The Crime at the ‘Noah’s Ark’: A Golden Age Mystery

by Molly Thynne

  “Do we take Bates into our confidence?” he asked.

  “If Bates does the job he is here for, he will find us out for himself,” answered Constantine dryly. “Meanwhile, there seems no point in wounding his delicate susceptibilities.”

  After dinner that evening they roped in Soames, and made their plans. Constantine was anxious to enlist the help of Geoffrey Ford, on the score that, with the ground they would have to cover, the more watchers the better; but Soames, whose prejudice against him still persisted, was so insistent that he should not be let into the secret that he was eventually ruled out. They decided that Soames should take the first floor, while Stuart kept an eye on his own landing. Constantine, who, in view of his years, was obviously not in a position to tackle any intruder without help, they tried in vain to persuade to go to bed, but the indefatigable old man flatly refused to allow himself to be dismissed as negligible. He did, however, consent to keep watch from his own room, where he would be in touch with Stuart, who, with the Misses Adderley in mind, repeated his programme of the night before, and settled himself in his own room with the door open and an imposing array of proofs before him. In spite of which it seemed that Miss Amy’s mind was not entirely at rest. With a disregard for her appearance, that in itself spoke volumes for her state of mind, she stopped at his door on her way back from the bath.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Stuart,” she began, standing primly on the threshold, her bath-sponge clasped to her bosom, “but I suppose that man, Bates, really is keeping a careful watch. He seems to have been nowhere about when Mr. Melnotte was attacked last night.”

  “Which will make him all the more on the alert now,” Stuart assured her. “He won’t allow himself to be caught napping again. There’s nothing to prevent your sleeping in peace, and I shall be here in case anything disturbs you.”

  Miss Adderley turned to go, then hesitated.

  “My sister and I have been discussing the disturbances of the last few nights,” she said diffidently, “and there was one thing that struck us both. In an old house like this, with these long, rambling passages, it must be very difficult to catch a thief. That terrible masked man seemed to get away very easily, didn’t he? Please don’t think I am blaming you in any way, Mr. Stuart, you were wonderful, but you really had no chance from the beginning.”

  “Of course, once he had the place in darkness, it was easy for him to slip up the little staircase at the end of the passage. I think there’s no doubt that that’s what he did,” agreed Stuart.

  “And what I fear he will do again,” said Miss Adderley portentously, “even with the police after him. Of course, the police know their business better than I do, and I should not dream of making any suggestions to the constable, polite and obliging though he is, but an idea has occurred to both of us.”

  She lowered her voice mysteriously.

  “Has it struck you, Mr. Stuart, how much more difficult it would be for any one to get away if every door in the place were locked? As it is now, he can pop in anywhere and hide.”

  Stuart tried not to smile.

  “We can’t exactly lock people into their rooms,” he protested. “And, in any case, I think that, after what has happened, most of us are inclined to sleep with our doors locked.”

  “Ah,” said Miss Adderley; “but what about the other rooms? Take this landing, for instance. I happen to know that there is a roomy housemaid’s closet on this floor, not to mention the bathroom, which can be locked on the inside. Supposing he popped into one of these. And there must be lots of cupboards and things upstairs.”

  It struck Stuart that her idea wasn’t so unpracticable after all.

  “I believe you’re right, Miss Adderley,” he said. “I’ll put it to Bates.”

  Miss Adderley glowed modestly.

  “You see we used to play hide-and-seek as children, and I can remember now how I used to dodge into the boot-cupboard and listen to my brother, who was a very fleet runner, flying past. Then I used to hop out and get home,” she finished, with a reminiscent smile.

  Stuart waited for half an hour or so after she had gone, and then ran upstairs to the floor above his. The servants had gone to bed, and he was able to reconnoitre at his leisure. He discovered that Miss Adderley had been quite right in her assumption. The old place was honeycombed with cupboards, in most of which a fugitive might very well take cover. He contented himself with turning the key in the doors of any that seemed large enough to harbour a man, reflecting that this should be enough to hamper any one who might try to use them in his flight. Once back on his own floor he locked both the bathroom and the housemaid’s closet, and put the keys in his pocket. They would be easy enough to replace in the morning before anybody was about.

