The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel

by Thomas W. Hanshew and Mary E. Hanshew

  CHAPTER XI

  A NEW CLUE

  It was a silent, horror-haunted breakfast-table that morning at which,however, every member of the family appeared, as though drivendownstairs for the mere comfort of being among familiar things, and withone another, in this time of tragedy. Cleek partook of breakfast withthem, but the black looks which Ross directed at him would have made aweaker man lose his appetite.

  He smiled to himself now and again, missing nothing of what went onabout him, yet seeming, indeed, to see nothing at all but his own plate,which was plentifully filled in response to a hearty appetite.

  He found Cynthia Debenham a bonny, red-cheeked country girl of the besttype, athletic and muscular as a boy, and very obvious in herexpressions, as just such a normally healthy girl of her generationusually is. Her cousin, Catherine Dowd, was on the contrary ablack-haired witch with slanting eyes and close mouth and the finelychiselled nostrils of a thoroughbred mare. He did not take to her uponsight. There was so much concealed behind those closed lips, so muchthat was secretive in the whole type of her. But she was obviously veryfond of them all, and upon excellent terms with every member of thatill-assorted family. So that at least Miss Dowd of the black locks wasendowed with the mixing spirit, which was very much in her favour.

  Cyril, large-eyed and serious, sent his glance roving from one face toanother, as though seeking for the secret of this horrible thing thathad taken place here in the midst of them, and Cleek could not refrainfrom a pang of pity for the white-faced boy. He looked so frightened andmiserable, and now and again his eyes roved up into Ross's face withsomething of inquiry in them, as though he felt that this bigstepbrother must surely hold the key to the tragic happenings of lastnight.

  Ross, indeed, ate nothing and said less, although his fiancee did all inher power to bring some sort of a smile into his morose face. While uponthe other side of him Maud Duggan sat in a silence which was fraughtwith all the dreadful happenings of that dreadful night, showing a faceto the world which spoke mutely of the fact that sleep had not visitedher during the long dark hours. Lady Paula alone tried to make some sortof desultory conversation, aimed at random at each member of the party,and missing its mark each time.

  It was as though a pall had been dropped over them, shutting out thepossibility of speech.

  Breakfast at length over, Cleek took the situation quietly in hand, andturning toward them in the open doorway, made his desires known.

  "If you will all be so kind as to step into the library in an hour'stime," he said blandly, "I should like to reconstruct the scene of lastnight's tragedy in the presence of all those who took part in it.... No,Miss Duggan, you need not be afraid. Your father's body will have beenremoved by then. But if any one of you have any knowledge whatever toimpart to me--representing, as I do, Scotland Yard in the absence of Mr.Narkom (who is already upon his way here), I shall be only too pleasedto speak with you in the little ante-room close by. I may use that as asort of office, for the time being, may I not, Lady Paula? You've noobjections, I trust?"

  She shook her head at him, flashing him a killing glance from under herfull lids. The flattery of his choice of her as principal of the bereftfamily pleased her immensely.

  "None whatever."

  "Thanks very much."

  Then he withdrew to the said ante-room, took out pen and paper, andbegan figuring out something upon it which caused him not a littleworry, by the look of his face.

  Five minutes brought a gentle tap upon the door, and without raising hishead from his work he called, "Come in."

  Catherine Dowd stood in the aperture, looking more like the Mona Lisathan he had ever seen a living person do before. There was something ofthe same inscrutable smile lingering upon her lips, the same mysteriousimpassivity in her quiet countenance.

  "I've brought you something, Mr. Deland," she said in a soft purringvoice. "Something which I imagine has great bearings upon last night'stragedy and which I found hidden in the left-hand curtain of the window.It was stuck carelessly into the inner lining of the green silk, andhung there. Here it is."

  Cleek was on his feet in an instant, face alert. She handed him theobject, and then nodded at his exclamation of surprise.

  "Yes. A stiletto. And in the face of the fact that Sir Andrew wasstabbed as well as shot, something of importance."

