The Heath Hover Mystery
Page 20
it again. Everything favoured this. The nightwas here, and the night was not too dark, while just dark enough.Another instinct told him that now was the time, now was his chance.
He pulled out a drawer--noiselessly, then another drawer. Yes--here waswhat he sought--a pair of thick gloves; but--it was an old pair, and theends of some of the fingers were in holes. He looked at them dubiously.There was a great deal underlying the fact of those gloves being inholes, it seemed. Then he put them on.
He listened again--intently. Still no sound on the dead, soundlessnight. He fancied he could hear the girl's soft, regular breathing, intranquil slumber, through the partition. That was just what he wanted.He had told her he would be there, if she had occasion to call him; butnow, what he wanted to effect would take some time, nearly half an hourperhaps. What if she were to awake suddenly, in an agony of fear, andto call for him, and he were away in the dark woodland path up towardsthe pond head! Well, there were chances in everything.
He listened again--then opened the door silently, and went down thestairs, keeping to the end of each step to minimise the chances of itcreaking. As noiselessly as possible he opened the hall door, thenlistened again.
All was still. He could hear the ticking of the clock in theliving-room, and to him it sounded loud. But for the rest nothing wasaudible. He went out, and the faint puff of the night air wafted roundhis face. All was still. Not even the ululating voice of an owl, in orover the dark woods, floated out to break it. Mervyn realised that hisnerves were somewhat athrill as he placed his first step on the pathstairway. And yet--and yet--at his age, and with his experience, whyshould they be? It was ridiculous.
There was the stone. One wrench, and what he wanted would be in hishand. He looked around, not quickly nor directly, but in a casualmanner; taking fully a minute over the process. But as he turned to thestone again a kind of influence seemed to spring from it, almostassuming the tones of a voice. "You cannot. You dare not," it seemedto say. Then came reaction.
"Oh, can't I? Daren't I?" he repeated scornfully to himself. "We'llsee."
He bent over the stone now, at the same time drawing the finger ends ofhis holed gloves as far forward as possible, as though to cover as faras might be, the defects of those same holes. Then he stood uprightagain, and continued his stroll up towards the sluice. For ever sofaint a sound had caught his ear.
"Good evenin' Mr Mervyn, good evenin' sur. Fine evenin' to get theair, sure-ly."
"Ah, good-evening, Pierce. Yes. A breath of air makes you sleep betterin this February weather, eh?"
Sir John Tullibard's head keeper had been looking up the pond. Now heturned, the glow of the bowl of his short clay pipe showing dull red inthe gloom.
"That it do, sur. But I could sleep middlin' without that," answeredthe man, with a grin.
"I'd say something about a pint of ale, Pierce," went on Mervyn, "but Idon't want to risk disturbing Miss Seward. She sleeps light, and--well,do you know, I'm afraid she's getting a bit of a scare on about the oldplace. I only hope no one has been chattering over all the old sillyyarns about it to her, eh?"
"That haven't I, sur," answered the man.
"Well, get the pint to-morrow instead of to-night," said Mervyn, andsomething changed hands. "Still, I believe she must have overheard someone chattering; yet I've rubbed the fear of the Lord into old Joe aboutit."
"Thank'ee sur. No, I don't know as how anything of the sort could havebeen nabbled around. Folks have been mighty careful since the strangegent's affair, sur. They won't talk--not they. Think maybe they'll be`pulled' over that."
"Do they. Well, long may they go on thinking so at that rate. But, doyou know, I'm rather getting fed up with that business myself, and amalways wishing to Heaven the poor chap had picked out some one else'shospitable roof to go and end up under, or that I hadn't heard, and hadleft him where he was in the first instance. It would have come to thesame thing in the long run--or rather the very short run--and would havesaved me no end of bother."
"Why, yes, sur, it would have done that sure-ly. Thank'ee again, sur,and good-night."