  He looked at his watch. It was 11.30, and he could count on at least another hour’s uninterrupted work before his vigil began.

  Shortly after midnight Soames appeared to say that he proposed to take up his position in the bathroom on the floor below. Here, with the door ajar, he could command a fairly good view of the passage.

  “Though, if I don’t die of cold during the night, I shall probably go to sleep, sitting there in the dark,” he said as he departed, wrapped in his thickest overcoat.

  A few minutes later Constantine came along the passage. Stuart, who was standing in the doorway, noticed—to his surprise—that he was in his dressing-gown. As he passed the bathroom he tried the door and paused, in astonishment, when it refused to yield. Stuart called out softly to him.

  “Do you want a bath? I’ve got the key here.”

  Constantine nodded.

  “I’ve had nearly three hours’ rest,” he said, “and I’m ripe for anything. But I didn’t realize I had slept so long. Are you reserving the last of the hot water for yourself? If not, why are you sitting on the key?”

  Stuart handed it to him, and told him of Miss Adderley’s suggestion.

  “It really isn’t such a bad idea,” he finished.

  Constantine raised his thick eyebrows.

  “Bless her little heart!” he exclaimed. “I should never have credited her with such a brain-wave! Imagine it, if we win our Waterloo on the playing-fields of Miss Adderley!”

  He inserted the key in the lock and disappeared into the bathroom. Stuart heard the sound of running water, then the tap was turned off, and Constantine reappeared.

  “No good, I’ve left it too long. The water’s cold,” he called out, as he went back to his bedroom.

  Stuart took a chair and placed it near the door, which he left ajar. Then he turned out the light and settled down to watch the passage.

  It was a more eerie business than he had expected. The old house seemed alive with small, disconcerting noises. It was as though, at intervals, it stirred in its sleep, emitting strange creaks and rustlings, the sources of which it was impossible to locate. Once a board cracked so loudly that Stuart could have sworn that it had moved under a foot. He stood up and peered through the slit of the door into the darkness, and was immediately startled almost out of his wits by an equally loud report from the interior of his room. He swung round and turned on the electric torch which he had fetched from his car earlier in the evening, but the room was empty, and, as he waited, listening, another crack came from the wardrobe and he realized how his nerves had betrayed him. He sat down again, wondering how the more stolid Soames was enjoying his vigil on the floor below.

  Shortly afterwards, to his shame be it said, he fell asleep, in spite of all his efforts. He woke, stiff and cold, but so on the alert that he felt convinced that some definite sound must have disturbed him. As he listened, every nerve tense with expectation, it came again.

  Some one was working his way stealthily down the passage in his direction.

  Stuart rose and moved softly out into the corridor, holding his torch ready in his hand. The steps came nearer.

  He waited until they were quite dose, then flashed his torch suddenly into the face of the intruder, hoping to dazzle him sufficien
tly to be able to close with him before he had time to recover from his surprise.

  He caught one glimpse of a red, startled face, then the torch was knocked out of his hand and he felt himself clutched by the throat.

  “Shut up, you fool!” he managed to gurgle. “It’s Stuart!”

  The grasp on his throat relaxed, and he heard the soft explosion of suppressed laughter in the darkness. He stooped, groped for the torch, found it and turned it on to the burly figure of Soames, who stood rocking with mirth before him. Behind him, in the thin beam of light, stood Constantine, fully dressed, his face alight with glee.

  “Good Lord,” gasped Soames. “Do you realize that you’re practically invisible behind that beastly thing?”

  A sound behind him made him turn.

  “Constantine!” he whispered. “I must say, you’re on the job, up here!”

