CHAPTER XXXVIII
Colliver, who had now sunk into a state of babbling incoherence, layon his face in the wreck of the tableau, rolling his head from sideto side and clasping and unclasping his manacled hands.
Trent turned his back upon the unpleasant sight and, placing threechairs at the opposite end of the room, dropped into one and liftedan eager countenance to Cleek.
"Tell me first of all," he asked, "how under heaven you came tosuspect how the disappearance of the boy was managed? It seems likemagic, to me. When in the world did you get the first clue to it,Mr. Cleek?"
"Never until I heard of those two women looking into this roomand seeing the vase of pink roses standing on a spindle-leggedtable in the centre of it," he replied. "You see, even in the olddays when I had the other case in hand and was searching for aclue to Colliver's disappearance, never had any one mentioned thename of Loti to me. I knew, of course, that you made wax figureshere, but I never heard until this afternoon that Loti was theman who was employed to model them. I also knew about the existenceof the glass-room and its position, for I had been at the painsof inspecting it from the outside. That came about in this way:Just before Miss Larue closed up the case of James Colliver I hadobtained the first actual clue to his movements after he left Mr.Trent, senior, and came out of the office.
"That clue came from the door porter, Felix Murchison. What careful'pumping' got out of him was that when James Colliver left theoffice he had asked him, Murchison, which was the way to the placewhere they made the waxworks, as he'd heard that they were makinga head of Miss Larue to be used in the execution scene of CatharineHoward, and he'd like to have a look at it. Murchison said thathe told him the figures were made in a glass-room on the top ofthe house, and directed him how to reach it. He went up the stairs,and that was the last that was seen of him.
"Naturally when I heard that I thought I'd like to see the exteriorof the building to ascertain if there was any opening, door orwindow, by which he could have left the upper floor without comingdown the main staircase. That led me to beg permission of thepeople in the house across the passage there to look from one ofthe side windows, and so gave me my first view of the glass-room.What I saw was exactly what Mrs. Sherman and her daughter sawyesterday--namely, that spick and span room with the table in thecentre and the vase of pink roses standing on it.
"Need I go further than to say that when I heard of those womenseeing a room that was badly littered a few minutes before suddenlybecome a tidy one with a table and a vase of roses standing inthe middle of it, without anybody having come into the place forthe purpose of making the change, I instantly remembered my ownexperience and suspected a painted blind?
"When I entered this room to-day and saw the peculiar position ofthat blind I became almost certain I had hit upon the truth, andsent Mr. Narkom to the house across the way to test it. That'swhy I pulled the blind down. Why I stumbled and nearly fell intothe tableau was because I had a faint suspicion of the horrible truthwhen I noticed how abominably thick the neck, hands, and ankles ofthat 'dead soldier' were; and I wanted to test the truth or falsenessof the 'straw stuffing' assertion by actual touch, particularly as Ifelt sure that the presence of all these strongly scented flowerswas for the purpose of covering less agreeable odours should theheat of the weather cause decomposition to set in before he coulddispose of the body. I don't think he ever was mad enough to intendletting the thing remain a part of the tableau. I fancy he wouldhave found an excuse to get it out somehow and to make away with itentirely, as, no doubt, he did with the body of Loti.
"What's that, Mr. Narkom? No, I don't think that Murchison had anyactual hand in the crime or really knew the identity of the man. Ifancy he must have gone up to tell the fictitious Loti that he knewJames Colliver had entered that glass-room and never come out ofit, and Colliver, of course, had to shut his mouth by buying him offand sending him out of the country. That is why he took yet anotherdisguise and pawned the jewels. He had to get the money some way.As for the rest, I imagine that when Colliver went up to the room tosee that wax head, and Loti caught sight of him, the old Italianjumped on him like a mad tiger; and, seeing that it was Loti's lifeor his own, Colliver throttled him. When that was done, the necessityfor disposing of the body arose, and the imposture was the actualoutcome of a desire to save his own neck. That's all, I think, Mr.Narkom; so you may revise your 'notes' and mark down the Collivercase as 'solved' at last and the mystery of it cleared up after all."
* * * * *
Three hours of patient waiting had passed and gone. The darknesshad fallen, the streets were still, save for the faint hum of lifecoming from districts afar, and the time for action had come at last.Cleek rose and put on his hat.
"I think we may safely venture to remove our prisoner now, Mr.Narkom," he said, "and if you will slip out the back way and getLennard to bring the limousine around to the head of that narrowalley----"
"They're there already, dear chap. I stationed Lennard there when Iwent across to look into that business about the painted blind. Itseemed the least conspicuous place for him to wait."
"Excellent! Then, if you will run on ahead and have the door of itopen for me and everything ready so that we may whisk him in andbe off like a shot, and Mr. Trent will let one of these good chapshere run down to the man's room and fetch him a hat, I'll attendto his removal."
"Here's one here, sir, that'll do at a pinch and save time,"suggested one of the men, picking up a cavalryman's hat from thewreck of the ruined tableau and dusting it by slapping it againsthis thigh. "I don't think he'll resist much, sir; he seems to havegone clear off his biscuit and not to know enough for that; but ifyou'd like me and my mate to lend a hand----"
"No, thanks; I shall be able to manage him myself, I fancy," saidCleek, serenely. "Get him on his feet, please. That's the business!Now then, Mr. Narkom nip off; I'm following."
Mr. Narkom "nipped off" without an instant's delay, and two minuteslater saw him slipping out through the rear door of the building withCleek and the jabbering, unresisting prisoner at the bottom of thelast flight of stairs not twenty yards behind.
But the passage of the next half minute saw something of more momentstill; for, as Narkom ran on tiptoe up the dim alley to the waitinglimousine standing at its western end, and unlatching the vehicle'sdoor, swung it open to be ready for Cleek, out of the stillness thereroared suddenly the shrill note of a dog-whistle, and all in a momentthere was--mischief.
A crowd of quick-moving Apache figures sprang up from shelteringdoors and, scudding past him, headed full tilt down the narrow alley,calling out as they ran that piercing "La, la, loi!" which is thewar cry of their kind.
A blind rage--all the more maddening in that it was impotent, sincehe had neither weapon to defend nor the power to slay--swept downupon the superintendent as he realized the import of that mad rush,and, ducking down his head, he bolted after them, into the thick ofthem--punching, banging, slogging, shouting, swearing--an incarnatePassion, the Epitome of Man's love for Man--a little fat Fury thatwas all a whirl of flying fists as it swept onward and that seemed togo absolutely insane at what he looked up the alley and saw.
"Get back, Cleek! Get back, for God's sake!" he yelled, in a verypanic of fear and dismay; then cleft his way with beating arms andkicking feet through the hampering crowd, arrowed out of its midst,and bore down upon the cavalry-hatted figure that had stepped outof the dark doorway of Trent & Son's building and was standingflattened against the rear wall of it.
He reached out his hand and made a blind clutch at it, and, while hewas yet far out of reaching distance of it, faced round and madea wild effort to cover it with his short, fat body and his armsoutflung, like a crucifix, and looked at the Apaches and sworewithout one thought of being profane.
"Me, you damned devils! Me, me, not him! Not him, damn you! damn you!damn you!" he cried, hoarse-throated and--said no more!
The scuttling crowd came up with him, broke abo
ut him, swept pasthim. A loud explosion sounded; a flare of light broke full againstthe cavalry hat; a stifling odour of picric acid filled the airand gripped the throat, and with its coming, man and hat slid downthe wall and dropped at its foot a crumpled heap that never in thisworld would stand erect again.
"Killed! Killed!" half-cried, half-groaned the superintendent,staggering a bit as the crowd flew on up the alley and vanishedaround the corner of the street into which it merged. "Oh, my God!After all my care; after all my love for him! Killed like a dog. Oh,Cleek! Oh, Cleek! The dearest friend--the finest pal--the greatestdetective genius of the age!" And then, swinging his arm up andacross his eyes and holding it there, made a queer choking soundbehind the sheltering crook of it.