Mervyn had judged it time to go in. And as he walked back over thefateful stone again he found himself wondering whether the keeper'spresence there was really accidental after all. Was Nashby privilyemploying the whole countryside--or such of it as was trustworthy--tokeep watch on him--tireless watch by night as well as by day? Further,had Pierce actually seen him stop and bend over the stone? That wouldfinish things. Mervyn's head and forehead were not quite dry as henoiselessly re-entered his front door, and that in spite of the nowchilly atmosphere of the night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE COMING OF HELSTON VARNE.
"I'm thinking we can about decide to give up the Heath Hover business asa bad job," said Inspector Nashby to his auxiliary, one night as theysat over whisky and water and pipes, in the inspector's snug privatequarters in Clancehurst.
"Are you?" said the other, in a matter of fact way.
"Why, yes. There's nothing in it, absolutely no clue whatever. So far,no one has come forward to make even so much as an enquiry as to theidentity of the dead man, and, if you remember, he looked foreign.Mervyn, too, said he talked with a slightly foreign accent. Now allthat goes to show the thing couldn't well have concerned Mervyn.Where's the motive? That's what I want to locate. I'm all for motive.Show motive, and it won't be long before you get your case right home.That's what I say--always have said."
"Motive--eh?"
"Yes. Motive. Now what the deuce motive could Mervyn have had fordoing away with this chap? First he fishes him out of the ice, in themiddle of a dead cold snow-stormy night, at some risk to himself; thenhe takes him in and does for him in the most hospitable manner."
"`Does for him'--Is that a joke, Nashby?"
"Well, no. But what I'm getting at is--supposing Mervyn had a motivefor wanting this fellow in Kingdom Come, all he had to do was to leavehim in the water. See? He needn't have gone to the bother of haulinghim out at all."
"So Stewart seemed to think," was the answer. Stewart had been thespeaker's predecessor in the private investigation of the case, but hadcome pretty much to the same conclusion that the local police officialhad, that it was hardly worth while going on with. This man had thenappeared on the scene to take it up, rather to Nashby's astonishment.To the latter he was an "outside" man, but he had come properlyaccredited. To tell the truth, he had come as rather a nuisance.Nashby wanted the discovery of whatever there was to discover to his owncredit. He did not relish any one from outside coming in to benefit byhis gleanings.
"I don't want to say anything against Stewart," went on the lastspeaker. "I expect he's an excellent man, in his line. In fact, fromwhat I hear, I'm sure he is--in his line."
"Well, but--what the devil good are any one of us if it isn't in hisline?" said the inspector, feeling rather nettled, but pushing the cutglass decanter--an ingredient of an appreciative public testimonialTantalus--towards the other as though to cover it. The said other mighthave smiled pityingly--he felt like it--but did not.
"That sounds conclusive," he answered. "But--it's just when you get offyour `line' that you make discoveries. Now you know I'm not talkingthrough my hat. I've had experiences--not in this country--that most ofyou here never get. I don't say it to brag, mind, but as a baldstatement of fact."
"I know that, Mr Varne," said Nashby, deferentially. "Well, we don'tget 'em, and it's not our fault if we don't."
"Of course it isn't. It's all a question of opportunity. There are atleast ten men in the world who would stretch a point to get me put outof the way, and at least four more who are vowed to do it. Out of theseat least one will succeed sooner or later. But in that case it willpuzzle you, and all the Yard, to find the motive."
"You don't say so!" said the inspector, gazing at the speaker, with anew access of veneration. "As we're alone I don't mind admitting I'monly a plain man who's worked his way up, bu
t--sink me if I wouldn'trather be out of the force than have so many desperate scoundrels swornto do me down some time or other. Here, you see, we run some one toearth--he does his stretch and there's an end of it. No malice borne--and all that."
The man who had been named as Varne could not repress the smile thistime, at what to him was the simple grooviness of this countrypoliceman, as he defined him in his own mind. But he managed to makethe smile a good-natured one.
"Ah, well, there are shaggier parts of the world