  “I’ve been on your heels ever since you reached the top of the stairs,” murmured Constantine. “May I ask what you are doing up here, spoiling our best effects?”

  Soames took him by the arm.

  “If you come downstairs, I’ll show you!” he whispered triumphantly. “I was right all along! They’re both in it! The son’s disappeared, but I bet I know where he is, and the old man’s in the barn at this moment. If we’re nippy we can get them both!”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” exclaimed Stuart, utterly at sea as to his meaning.

  Constantine supplied the answer.

  “He means the Romseys,” he said. “But the thing’s impossible!”

  “Impossible be blowed,” was Soames’ vulgar rejoinder. “They’re both in it up to the hilt, I tell you!”

  CHAPTER XI

  Stuart, catching sight of Constantine’s face, realized that, for once, the old man was completely taken aback. He looked utterly incredulous.

  “Romsey?” he exclaimed. “Preposterous!”

  “I don’t care how preposterous it is,” retorted Soames, “I’m going to head him off before he makes off in one of those cars. We don’t know how far the snow-plough may have got to-day, and I’m not taking any risks.” Constantine turned and moved swiftly in the direction of the staircase.

  “I’m as anxious as you are to see this cleared up,” he said, as the two men followed him; “but you need have no fear of losing Lord Romsey. He’d be about as easy to mislay as the Albert Memorial.”

  Stuart kept his torch alight till they reached the head of the stairs. Then, warned by Soames, he slipped back the catch and the three men felt their way in darkness down to the floor below. At the bottom of the stairs they paused and listened. Stuart could hear nothing, but it would seem that some sound reached Constantine’s ears, for, without a word, he left them, and they heard the soft rustle of his silk dressing-gown against the wall as he moved down the passage to their left. Soames drew Stuart in the opposite direction.

  “There’s a window at the end,” he whispered. “You can see the barn from there.”

  They reached it and peered out into the moonlit night. Though the snow had stopped, dark, wind-blown clouds still scurried across the face of the moon; but the yard, with its white carpet of snow, was just visible, and, on the farther side, they could make out the grey bulk of the barn. As they looked a light flitted across what was evidently a window, vanished, and then revealed itself once more. “A torch,” murmured Stuart.

  “He’s in the barn all right,” assented Soames. “We’d better get down there. Where’s the doctor?”

  “Here,” whispered a voice at his elbow.

  Constantine had returned from his little expedition, but whether or no it had been satisfactory he did not say.

  “I’m sorry about this, sir,” muttered Soames; “but it is pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

  A gentle chuckle floated out of the darkness.

  “I’m not undergoing any apprehension concerning the reputation of my friend Lord Romsey,” came a mocking whisper. “What do you propose to do?”

  “Catch him in the act,” answered Soames, somewhat nettled. “Are you coming, sir?”

  “Not I. I’ve got a better use for my time. I’ll take Stuart’s place on the upper landing. May I use your room?”

  “Of course,” answered Stuart, thankful that the old man’s impetuosity was not driving him out into the cold.

  They parted, and he and Soames felt their way down the stairs to the lounge, and thence along the narrow passage that led to the door into the yard.

  “I wish we dared use a light,” murmured Stuart, as he groped his way ahead of Soames. “If there are any of those infernal little steps—”

  He came full tilt up against something soft and warm that moved as he touched it. Instinctively he clutched it with both hands.

  “Ow!” squeaked a voice softly in his ear. “It’s Mr. Stuart, isn’t it?”

  “Miss Ford!” he gasped in amazement.

  “I recognized your voice in the dark,” she whispered. “Do, please, let go. You’ve no idea how it hurts.”

  He dropped his hand as though he’d been stung.

  “I’m so sorry!” he stammered.

  Soames’s voice cut in out of the darkness. There was an edge to it that Stuart did not like.

  “Miss Ford, will you please explain what you are doing here?”

  There was a second’s pause before she answered, then—

  “Certainly not, Mr. Soames, unless you’re prepared to answer the same question yourself.”

