Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery

by B. L. Farjeon

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  GRACIE MAKES A DISCOVERY.

  He did not resist. The enterprise to which he was pledged had sofastened itself upon his imagination that the least thing appertainingto it claimed first place. Except that her breath was short therewere no symptoms of excitement in Gracie, but Dick was sufficientlyconversant with her peculiar manner to know that she had something ofimportance to communicate.

  "Tell me as we go along," he said.

  "No," she answered, "you must see for yourself."

  "Don't walk so fast, then. We must not attract attention."

  There were only two or three loungers in Catchpole Square. Now thatSamuel Boyd was buried the general interest in the house had waned,and public attention was chiefly devoted to the proceedings in theCoroner's Court, in consequence of which there had been intervalsduring this day when the Square was bare of sight-seers. The two orthree idle persons who were staring aimlessly at the walls as Dick andGracie came near regarded the appearance of the new-comers as anagreeable diversion, and gazed at them instead.

  "Now, Gracie, what is it?" asked Dick.

  She cast a sharp glance at a little iron gate at the side of the nexthouse to Samuel Boyd's, and replied, "Not while they're here, Dick.Stare them out."

  Nothing loth, Dick stared so sternly at the idlers that they becamenervous, shifted their gaze, to see him still staring at them whenthey looked at him again, made awkward movements, and finally strolledaway, and left the Square to him and Gracie.

  "Let's talk inside the house," she said, with a nod of approval.

  "No, Gracie, here. I don't care about taking you in."

  "I've been in," she said calmly.

  "You've been in!" he exclaimed, hastening to the door. "Is anybodyinside now? Ah!" with a sudden thought. "Your father!"

  "I didn't see a living soul when I was in the place," she said,mournfully.

  "Who opened the door for you?"

  "Nobody. I won't talk in the Square, Dick; people'll be coming andinterrupting us. I'll show you all about it when we're inside. You'llbe glad to know."

  Recognising the imprudence of running the chance of being overheard,he unlocked the door, and they stood in the dark passage.

  "Don't be frightened, Gracie. What has happened within these walls iseerie enough to send the shivers through one."

  "I ain't frightened a bit, Dick."

  "Very well, then. Remain here while I go and get a light. The candlesand matches are upstairs."

  "I'll come with you. You do like me a little, don't you, Dick?"

  "I like you a good deal. You're the queerest and bravest little girlI've ever met."

  She nestled close to him. They reached the office, and he fumbledabout for the matches.

  "Where are we, Dick?"

  He hesitated a moment, and answered gently, "In the office where yourfather used to work."

  "Father?" she sighed. "Dick, what do you see when you are in thedark?"

  "Darkness."

  "I see more than that."

  "Do you see anything now?" he asked, still groping for the matches.

  "I see father. There he stands. He looks so white and thin, and he'sholding out his arms to me to save him."

  "From what? Ah, here they are at last." He struck a match, and lighteda candle.

  "I don't know from what, but I'm going to. Now he's gone. No, no! He'sthere, he's there! Father, father!"

  She darted forward to the hooded chair in which the wax figure of theChinaman was seated.

  "Hold hard, Gracie," said Dick, catching her by the arm. "That's not aman; it's a wax figure."

  "Let me go, let me go!" It was not a scream, but a fierce whisper thatissued from her lips. She twisted herself out of Dick's grasp, and ranto the chair. She stood awhile before she spoke again, and Dickwatched her curiously. "Is he dead?"

  "Wax images generally are," said Dick, endeavouring to speak lightly.

  She gazed earnestly at the dead white face.

  "Has he been here long?"

  "A pretty long time, I should say."

  "Was he here when Mr. Boyd was murdered?"

  "Yes."

  "If he could only speak, Dick!"

  "Ah, if he only could!"

  She crept to the bedroom door. "Is this the room?"

  "Yes. I wouldn't go in, Gracie."

  "Why not? He's dead and buried; and if his ghost is there it can't dome any harm."

  Her black eyes travelled over the walls and ceiling and floor, asthough in search of a clue to her father's fate. She evinced adisposition to linger there, but Dick pulled her back into the office.

  "Now, Gracie, how did you get into the house?"

  "I'll show you. Come downstairs."

  Taking the candle with them they descended to the lower part of thepremises. There were three small rooms in the basement, in addition tothe kitchen, all in a state of ruin. He was filled with wonder whenGracie informed him that there was a cellar underneath the kitchen,for neither he nor the officials who had searched the place knewanything of it.

  "Pull up the trap door, Dick. There it is, under that old chair."

  The wonder still upon him he removed the chair, and, kneeling, liftedthe trap door, beneath which was a short fixed ladder.

  "I'll go first," said Gracie, "then you can give me the candle, andcome after me." It was done as she directed, and he found himself in adungeon-like room, about ten feet square, without window or door init.

  "I got in through that wall, Dick."

  It was the wall that divided the two houses. Dick looked and saw nomeans of entrance.

  "Can't you see how, Dick?"

  "No. You are a spirit."

  "Can a spirit do things that we can't?"

  "It is what people believe," replied Dick, doubtfully.

  "And see things that we can't?"

  "So they say."

  "If I was a spirit I'd soon find out where poor father is. I ain't aspirit, Dick. Look here."

  Stepping to a part of the wall which bore traces of crumbling away,Gracie pushed a brick into the cellar of the adjoining house; shepushed another, and that fell; another, and that fell. A rat scamperedpast, and gave Dick a shock. Gracie laughed. Then she wedged her smallbody through, and stood apart from him, he being in one house, and shein another.

