Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories

by A. E. W. Mason

  CHAPTER XII

  Lady Mary made a faint moaning sound. The major's face was a study.

  "I don't know whether you are a wizard or not, Mr. Cleek," he said,after a moment; "but you have certainly hit upon the facts of thematter. It is for that very reason that I have refrained from makingthe affair public. It is bad enough that Lady Mary and I should haveour suspicions regarding the identity of the--er--person implicatedwithout letting others share them. There's Dawson-Blake for one. Ifhe knew, he'd move heaven and earth to ruin him."

  "Dawson-Blake?" repeated Cleek. "Pardon, but will that be theparticular Sir Gregory Dawson-Blake the millionaire brewer whoachieved a knighthood in the last 'Honours List' and whose horse,Tarantula, is second favourite for the coming Derby?"

  "Yes, the very man. He is almost what you might call a neighbourof ours, Mr. Cleek. His place, Castle Claverdale, is just over theborder line of Northumberland and about five miles distant fromMorcan Abbey. His stables are, if anything, superior to my own; andwe both use the intervening moorland as a training ground. Also, itwas Dawson-Blake's daughter that Lieutenant Chadwick played fast andloose with. Jilted her, you know--threw her over at the eleventhhour and married a chorus girl who had nothing to bless herself withbut a pretty face and a long line of lodging-house ancestry. Notthat Miss Dawson-Blake lost anything by getting rid of such a manbefore she committed the folly of tying herself to him for life,but her father never forgave Lieutenant Chadwick and would spenda million for the satisfaction of putting him behind bars."

  "I see. And this Lieutenant Chadwick is--whom may I ask?"

  "The only son of my elder and only sister, Mr. Cleek," supplied LadyMary with a faint blush. "She committed the folly of marryingher music master when I was but a little girl, and my father diedwithout ever looking at her again. Subsequently, her husband desertedher and went--she never learnt where, to the day of her death.While she lived, however, both my brother, Lord Chevelmere, andI saw that she never wanted for anything. We also supplied themeans to put her son through Sandhurst after we had put himthrough college, and hoped that he would repay us by achievinghonour and distinction. It was a vain hope. He achieved nothing butdisgrace. Shortly after his deplorable marriage with the theatricalperson for whom he threw over Miss Dawson-Blake--and who in turnthrew him over when she discovered what a useless encumbrance hewas--he was cashiered from the army, and has ever since been ahanger-on at race meetings--the consort of touts, billiard markers,card sharpers, and people of that sort. I had not seen him for sixyears, when he turned up suddenly in this neighbourhood three daysago and endeavoured to scrape acquaintance with one of the Abbeygrooms."

  "And under an assumed name, Mr. Cleek," supplemented the majorsomewhat excitedly. "He was calling himself John Clark and wastrying to wheedle information regarding Highland Lassie out of mystable-boys. Fortunately, Lady Mary caught sight of him withoutbeing seen, and at once gave orders that he was to be turned offthe premises, and never allowed to come near them again. He wasknown, however, to be in this neighbourhood up to dusk on thefollowing evening, but he has never been seen since HighlandLassie disappeared. You know now, perhaps, why I have elected toconduct everything connected with this affair with the utmostsecrecy. Little as we desire to be in any way associated withsuch a man, we cannot but remember that he is connected with usby ties of blood, and unless Farrow dies of his injuries--which Godforbid! we will hush the thing up, cost what it may. All that Iwant is to get the animal back--not to punish the man: if, indeed,he be the guilty party; for there is really no actual proof of that.But if Dawson-Blake knew, it would be different. He would moveheaven and earth to get the convict's 'broad arrow' on him and tobring disgrace upon everybody connected with the man."

  "H'm, I see!" said Cleek, puckering up his brows and thoughtfullystroking his chin. "So that, naturally, there is--with this added tothe rivalry of the two horses--no very good blood existing betweenSir Gregory Dawson-Blake and yourself?"

  "No, there is not. If, apart from these things, Mr. Cleek, you wantmy private opinion of the man, it can be summed up in the word'Bounder.' There is not one instinct of the gentleman about him.He is simply a vulgar, money-gilded, low-minded cad, and I wouldn'tput it beyond him to be mixed up in this disappearance of the fillyhimself but that I know Chadwick was about the place; and for thereto be anything between Chadwick and him is as impossible as it is forthe two poles to come together, or for oil to assimilate with water.That is the one thing in this world that Dawson-Blake would notdo under any circumstances whatsoever. Beyond that, I put nothingbeneath the man--nothing too despicable for him to attempt in theeffort to gain his own end and aim. He races not for the sport ofthe thing, but for the publicity, the glory of getting talkedabout, and of making the vulgar stare. He wants the blue ribbon ofthe turf for the simple fame of the thing; and he'd _buy_ it ifbuying it were possible, and either bribes or trickery could carryoff the race."