But of a sudden a voice spoke up from the darkness of the open doornear by and said quietly:
"That's the finest compliment I ever had paid me in all my life, Mr.Narkom. Don't worry over me, dear friend; I'm still able to sit upand take nourishment. The Apaches have saved the public executionera morning's work. Colliver has parted with his brains forever;and may God have mercy on his soul!"
"Cleek!" Mr. Narkom scarcely knew his own voice, such a screamingthing it was. "Cleek, dear chap, is it you?"
"To be sure. Come inside here if you doubt it. Come quickly; there'sa crowd of quite a different sort coming: the report of that bombhas aroused the neighbourhood; and I have quite enough of crowds forone evening, thank you."
Narkom was inside the building before you could have said JackRobinson, "pump-handling" Cleek with all his might and generallydeporting himself like a man gone daft.
"I thought they'd finished you! I thought they'd 'done you in.' Itwas the Apache, you know--and that infernal scoundrel Waldemar: hemust have found out somehow," he said excitedly. "But we've got iton him at last, Cleek: he's come within the law's reach after all."
"To be sure; but I doubt if the law will be able to find him, Mr.Narkom. He will have left the country before the trap was actuallysprung, believe me; or failing that, will be well on his way out ofit."
"But perhaps not absolutely out of it, dear chap. There are theports, you know; and so long as he is on English soil----Come andsee! Come and see! We may be able to head him off. Let's get outby way of the front of the building, Cleek, and if I can once get tothe telegraph and wire to the coast--and he hasn't yet sailed----Comeon! come on! Or no: wait a moment. That's a constable out there,asking for information. I'll nip out and let him know that theYard's on the case and give him a few orders about reporting it.Wait for me at the front door, old chap. With you in a winking."
He stepped out into the alley as he spoke and mingled with thegathering crowd.
But Cleek did not stir. The alley was no longer dark for, with thegathering of the crowd, lights had come and he stood for many minutesstaring into it and breathing hard and the colour draining slowlyout of his face until it was like a thing of wax.
Outside in the narrow alley the gathering of curious ones whichthe sound of the explosion and the sight of a running policemanhad drawn to the place was every moment thickening, and with thelatest addition to it there had come hurrying into the narrow spacea morbid-minded newsboy with the customary bulletin sheet pinned overhis chest.
"The _Evening News_! Six o'clock edition!" that bulletin was headed,and under that heading there was set forth in big black type:
END OF THE MAURAVANIAN REVOLUTION FALL OF THE CAPITAL FLIGHT OF THE DEPOSED KING OVERWHELMING SUCCESS OF IRMA'S TROOPS.
"Mr. Narkom," said Cleek, when at the end of ten minutes thesuperintendent came bustling back, hot and eager to begin theeffort to head off Count Waldemar. "Mr. Narkom, dear friend, thedays of trouble and distress are over and the good old times youhave so often sighed for have come back. Look at that newsboy'sbulletin. Waldemar is too late in all things and--we have seenthe last of him forever."
EPILOGUE
The Affair of the Man Who Was Found
Mr. Maverick Narkom glanced up at the calendar hanging on the officewall, saw that it recorded the date as August 18th, and then glancedback to the sheet of memoranda lying on his desk, and forthwithbegan to scratch his bald spot perplexedly.
"I wonder if I dare do it?" he queried of himself in the unspokenwords of thought. "It seems such a pity when the beggar's weddingday is so blessed near--and a man wants his last week of singleblessedness all to himself, by James--if he can get it! Still,it's a case after his own heart; the reward's big and would be anice little nest egg to begin married life upon. Besides, he's had afairly good rest as it is, when I come to think of it. Nothingmuch to do since the time when that Mauravanian business came to anend. I fancy he rather looked to have something come out of that inthe beginning from the frequent inquiries he made regarding whatthat johnnie Count Irma and the new Parliament were doing; butit never did. And now, after all that rest--and this a case of somuch importance----Gad! I believe I'll risk it. He can't do anymore then decline. Yes, by James! I will."
His indecision once conquered, he took the plunge instantly; caughtup the desk telephone, called for a number, and two minutes laterwas talking to Cleek, thus:
"I say, old chap, don't snap my head off for suggesting such a thingat such a time, but I've a most extraordinary case on hand and Ihope to heaven that you will help me out with it. What's that? Oh,come, now, that's ripping of you, old chap, and I'm as pleased asPunch. What? Oh, get along with you! No more than you'd do for meunder the same circumstances, I'll be sworn. Yes, to-day--as early aspossible. Right you are. Then could you manage to meet me in thebar parlour of a little inn called the French Horn, out Shere way, inSurrey, about four o'clock? Could, eh? Good man! Oh, by the way,come prepared to meet a lady of title, old chap--she's the client.Thanks very much. Good-bye."
Then he hung up the receiver, rang for Lennard, and set aboutpreparing for the journey forthwith.
And this, if you please, was how it came to pass that when Mr.Maverick Narkom turned up at the French Horn that afternoon hefound a saddle horse tethered to a post outside, and Cleek, lookingvery much like one of the regular habitues of Rotten Row who hadtaken it into his mind to canter out into the country for a change,standing in the bar parlour window and looking out with appreciativeeyes upon the broad stretch of green downs that billowed away tomeet the distant hills.
"My dear chap, how on earth do you manage it?" said thesuperintendent, eying him with open approval, not to sayadmiration. "I don't mean the mere putting on the clothes and_looking_ the part--I've seen dozens in my time who could do thatright enough, but the beggars always 'fell down' when it came tothe acting and the talking, while you--I don't know what thedickens it is nor how you manage to get it, but there's a certainsomething or other in your bearing, your manner, your look, whenyou tackle this sort of thing that I always believed a man hadto be born to and couldn't possibly acquire in any other way."
"There you are wrong, my dear friend. It _is_ possible, as yousee. That is what makes the difference between the mere actor andthe real _artiste_," replied Cleek, with an air of conceitedself-appreciation which was either a clever illusion or an exhibitionof great weakness. "If one man might not do these things better thananother man, we should have no Irvings to illuminate the stage,and acting would drop at once from its place among the arts to theundignified level of a tawdry trade. And now, as our Americancousins say, 'Let's come down to brass tacks.' What's the case andwho's the lady?"
"The widow of the late Sir George Essington, and grandmother of theyoung gentleman in whose interest you are to be consulted."
"Grandmother, eh? Then the lady is no longer young?"
"Not as years go, although, to look at her, you would hardly suspectthat she is a day over five-and-thirty. The Gentleman with the HourGlass has dealt very, very lightly with her. Where he has failed tobe considerate, however, the ladies, who conduct certain 'parlours'in Bond Street, have come to the rescue in fine style."
"Oh, she is that kind of woman, is she?" said Cleek with a pitch ofthe shoulders. "I have no patience with the breed! As if there wasanything more charming than a dear, wrinkly old grandmother whobears her years gracefully and fusses over her children's childrenlike an old hen with a brood of downy chicks. But a grandmother whogoes in for wrinkle eradicators, cream of lilies, skin-tighteners,milk of roses, and things of that kind--faugh! It has been myexperience, Mr. Narkom, that when a woman has any real cause forworrying over the condition of her face, she usually has a just oneto be anxious over that of her soul. So this old lady is one ofthe 'face painters,' is she?"
"My dear chap, let me correct an error: a grandmother her ladyshipmay be, but she is decidedly not an old one. I believe she was onlya mere girl when she married her late husband. At any rate, shecertainly can't be a day over forty-five at the present moment.A frivolous and a recklessly extravagant woman she undoubtedlyis--indeed, her extravagances helped as much as anything to bringher husband into the bankruptcy court before he died--but beyondthat I don't think there's anything particularly wrong with her'soul.'"
"Possibly not. There's always an exception to every rule," saidCleek. "Her ladyship may be the shining exception to this unpleasantone of the 'face painters.' Let us hope so. English, is she?"