  With a pang of dismay Stuart realized that she was playing for time. But Soames was ready for her.

  “Certainly,” he said. “I was watching on the landing upstairs for our friend in the mask when I saw your father come out of his room and go down the passage. He went into your brother’s room and called to him. Then he switched on the light. Evidently the room was empty. I watched him go down the staircase, using matches to light his way, and I followed him. When I heard him open this door I ran back to the landing and looked through the window at the end, and saw him cross the yard in the direction of the barn. But I fancy I’m only telling you what you know already.” For a moment there was silence, then—

  “But what on earth can either of them be doing in the barn?” she asked, her voice one of blank astonishment. Evidently, finding that they already knew as much as she did herself, she had decided on frankness.

  “They?” Soames took her up sharply. “Your brother’s there too, then?”

  “I don’t know. My room looks out on the yard. Something woke me, I think now it must have been this door opening or shutting. Ordinarily I shouldn’t have bothered, but I’d gone to sleep thinking of all the things that have been happening, and I suppose I had them on my mind. Anyhow, I got up and looked out of the window. I saw a dark shadow flit across the yard to the barn, so I slipped on a coat, meaning to call Geoff. But when I opened my door I saw father going down the passage. He did not hear me, and I was just about to follow him when he opened Geoff’s door and called him. And Geoff wasn’t there!”

  Her bewilderment was undoubtedly genuine. “I watched father go downstairs,” she continued. “At first I wasn’t sure what to do, then I followed I was just going to open this door when you came.”

  While she spoke Soames had unlatched the door and was peering into the yard.

  “They’re still there,” he said. “Some one’s moving outside the barn, I can just see him against the snow. I think it’s your father. What made you think your brother was out there?”

  His voice was milder, though he sounded only half convinced.

  Again she hesitated, then—

  “Where else should he be? He’s not in his room.”

  “Do you know of anything that would be likely to take him to the barn?”

  Soames spoke over his shoulder, keeping a careful watch the while through the half-open door.

  “Nothing, unless he thought some one was tampering with the cars.”

  “His window looks out on the other side of the hous
e,” Soames reminded her. “He could have seen nothing suspicious from his room.”

  “He might have heard some one going down the stairs,” she retorted quickly.

  “Even then, I don’t quite see why you followed him. He and your father could surely be relied upon to deal with any one they might find there.”

  Again there was a pause, then—

  “There is such a thing as curiosity, Mr. Soames,” she said. “It’s one of the several failings that my sex is accused of.”

  Soames muttered something under his breath, but he was careful that it should not reach Miss Ford’s ears.

  “It’s time we cleared this up, one way or the other,” he said. “Are you coming, Stuart?”

  He stepped out into the snow, and Stuart prepared to follow. But first he turned to the girl.

  “Miss Ford—” he whispered.

  He broke off with an exclamation of annoyance. Soames was with them once more.

  “Did you turn out your light before leaving your room, Miss Ford?” he asked abruptly.

  “I never turned it on,” she answered. “I couldn’t have seen anything from my window if I had. My coat was hanging on the door, and I snatched it off in the dark when I left my room.”

  “It’s turned on now,” announced Soames. “Your window’s lighted up. It looks as if some one was in your room.”

  With an ejaculation of surprise she turned to go upstairs, but Soames stopped her.

  “If it’s the gentleman in the mask, you can’t deal with him,” he objected. “One of us had better go.”

  “I’ll keep watch here,” said Stuart quickly. “If I see the barn doors open I’ll give a shout. You can do the same if you’re in any trouble. The window’s just overhead, we ought to hear each other.”

  Soames hesitated a moment, then disappeared up the stairs. He had no sooner gone than Stuart proceeded to take advantage of his absence.

  “Miss Ford,” he urged, as she followed him out into the yard, “won’t you be frank with me? You thought your brother was going to use your car, didn’t you?”