The Riddle of the Frozen Flame
Page 16
CHAPTER XVI
TRAPPED!
"You damned, skulking liar!"
Merriton leapt forward suddenly, and it was with difficulty that Cleekcould restrain him from seizing the butler round the throat.
"Gently, gently, my friend," interposed Cleek, as he neatly caughtMerriton's upthrown arm. "It won't help you, you know, to attack apossible witness. We've got to hear what this man says, to know whetherhe's speaking the truth or not--and we've got to go into his evidence asclearly as we go into yours.... You're perfectly right, Doctor, I _am_ apoliceman, and I'm down here for the express purpose of investigatingthis appalling affair. The expression of your face so plainly said, 'Whatright has he to go meddling in another man's affairs like this?' that Iwas obliged to confess the fact, for the sake of my self-respect. Myfriend here, Mr. Lake, is working with me." At this he gave Borkins akeen, searching look, and saw in the man's impassive countenance thatthis was no news to him. "Now then, my man, speak out. You tell us youheard that revolver-shot when your master fired it from his bedroom.Where are your quarters?"
"On the other side of the 'ouse, sir," returned Borkins, flushing atrifle. "But I was up in me dressing gown, as I'd some'ow thought thatsomething was amiss. I'd 'eard the quarrel that 'ad taken place betweenSir Nigel and poor Mr. Wynne, and I'd 'eard 'im go out and slam the doorbe'ind 'im. So I was keeping me ears peeled, as you might say."
"I see. Doing a bit of eavesdropping, eh?" asked Cleek, and was rewardedby an angry look from under the man's dark brows and a sudden tighteningof the lines about his mouth. "And what then?"
"I kept about, first in the bathroom, and then in the 'all, keeping myears open, for I'd an idea that one day things would come to a 'eadbetween 'em. Sir Nigel had taken Mr. Wynne's girl and--"
"Close your lying mouth, you vile beast!" spat out Merriton, vehemently,"and don't you dare to mention her name, or I'll stop you for ever fromspeaking, whether I hang or not!"
Borkins looked at Cleek, and his look quite plainly conveyed the meaningthat he wished the detective to notice how violent Sir Nigel could be onoccasions, but if Cleek saw this he paid not the slightest heed.
"Speak as briefly as you can, please, and give as little offence," he cutin, in a sharp tone, and Borkins resumed:
"At last I saw Sir Nigel and the Doctor and Mr. West come up the corridortogether. I 'eard 'em bid each other good-night, saw the Doctor go into'is room, and Mr. West return to the smoking-room, and 'eard Sir Nigel'skey turn in 'is lock. After that there was silence for a bit, and all I'ears was 'is moving about and muttering to 'imself, as though 'e wasangry about something. Then, just as I was a-goin' back to me own room,I 'eard the pistol-shot, and nips back again. I 'eard 'im say, 'Gotyou--you devil!' and then without waitin' for anything else, I runs downto the servants' 'all, which is directly below the smoking room where theother gentlemen were talking and smoking. I peers out of the window,upward--for it's a half-basement, as perhaps you've noticed, sir--andthere, in the light of the moon, I see Mr. Wynne's figure, crouched downagainst the gravel of the front path, and makin' funny sorts of noises.And then, all of a sudden, 'e went still as a dead man--and 'e _was_ adead man. With that I flies to me own room, frightened half out of mewits--for I'm a peace-lovin' person, and easily scared, I'm afraid--andthen I locks meself in, sayin' over and over to meself the words, 'He'sdone it! He's done it at last! He's murdered Mr. Wynne, he has!' Andthat's all I 'ave to say, sir."
"And a damned sight too much, too, you liar!" threw in Merriton,furiously, his face convulsed with passion, the veins on his templestanding out like whipcords. "Why, the whole story's a fake. And if it_were_ true, tell me how I could get Wynne's body out of the way soquickly, and without any one hearing me, when every man in that smokingroom, from their own words, and from those of the doctor here, wasat that moment straining his ears for any possible sound? The smokingroom flanks straight on the drive, Mr.--er--Headland--" He caught himselfup just in time as he saw Cleek's almost imperceptible signal, and thenwent on, his voice gaining in strength and fury with every word: "I'm nota giant, am I? I couldn't have lifted Wynne _alive_ and with his ownassistance, much less lift him dead when he'd be a good sight heavier.Why, the thing's a tissue of lies, I tell you--a beastly, underhanded,backbiting tissue of lies, and if ever I get out of this thing alive,I'll show Borkins exactly what I think of him. And why you should givecredence to the story of a lying servant, rather than to mine, I cannotsee at all. Would I have brought you here, you, a man whose name--" Andeven in the excitement which had him in its grip Nigel felt Cleek's will,powerful, compelling, preventing his giving away the secret of hisidentity, preventing his telling that it was the master mind among thecriminal investigators of Europe which was working on this horribleaffair.