"Oh, yes--that is, her father was English and she herself was bornin Buckinghamshire. Her mother, however, was an Italian, a linealdescendant of a once great and powerful Roman family named deCatanei."
"Which," supplemented Cleek, with one of his curious one-sidedsmiles, "through an ante-papal union between Pope Alexander VIand the beautiful Giovanna de Catanei--otherwise Vanozza--gave to theworld those two arch-poisoners and devils of iniquity, Caesar andLucretia Borgia. Lady Essington's family tree supplies a mixturewhich is certainly unique: a fine, fruity English pie with a rottenapple in it. Hum-m-m! if her ladyship has inherited any of thebeauty of her famous ancestress--for in 1490, when she flourished,Giovanna de Catanei was said to be the most beautiful woman in theworld--she should be something good to look upon."
"She is," replied Narkom. "You'll find her, when she comes, one ofthe handsomest and most charming women you ever met."
"Ah, then she has inherited some of the attractions andaccomplishments of her famous forbears. I wonder if there hasalso come down to her, as well, the formula of those remarkablesecret poisons for which Lucretia Borgia and her brother Caesarwere so widely famed. They were marvellous things, those Borgiadecoctions--marvellous and abominable."
"Horrible!" agreed Narkom, a curious shadow of unrest coming overhim at this subject rising at this particular time.
"Modern chemistry has, I believe, been quite unable to duplicatethem. There is, for instance, that appalling thing the aqua tofana,the very fumes of which caused instant death."
"Aqua tofana was not a Bornean poison, my friend," said Cleek, with asmile. "It was discovered more than two hundred years after _their_time--in 1668, to be exact--by one Jean Baptiste de Gaudin, Signeurde St. Croix, the paramour and accomplice of that unnatural Frenchfiend, Marie Marquise de Brinvilliers. Its discoverer himself diedthrough dropping the glass mask from his face and inhaling thefumes while he was preparing the hellish mixture. The secret of itsmanufacture did not, however, die with him. Many chemists can,to-day, reproduce it. Indeed, I, myself, could give you the formulawere it required."
"_You?_ Gad, man! what don't you know? In heaven's name, Cleek, whatcaused you to dip into all these unholy things?"
"The same impulse which causes a drowning man to grip at a straw,Mr. Narkom--the desire for self-preservation. Remember what I was inthose other days, and with whom I associated. Believe me, thestatement that there is honour among thieves is a pleasant fictionand nothing more; for once a man sets out to be a professionalthief, he and honour are no longer on speaking terms. I never couldbe wholly sure, with that lot; and my biggest _coups_ were always asource of danger to me after they had been successfully completed.It became necessary for me to study _all_ poisons, all secret artsof destruction, that I might guard against them and might know theproper antidote. As for the rest--Sh! Mumm's a fine wine. Here comesthe landlady with the tea. We'll drop the 'case' until afterward."
* * * * *
"Now tell me," said Cleek, after the landlady had gone and theywere again in sole possession of the room, "what is it this LadyEssington wants of me? And what sort of a chap is this grandson inwhose interest she is acting? Is he with her in this appeal to theYard?"
"Certainly not, my dear fellow. Why, he's little more than ababy--not over three at the most. Ever hear anybody speak of the'Golden Boy,' old chap?"
"What! The baby Earl of Strathmere? The little chap who inherited atitle and a million through the drowning of his parents in the wreckof the yacht _Mystery_?"
"That's the little gentleman: the Right Honourable Cedric EustaceGeorge Carruthers, twenty-seventh Earl Strathmere, variously knownas the 'Millionaire Baby' and the 'Golden Boy.' His mother was LadyEssington's only daughter. She was only eighteen when she marriedStrathmere: only twenty-two when she and her husband were drowned, alittle over a year ago."
"Early enough to go out of the world, that--poor girl!" said Cleek,sympathetically. "And to leave that little shaver all alone--robbedat one blow of both father and mother. Hard lines, my friend, hardlines! It is fair to suppose, is it not, that, with the death of hisparents, the care and guidance of his little lordship fell to thelot of his grandmother, Lady Essington?"
"No, it did not," replied Narkom. "One might have supposed that itwould, seeing that there was no paternal grandmother, but--well, thefact of the matter is, Cleek, that the late Lord Strathmere did notaltogether approve of his mother-in-law's method of living (he wasessentially a quiet, home-loving man and had little patience withfrivolity of any sort), and it occasioned no surprise among thosewho knew him when it was discovered that he had made a will leavingeverything he possessed to his little son and expressly stipulatingthat the care and upbringing of the boy were to be entrusted tohis younger brother, the Honourable Felix Camour Paul Carruthers, whowas to enjoy the revenue from the estate until the child attainedhis majority."
"I see! I see!" said Cleek, appreciatively. "Then that did herextravagant ladyship out of a pretty large and steady income for amatter of seventeen or eighteen years. Humm-m! Wise man--always, ofcourse, provided that he didn't save the boy from the frying-pan onlyto drop him into the fire. What kind of a man is this brother--thisHonourable Felix Carruthers--into whose hands he entrusted thefuture of his little son? I seem to have a hazy recollection ofhearing that name, somewhere or somehow, in connection with someother affair. Wise choice, was it, Mr. Narkom?"
"Couldn't have been better, to my thinking. I know the HonourableFelix quite well: a steady-going, upright, honourable young fellow(he isn't over two or three-and-thirty), who, being a secondson, naturally inherited his mother's fortune, and that beingconsiderable, he really did not need the income from his littlenephew's in the slightest degree. However, he undertook thecharge willingly, for he is much attached to the boy; and he andhis wife--to whom he was but recently married, by the way--enteredinto residence at his late brother's splendid property, BoskydellPriory, just over on the other side of those hills--you can see fromthe window, there--where they are at present entertaining a largehouse party, among whom are Lady Essington and her son Claude."
"Oho! Then her ladyship has a son, has she? The daughter who died wasnot her only child?"
"No. The son was born about a year after the daughter. A nicelad--bright, clever, engaging; fond of all sorts of dumbanimals--birds, monkeys, white mice--all manner of such things--andas tender-hearted as a girl. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Carruthers isimmensely fond of him and has him at the Priory whenever he can.That, of course, means having the mother, too, which is a bit of atrial, in a way, for I don't believe that her ladyship and Mrs.Carruthers care very much for each other. But that's another story.Now, then, let's see--where was I? Oh, ah
! about the house party atthe Priory and Carruthers' fondness for the boy. You can judge ofmy surprise, my dear Cleek, when last night's post brought me aprivate letter from Lady Essington asking me to meet her here atthis inn--which, by the way, belongs to the Strathmere estate andis run by a former servant at the Priory--and stating that shewished me to bring one of the shrewdest and cleverest of mydetectives, as she was quite convinced there was an underhand schemeafoot to injure his little lordship--in short, she had everyreason to believe that somebody was secretly attacking the life ofthe Golden Boy. She then went on to give me details of a mostextraordinary and bewildering nature."
"Indeed? What were those details, Mr. Narkom?"
"Let her tell you for herself--here she is!" replied thesuperintendent, as a veiled and cloaked figure moved hurriedly pastthe window; and he and Cleek had barely more than pushed back theirchairs and risen when that figure entered the room.
A sweep of her hand carried back her veil; and Cleek, looking round,saw what he considered one of the handsomest women he had everbeheld: a good woman, too, for all her frivolous life and her darkancestry, if clear, straight-looking eyes could be taken as a proof,which he knew that they could _not_; for he had seen men and womenin his day, as crafty as the fox and as dangerous as the serpent,who could look you straight in the eyes and never flinch; whileothers--as true as steel and as clean-lifed as saints--would sendshifting glances flicking all round the room and could no more fixthose glances on the face of the person to whom they were talkingthan they could take unto themselves wings and fly.
But good or ill, whichever the future might prove this lovely ladyto be, one thing about her was certain: she was violently agitated,and nervousness was making her shake perceptibly and breathe hard,like a spent runner.