  "H'm! That's a sweeping assertion, Major."

  "But made upon a basis of absolute fact, Mr. Cleek. He has twiceendeavoured to buy Farrow to desert me by an offer of double wagesand a pension; and, failing that, only last week he offered myjockey L10,000 cash on the nail to slip off over to France on thenight before Derby Day, and promised him a further five thousandif Tarantula carried off the race."

  "Oho!" said Cleek, in two different tones; and with a look ofsupremest contempt. "So our Tinplate Knight is that sort of asportsman, is he, the cad? And having failed to get hold of the_rider_----H'm! Yes. It is possible--perhaps. Chadwick's turning upat such a time might be a mere coincidence--a mere tout's trick toget inside information beforehand, or----Well, you never can tell.Suppose, Major, you give me the facts from the beginning. Whenwas the animal's loss discovered--and how? Let me have the fullparticulars, please."

  The major sighed and dropped heavily into a chair.

  "For an affair of such far-reaching consequences, Mr. Cleek," he saidgloomily, "it is singularly bald of what might be called details, Iam afraid; and beyond what I have already told you there is reallyvery little more to tell. When or how the deed was committed, itis impossible to decide beyond the indefinite statement that ithappened the night before last, at some time after half-past ninein the evening, when the stable-boy, Dewlish, before going home,carried a pail of water at Farrow's request into the building whereHighland Lassie's stall is located, and five o'clock the nextmorning when Captain MacTavish strolled into the stables and foundthe mare missing."

  "A moment, please. Who is Captain MacTavish? And why should thegentleman be strolling about the Abbey stable-yard at five o'clock inthe morning?"

  "Both questions can be answered in a few words. Captain MacTavishis a friend who is stopping with us. He is a somewhat famousnaturalist. Writes articles and stories on bird and animal lifefor the magazines. It is his habit to be up and out hunting for'specimens' and things of that sort every morning just about dawn.At five he always crosses the stable yard on his way to the dairywhere he goes for a glass of fresh milk before breakfast."

  "I see. Captain a young man or an old one?"

  "Oh, young, of course. About two or three and thirty, I should say.Brother of a deceased army pal of mine. Been stopping with us forthe past two months. Very brilliant and very handsome chap--universalfavourite wherever he goes."

  "Thanks. Now just one more question before you proceed, please:About the trainer Farrow getting the stable-boy to carry in thatpail of water. Would not that be a trifle unusual at such a timeof the night?"

  "I don't know. Yes--perhaps it would. I never looked at it in thatlight before."

  "Very likely not. Stables would be closed and all the grooms, etcetera, off duty for the night at that hour, would they not?"

  "Yes. That is, unless Farrow had reason for asking one of them tohelp him with something. That's what he did, by the way, with theboy, Dewlish."

  "Just so. Any idea what he wanted with that pail of water at thathour of the night? He couldn't be going to 'water' one of the horses,
of course, and it is hardly likely that he intended to take on astableman's duties and wash up the place."

  "Oh, gravy--no! He's a trainer, not a slosh-bucket. I pay himeighteen hundred a year and give him a cottage besides."

  "Married man or a single one?"

  "Single. A widower. About forty. Lost his wife two years ago. Ratherthought he was going to take another one shortly, from the way thingslooked. But of late he and Maggie McFarland don't seem, for somereason or another, to be hitting it off together so well as they did."

  "Who's Maggie McFarland, please?"

  "One of the dairymaids. A little Scotch girl from Nairn who came intoservice at the Abbey about a twelvemonth ago."

  "H'm! I see. Then the filly isn't the only 'Highland Lassie' in thecase, it would seem. Pardon? Oh, nothing. Merely a weak attempt tosay something smart, that's all. Don't suppose that Maggie McFarlandcould by any possibility throw light upon the subject of that pailof water, do you, Major?"

  "Good lud, no! Of course she couldn't. What utter rot. But seehere--come to think of it now, perhaps _I_ can. It's as like asnot that he wanted it to wash himself with before he went over tothe shoer's at Shepperton Old Cross with Chocolate Maid. I forgotto tell you, Mr. Cleek, that ever since Dawson-Blake made thatattempt to buy him off, Farrow became convinced that it wouldn'tbe safe to leave Highland Lassie unguarded night or day for fearof that cad's hirelings getting at her in some way or another, so heclosed up his cottage and came to live in the rooms over the filly'sstable, so as to be on the spot for whatever might or might nothappen at any hour. He also bought a yapping little Scotch terrierthat would bark if a match fell, and kept it chained up in the placewith him. When the discovery of the filly's disappearance was madethat dog was found still attached to its chain, but as dead asMaria Martin. It had been poisoned. There was a bit of meat lyingbeside the body and it was literally smothered in strychnine."