  "I should think so, indeed!" Cleek's face fairly radiated excitement ashe bent over the object that lay in his open palm, touching it withlight, nimble fingers. "Gad! yes! A stiletto--and a South American one atthat! See the curiously square blade? If that isn't the identicalinstrument that stabbed Sir Andrew's breast, I'll eat my hat! Miss Dowd,you have brought me a clue which may lead to the tracing of the murdererhimself--or one of 'em, as there must have been two. Now, tell exactlythe circumstances in which you found it, and why you kept the facthidden until now?"

  She came a little nearer to him and leaned against the edge of thedesk-top, a sort of secretive nonchalance in her attitude.

  "I don't say everything I know, Mr. Deland," she said smoothly. "For aperson who tells everything he knows leaves nothing within to show thathe has anything of interest left for the next person who comes along. Itwas shortly after the tragedy had taken place. Everything, as of courseyou know, was absolutely in confusion. People rushing about here, there,and everywhere, as though they had gone mad, which indeed they mustsurely have done in such tragic circumstances. I was as bad as the rest,and with Cynthia searched the room for any clues or anything which mightlead to the tracing of the murderer. I had just gone to the open windowand----"

  "Oho!" said Cleek in two different tones, "so the window was open, wasit?"

  "Yes--about halfway up from the bottom. The centre one, Mr. Deland.Someone had asked me to shut it--it was Ross, I think, poor distractedboy!--which I immediately proceeded to do, and brushed against thecurtains--the big green plush ones which hang at the outer edges of thebay window--when something clattered lightly to the floor. Cynthia wasat the other side, looking out into the darkness, everyone else wasoccupied with Sir Andrew himself, so I bent down quickly and picked thething up. And there it is."

  Yes, there it undoubtedly was. And undoubtedly too, the weapon which hadstabbed Sir Andrew so cruelly, if Cleek knew aught of such things. Hefrowned a moment over it, and then looked up into Miss Dowd's dark facethrough narrowed lids.

  "And you know to whom it belongs?"

  "I cannot say for certain, but I fancy it is Lady Paula's. She had onesimilar, I know, but whether it is the same one I am not prepared tosay."

  "Showing yourself a very wise young lady," put in Cleek with a smile.

  She acknowledged the compliment gracefully.

  "And that you are a very gallant gentleman, Mr. Deland--in spite of yoursomewhat unusual role," she supplemented. Then, becoming serious again,"But don't you think it--well, queer, that if this were the instrumentwhich stabbed Sir Andrew, that there should be no mark of stain upon it,no blood of any sort? The blade when I found it was absolutely clean."

  "H'm. Yes. Rather extraordinary. Unless the murderer had time to wipe itupon anything, Miss Dowd, before consigning it to the curtains. And now,another question: What made you keep the thing secret?"

  She hesitated a moment, as though uncertain what to answer, then,blushing faintly, confronted him.

  "I have often seen that thing in use in the Duggan household. It haslaid claim to many a theatrical bout upon an impromptu stage. It has cutpages of books, and slit edges of papers, and----"

  "All the more reason why there should have been some significance toevery member of the family in it, Miss Dowd."

  "That's one up to you--certainly. But you see the last person I had seenusing it, the day before yesterday, when I was here with Cynthia,spending the afternoon, was--really, I'd rather not say, Mr. Deland."

  "I'm afraid you must, Miss Dowd."

  Came a moment's hesitation; meanwhile Cleek watched her narrowly. He sawthe colour come and go in her ivory-tinted face, saw
the light that cameinto her eyes at mention of the name which followed, and drew his ownimmediate conclusions.

  "Oh, very well, then. There can be no harm in your knowing. It was RossDuggan himself. He had been reading a new book which he had sent toLondon for--'Poisons and Potions of Other Times', I think it wascalled--and used that very same stiletto to slit the pages with. Butthat was a couple of days ago, Mr. Deland. Who used it since, I couldn'ttell. Or how it got in those curtains, either."

  "I see. And that's all you have to tell me?"