"It is good of you to come, Mr. Narkom," she said, moving forwardwith a grace which no amount of excitement could dispel ordiminish--the innate grace of the woman _born_ to her station andschooled by Mother Nature's guiding hand. "I had hoped that I mightsteal away and come here to meet you unsuspected. But, secretly as Iwrote, carefully as I planned this thing, I have every reason tobelieve that my efforts are suspected and that I have, indeed,been followed. So, then, this interview must be a very hurried one,and you must not be surprised if it becomes necessary for me to runoff without a moment's notice; for believe me, I am quite, quitesure that the Honourable Mr. Felix Carruthers is already followingme."
"The Honourable--my dear Lady Essington, you don't mean to suggestthat he--he of all men----God bless my soul!"
"Oh, it may well amaze you, Mr. Narkom. It well-nigh stupefiedme when I first began to suspect. Indeed, I can't do any morethan suspect even yet. Perhaps it is he, perhaps that abominablewoman he has married. You must decide that when you have heard. Iperceive"--glancing over at Cleek--"you have been unable to bringa detective police officer to listen to what I have to say, butif you and your friend will listen carefully and convey the story toone in due course----"
"Pardon, your ladyship, but my companion is a detective officer,"interposed Narkom. "So if you will state the case at once he willbe able to advise."
"A detective? You?" She flashed round on Cleek and looked at himin amazement, her lower lip indrawn, a look almost of horror inher eyes. One may not tell a lion that another lion is a jackass,though he masquerade in the skin of one. Birth spoke to Birth. Shesaw, she knew, she understood. "By what process could such as you--"she began; then stopped and made a slight inclination of the head."Pardon," she continued; "that was rude. Your private affairs are ofcourse your own, Mr.--er----"
"Headland, your ladyship," supplied Cleek. "My name is GeorgeHeadland!" And Narkom knew from that that for all her grace andcharm he neither liked nor trusted her soft-eyed ladyship.
"Thank you," said Lady Essington, accepting this self-introductionwith a graceful inclination of the head. "No doubt Mr. Narkom hasgiven you some idea of my reason for consulting you, Mr. Headland;but as time is very short let me give you the further details asbriefly as possible. I am convinced beyond any shadow of a doubtthat some one who has an interest in his death is secretly attackingthe life of my little grandson; and I have every reason to believethat the 'some one' is either the Honourable Felix Carruthers orhis wife."
"But to what purpose, your ladyship? People do not commit sodesperate an act as murder without some powerful motive, eitherof gain or revenge, behind it, and from what I have heard, neitherthe uncle nor the aunt can have anything to win by injuring hislittle lordship."
"Can they not?" she answered, with a despairing gesture. "How littleyou know! Mrs. Carruthers is an ambitious woman, Mr. Headland,and, like all women of the class from which she was recruited, sheaspires to a title. She was formerly an actress. The HonourableFelix married and took her from the theatre. It is abominable thata person of that type should be foisted upon society and broughtinto contact with her betters."
"Oho! that's where the shoe pinches, is it?" thought Cleek; but aloudhe merely said: "The day has long passed, your ladyship, when thefollowers of Thespis have to apologize for their existence. There aremany ladies of the stage in these times whose lives are exemplary andwhose names call forth nothing but respect and admiration; and solong as this particular lady bore an unblemished reputation----Didshe?"
"Oh, yes. There was never a word against her in that respect.Felix would never have married her if there had been. But I believein persons of that class remaining in their own circle, and notintruding themselves into others to which they were not _born_. Sheis an ambitious woman, as I have told you. She aspires to a titleas _well_ as to riches, and if little Lord Strathmere should die,her husband would inherit both. Surely that is 'motive' enough fora woman of that type. As for her husband----"
"There, I am afraid, your suspicion confounds itself, your ladyship,"interrupted Cleek. "I am told that the Honourable Mr. Carruthersis extremely fond of the boy; besides which, being rich in his ownright, he has no reason to covet the riches of his brother's babyson."
"Pardon me: '_was_ rich' is the proper expression, not 'is,' Mr.Headland. The failure, a fortnight or so ago, of the West CoastDiamond Mining Company, in which the greater part of his fortunewas invested and of which he was the chairman, has sadly crippled hisresources, and he has now nothing but the income from his nephew'sestate to live upon."
"Hum-m-m! Ah! Just so!" said Cleek, pinching his chin. "Now Irecollect what made the name seem familiar, Mr. Narkom. I rememberreading of the failure, and of the small hope that was held out ofanything being saved from the wreckage. Still, the income from theStrathmere estate is enormous; and by dint of care, in the seventeenor eighteen years which must elapse before his little lordshipcomes of age----"
"He will never come of age! He will be killed first--he is beingkilled now!" interposed Lady Essington, agitatedly. "Oh, Mr.Headland, help me! I love the boy--he is my own child's child. Ilove him as I never loved anything else in all the world; and ifhe were to die----Dear God! what should I do? And he is dying: Itell you he is. And they won't let me go near him: they won't letme have him all to myself, these two! If his cries in the nightwring my heart and I run to his nursery, one or the other of them isalways there, and never for one moment will they let me hold him inmy arms nor be with him alone."
"Hum-m-m! Cries out in the night, does he, your ladyship? What kindof cries? Those of fright or of pain?"
"Of pain--of excruciating pain: it would wring the heart of a stoneto hear him, and, though there is never a spot of blood nor a sign ofviolence, he declares that some one comes in the night and stickssomething into his neck--something which, in his baby way, he likensto 'a long, long needle that goes yite froo my neck and sets uvverneedles prickin' and prickin' all down my arm.'"
"Hello! what's that? Let's have that again, please!" rapped outCleek, before he thought; then recollected himself and addedapologetically, "I beg your ladyship's pardon, but I am apt toget a little excited at times. Something like a needle being runinto his neck, eh? And other needles
continuing the sensation downthe arm? Hum-m-m! Had a doctor called in?"
"No. I wished to, but neither the uncle nor aunt would let me doso. They say it is nothing--a mere 'growing pain' which he willovercome in time. But it is not--I _know_ it is not! If it werenatural, why did it never manifest itself before the failure ofthat wretched diamond company? Why did it wait to begin until afterthe Honourable Felix Carruthers had lost his money? And why is itgoing on, night after night, ever since? Why has he begun to failin health?--to change from a happy, laughing, healthy child intoa peevish, fretful, constantly complaining one? I tell you theyare killing him, those two; I tell you they are using some secretdiabolical thing which is sapping his very life; and if----"
She stopped and sucked her breath in with a little gasp of fright,and, whisking down her veil, turned and made hurriedly for the door.
"I told you he guessed; I told you I should be followed!" she saidin a shaking voice. "He is coming--that man: along the road there!look through the window and you will see. Oh, come to my assistance,Mr. Headland! Find some way to do it, for God's sake! Good-bye!"
Then the door opened and shut and she was gone, darting out from therear of the inn into the shelter of the scattered clumps of furzebushes and the thick growth of bracken which covered the downs, andrunning like a hare pursued.
"Well, what do you make of it, old chap?" asked Narkom anxiously,turning to Cleek after ascertaining past all doubt that theHonourable Felix Carruthers was riding up the road toward theFrench Horn.
"Oh, a crime beyond doubt," he replied. "But whose I am in noposition to determine at present. A hundred things might producethat stabbing sensation in the neck, from the prick of a pin-pointdipped in curare to a smear of the 'Pope's balm,' that hellishointment of the Borgias. Hum-m-m! And so that's the HonourableFelix Carruthers, is it? Keep back from the window, my friend.When you are out gunning for birds, it never does to raise an alarm.And we should be hard put to it to explain our presence here atthis particular time if he were to see you."
"My dear chap, you don't surely mean that you think _he_ is reallyat the bottom of it?" began Narkom, in surprise; but before he couldsay a word further, _that_ surprise was completely overwhelmed byanother and a greater one. For the Honourable Felix had reined inand dismounted at the French Horn's door, and, with a clear-voiced,"No, don't put him up; I shan't be long, Betty. Just want a wordor two with some friends I'm expecting," walked straightway intothe bar parlour and advanced toward the superintendent with handoutstretched.
