Who?

by Elizabeth Kent

  CHAPTER XVII

  GUY RELENTS

  Cyril and Valdriguez spent the next morning making a thorough search ofthe library, but the paper they were looking for could not be found.Cyril had from the first been sceptical of success. He could not believethat her child was still alive and was convinced that Arthur Wilmersleyhad fabricated the story simply to retain his hold over the unfortunatemother. Valdriguez, however, for a long time refused to abandon thequest. Again and again she ransacked places they had already carefullyexamined. When it was finally borne in upon her that there was nofurther possibility of finding what she so sought, the light suddenlywent out of her face and she would have fallen if Cyril had not caughther and placed her in a chair. With arms hanging limply to her sides,her half-closed eyes fixed vacantly in front of her, she looked as ifdeath had laid his hand upon her. Thoroughly alarmed, Cyril had thewoman carried to her room and sent for a doctor. When the latterarrived, he shook his head hopelessly. She had had a stroke; there wasvery little he could do for her. In his opinion it was extremelydoubtful if she would ever fully recover her faculties, he said.

  Cyril having made every possible arrangement for the comfort of theafflicted woman, at last allowed his thoughts to revert to his owntroubles.

  He realised that with the elimination of both Valdriguez and Prenticethere was no one but Anita left who could reasonably be suspected of themurder; for that the two Frenchmen were implicated in the affair, wastoo remote a possibility to be seriously considered. No, he must make uphis mind to face the facts: the girl was Anita Wilmersley and she hadkilled her husband! What was he going to do, now that he knew the truth?Judson's advice that Anita should give herself up, he rejected without amoment's hesitation. Yet, he had to acknowledge that there was littlehope of her being able to escape detection, as long as the police knewher to be alive.... Suddenly an idea occurred to him. If they could onlybe made to believe that she was dead, that and that alone would free herat once and forever from their surveillance. She would be able to leaveEngland; to resume her life in some distant country where he.... Cyrilshrank instinctively from pursuing the delicious dream further. He triedto force himself to consider judicially the scheme that was shapingitself in his mind; to weigh calmly and dispassionately the chances forand against its success. If a corpse resembling Anita were found,dressed in the clothes she wore the day she left Geralton, it wouldsurely be taken for granted that the body was hers and that she had beenmurdered. But how on earth was he to procure such a corpse and, havingprocured it, where was he to hide it? The neighbourhood of the castlehad been so thoroughly searched that it would be no easy task topersuade the police that they had overlooked any spot where a body mightbe secreted. Certainly the plan presented almost insurmountabledifficulties, but as it was the only one he could think of, Cyril clungto it with bull-dog tenacity.

  "Impossible? Nonsense! Nothing is impossible! Impossible is but a worddesigned to shield the incompetent or frighten the timid," he mutteredloudly in his heart, unconsciously squaring his broad shoulders.

  He decided to leave Geralton at once, for the plan must be carried outimmediately or not at all, and it was only in London that he could hopeto procure the necessary assistance.

  On arriving in town, however, Cyril had to admit that he had really noidea what he ought to do next. If he could only get in touch with animpoverished medical student who would agree to provide a body, thefirst and most difficult part of his undertaking would be achieved. Buthow and where was he to find this indispensable accomplice? Well, it wastoo late to do anything that evening, he decided. He might as well go tothe club and get some dinner and try to dismiss the problem from hismind for the time being.

  The first person he saw on entering the dining-room was Campbell. He wassitting by himself at a small table; his round, rosy face depicted theutmost dejection and he thrust his fork through an oyster with much thesame expression a man might have worn who was spearing a personal enemy.

  On catching sight of Cyril, he dropped his fork, jumped from his seat,and made an eager step forward. Then, he suddenly wavered, evidentlyuncertain as to the reception Cyril was going to accord him.

  "Well, this is a piece of luck!" cried Cyril, stretching out his hand.

  Guy, looking decidedly sheepish, clasped it eagerly.

  "I might as well tell you at once that I know I made no end of an ass ofmyself the other day," he said, averting his eyes from his friend'sface. "It is really pretty decent of you not to have resented myridiculous accusations."

  "Oh, that's all right," Cyril assured him, "I quite understood yourmotive. But I am awfully glad you have changed your attitude towards me,for to tell you the truth, I am in great need of your assistance."