  "Quite so. Keep strychnine about the place for killing rats, Isuppose?"

  "Yes, of course. They are a perfect pest about the granary and thefodder bins. But of course it wouldn't be lying round loose--adeadly thing like that. Besides, there never was any kept in thatparticular section of the stables, so the dog couldn't have gothold of it by accident. Then there's another thing I ought to tellyou, Mr. Cleek: Highland Lassie never was stabled with the rest ofthe stud. We have always kept her in one especial stable. Thereare just two whacking big box stalls in the place. She occupiesone and Chocolate Maid the other. Chocolate Maid is Lady Mary'spersonal property--a fine, blooded filly that will make a namefor herself one of these days, I fancy. Dark-coated and smooth as apiece of sealskin, the beauty. To-day she is the only animal inthat unlucky place. Yes, come to think of it, Mr. Cleek," he addedwith a sort of sigh, "that is probably what the poor fellow wantedthe pail of water for: to wash up and ride her over to the forgeat Shepperton Old Cross."

  "Singular time to choose for such a proceeding, wasn't it, Major?After half-past nine o'clock at night."

  "It would be if it were any other man and under any othercircumstances. But remember! It is but three weeks to Derby Day andevery hour of daylight is worth so much gold to us. Farrow knewthat he could not spare a moment of it for any purpose; and he ismost particular over the shoeing. Will see it done himself anddirect the operation personally. Sort of mania with him. Wouldn'tlet the best man that ever lived take one of the horses over forhim. Go himself, no matter what inconvenience it put him to. Farrierat Shepperton Old Cross knows his little 'fads and fancies' andhumours them at all times. Would open the forge and fire up for himif it were two o'clock in the morning."

  "I see. And did he take Chocolate Maid over there on that night,after all?"

  "Yes. Lady Mary and I attended a whist drive at Farmingdale Priorythat evening; but her ladyship was taken with a violent headacheand we had to excuse ourselves and leave early. It would be abouta quarter to eleven o'clock when we returned to the Abbey and metFarrow riding out through the gates on Chocolate Maid. We stopped andspoke to him. He was then going over to the shoer's with the mare."

  "How long would it take him to make the journey?"

  "Oh, about five-and-twenty minutes--maybe half an hour: certainlynot more."

  "So then it would be about quarter-past eleven when he arrived atthe farrier's? I see. Any idea at what time he got back?"

  "Not the ghost of one. In fact, we should never have known that heever did get back--for nobody heard a sound of his return the wholenight long--were it not that when Captain MacTavish crossed thestable-yard at five o'clock in the morning and, seeing the door ajar,looked in, he found Chocolate Maid standing in her stall, the dogdead, and Highland Lassie gone. Of course, Chocolate Maid beingthere after we had passed Farrow on the road with her was proofthat he did return at some hour of the night, you know: though whenit was, or why he should have gone out again, heaven alone knows.Personally, you know, I am of the opinion that Highland Lassiewas stolen while he was absent; that, on returning he discovered therobbery and, following the trail, went out after the robbers, and,coming up with them, got his terrible injuries that way."

  "H'm! Yes! I don't think! What 'trail' was he to find, please, whenyou just now told me that there wasn't so much as a hoofprint totell the tale? Or was that an error?"

  "No, it wasn't. The entire stable-yard is paved with red tiles, andwe've had such an uncommon spell of dry weather lately that theearth of the surrounding country is baked as hard as a brickbat.An elephant couldn't make a footmark upon it, much less a horse.But, gravy, man! instead of making the thing clearer, I'm blest ifyou're not adding gloom to darkness, and rendering it more mysteriousthan ever. What under the four corners of heaven could Farrow havefollowed, then, if the 'trail' is to be eliminated entirely?"

  "Maybe his own inclination, Major--maybe nothing at all," said Cleek,enigmatically. "If your little theory of his returning and findingHighland Lassie stolen were a thing that would hold water I aminclined to think that Mr. Tom Farrow would have raised an alarmthat you could hear for half a mile, and that if he had started outafter the robbers he would have done so with a goodly force offollowers at his heels and with all the lanterns and torches thatcould be raked and scraped together."

  "Good lud, yes! of course he would. I never thought of that. Didyou, Mary? His whole heart and soul were bound up in the animal. Ifhe had thought that anything had happened to her, if he had knownthat she was gone, a pitful of raging devils would have been spiritsof meekness beside him. Man alive, you make my head whiz. For himto go off over the moor without word or cry at such a time----I say,Mr. Cleek! For God's sake, what do you make of such a thing as thatat such a time, eh?"

