by Guy Boothby
CHAPTER IV
It would be almost impossible to describe in fitting words the effectproduced upon James Standerton, by the terrible discovery he had made.
"What does it mean, Wilkins?" he asked in a voice surcharged withhorror. "For God's sake, tell me what it means?"
"I don't know myself, sir," the man replied. "It's too terrible for allwords. Who can have done it?"
Throwing himself on his knees beside his father's body, James took oneof the cold hands in his.
"Father! father!" he cried, in an ecstasy of grief, and then broke downaltogether. When calmness returned to him, he rose to his feet, claspedthe hands of the dead man upon the breast, and tenderly closed thestaring eyes.
"Send for Dr. Brenderton," he said, turning to Wilkins, "and let themessenger call at the police-station on the way and ask the officer incharge to come here without a moment's delay."
The man left him to carry out the order, and James silently withdrewfrom the room to perform what he knew would be the saddest task of hislife. As he descended the stairs he could hear his sister singing in thebreakfast-room below.
"You are very late," she said, as he entered the room. "And father too.I shall have to give him a talking-to when he does come down."
Then she must have realised that something was amiss, for she put downthe letter which she had been reading, and took a step towards him. "Hasanything happened, Jim?" she enquired, "your face is as white as death."Then Jim told her everything. The shock to her was even more terriblethan it had been to her brother, but she did her best to bear upbravely.
The doctor and the police officer arrived almost simultaneously. Bothwere visibly upset at the intelligence they had received. Short thoughWilliam Standerton's residence in the neighbourhood had been, it had,nevertheless, been long enough for them to arrive at a properappreciation of his worth. He had been a good supporter of all the LocalInstitutions, a liberal landlord, and had won for himself the reputationof being an honest and just man.
"I sympathise with you more deeply than I can say," said the doctor,when he joined Jim in the library after he had made his examination. "Ifthere is anything more I can do to help you, I hope you will commandme."
"Thank you," said Jim simply, "there is not anything however you can do.Stay! There is one question you can answer. I want you to tell me howlong you think my father has been dead?"
"Several hours," replied the medical man. "I should say at least six."
"Is there any sort of doubt in your mind as to the cause of his death?"
"None whatever," the other replied. "All outward appearances point tothe fact that death is due to strangulation."
At that moment the police officer entered the room.
"I have taken the liberty, Mr. Standerton," he said, "of locking thedoor of the room and retaining the key in my possession. It will benecessary for me to report the matter to the Authorities at once, inorder that an Inquest may be held. Before I do so, however, may I putone or two questions to you?"
"As many as you like," Jim replied. "I am, of course, more than anxiousthat the mystery surrounding my father's death shall be cleared up atonce, and the murderer brought to Justice."
"In the first place," said the officer, "I see that the window of thebedroom is securely fastened on the inside, so that the assassin,whoever he was, could not have made his entrance by this means. Do youknow whether your father was in the habit of locking his door at night?"
"I am sure he was not. A man who has led the sort of life he has donefor fifty years does not lock his bedroom door on retiring to rest."
"In that case the murderer must have obtained access to the room throughthe house, and I must make it my business to ascertain whether any ofthe windows or doors were open this morning. One more question, Mr.Standerton, and I have finished for the present. Have you any reason tosuppose that your father had an enemy?"
Jim remembered the suspicion that had been in his mind ever since he hadmade the ghastly discovery that morning.
"I have," he answered. "There was a man in Australia who hated my fatherwith an undying hatred."
"Forgive my saying so, but a man in Australia could scarcely havecommitted murder in England last night."
"But the man is not in Australia now. He was here yesterday evening, andhe and my father had a quarrel. The man was ordered out of the house,and went away declaring that, whatever it might cost, he would berevenged."
"In that case it looks as if the mystery were explained. I must make itmy business to discover the whereabouts of the man you mention."
