Who?

by Elizabeth Kent

  CHAPTER V

  THE DETECTIVE DETECTS

  "A very pale yellow!" Cyril was dumb-founded.

  Every fact, every inference had seemed to prove beyond the shadow of adoubt that his _protegee_ and Lady Wilmersley were one and the sameperson. Was it possible that she could have worn a wig? No, for heremembered that in lifting her veil, he had inadvertently pulled herhair a little and had admired the way it grew on her temples.

  "Why does the colour of her ladyship's hair interest you, my lord?"again inquired the detective.

  Cyril blushed with confusion as he realised that all three men werewatching him with evident astonishment. What a fool he was not to havebeen able to conceal his surprise! What answer could he give them?However, as it was not his cousin's murderess he was hiding, he felt hehad nothing to fear from the detective, so ignoring him he turned to Mr.Twombley and said with a forced laugh:

  "I must be losing my mind, for I distinctly remember hearing a friend ofmine rave about Lady Wilmersley's dark beauty." Rather a fishyexplanation, thought poor Cyril; but really his powers of invention wereexhausted. Would it satisfy them?

  He glanced sharply at the detective. The latter was no longer looking athim, but was contemplating his watch-chain with absorbed attention.

  "Hah, hah! Rather a joke, what?" laughed Twombley. "Never had seen her,I suppose; no one ever did, you know, except out driving."

  "It was either a silly joke or my memory is in a bad shape," said Cyril."Luckily it is a matter of no consequence. What is of vital importance,however," he continued, turning to the detective, "is that her ladyshipshould be secured immediately. No one is safe while she is still atlarge."

  "It is unfortunate," replied the detective, "that no photograph of herladyship can be found, but we have telegraphed her description all overthe country."

  "What is her description, by the way?"

  "Here it is, my lord," said Judson, handing Cyril a printed sheet.

  "Height, 5 feet 3; weight, about 9 stone 2; hair, very fair, inclined tobe wavy; nose, straight; mouth, small; eyes, blue; face, oval," readCyril. "Well, I suppose that will have to do, but of course thatdescription would fit half the women in England."

  "That's the trouble, my lord."

  "Mr. Twombley, when you said just now that no one knew her, did you meanthat literally?"

  "Nobody in the county did; I'm sure of that."

  "And you, Mr. James? Is it possible that even you never saw her?"

  "I have never spoken to her."

  "Then so far as you know, the only person outside the castle she couldcommunicate with was the doctor. What sort of a man is he?"

  "What doctor are you speaking of?" inquired the vicar.

  "Why, the doctor who had charge of her case, of course," replied Cyrilimpatiently.

  "I never heard of her having a doctor."

  "Do you mean to say that Wilmersley kept her in confinement withoutorders from a physician?"

  "No, I suppose not. Of course not. There must have been some one,"faltered the vicar a trifle abashed.

  "You never, however, inquired by what authority he kept his wife shutup?"

  "I never insulted Lord Wilmersley by questioning the wisdom of hisconduct or the integrity of his motives, and I repeat that there wasundoubtedly some physician in attendance on Lady Wilmersley, only I donot happen to know who he is."

  "Well, I must clear this matter up at once. Please ring the bell,Judson."

  A minute later the butler appeared.

  "Who was her ladyship's physician?" demanded Cyril.

  "My lady never 'ad one; leastways not till yesterday."

  "Yesterday?"

  "Yes, my lord, yesterday afternoon two gentlemen drove up in a fly andone of them says 'is name is Dr. Brown and that 'e was expected, and 'islordship said as how I was to show them in here, and so I did."

  "You think they came to see her ladyship?"

  "Yes, my lord, and at dinner her ladyship seemed very much upset. Shedidn't eat a morsel, though 'is lordship urged 'er ever so."

  "But why should a doctor's visit upset her ladyship?"

  The butler pursed his lips and looked mysterious. "I can't say, mylord."

  "Nonsense, you've some idea in your head. Out with it!"

  "Well, my lord, me and Charles, we thought as she was afraid they weregoing to lock 'er up."

  Cyril started slightly.

  "Ah! If they had done so long ago!" exclaimed the vicar, clasping hishands.

  "But, sir, her ladyship wasn't crazy! They all say so, but it isn'ttrue. Me and Charles 'ave watched 'er at table day in and day out andwe're willing to swear that she isn't any more crazy than--than me!Please excuse the liberty, but I never thought 'er ladyship was treatedright, I never did."

  "Why, you told me yourself that his lordship was devoted to her."

  "So 'e was, my lord, so 'e was." The man shuffled uneasily.

  "If her ladyship is not insane, why do you think his lordship kept her aprisoner here?"

  "Well, my lord, some people 'ave thought that it was jealousy as madehim do it."

  "That," exclaimed the vicar, "is a vile calumny, which I have done mybest to refute."

  "So jealousy was the motive generally ascribed to my cousin's treatmentof his wife?"

  "Not generally, far from it; but I regret to say that there are peoplewho professed to believe it."

  "Did her ladyship have a nurse?" asked Cyril, addressing the butler.

  "No, my lord, only a maid."