  "Oh, Lor'!" ejaculated Campbell, screwing up his face into an expressionof comic despair.

  As soon as there was no danger of their being overheard, Cyril toldCampbell of his interview with Judson. At first Guy could not bepersuaded that the girl was Anita Wilmersley.

  "She is not a liar, I am sure of it! If she said that her hair hadturned white, it had turned white, and therefore it is impossible thatshe had dyed it," objected Campbell.

  "Judson suggested that she dyed only part of her hair and that it wasthe rest which turned white."

  Having finally convinced Guy that there was no doubt as to the girl'sidentity, Cyril proceeded to unfold his plan for rescuing her from thepolice.

  Guy adjusted his eye-glass and stared at his friend speechless withconsternation.

  "This affair has turned your brain," he finally gasped. "Your plan isabsurd, absolutely absurd, I tell you. Why, even if I could bribe someone to procure me a corpse, how on earth could you get it to Geralton?"

  "In a motor-car."

  "And where under Heaven are you to hide it?"

  "Get me a corpse and I will arrange the rest," Cyril assured him withmore confidence than he really felt.

  "First you saddle me with a lot of stolen jewels and now you want me totravel around the country with a corpse under my arm! I say, you doselect nice, pleasant jobs for me!" exclaimed Campbell.

  "Have you any other plan to suggest?" asked Cyril.

  "Can't say I have," acknowledged Guy.

  "Are you willing to sit still and see Anita Wilmersley arrested?"

  "Certainly not, but your scheme is a mad one--madder than anything Ishould have credited even you with having conceived." Campbell paused amoment as if considering the question in all its aspects. "However, thefact that it is crazy may save us. The police will not be likely tosuspect two reputable members of society, whose sanity has so far notbeen doubted, of attempting to carry through such a wild, impossibleplot. Yes," he mused, "the very impossibility of the thing may make itpossible."

  "Glad you agree with me," cried Cyril enthusiastically. "Now how sooncan you get a corpse, do you think?"

  "Good Lord, man! You talk as if I could order one from Whiteley's. Whencan I get you a corpse--indeed? To-morrow--in a week--a month--ayear--never. The last-mentioned date I consider the most likely. I willdo what I can, that is all I can say; but how I am to go to work, uponmy word, I haven't the faintest idea."

  "You are an awfully clever chap, Guy."

  "None of your blarney. I won't have it! I am the absolute fool, but I amstill sane enough to know it."

  "Very well, I'll acknowledge that you are a fool and I only wish therewere more like you," said Cyril, clapping his friend affectionately onthe back.

  "By the way," he added, turning away as if in search of a match andtrying to speak as carelessly as possible, "How is Anita?"

  For a moment Guy did not answer and Cyril stood fumbling with thematches fearful of the effect of the question. He was still doubtful howfar his friend had receded from his former position and was muchrelieved when Guy finally answered in a very subdued voice:

  "She is pretty well--but--" He hesitated.

  Cyril turned quickly round. He noticed that Guy's face had lengthenedperceptibly and that he toyed ner
vously with his eye-glass.

  "What is the matter?" he inquired anxiously.

  "The fact is," replied Campbell, speaking slowly and carefully avoidingthe other's eye, "I think it is possible that she misses you."

  Cyril's heart gave a sudden jump.

  "I can hardly believe it," he managed to stutter.

  "Of course, Miss Trevor may be mistaken. It was her idea, not mine, thatAni--Lady Wilmersley I mean--is worrying over your absence. But whateverthe cause, the fact remains that she has changed very much. She is nolonger frank and cordial in her manner either to Miss Trevor or myself.It seems almost as if she regarded us both with suspicion, though whatshe can possibly suspect us of, I can't for the life of me imagine. Thatday at lunch she was gay as a child, but now she is never anything butsad and preoccupied."

  "Perhaps she is beginning to remember the past," suggested Cyril.

  "How can I tell? Miss Trevor and I have tried everything we could thinkof to induce her to confide in us, but she won't. Possibly you might bemore successful--" An involuntary sigh escaped Campbell. "I am sorry nowthat I prevented you from seeing her. Mind you, I still think it wisernot to do so, but I ought to have left you free to use your ownjudgment. The number of her sitting-room is 62, on the second floor and,for some reason or other, she insists on being left there alone everyafternoon from three to four. Now I have told you all I know of thesituation and you must handle it as you think best."