"He was staying at the 'George and Dragon' yesterday," said Jim. "Bythis time, however, he has probably left the neighbourhood. It shouldnot be difficult to trace him, however; and if you consider a rewardnecessary, in order to bring about his apprehension more quickly, offerit, and I will pay it only too gladly. I shall know no peace until thisdastardly crime has been avenged."
"I can quite understand that," the doctor remarked. "You will have thesympathy of the whole County."
"And now," said the police officer, "I must be going. I shall take a manwith me and call at the 'George and Dragon.' The name of the person youmentioned to me is----"
"Richard Murbridge," said Jim, and thereupon furnished the officer witha description of the man in question.
"You will, of course, be able to identify him?"
"I should know him again if I did not see him for twenty years," Jimanswered. "Wilkins, the butler, will also be glad to give you evidenceas to his coming here last night."
"Thank you," the officer replied. "I will let you know as soon as I haveanything to report."
The doctor and the police agent thereupon bade him good-day and tooktheir departure, and Jim went in search of his grief-stricken sister.The terrible news had by this time permeated the whole household, andhad caused the greatest consternation.
"I knew what it would be last night," said the cook. "Though Mr. Wilkinslaughed at me, I felt certain that Mary Sampson did not see the BlackDwarf for nothing. Why, it's well known by everybody that whenever thathorrible little man is seen in the house death follows withintwenty-four hours."
The frightened maids to whom she spoke shuddered at her words.
"What's more," the cook continued, "they may talk about murderers asthey please, but they forget that this is not the first time a man hasbeen found strangled in this house. There is more in it than meets theeye, as the saying goes."
"Lor, Mrs. Ryan, you don't mean to say that you think it was the ghostthat killed the poor master?" asked one of the maids, her eyes dilatingwith horror.
"I don't say as how it was, and I don't say as how it wasn't," that ladyreplied somewhat ambiguously, and then she added oracularly: "Time willshow."
In the meantime Jim had written a short note to his sweetheart, tellingher of the crime, and imploring her to come to his sister at once. Aservant was despatched with it, and half-an-hour later Helen herselfappeared in answer.
"Your poor father. I cannot believe it! It is too terrible," she said toher lover, when he greeted her in the drawing-room. "Oh! Jim, my poorboy, how you must feel it. And Alice, too--pray let me go to her atonce."
Jim conducted her to his sister's room, and then left the two womentogether, returning himself to the dead man's study on the floor below.There he sat himself down to wait, with what patience he could command,for news from the police station. In something less than an hour it camein the shape of a note from the inspector, to the effect that Murbridgehad not returned to the "George and Dragon" until a late hour on theprevious night, and that he had departed for London by the train leavingChilderbridge Junction shortly before five o'clock that morning."However," said the writer, in conclusion, "I have wired to theAuthorities in London, furnishing them with an exact description of him,and I have no doubt that before very long his arrest will be effected."
With this assurance Jim was perforce compelled to be content. Later camethe intimation from the Coroner to the effe
ct that the Inquest would beheld at the George and Dragon Inn on the following morning.
Shortly after twelve o'clock Wilkins entered the study with theinformation that a person of "_the name of Robins_" desired to see hismaster on an important matter, if he would permit him an interview.
"Show him in," said Jim, forming as he did so a shrewd guess as to theman's business.
A few moments later a small, sombrely-dressed individual, resembling aDissenting minister more than any one else, made his appearance in theroom.
"Mr. Standerton, I believe," he began, speaking in a low, deep voice,that had almost a solemn ring about it.
"That is my name," the other replied. "What can I do for you?"
"I am a Scotland Yard detective," the stranger replied, "and I have beensent down to take charge of the case. I must apologise for intrudingupon you at such a time, but if the murderer is to be brought tojustice, no time mast be lost. I want you to tell me, if you will, allyou can about the crime, keeping nothing back, however trivial you mayconsider it."
James thereupon proceeded to once more narrate what he knew regardingthe murder. He discovered that the detective had already been informedas to the ominous suspicion that had attached itself to Murbridge.
"The first point to be settled," he said, when James had finished, "isthe way in which the man got into the house. You have notcross-questioned the domestics upon the subject, I suppose?"