  "Mrs. Valdriguez is a very respectable person, my lord."

  "Mrs. What?" demanded Cyril.

  "Mrs. Valdriguez."

  "What a queer name."

  "Perhaps, my lord, I don't pronounce it just right. Mrs. Valdriguez isSpanish."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes, my lord, she was here first in the time of Lord Wilmersley'smother, and 'is lordship brought 'er back again when he returned from'is 'oneymoon. Lady Wilmersley never left these rooms without 'avingeither 'is lordship, Mustapha, or Valdriguez with 'er."

  "Very good, Douglas, you can go now."

  "A pretty state of things!" cried Cyril when the door closed behind thebutler. "Here in civilised England a poor young creature is kept inconfinement with a Spanish woman and a Turk to watch over her, and noone thinks of demanding an investigation! It's monstrous!"

  "My boy, you're right. Never liked the man myself--confess it now--but Ididn't know anything against him. Pretty difficult to interfere, what?Never occurred to me to do so."

  "I am deeply pained by your attitude to your unfortunate cousin, whopaid with his life for his devotion to an afflicted woman. I feel it myduty to say that your suspicions are unworthy of you. I must go now; Ihave some parochial duties to attend to." And with scant ceremony thevicar stalked out of the room.

  "It's getting late, I see. Must be off too. Can't be late fordinner--wife, you know. Why don't you come with me--gloomyhere--delighted to put you up. Do come," urged Twombley.

  "Thanks awfully, not to-night. I'm dead beat. It's awfully good of youto suggest it, though."

  "Not at all; sorry you won't come. See you at the inquest," saidTwombley as he took his departure followed by the coroner.

  Cyril remained where they left him. He was too weary to move. Before himon the desk lay his cousin's blotter. Its white surface still bore theimpress of the latter's thick, sprawling handwriting. That chair not somany hours ago had held his unwieldy form. The murdered man's presenceseemed to permeate the room. Cyril shuddered involuntarily. The heavy,perfume-laden air stifled him. What was that? He could hear nothing butthe tumultuous beating of his own heart. Yet he was sure, warned by somemysterious instinct, that he was not alone. Behind him stood--something.He longed to move, but terror riveted him to the spot. A vision of hiscousin's baleful eyes rose before him with horrible vividness. He couldfeel their vindictive glare scorching him. Was he going mad? Was he acoward? No, he must face the--thing--come what might. Throwing back hishead defiantly,
he wheeled around--the detective was at his elbow! Cyrilgave a gasp of relief and wiped the tell-tale perspiration from hisforehead. He had completely forgotten the fellow. What a shocking statehis nerves were in!

  "Can you spare me a few minutes, my lord?" Whenever the detective spoke,Cyril had the curious impression as of a voice issuing from a fog. Sogrey, so effaced, so absolutely characterless was the man's exterior!His voice, on the other hand, was excessively individual. There lurkedin it a suggestion of assertiveness, of aggressiveness even. Cyril wasconscious of a sudden dread of this strong, insistent personality, lyingas it were at ambush within that envelope of a body, that envelope whichhe felt he could never penetrate, which gave no indication whether itconcealed a friend or enemy, a saint or villain.

  "I shall not detain you long," Judson added, as Cyril did not answerimmediately.

  "Come into the drawing-room," said Cyril, leading the way there.

  Thank God, he could breathe freely once more, thought Cyril, as he flunghimself into the comfortable depths of a chintz-covered sofa. Howdelightfully wholesome and commonplace was this room! The air, a triflechill, notwithstanding the coal fire burning on the hearth, was likebalm to his fevered senses. His very soul felt cleansed and refreshed.He no longer understood the terror which had so lately possessed him. Helooked at Judson. How could he ever have dignified this remarkablyunremarkable little man with his pompous manner into a mysterious andpossibly hostile force. The thing was absurd.

  "Sit down, Judson," said Cyril carelessly.

  "My lord, am I not right in supposing that I am unknown to you? Byreputation, I mean."

  "Quite," Cyril candidly acknowledged.

  "Ah! I thought so. Let me tell you then, my lord, that I am thereceptacle of the secrets of most, if not all, of the aristocracy."

  "Indeed!" said Cyril. I'll take good care, he thought, that mine don'tswell the number.

  "That being the case, it is clear that my reputation for discretion isunassailable. You see the force of that argument, my lord?"

  "Certainly," replied Cyril wearily.

  "Anything, therefore, which I may discover during the course of thisinvestigation, you may rest assured will be kept absolutely secret." Hepaused a moment. "You can, therefore, confide in me without fear,"continued the detective.

  Cyril was surprised and a little startled. What did the man know?

  "What makes you think I have anything to confide?" he asked.

  "It is quite obvious, my lord, that you are holding somethingback--something which would explain your attitude towards LadyWilmersley."

  "I don't follow you," replied Cyril, on his guard.

  "You have given every one to understand that you have never seen herladyship. You take up a stranger's cause very warmly, my lord."

  "I trust I shall always espouse the cause of every persecuted woman."