"Thank God, you got my letter in time, Mr. Narkom," he said, with abreath of intense relief. "Although I sent it by express messenger,it was after three o'clock and I was afraid you wouldn't. What afriend you are to come to my relief like this! I shall owe you adebt no money can repay. This then is the great and amazing Cleek,is it? I thank you, Mr. Cleek, I thank you from the bottom of myheart for accepting the case. Now we _shall_ get to the bottom ofthe mystery, I am sure."
It was upon the tip of Narkom's tongue to inquire what he meant byall this; but Cleek, rightly suspecting that the letter to which healluded had been delivered at the Yard after the superintendent'sdeparture, jumped into the breach and saved the situation.
"Very good of you indeed to place such great reliance in me, Mr.Carruthers," he said. "We had to scramble for it, Mr. Narkom andI--the letter was so late in arriving--but, thank fortune, we managedto get here, as you see. And now, please, may I have the details ofthe case?"
He spoke guardedly, lest it should be upon some matter other thanthe interest of the "Golden Boy" and to prevent the HonourableFelix from guessing that he had already been approached upon thatsubject by Lady Essington. It was not some other matter, however.It was again the mystery of the secret attacks upon his littlelordship he was asked to dispel; and the Honourable Felix, plungingforthwith into the details connected with it, gave him exactly thesame report as Lady Essington had done.
"Come to the rescue, Mr. Cleek," he finished, rather excitedly. "Bothmy wife and I feel that you and you alone are the man to get at thebottom of this diabolical thing; and the boy is as dear to us as ifhe were our own. Help me to get proof--unimpeachable proof--of thehand which is engineering these diabolical attacks, that we may notonly put an end to them before they go too far, but may avert thedisgrace which publicity must inevitably bring."
"Publicity, Mr. Carruthers? What publicity are you in dread of,please?"
"That which could only bring shame to a dear, lovable youngfellow if any hint of what I believe to be the truth should getout, Mr. Cleek," he replied. "To you I may confess it: I appeal tono medical man because I fear, for young Claude's sake, thatinvestigation may lead to a discovery of the truth; for both mywife and I feel--indeed, we almost _know_--that it is his owngrandmother, Lady Essington, who is injuring the boy and that itwill not be long before she attempts to direct suspicion against_us_."
"Indeed? For what purpose?"
"To have us removed by the courts as not being fit to have the careof the child, and to get him transferred to her care, that she mayenjoy the revenue from his estate."
"Phew!" whistled Cleek softly. "Well done, my lady!"
"We do our best to keep her from getting at him," went on theHonourable Felix, "but she succeeds in spite of us. His nurserywas on the same floor as her rooms, but for greater safety I lastnight had him carried to my own bedchamber and double-locked allthe windows and doors. I said to myself that nothing could getto him then; but--it did, just the same! In the middle of the nighthe woke up screaming and crying out that some one had come andstuck a long needle in his neck, and then for the first time--God!I nearly went off my head when I saw it--for the first time, Mr.Cleek, there was a mark upon him--three red raw little spots justover the collarbone on the left side of the neck, as if a birdhad pecked him."
"Hum-m-m! And all the windows closed, you say?"
"All but one--the window of my dressing-room--but as that is barredso that nobody could possibly get in, I thought it did not matter,and so left it partly open for the sake of air."
"I see," said Cleek. "I see! Hum-m-m! A fortnight without any outwardsign and then of a sudden three small raw spots! Indented in thecentre are they, and much inflamed about the edges? Thanks! Quiteso, quite so! And the doors locked and all the windows but oneclosed and secured on the inside, so that no human body----What'sthat? Take the case? Certainly I will, Mr. Carruthers. You areentertaining a house party at present, I hear. Now if you can makeit convenient to put me up in the Priory for a night or two, andwill inform your guests that an old 'Varsity friend named--er--let'ssee! Oh, ah! Deland, that will do as well as any--Lieutenant ArthurDeland, home on leave from India--if you will inform your guests thatthat friend will join the house party to-morrow afternoon, I'll bewith you in time for lunch, and will bring my man servant with me."
"Thank you! thank you!" said the Honourable Felix, wringing hishand. "I'll do exactly as you suggest, Mr. Cleek, and rooms shall beready for you when you arrive."
And the matter being thus arranged, the Honourable Felix took hisdeparture; and Cleek, calling the landlady to furnish him with pen,ink, and paper, sat down then and there to write a private note toLady Essington, telling her to look out for Mr. George Headland toput in an appearance at the Priory in three days' time.
* * * * *
It was exactly half-past one o'clock when Lieutenant Arthur Deland, abig, handsome, fair-haired, fair-moustached fellow, with the stampof the Army all over him, turned up at Boskydell Priory with anundersized Indian servant and an oversized kit and was presented tohis hostess and to the several members of the house party, by allof whom he was voted a decided acquisition before he had been anhour under the Priory's roof.
It is odd how one's fancies sometimes go. He found the HonourableMrs. Carruthers a sweet, gentle, dovelike little woman for whom hedid not care in the least degree, and he found Lady Essington's sona rollicking, bubbling, overgrown boy of two-and-twenty, whom, inspi
te of frivolous upbringing and a rather pronounced brusquenesstoward his mother, he fancied very much indeed. In fact, he "playedright up" to Mr. Claude Essington, as our American cousins say; andMr. Claude Essington, fancying him hugely, took him to his heartforthwith and blurted out his sentiments with almost small-boycandour.
"I say, Deland, you're a spiffing sort--I like you!" he said bluntly,after they'd played one or two sets of tennis with the ladies anddone their "social duties" generally. "If things look up a bit andI'm able to go back to Oxford for the next term (and the Lordknows how I shall, if the mater doesn't succeed in 'touching'Carruthers for some money for we're jolly near broke and up to oureyes in debt), but if I do go back and you're in England still,I'll have you up for the May week and give you the time of yourlife. Oh, Lord! here's the mater coming now. Let's hook it. Comeround to the stables, will you, and have a look at my collection.Pippin' lot--they'll interest you."
They did; for on investigation the "collection" proved to be madeup of pigeons, magpies, parrakeets, white mice, monkeys, and evena tame squirrel, all of which came forth at their master's call andswarmed or flocked all over him.
"Now then, Dolly Varden, you keep your thieving tongs away frommy scarfpin, old lady!" exclaimed this enthusiast to a magpiewhich perched upon his shoulder and immediately made a peck atthe small pearl in his necktie. "Awfullest old thief and vagrantthat ever sprouted a feather, this beauty," he explained to Cleek ashe smoothed the magpie's head. "Steal your eye teeth if she couldget at them, and goes off on the loose like a blessed wanderinggypsy. Lost her for three days and nights a couple of weeks ago,and the Lord knows where the old vagrant put in her time. What'sthat? The white stuff on her beak? Blest if I know. Been pecking ata wall or something, I reckon, and--hullo! There's Carruthers andhis little lordship strolling about hand in hand. Let's go and havea word with them. Strathmere's amazingly fond of my mice and birds."
With that he walked away with the mice and the monkeys and thesquirrel clinging to him, and those of the birds that were notperched upon his shoulders or his hands circling round his head witha flurry of moving wings. Cleek followed. A word in private withthe Honourable Felix was accountable for his appearance in thegrounds with the boy, and Cleek was anxious to get a good look athim without exciting any possible suspicion in Lady Essington's mindregarding the "Lieutenant's" interest in him.
He was a bonny little chap, this last Earl of Strathmere, with a headand face that might have done duty for one of Raphael's "Cherubim"and the big "wonder eyes" that make baby faces so alluring.
"Strathmere, this is Lieutenant Deland, come all the way from Indiato visit us," said the Honourable Felix, as Cleek went down on hisknees and spoke to the boy (examining him carefully the while)."Won't you tell him you are pleased to see him?"