James shook his head.
"I have been too much upset to think of such a thing," he answered. "Butif you deem such a proceeding necessary, you are, of course, quite atliberty to do so. Take what steps you think best; all I ask of you is tofind my father's murderer."
"I presume you heard nothing suspicious during the night?"
"Nothing at all. But it is scarcely likely that I should do so, as myroom is in another part of the house."
"Who is responsible for the locking up at night?"
"The butler, Wilkins."
"Has he been with you any length of time?"
"We ourselves have only been a few months in England," Jim replied, "butsince he has been in our service we have found him a most careful andtrustworthy man. There cannot be any shadow of suspicion against him."
"Very likely not," the detective answered. "But in my profession weoften find criminals in the most unlikely quarters. Mind you, sir, Idon't say that he had anything to do with the crime itself. It is notoutside the bounds of possibility, however, that his honesty may havebeen tampered with, even to the extent of leaving a window unfastened,or a door unlocked. However, I have no doubt I shall soon learn allthere is to be known about Mr. Wilkins."
When he had asked one or two other important questions, he withdrew toquestion the servants. From the account James received of theexamination later, it would not appear to have been a very successfulbusiness.
Wilkins asserted most positively that he had made every door and windowin the house secure before retiring to rest. He was as certain as a mancould be that no lock, bolt, or bar had been moved from its place duringthe night, and the housekeeper corroborated his assertions. Thedetective's face wore a puzzled expression.
"I've been round every flower-bed outside the windows," he said to thepolice inspector, "and not a trace of a footprint can I find. And yet weknow that Murbridge was away from the inn at a late hour, and there'sevidence enough upstairs to show that somebody made his way into Mr.Standerton's room between midnight and daybreak. Later I'll go down tothe village and make a few enquiries there. It's just possible somebodymay have met the man upon the road."
He was as good as his word, and when he returned to the Manor House at alate hour he knew as much about Richard Murbridge's movements on thepreceding evening as did any man in the neighbourhood.
Jim dined alone that night, though it would be almost a sarcasm todignify his meal with such a name. He had spent the afternoon goingthrough his father's papers, in the hope of being able to discover someclue that might ultimately enable him to solve the mystery concerningMurbridge. He was entirely unsuccessful, however. Among all the paperswith which the drawers were filled, there was not one scrap of writingthat could in anyway enlighten him. They were the plain records of asuccessful business man's career, and, so far as Murbridge wasconcerned, quite devoid of interest. I do not think James Standertonever knew how much he loved his father until he went through thatdrawer. The neat little packets, so carefully tied up and labelled,spoke to him eloquently of the dead man, and, as he replaced them wherehe had found them, a wave of intense longing to be revenged on hisfather's cowardly assassin swept over him. He was in the act of closingthe drawer, when there came a tap at the door, and Wilkins entered toinform him that the detective had returned and was at his service,should he desire to see him.
"Show him in, Wilkins," said James, locking the drawer of the table, andplacing the key in his pocket as he spoke.
The butler disappeared, to return a few moments later accompanied by theindividual in question.
"Well, Mr. Robins," said Jim, when they were alone together, "what haveyou discovered?"
"Nothing of very much importance, sir, I am afraid," the other replied."I have found out that Murbridge left the park by the main gates almoston the stroke of half-past eight last night. I have also discovered thathe was again seen within a few minutes of eleven o'clock, standing nearthe small stile at the further end of the park."
"I know the place," Jim replied. "Go on! What was he doing there!"
"Well, sir," continued the detective, "that's more than I can tell you.But if he were there at such an hour, you may be sure it was not withany good intention. I have made enquiries from the keepers, and theyhave informed me that it is quite possible to reach the house by thepath that leads from the stile without being observed."
"It winds through the plantation," said Jim, "and it is very seldomused. Lying outside the village as it does, it is a very roundabout wayof reaching the house. What have they to say about him at the inn?"