  "But how are you sure that she was persecuted? Every one praises hislordship's devotion to her. He gave her everything she could wish forexcept liberty. If she was insane, his conduct deserves great praise."

  "But I am sure she is not."

  "But you yourself urged me to secure her as soon as possible because youwere afraid she might do further harm," Judson reminded him.

  "That was before I heard Douglas's testimony. He has seen her daily forthree years and swears she is sane."

  "And the opinion of an ignorant servant is sufficient to make youcondemn his lordship without further proof?"

  Cyril moved uneasily.

  "If Lady Wilmersley is perfectly sane, it seems to me incredible thatshe did not manage to escape years ago. A note dropped out of hercarriage would have brought the whole countryside to her rescue. Why,she had only to appeal to this very same butler, who is convinced of hersanity, and Lord Wilmersley could not have prevented her from leavingthe castle. Public opinion would have protected her."

  "That is true," acknowledged Cyril, "but her spirit may have beenbroken."

  "What was there to break it? We hear only of his lordship's almostexcessive devotion. No, my lord, I can't help thinking that you arejudging both Lord and Lady Wilmersley by facts of which I am ignorant."

  Cyril did not know what to answer. He had at first championed LadyWilmersley because he had believed her to be his _protegee_, but nowthat it had been proved that she was not, why was he still convincedthat she had in some way been a victim of her husband's cruelty? He hadto acknowledge that beyond a vague distrust of his cousin he had notonly no adequate reason, but no reason at all, for his suspicions.

  "You are mistaken," he said at last; "I am withholding nothing thatcould in any way assist you to unravel this mystery. I confess I neitherliked nor trusted my cousin. I had no special reason. It was simply acase of Dr. Fell. I know no more than you do of his treatment of herladyship. But doesn't the choice of a Turk and a Spaniard as attendantson Lady Wilmersley seem to you open to criticism?"

  "Not necessarily, my lord. We trust most those we know best. LordWilmersley had spent the greater part of his life with Turks andSpaniards. It therefore seems to me quite natural that when it came toselecting guardians for her ladyship, he should have chosen a man and awoman he had presumably known for some years, whose worth he had proved,whose fidelity he could rely on."

  "That sounds plausible," agreed Cyril; "still I can't help thinking itvery peculiar, to say the least, that Lady Wilmersley was not under adoctor's care."

  "Her ladyship may have been too unbalanced to mingle with people, andyet not in a condition to require medical attention. Such cases are notuncommon."

  "True, and yet I have a feeling that Douglas was right, when he assuredus that her ladyship is not insane. You discredit his testimony on theground that he is an ignorant man. But if a man of sound common-sensehas the opportunity of observing a woman daily during three years, itseems to me that his opinion cannot be lightly ignored. You never knewmy cousin. Well, I did, and as I said before, he was a man who inspiredme with the profoundest distrust, although I cannot cite one fact tojustify my aversion. I cannot believe that he ever sacrificed himselffor any one and am much more inclined to credit Douglas's suggestionthat it was jealousy which led him to keep her ladyship in such strictseclusion. But why waste our time in idle conjectures when it is so easyto find out the truth? Those two doctors who saw her yesterday must befound. If they are men of good reputation, of course I shall accepttheir report as final."

  "Very good, my lord, I will at once have an advertisement inserted inall the papers asking them to communicate with us. If that does notfetch them, I shall employ other means of tracing them."

  "Has Lady Upton, her ladyship's grandmother, been heard from?"

  "She wired this morning asking for further particulars. Mr. Twombleyanswered her, I believe."

  A slight pause ensued during which Judson watched Cyril as if expectinghim to speak.

  "And you have still nothing to say to me, my lord?" The detective spokewith evident disappointment.

  "No, what else should I have to say?" replied Cyril with some surprise.

  "That is, of course, for you to judge, my lord." His meaning wasunmistakable. Cyril flushed angrily. Was it possible that the man daredto doubt his word? Dared to disbelieve his positive assertion that heknew nothing whatsoever about the murder? The damnable--suddenly heremembered! Remembered the lies he had been so glibly telling all day.Why should any one believe him in future? His ignominy was probablyalready stamped on his face.

  "I have nothing more to say," replied Cyril in a strangely meek voice.

  "That being the case, I'd better be off," said Judson, rising slowlyfrom his chair.

  "Where are you going now?"

  "I can't quite tell, my lord. It is my intention to vanish, so tospeak."

  "Vanish."

  "Yes, my lord. I work best in the dark; but you will hear from me assoon as I have something definite to report."

  "I hope you will be successful," said Cyril.

  "Thank you; I've never failed so far in anything
I have undertaken. Imust, however, warn you, my lord, that investigations sometimes lead toconclusions which no one could have foreseen when they were started. Ialways make a point of reminding my employers of this possibility."

  What the devil was the man driving at, thought Cyril; did he suspect himby any chance? That would be really too absurd! The man was an ass.

  "I shall never quarrel with you for discovering the truth," said Cyril,drawing himself up to his full height and glaring fiercely down at thelittle grey man. Then, turning abruptly on his heel he stalkedindignantly out of the room, slamming the door behind him.