"Pleased to see oo," said the boy, then broke into a shout of gleeas he caught sight of young Essington with the animals and birds."Pitty birdies! pitty mouses! Give! give!" he exclaimed eagerly,stretching forth his little hands.
"Certainly. Which will you have, old chap--magpie, parrakeet, pigeon,monkey, or mice?" said young Essington, gayly. "Here! take the lotand be happy!" Then he made as if to bundle them all into the child'sarms, and might have succeeded in doing so, but that Cleek rose upand came between them and the boy.
"Do have some sense, Essington!" he rapped out sharply. "Thosethings may not bite nor claw you, but one can't be sure when theyare handled by some one else. Besides, the boy is not well and heought not to be frightened."
"Sorry, old chap--always puttin' my foot into it. But Strathmerelikes 'em, don't you, bonny boy? and I didn't think."
"Take them back to the stables and let's have a go at billiards foran hour or two before tea," said Cleek, turning as Essington walkedaway, and looking after him with narrowed eyes and lips indrawn. Whenman and birds were out of sight, however, he made a sharp and suddensound, and almost in a twinkling his "Indian servant" slipped intosight from behind a nearby hedge.
"Get round there and examine those birds after he's left them," saidCleek, in a swift whisper. "There's one--a magpie--with somethingsmeared on its beak. Find out what it is and bring me a sample. Looksharp!"
"Right you are, sir," answered in excellent Cockney the undersizedperson addressed. "I'll spread one of me famous 'Tickle Tootsies'and nip in and ketch the bloomin' 'awk as soon as the josser's backis turned, guv'ner. I'm off, as the squib said to the match when itstarted blowin' of him up." Then the face disappeared again, andthe child and the two men were again alone together.
"Good God, man!" exclaimed the Honourable Felix in a lowered voice ofstrong excitement. "You can't possibly believe that he--that dear,lovable boy----Oh, it is beyond belief!"
"Nothing is 'beyond belief' in _my_ line, my friend. Recollect thateven Lucifer was an angel _once_. I know the means employed tobring about this"--touching softly the three red spots on hislittle lordship's neck--"but I have yet to decide how the thingis administered and by whom. Frankly I do not believe it is donewith a bird's beak--though that, too, is possible, wild as itseems--but by this time to-morrow I promise you the riddle shall besolved. Sh-h! Don't speak--he's coming back. Take the boy into yourown room to-night, but leave the door unfastened. I'm coming down towatch by him with you. Let him first be put into the regular nursery,however, then take him out without the knowledge of any livingsoul--of _any_, you hear?--and I will be with you before midnight."
* * * * *
That night two curious things happened: The first was that at aquarter to seven, when Martha, the nursemaid, coming up into thenursery to put his little lordship to bed, found LieutenantDeland--who was supposed to be dressing for dinner at thetime--standing in the middle of the room looking all about the place.
"Don't be startled, Nurse," he said, as he looked round and saw her."Your master has asked me to design a new decoration for this room,and I'm having a peep about in quest of inspiration. Ah, Strathmere,'Dustman's time,' I see. Pleasant dreams to you, old chap. See youin the morning when you're awake."
"Say good night to the gentleman, your lordship," said the nurse,laying both hands on his shoulders and leading him forward, whereuponhe began to whine sleepily: "Want Sambo! Want Sambo!" and to rub hisfists into his eyes.
"Yes, dearie, Nanny'll get Sambo for your lordship after yourlordship has said good night to the gentleman," soothed the nurse;and held him gently until he had done so.
"Good night, old chap," said Cleek. "Hello, Nurse, got a sore finger,have you, eh? How did that happen? It looks painful."
"It is, sir, though I can't for the life of me think whatever couldhave made a thing so bad from just scratching one's finger, unlessit could have happened that there was something poisonous on thewretched magpie's claws. One never can be sure where those nastythings go nor what they dip into."
"The magpie?" repeated Cleek. "What do you mean by that, Nurse? Haveyou had an unpleasant experience with a magpie, then?"
"Yes, sir, that big one of Mr. Essington's: the nasty creaturethat's always flying about. It was a fortnight ago, sir. Mistress'pet dog had got into the nursery and laid hold of Sambo--which is hislordship's rag doll, sir, as he never will go to sleep without--toreit well nigh to pieces did the dog; and knowing how his lordshipwould cry and mourn if he saw it like that, I fetched in mywork-basket and started to mend it. I'd just got it pulled intosomething like shape and was about to sew it up when I was calledout of the room for a few minutes, and when I came back there wasthat wretched Magpie that had been missing for several days rightinside my work-basket trying to steal my reels of cotton, sir. Ithad come in through the open window--like it so often does,nasty thing. I loathe magpies and I believe that that one knowsit. Anyway, when I caught up a towel and began to flick at it to getit out of the room, it turned on me and scratched or pecked myfinger, and it's been bad ever since. Cook says she thinks I musthave touched it against something poisonous after the skin wasbroken. Maybe I did, sir, but I can't thi
nk what."
Cleek made no comment; merely turned on his heel and walked out ofthe room.
The second curious thing occurred between nine o'clock and half-past,when the gentlemen of the party were lingering at the table overpost-prandial liqueurs and cigars, and the ladies had adjourned tothe drawing-room. A recollection of having carelessly left hiskit-bag unlocked drew Cleek to invent an excuse for leaving theroom for a minute or two and sent him speeding up the stairs. Thegas in the upper halls had been lowered while the members of thehousehold were below; the passages were dim and shadowy, and thethick carpet on halls and stairs gave forth never a murmur of soundfrom under his feet nor from under the feet of yet another personwho had gone like he, but by a different staircase, to the floorsabove.
It was, therefore, only by the merest chance that he looked downone of the passages in passing and saw a swift-moving figure--awoman's--cross it at the lower end and pass hastily into the nurseryof the sleeping boy. And--whether her purpose was a good or an evilone--it was something of a shock to realize that the woman who wasdoing this was the Honourable Mrs. Carruthers.
He locked the kit-bag, and went back to the dining-room just as thelittle gathering was breaking up, and Mr. Claude Essington, whoalways fed his magpies and his other pets himself, was bewailingthe fact that he had "forgotten the beauties until this minute" andwas smoothing out an old newspaper in which to wrap the scraps ofcheese and meat he had sent the butler to the kitchen to procure.
The Honourable Felix looked up at Cleek with a question in his eye.
"No," he contrived to whisper in reply. "It was not anythingpoisonous--merely candle wax. The bird had flown in through thestore-room window, and the housekeeper caught it carrying awaycandles one by one."
The Honourable Felix made no response, nor would it have been heardhad he done so; for just at that moment young Essington, whose eyehad been caught by something in the paper, burst out into a loudguffaw.
"I say, this is rich. Listen here, you fellows! Lay you a tenner thatthe chap who wrote this was a Paddy Whack, for a finer bull neverescaped from a Tipperary paddock:
"'Lost: Somewhere between Portsmouth and London or some other spot on the way, a small black leather bag containing a death certificate and some other things of no value to anybody but the owner. Finder will be liberally rewarded if all contents are returned intact to
"'D. J. O'M., 425 Savile Row, West.'
"There's a beautiful example of English as she is advertised for you;and if--Hullo, Deland, old chap, what's the matter with you?"
For Cleek had suddenly jumped up and, catching the Honourable Felixby the shoulder, was hurrying him out of the room.
"Just thought of something--that's all. Got to make a run; be withyou again before bedtime," he answered evasively. But once on theother side of the door: "'Write me down an ass,'" he quoted, turningto his host. "No, don't ask any questions. Lend me your auto and yourchauffeur. Call up both as quickly as possible. Wait up for me andkeep your wife and Lady Essington and her son waiting up, too. Isaid to-morrow I would answer the riddle, did I not? Well, then, ifI'm not the blindest bat that ever flew, I'll give you that answerto-night."
Then he turned round and raced upstairs for his hat and coat, and tenminutes later was pelting off London-ward as fast as a L1,000 Panhardcould carry him.
