers coming home from their work on Sim's Farm."
"She was alone, I suppose?"
"Entirely," Liane answered. "Like myself, she had no horror of tramps.I've ridden along these roads at all hours of the day and night, andhave never been once molested."
"The tragedy was no doubt enacted in broad daylight, for the sun had notquite set when, according to the doctor, she must have been shot whileriding. Have you any idea that she had incurred the animosity ofanybody?"
"No; as you well know, she was of a most amicable disposition. As faras I am aware, she had not a single enemy in the world."
"A secret lover perhaps," George suggested.
"No, not that I am aware of. She had no secrets from me. Since we cameto England she has never spoken of any man with admiration."
"Then abroad she had an admirer? Where?"
"In Nice. Charles Holroyde, a rich young Englishman, who was stayinglast winter at the Grand Hotel, admired her very much."
"And you were also living in Nice at the time?"
"Yes."
"Do you know his address in England?" he inquired.
"No. Nelly may have done, but I did not. I met him with her on thePromenade several times, and he seemed very pleasant and amusing. Thediamond brooch she wore he gave her as a present last carnival."
"Now that I recollect," George exclaimed, "she was not wearing thatbrooch when I discovered her."
"No," answered his well-beloved. "Strangely enough, that has beenstolen, although no attempt was made to take the watch and bunch ofcharms she wore in her blouse."
"Are the police aware of that?"
"Yes," Liane answered. "I told one of the detectives this morning, andgave him a minute description of the brooch. At the back are engravedNelly's initials, together with his, therefore it is likely it may betraced."
"If so, it will be easy to find the murderer," George observed, as theystrolled slowly along together beneath the welcome shade, for themorning was perfect, with bright warm sun and a cloudless sky into whichthe larks were everywhere soaring, filling the air with their shrill,joyous songs. "Have you any idea whether poor Nelly has correspondedwith this man Holroyde since leaving Nice?" he inquired, after a pause.
"I think not."
"Why?"
"Well, they had a slight quarrel--I have never exactly known the cause--they parted, and although he wrote several times, she did not answer."
George scented suspicion in this circumstance. The fact that thisbrooch, one of considerable value, should alone have been stolen was, tosay the least, curious; but discarded lovers sometimes avengethemselves, and this might perchance be a case of murder throughjealousy. As he strolled on beside the handsome girl, with her pale,veiled face, he reflected deeply, trying in vain to form some theory asto the motive of the crime.
"Did the police tell you that beside her I discovered an old miniatureof Lady Anne which has been missing from the Court for twenty years ormore?" he asked.
"Yes, they showed it to my father and myself. We have, however, neverseen it before. How it came into her possession we are utterly at aloss to imagine," she answered. "It is a heavy blow to lose her," shecontinued, in a low, intense voice. "We have always been as sisters,and now the fate that has overtaken her is enshrouded in a mystery whichseems inexplicable. Father is dreadfully upset. I fear he will neverbe as happy as before."
"But you have me, Liane," her lover said, suddenly halting and drawingher towards him. "I love you, my darling. I told you nearly two monthsago that I loved you. I don't know that I can add anything to what Isaid then."
She was silent, looking straight before her.
His breath came more quickly. The colour rose to his cheeks. At thisdecisive moment the words died in his throat, as they must for everyhonest lover who would fain ask the momentous question of her whom heloves. He remembered that he now had no right to ask her to be hiswife.
"Do you know," he said at last, again grasping her hand impetuously,"that I think you the sweetest, most charming woman in the world? Iwant you to be my wife, and help me to make my life all it should be,only--only I dare not ask you."
Liane did not withdraw her fingers. She remained perfectly stillwithout meeting his glance. Yet, strangely enough, she shuddered.
"I have not the power to say all I feel. My words sound so harsh andcold; but, Liane, Liane, I love you! God made not the heart of man tobe silent, but has promised him eternity with the intention that heshould not be alone. There is for me but one woman upon earth. It isyou."
He looked imploringly into her face.
"Yes, George, I feel that you love me," she said, with a sweet smilebehind her veil. "It is very nice to be loved."
He covered her hand with eager kisses; but she withdrew it softly, herlips compressed.
"My darling!" His arm was about her waist, and he kissed her lips. Hespoke in strong suppressed agitation; his voice trembled. Herecollected he was penniless.
She freed herself from his embrace. "No, no," she murmured. "We maylove, but we must not marry. There are so many other girls who wouldmake you far happier than I should."
He went on to tell her how much he reverenced her character, how goodand pure and lovely she was, and how completely she fulfilled his idealof what a woman ought to be.
Slowly she shook her head. "That shows you know so little of me,George."
"I know only what you have told me, dearest," he answered.
Then a moment later he regretted that he had not adhered to his resolveand exercised more self-control. Was he not without means? Yet he hadasked her to marry him! Could he tell her in the same breath that hewas penniless? No, he dared not, lest she might cast him aside.
Liane stood like one in a dream, her beautiful face suffused by blushes,her eyes downcast, her breast slowly heaving.
He could resist his own passion--he could keep back what he felt--nolonger.
"I love you!" cried he.
She stretched out her hands in a sort of mute appeal, and seemed as ifshe would fall; but i
n that instant she was again clasped to his heart,and held there with a tender force that she had neither the power northe will to withstand.
He wished to marry her! Was it possible? And she loved him. With thatthought her face was hidden on his shoulder, and she yielded herself tothose protecting arms. He felt the shy loving movement as she nestledclose to him, and her frame was shaken by a sob.
"My darling--my darling--my own darling!" he cried, triumph in hisvoice, and passionate joy in his eyes. "You love me--you love me!"
But again she drew herself away from him, then turned aside, held herbreath, and shuddered. The lace ruffles on her bosom slowly rose andfell. The movement was as though she were shrinking from him withrepulsion. But it was only momentary, and he did not notice it. Nextinstant she again turned, lifting her clear grey eyes to his with theirfrank innocent gaze.
"Yes," she said, almost in a whisper, "I love you."
CHAPTER FOUR.
HAIRPINS.
The tragedy caused the greatest excitement in the neighbourhood.Journalistic artists, those industrious gentlemen who produce suchterribly distorted portraits, came from London and sketched the spot inCross Lane and the exterior of Captain Brooker's house. One had theaudacity to call and request him to lend them a photograph of themurdered girl. This he declined, with a few remarks more forcible thanpolite, for he had been greatly annoyed by the continual stream ofinterviewers, who continually rang his bell. Hundreds of persons walkedor drove over
If Sinners Entice Thee Page 6