  "Wait a bit, Gracie," he cried excitedly. "Hold the candle."

  There were other loose bricks which yielded to his pressure, and in afew moments he had made a hole large enough for a man to creepthrough. Dick and Gracie were now side by side.

  "Easy, ain't it, Dick? We'd best put up the bricks, in case ofaccidents."

  "You ought to have been a detective," said Dick.

  "I shouldn't have made a bad one, I don't think," she answered, withunemotional complacency, proceeding to replace the bricks, which shedid very carefully, even fixing the loose mortar about them. The workwas done so neatly that nothing but the closest scrutiny would haveled to the discovery of the unlawful communication between the houses.

  "Dick," said Gracie, "Mr. Samuel Boyd was as artful as they make 'em.Do you think he went in and out through this hole?"

  "He'd have been in a rare mess if he did," replied Dick, brushing thedust from his clothes. "The puzzle is what he wanted in an emptyhouse. Supposing he did not wish to go back, how did he get out ofit?"

  "This way."

  He followed her out of the cellar up a short, narrow flight of ricketystairs. At the end of the passage was a door, the lock of which wasbroken. This door opened upon half a dozen stone steps, and at onetime had probably been used as a kitchen entrance for tradesmen. Alittle rusty gate at the top opened into the Square. Only two of thehouses had an entrance of a similar description, and Dick inwardlyrailed at his own lack of foresight in overlooking this means ofgetting into Samuel Boyd's residence. Upon further reflection,however, he thought it hardly likely that he would have succeeded incarrying his investigations to the p
oint which Gracie's shrewdness andpertinacity had enabled her to reach.

  "It's a good job for me the place is empty," said Gracie. "I had toget into Mr. Boyd's house somehow, you know, even if I had to climbthe wall at the back, the way the murderer and the newspaper man did.As I was looking at the houses I saw these steps, and when nobody wasin the Square I crept down. It was all a job to push the door open,but I did, and there I was, without anybody seeing me. Then I tried toget into the backyard, but couldn't. I knew there was only a wallbetween me and the next house, and I thought of the way prisoners maketheir escape from prison. They made holes in walls--why couldn't I? Ifound a bit of old iron in the cellar here, and I poked at the brickswith it till I came across one that was looser than the others. Itdidn't take me long to push it through, and when I got that out therest was easy. That's the way of it, Dick."

  "You were in the dark all the time."

  "That didn't matter. I've got cat's eyes."

  "You're a clever girl."

  "Thank you, Dick. When you say anything like that to me I feel warmall over."

  "What made you so anxious to get into Mr. Boyd's house? Surely you didnot expect to find your father there?"

  "I don't know what I didn't expect. I thought I might find a bit ofpaper with his writing on it that'd tell me where to look for him. Itold you about my dream the night before last, and how I promisedfather I'd catch the murderer. I dreamt of him again last night.'Don't forget your promise,' he said. 'Look for me in CatchpoleSquare.' 'You ain't dead, are you, father?' I asked. 'No,' he said,'look for me in Catchpole Square, and catch the murderer.' It's alarge order, ain't it, Dick?"

  There was nothing humorous in the question; her voice was perfectlypassionless, but Dick had a clear sense of the absorbing earnestnessand the pitiful pathos which lay beneath, unexpressed though they werein tone or gesture.

  "Poor little Gracie!" he said. "The body of a mouse and the heart of alion."

  "I _am_ small, ain't I? But I shall grow. Did I do right, Dick, incoming to tell you about the hole? Don't say you're mad with me."

  "I won't. You did quite right, and I only wish you were a man. You andI together would get at the bottom of a mystery that is making manyinnocent people unhappy."

  "We'll do it as it is, Dick. It's made mother unhappy--oh, so unhappy!The worst of it is"--she paused, and with a grave look added, "Dr.Vinsen. What does he mean by speaking against you?"

  "Passes my comprehension, Gracie. There's no love lost between us,that's clear. It is a case of mutual antipathy. But I don't want to dohim an injustice. He has been very kind to you."

  "Yes," she said. "I wonder why."

  "Ah, I wonder."

  "I tried to get in at the inquest to-day, but couldn't get near thedoor. Was he there?"

  "I did not see him. His friend was."

  "His friend?" she queried.

  "Dr. Pye, and he made it hot for us."

  "What did he say, Dick, what did he say?"

  "Too long to tell you now; you'll hear all about it by and by."

  "Give me a ha'penny to buy a paper, Dick, will you?"

  "Here's a penny. So, Dr. Vinsen speaks against me?"

  "Yes, and smiles and pats me when I stick up for you. He ain't angry,you know; he speaks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 'You'llknow better, my child,' he says, 'before you are much older, and thenyou'll stick up for me.' He'll have to wait a long time for that.Mother's wild with me because I don't like him, but I can't, I can't!I feel sometimes as if I could stick a knife in him. I'm sure he'd doyou a mischief if he could, so just you take care of him, Dick."

  "I will; and I dare say I shall be a match for him in the end. We'vetalked enough about him, Gracie, my girl. Now we'll get back to thehouse, and I'll take you to your mother, who is fretting her heart outabout you."

  "I'd sooner go by myself, Dick, and I'll tell her you found me andsent me home."

  "That will do as well. I know you will not break a promise you giveme."

  "Never, Dick, never! I'd die first!"

  They returned to the house the way they came, and she lifted her faceto his.

  "Kiss me, Dick," she said.

  He kissed gladness into her, and they parted at Samuel Boyd's streetdoor.