* * * * *
It was close to one o'clock when he came back and walked into thedrawing-room of the Priory, accompanied by a sedate and bespectacledgentleman of undoubted Celtic origin whom he introduced as "DoctorJames O'Malley, ladies and gentlemen, M.D., Dublin."
Lady Essington and her son acknowledged the introduction by aninclination of the head, the Honourable Felix and Mrs. Carruthers,ditto; then her ladyship's son spoke up in his usual blunt, outspokenway.
"I say, Deland, what's in the wind?" he asked. "What lark are you upto now? Felix says you've got a clinking big surprise for us all,and here we are, dear boy, all primed and ready for it. Let's haveit, there's a good chap."
"Very well, so you shall," he replied. "But first of all let melay aside a useless mask and acknowledge that I am not an Indian armyofficer--I am a simple police detective sometimes called GeorgeHeadland, your ladyship, and sometimes----"
"George Headland!" she broke in sharply, getting up and then sittingdown again, pale and shaken. "And you came--you came after all! Oh,thank you, thank you! I know you would not confess this unless youhave succeeded. Oh, you may know at last--you may know!" she added,turning upon the Honourable Felix and his wife. "I sent for him--Ibrought him here. I want to know and I _will_ know whose hand it isthat is striking at Strathmere's life--my child's child--the dearestthing to me in all the world. I don't care what I suffer, I don'tcare what I lose, I don't care if the courts award him to the verieststranger, so that his dear little life is spared and he is put beyondall danger for good and all."
Real love shone in her face and eyes as she said this, and it wasthe certainty of that which surprised Carruthers and his wife as muchas the words she spoke.
"Good heavens! is this thing true!" The Honourable Felix turned toCleek as he spoke. "Were you in her pay, too? Was she also workingfor the salvation of the boy?"
"Yes," he made answer. "I entered into her service under the name ofGeorge Headland, Mr. Carruthers--the service of a good woman whom Imisjudged far enough to give her a fictitious name. I entered intoyours by one to which I have a better right--Hamilton Cleek!"
"Cleek!" Both her ladyship and her son were on their feet like aflash; there was a breath of silence and then: "Well, I'm dashed!"blurted out young Essington. "Cleek, eh? the great Cleek? Scotland!"And sat down again, overcome.
"Yes, Cleek, my friend; Cleek, ladies and gentlemen all. And nowthat the mask is off, let me tell you a short little story which--no!Pardon, Mr. Essington, don't leave the room, please. I wish you,too, to hear."
"Wasn't going to leave it--only going to shut the door."
"Ah, I see. Allow me. It is now, ladies and gentlemen, exactlyfourteen days since our friend Doctor O'Malley here, coming upfrom Portsmouth on his motorcycle after attending a patient who thatday had died, was overcome by the extreme heat and the exertion oftrying to fight off a belligerent magpie which flew out of the woodsand persistently attacked him, and, falling to the ground, lostconsciousness. When he regained it, he was in the Charing CrossHospital, and all that he knew of his being there was that amotorist who had picked him and his cycle up on the road had carriedhim there and turned him over to the authorities. He himself wasunable, however, to place the exact locality in which he wastravelling at the time of the accident, otherwise we should not havehad that extremely interesting advertisement which Mr. Essingtonread out this evening. For the doctor had lost a small black bagcontaining something extremely valuable, which he was carrying atthe time and which supplies the solution to this interesting riddle.How, do you ask? Come with me--all of you--to Mr. Carruthers'room, where his little lordship is sleeping, and learn that foryourselves."
They rose at his word and followed him upstairs; and there, in adimly lit room, the sleeping child lay with an old rag doll hugged upclose to him, its painted face resting in the curve of his littleneck.
"You want to know from where proceed these mysterious attacks--whoand what it is that harms the child?" said Cleek as he went forwardon tiptoe and, gently withdrawing the doll, held it up. "Here itis, then--this is the culprit: this thing here! You want to knowhow? Then by this means--look! See!" He thrust the blade of a pocketknife into the doll and with one sweep ripped it open, and dipping inhis fingers drew from cotton wool and rags with which the thingwas stuffed a slim, close-stoppered glass vial in which somethingthat glowed and gave off constant sparks of light shimmered andburnt with a restless fire.
"Is this it, Doctor?" he said, holding the thing up.
"Yes! Oh, my God, yes!" he cried out as he clutched at it. "A wonderof the heavens, sure, that the chil
d wasn't disfigured for life orperhaps kilt forever. A half grain of it--a half grain of radium,ladies and gentlemen--enough to burn a hole through the divvlehimself, if he lay long enough agin it."
"Radium!" The word was voiced on every side, and the two women andtwo men crowded close to look at the thing. "Radium in the doll?Radium? I say, Deland--I mean to say, Mr. Cleek--in God's name, whocould have put the cursed thing there?"
"Your magpie, Mr. Essington," replied Cleek, and with that briefpreface told of Martha, the nurse, and of the torn doll and of themagpie that flew into the room while the girl was away.
"The wretched thing must have picked it up when the doctor felland lost consciousness and the open bag lay unguarded," he said."And with its propensity for stealing and hiding things it flewwith it into the nursery and hid it in the torn doll. Martha didnot see it, of course, when she sewed the doll up, but the scratchshe received from the magpie presented a raw surface to the actionof the mineral and its effect was instant and most violent. What'sthat? No, Mr. Carruthers--no one is guilty; no one has even tried toinjure his lordship. Chance only is to blame--and Chance cannot bepunished. As for the rest, do me a favour, dear friend, in placeof any other kind of reward. Look to it that this young chap heregets enough out of the income of the estate to continue his courseat Oxford and--that's all."
It was not, however; for while he was still speaking a strange andeven startling interruption occurred.
A liveried servant, pushing the door open gently, stepped into theroom bearing a small silver salver upon which a letter lay.
"Well, upon my word, Johnston, this is rather an original sort ofperformance, isn't it?" exclaimed Carruthers, indignant over theintrusion.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I did knock," he apologized. "I knockedtwice, in fact, but no one seemed to hear; and as I had been told itwas a matter of more than life and death, I presumed. Letter forLieutenant Deland, sir. A gentleman of the name of Narkom--in amotor, sir--at the door--asked me to deliver it at once and under anyand all circumstances."
Cleek looked at the letter, saw that it was enclosed in a plainunaddressed envelope, asked to be excused, and stepped out into thepassage with it.
That Narkom should have come for him like this--should have riskedthe upsetting of a case by appearing before he knew if it was settledor, indeed, likely to be--could mean but one thing: that his errandwas one of overwhelming importance, of more moment than anything elsein the world.
He tore off the envelope with hands that shook, and spread open thesheet of paper it contained.
There was but one single line upon it; but that line, penned in thathand, would have called him from the world's end.
"_Come to me at once. Ailsa_," he read--and was on his way downstairslike a shot.
In the lower hall the butler stood, holding his hat and coat readyfor him to jump into them at once.
"My--er--young servant--quick as you can!" said Cleek, grabbing thehat and hurrying into the coat.
"Already outside, sir--in the motor with the gentleman," the butlergave back; then opened the door and stepped aside, holding itback for him and bowing deferentially; and the light of the hall,streaking out into the night, showed a flight of shallow steps,the blue limousine at the foot of them--with Lennard in the driver'sseat and Dollops beside him--and standing on the lowest step ofall Mr. Narkom holding open the car's door and looking curiouslypale and solemn.
"What is it? Is she hurt? Has anything happened to her?" Cleekjumbled the three questions into one unbroken breath as he camerunning down the steps and caught at the superintendent's arm."Speak up! Don't stand looking at me like a dumb thing! Is anythingwrong with Miss Lorne?"
"Nothing--nothing at all."
"Thank God! Then why? Why? For what reason has she sent for me? Whereis she? Speak up!"
"In town. Waiting for you. At the Mauravanian embassy."
"At the--Good God! How comes she to be _there_?"