  Cleek's voice was normal, though he was not a little startled at thenews she had imparted to him. Ross, indeed--and reading the musty oldbook upon "Poisons and Potions", a replica of which stood upon his ownstudy bookshelf in his rooms in Clarges Street, and every word of whichhe knew by heart! H'm. Strange literature for a young man of normaltastes. And the thing had been in his possession then. Gad! All roadsbegan to lead to Rome with a vengeance! And surely Ross Duggan had thegreatest motive for the crime of any one of that strange and unhappyfamily. And Sir Andrew had been killed, they said, before the name wasaltered in that will--which at the moment was missing from itshiding-place.

  He looked up suddenly into Miss Dowd's eyes. Perhaps this very secretiveyoung woman who was so deeply in love with Ross Duggan as to spirit awayclues which she felt might incriminate him under the very noses of hisunsuspecting family could enlighten him with regard to that document.

  "Tell me," he said rapidly, "did you see anything of the will--after thetragedy took place?"

  She nodded.

  "Yes. It was lying upon the table in front of Sir Andrew, and when thelights went up again, I saw it from my place at the back of him. I sawit distinctly. Why? Has anything happened to it? Lady Paula picked itup once, I remember, and glanced at it; then she put it down again, Ithink. But my mind was distracted in another direction and I don'tremember anything more concerning it. It's not _gone_, is it? SurelyRoss can't be done out of his inheritance that way? Oh, if thatwoman...."

  The venom in her voice was appalling to Cleek. There was somethinginscrutable and oddly snake-like in the methods this young womanemployed. It repulsed while it fascinated. And no doubt she could strikewith a poisoned tongue upon aggravation.

  "Well," said he, "I didn't happen to see it there this morning, MissDowd, but no doubt it had been put away for safety. I have had noopportunity of interviewing any one but Miss Duggan--and now yourself"(he made no mention of his early morning visit from Lady Paula), "andprobably it has a very meek and mild solution."

  "I hope so, indeed. I'll be going now, Mr. Deland. You think I did rightabout the stiletto?--knowing the bad blood which lies between Lady Paulaand Ross? It wouldn't do, you know, to place any possible weapon in thatwoman's hands. She'd use it for her own ends immediately."

  "As you would do also, my dear young lady," registered Cleek silently asshe left the room. "Gad! Well, here's evidence for us to investigate,anyhow. She's a strange mixture, that girl, and one who would stop atnothing.... By George! no, but she wouldn't, even for the sort of lovethat _her_ kind would give a man! And it was _his_ inheritance which wasin jeopardy, don't forget that!... It's a pretty kettle of fish, indeed!And this Ross Duggan seems to have half the countryside in love withhim! That's the third woman, including his affianced bride. His issurely the deadly kind that they all fall for! Well, I'm glad theinheritance isn't mine, at any rate. There is no fury like the fury of awoman scorned--and a chap can't marry three women at the same time, andlive within the law.... If he ever did live within the law--in the faceof--_that_--which I saw in the dungeon! But I can't somehow credithim---- And yet, who else?... Hello, there's Rhea's bell, and Mr.Narkom, I'll dare swear. Well, I'll be glad enough to see his rotundity,bless him!--more glad than I had at first imagined."

  And that's exactly who it proved to be. Rhea's bell was certainlyuseful, that was one thing. It did keep tally of every incoming visitor.And with that huge, high, iron-spiked wall which surrounded the groundsof Aygon Castle so utterly insurmountable, surely the murderers couldn'thave got away very easily last night. Whew! Cleek whistled suddenly, andsat up. He hadn't thought of that! Then the murderers must be here inthis household, or in the grounds of the place still--unless Rhea'sbell had acquainted the family of their entrance or exit through thegreat gate.

  But the gate had been ajar last night! And he had met Captain Macdonaldprowling around on that nocturnal visit of his just after the timewhen the murder must have taken place. Then _who_ set the gateajar? Someone in the house, of course! Someone who knew about thething--_beforehand_.... That opened up another avenue. He'd ask MissDuggan. Perhaps it hadn't been opened especially for _him_, then?Perhaps it had been opened for--someone else. It certainly gave one tothink, as the French say.

  And he was thinking to such good cause that he did not hear the door ofthe ante-room open, nor the voice of the butler Jorkins repeat a name,and it was with genuine astonishment that he sprang to his feet and sawthe portly figure of the Superintendent standing before him.