"Not very much, sir. But what little they do say is important. Thelandlord informs me that immediately after his arrival in the village hebegan to ask questions concerning the Squire. There is no doubt thatyour father was his enemy, and also that Murbridge cherished a bittergrudge against him. He did not tell the landlord who he was, or what hisreasons were for being in the neighbourhood. It is certain, however,that had your father not been living here he would not have come nearthe place. On receipt of Mr. Standerton's letter, he set off for thehouse, and did not return to the inn until a late hour. In point offact, it was between twelve and one o'clock when he _did_ come in. Thelandlord is unable to give the exact time, for the reason that he wastoo sleepy to take much notice of it. He does remember, however, thatMurbridge was in a very bad temper, and that he was excited aboutsomething. He called for some brandy, and moreover stated that hisholiday was at an end, and that he was leaving for London by the earlytrain next morning. This he did. That is as far as the landlord's talegoes. It seems to me that, unless we can prove something more definiteagainst him than the evidence we have been able to obtain up to thepresent moment, it will be difficult to bring the crime home to him."
"But we must prove more," cried Jim, with considerable vehemence. "I amas certain in my own mind as I can be of anything that he was the manwho killed my father, and if it costs me all I am worth in the world,and if I am compelled to spend the rest of my life in doing it, I'llbring the crime home to him somehow or another. It is impossible that heshould be allowed to take that good, honest life, and get off scotfree."
"I can quite understand your feelings, sir," said the detective, "andyou may rest assured that, so far as we are concerned, no stone shall beleft unturned to bring the guilty man to justice. Of course it is fullearly to speak like this, but if you will review the case in your ownmind, you will see that, up to the present, there is really nothingtangible against the man. We know that he hated your father, and that hestated his intention of doing him a mischief, and also t
hat on the nighthe uttered this threat the murder was committed. From this it wouldappear that he is responsible for it. But how are we to prove that hegot into the house? No one saw him, and there are no suspiciousfootprints on the flower-beds outside. At the same time we know that hedid not return to the inn until a late hour, and that, when he did, hewas in an excited state. Yet why should he not have gone for a walk, andmight not his excitement be attributed to resentment of the treatment hereceived at your father's hands? I am very much afraid it would bedifficult to induce a Jury to convict on evidence such as we are, sofar, able to bring against him. However, we shall hear what the Coronerhas to say to-morrow. In the meantime, if you do not require my presencelonger, I will return to the inn. It will be necessary for me to beearly astir to-morrow."
James bade him good-night, and when he had departed, went upstairs tohis sister's room. He found her more composed than she had been when hehad last seen her, and able to talk of the dead man without breakingdown as she had hitherto done. He informed her of the detective's visit,and of the information he had received from him. It was nearly midnightwhen he left her. The lamp in the hall was still burning, and hedescended the great staircase with the intention of telling Wilkins thathe could lock up the house and retire to rest. To his astonishment, whenhe reached the hall, he beheld the butler standing near the dining-roomdoor, his face as white as the paper upon which I am now writing.
"What on earth is the matter, man?" asked James, who, for the moment,was compelled to entertain the notion that the other had been drinking.
"I've seen it, sir," said Wilkins in a voice that his master scarcelyrecognised. "I'd never believe it could be true, but now I've witnessedit with my own eyes."
"Witnessed what?" James enquired.
"_The ghost_, sir," Wilkins replied; "the ghost of the Little BlackDwarf."
Jim was in no humour for such talk then, and I very much regret to sayhe lost his temper.
"Nonsense," he answered. "You must have imagined that you saw it."
"No, sir, I will take my Bible Oath that I did not. I saw it as plain asI see you now. I'd been in to lock up the dining-room, and was standingjust where I am now, never thinking of such a thing, when I happened tolook up in the gallery, and there, sir, as sure as I'm alive, was theghost, leaning on the rail, and looking down at me. His eyes wereglaring like red-hot coals. Then he pointed upwards and disappeared. Iwill never laugh at another person again, when they say that they haveseen him. May God defend us from further trouble!"