"I took her. You told me if anything happened to you that Ithought she ought to know--Please get in and let us be off,sir--Sire--whichever it ought to be. I don't know the proper form ofaddress. I've never had any personal dealings with royalty before."
The hand that rested on his arm tightened its grip the very instantthat word royalty passed his lips. Now it relaxed suddenly, droppedaway, and he scarcely recognized the voice that spoke next, so unliketo Cleek's it was, so thick was the tremulous note that pulsatedthrough it.
"Royalty?" it repeated. "Speak up, please. What have you found out?What do you know of me that you make use of that term?"
"What everybody in the world will know by to-morrow. Count Irma hastold! Count Irma has come, as the special envoy of the people,for Queen Karma's son! For the King they want! For you!" flung outNarkom, getting excited as he proceeded. "It's all out at lastand--I know now. Everybody does. I'm to lose you. Mauravania isto take you from me after all. A palace is to have you--not theYard. Get in, please, sir--Sire--your Majesty. Get in. They'rewaiting for you at the embassy. Get in and go! Good luck to you! Godbless you! I mean that. It's just about going to break my heart,Cleek, but I mean it every word! Mind the step, Sire. Make roomfor me on the seat there, you two; and then off to the embassyas fast as you can streak it, Lennard. His Majesty is all ready tostart."
"Not yet, please," a voice said quietly; then a hand reached out fromthe interior of the limousine, dropped upon Mr. Narkom's shoulderand, tightening there, drew him over the step and into the car."Your old seat, my friend. Here beside me. My memory is not a shortone and my affections not fickle. All right _now_, Lennard. Lether go!"
Then the door closed with a smack, the limousine came round with aswing, and, just as in those other days when it was the Law thatcalled, not the trumpet-peal from a throne, the car went bounding offat the good old mile-a-minute clip on its fly-away race for London.
* * * * *
It ended, that race, in front of the Mauravanian embassy; and Cleek'slove for the spectacular must have come near to being surfeitedthat night, for the building was one blaze of light, one glamourof flags and flowers and festooned bunting; and looking up thesteps, down which a crimson carpet ran across the pavement to thevery kerbstone, he could see a double line of soldiers in theglittering white-and-silver of the Mauravanian Royal Guard,--plumedand helmeted--standing with swords at salute waiting to receivehim; and over the arched doorway the royal arms emblazoned, andabove them--picked out in winking gas-jets--a wreath of laurelsurrounding the monogram M. R., which stood for Maximilian Rex,aflame against a marble background.
"Here we are at last, sir," said Narkom as the car stopped (he hadlearned, by this time, that "Sire" belonged to the stage and theMiddle Ages), and, alighting, held back the door that Cleek mightget out.
Afterward he declared that that was the proudest moment of his life;for if it was not the proudest of Cleek's, his looks belied him. For,as his foot touched the crimson carpet, a band within swung intothe stately measure of the Mauravanian National Anthem, an escortcame down the hall and down the steps and lined up on either sideof him, and if ever man looked proud of his inheritance, that manwas he.
He went on up the steps and down the long hall with a chorus of"Vivat Maximilian! Vivat le roi!" following him and the sound ofthe National Anthem ringing in his ears; then, all of a moment, theescort fell back, doors opened, he found himself in a room thatblazed with lights, that echoed with the sound of many vivats, thestir of many bodies, and looking about saw that he was surroundedby a kneeling gathering and that one man in particular was at hisfeet, sobbing.
He looked down and saw that that man was Irma, and smiled and putout his hand.
The count bent over and touched it with his lips.
"Majesty, I never forgot! Majesty, I worked for it, fought for itever since that night!" he said. "I would have fought for it everif it need have been. But it was not. See, it was not. It was God'swill and it was our people's."
"My people's!" Cleek repea
ted, his head going back, his eyes lightingwith a pride and a happiness beyond all telling. "Oh, Mauravania!Dear land. Dear country. Mine again!"
But hardly had the ecstasy of that thought laid its spell upon himwhen there came another not less divine, and his eyes went round thegathering in quest of one who should be here--at his side--to sharethis glorious moment with him.
She had come for that purpose--Narkom had said so. Where was she,then? Why did she hold herself in the background at such a time asthis?
He saw her at that very moment. The gathering had risen and she withthem--holding aloof at the far end of the room. There was a smileon her lips, but even at that distance he could see that she wasvery, very pale and that there was a shadow of pain in her dear eyes.
"We both have battled for an ideal, Count," he said, with a happylittle laugh. "Here is mine. Here is what I have fought for!"and crossing the room he went straight to Ailsa, with both handsoutstretched to her and his face fairly beaming.
But it needed not the little shocked breath he heard upon all sidesto dash that bright look from his face and to bring him to a suddenhalt. For at his coming, Ailsa had dropped the deep curtsey whichis the due of royalty, and was moving away from him backward, whichis royalty's due also.
"Ailsa!" he said, moving toward her with a sharp and sudden step."Ailsa, don't be absurd. It is too silly to think that forms shouldstand with you, too. Take my hand--take it!"
"Your Majesty----"
"Take it, I tell you!" he repeated almost roughly. "Good God! do youthink that this can make any difference? Take my hand! Do you hear?"
She obeyed him this time, but as her fingers rested upon his he sawthat they were quite ringless--that the sign of their engagementhad been removed--and caught her to him with a passionate sort offierceness that was a reproach in itself.
"Could you think so meanly of me? Could you?" he cried. "Where isthe ring?"
"In my pocket. I took it off when--I heard."
"Put it on again. Or, no! Give it to me and let me do thatmyself--here, before them all. Kings must have queens, must theynot? You were always mine: you are always going to be. Even the dayof our wedding is not to be changed."
"Oh, hush!" she made answer. "One's duty to one's country must alwaysstand first with--kings."
"Must it? Kings after all are only men--and a man's first duty isto the one woman of his heart."
"Not with kings. There is a different rule, a different law. Oh, letme go--please! I know, I fully realize, it would be different withyou--if it were possible. But--it is the penalty one must pay forkingship, dear. Royalty must mate with royalty, not with a woman ofthe people. It is the law of all kingdoms, the immutable law."
It was. He had forgotten that; and it came upon him now with a shockof bitter recollection. For a moment he stood silent, the colourdraining out of his face, the light fading slowly from his eyes;then, of a sudden, he looked over the glittering room and acrossits breadth at Irma.
"It would not be possible then?" he asked.
"Not as a royal consort, sir. The people's choice in that respectwould lie with the hereditary princess of Danubia. I have alreadyexplained that to Mademoiselle. But if it should be your Majesty'spleasure to take a morganatic wife----"
"Cut that!" rapped in Cleek's voice like the snap of a whiplash. "So,then, one is to sell one's honour for a crown; break a woman's lifefor a kingdom, and become a royal adulterer for the sake of a throneand sceptre!"
"But, Majesty, one's duty to one's country is a sacred thing."
"Not so sacred as one's redeemer, Count, and, under God, here ismine!" he threw back, heatedly. "Mauravania forgot once; she willforget again. She _must_ forget! My lords and gentlemen, I declineher flattering offer. My only kingdom is here--in this dear woman'sarms. Walk with me, Ailsa--walk with me always. You said you would.Walk with me, dear, as my queen _and_ my wife."
And putting his arm about her and holding her close, and settinghis back to the lights and the flags and the glittering Guard, hepassed, with head erect, through the murmuring gathering and wentdown and out with her--to the blue limousine--to the Yard's serviceagain--and to those better things which are the true crown of a man'slife.
At the foot of the steps Narkom and Dollops caught up with him, andthe boy's eager hand plucked at his sleeve.
"Guv'ner, Gawd love yer--Gawd love yer, sir; you're a man, you are!"he said with a sort of sob in his voice. "I'm glad you chucked it.It was breakin' my heart to think that I'd have to call you 'Sire'all the rest of my days, sir--like as if you was a bloomin' horse!"
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Spelling and punctuation inaccuracies were silently corrected.
Archaic and variable spelling is preserved.
The author's punctuation style is preserved.
Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories Page 39