  "Well, Major," replied Cleek, "I hate to destroy any man's illusionsand to besmirch any man's reputation, but--_que voulez vous_? If Mr.Tom Farrow went out upon that moor after the mare was stolen, andwent without giving an alarm or saying a word to anybody, then in myprivate opinion your precious trainer is nothing in the world but aprecious double-faced, double-dealing, dishonourable blackguard, whotreacherously sold you to the enemy and got just what he deservedby way of payment."

  Major Norcross made no reply. He simply screwed up his lips untilthey were a mere pucker of little creases, and looked round at hiswife with something of the pain and hopeless bewilderment of anunjustly scolded child.

  "You know, Seton, it was what Captain MacTavish suggested," venturedshe, gently and regretfully. "And when two men of intellect----" Thenshe sighed and let the rest go by default.

  "Demmit, Mary, you don't mean to suggest that I haven't any, do you?"

  "No, dear; but----"

  "Buts be blowed! Don't you think I know a man when I run foul ofhim? And if ever there was a square-dealing, honest chap on thisearth----Look here, Mr. Cleek. Gad! you may be a bright chap and allthat, but you'll have to give me something a blessed sight strongerthan mere suspicion before you can make me believe a thing like thatabout Tom Farrow."

  "I am not endeavouring to make you believe it, Major. I
am merelyshowing you what would certainly be the absolute truth of the matter_if_ Tom Farrow had done what you suggested, and gone out on thatmoor alone and without a word or a cry when he discovered thatthe animal was stolen. But, my dear sir, I incline to the belief thathe never did go out there after any person or any living thingwhatsoever."

  "Then, dash it, sir, how in thunder are you going to explain hisbeing there at all?"

  "By the simple process, Major, of suggesting that he was on his wayback to the Abbey at the time he encountered his unknown assailant.In other words, that he had not only never returned to the placeafter you and her ladyship saw him leaving it at a quarter to eleven,but was never permitted to do so."

  "Oh, come, I say! That's laying it on too thick. How the dickens canyou be sure of such a thing as that?"

  "I'm not. I am merely laying before you the only two things possibleto explain his presence there. One or the other of them is the plainand absolute truth. If the man went out there _after_ the filly wasstolen he is a scoundrel and a liar. If he is innocent, he met withhis injuries on the way back to his quarters above Highland Lassie'sstall."

  "But the other animal? But Chocolate Maid? How could she have gotback to the stable, then? She couldn't have found her way back aloneafter Farrow was assaulted--at least, she could, of course, butnot in the condition she was in when found next morning. She had noharness of any sort upon her. Her saddle was on its peg. She was inher box--tied up, b'gad! and the door of the box was closed andbolted; so that if by any chance----Hullo! I say! What on earth areyou smiling in that queer way for? Hang it, man! do you believethat I don't know what I'm talking about?"

  "Oh, yes, Major. It isn't that kind of a smile. I have justdiscovered that four and four make eight when you add them upproperly; and the smile is one of consequent satisfaction. A lastquestion, please. At what time in the morning was Farrow foundlying unconscious upon the moor?"

  "Somewhere between six and seven o'clock. Why?"----

  "Oh, nothing in particular. Who found him? Captain MacTavish?"

  "No. Maggie McFarland. She was just coming back from milkingwhen----Hang it, man! I wish you wouldn't smile all up one side ofyour face in that confounded manner. It makes me think that youmust have something up your sleeve."

  "Well, if I have, Major, suppose you drive me over to the stablesand give me a chance to take it out?" suggested Cleek, serenely. "Alittle 'poking about' sometimes does wonders, and a half hour inHighland Lassie's quarters may pick the puzzle to pieces a great dealsooner than you'd believe. Or, stop! Perhaps, on second thought, itwill be better for you and her ladyship to go on ahead, as I shallwant to have a look at Tom Farrow's injuries as well, so it will bebest to have everything prepared in advance, in order to save time.No doubt Mr. Narkom and I can get a conveyance of some sort here.At any rate--h'm! it is now a quarter to three, I see--at anyrate, you may certainly expect us at quarter-past five. You andher ladyship may go back quite openly, Major. There will be noneed to attempt to throw dust in Sir Gregory Dawson-Blake's eyesany longer by keeping the disappearance of the animal a secret.If he's had a hand in her spiriting away, he knows, of course, thatshe's gone; but if he hasn't--oh, well, I fancy I know who did, andthat she will be in the running on Derby Day after all. A fewminutes in Highland Lassie's stable will settle that, I feel sure.Your ladyship, my compliments. Major, good afternoon. I hope ifnight overtakes us before we get at the bottom of the thing you canmanage to put us up at the Abbey until to-morrow that we may beon the spot to the last?"

  "With pleasure, Mr. Cleek," said Lady Mary; and bowed him out of theroom.