He went on, still in a fury of indignation, but with the knowledge of Mr.Headland's true name still locked in his breast. "Did I bring you here asa friend and give you every opportunity to work on this strange business,to have you arraign me as a murderer? Do not treat me as a suspect, Mr.Detective. I am not on trial. I want this thing cleared up, yes; but I amnot here to be accused of the murder of a man who was a guest in my ownhouse, by the very man I brought in to find the true murderer."
"You haven't given me time to say whether I accuse you or not, SirNigel," replied Cleek, patiently. "Now, if you'll permit me to speak,we'll take up this man's evidence. There are gaps in it that rather badlywant filling up, and there are thin places which I hardly think wouldhold water before a judge and jury. But he swears himself a witness, andthere you are. And as for believing his word before yours--who fired theshot, Sir Nigel? Did he, or did you? I am a representative of the Law andas such I entered your house."
Merriton made no reply, simply held his head a little higher and claspedthe edge of the table more firmly.
"Now," said Cleek, turning to the butler and fixing him with his keeneyes. "You are ready to swear that this is true, upon your oath, andknowing that perjury is punishable by law?"
"Yes, sir." Borkins's voice was very low and rather indistinct.
"Very well. Then may I ask why you did not immediately report this matterto the rest of the party, or to the police?"
Something flashed across Borkins's face, and was gone again. He clearedhis throat nervously before replying:
"I felt on me honour to--Sir Nigel, sir," he returned at length. "A manstands by his master, you know--if 'e's a good one; and though we'd 'adwords before, I didn't bear 'im no malice. And I didn't want the old'ouse to come to disgrace."
"So you waited until things looked a little blacker for him, and thendecided to cast your creditable scruples to the wind?" said Cleek, thequeer little one-sided smile travelling up his cheek. "I take it that youhad had what you term 'words' since that fatal date?"
Borkins nodded. He did not like this cross-examination, and hisnervousness was apparent in voice and look and action.
"Yes, sir."
"H'm. And if we put that to one side altogether can you give me anyreason why I should believe this unlikely story in place of the equallyunlikely one that your master has told me--knowing what I do?"
Borkins twitched up his head suddenly, his eyes fear-filled, his faceturned suddenly gray.
"I--I--What can you know about me, but that I 'ave been in the employmentof this family nearly all my life?" he returned, taken off his guard byCleek's remark. "I'm only a poor, honest workin' man, sir, been in thesame place nigh on to twenty years and--"
"And hoping you can hang on another twenty, I dare say!" threw in Cleek,sarcastically. "Oh, I know more about you, my man, than I care to tell.But at the moment that doesn't enter into the matter. We'll take that uplater. Now then, there's the revolver. Doctor, you should be useful here;if you will use your professional skill in the service of the law thatseems trying to embroil your friend. I want you to examine the headwound, please--the head wound of the man called Dacre Wynne, and, if youcan, remove the bullet that is lodged in the brain. Then we shall have achance to
compare it with those remaining in Sir Nigel's revolver."
"I--can't do it, Mr. Headland," returned Doctor Bartholomew, firmly."I won't lend myself to a plot to inveigle this poor boy, to ruin hislife--"
"And I demand it--in the name of the Law." He motioned to Petrie andHammond, who through the whole length of the inquiry had stood withDollops, beside the doorway. They came forward swiftly. "Arrest DoctorBartholomew for treating the Law with contempt--"
"But, I say, Mr. Headland, this is a damned outrage!"
Cleek held up a hand.
"Yes," he said, "I agree with you. But a very necessary one. Besides"--hesmiled suddenly into the seamed, anxious face of the man--"who knows butthat bullet may prove Sir Nigel's innocence? Who knows but that it is notthe same kind as lie now in this deadly little thing here in my hand? Itlies with you, Doctor. Must I arrest him now, and take him off to thepublic jail to await trial, or will you give him a sporting chance?"
The doctor looked up into the keen eyes bent upon him, his own equallykeen. He did not know whether he liked this man of the law or not.Something of the man's personality, unfortunate as had been itsrevelation during this past trying hour, had caught him in its thrall. Hemeasured him, eye for eye, but Cleek's never wavered.
"I've no instruments," he said at last, hedging for time.
"I have plenty--upstairs. I have dabbled a little in surgery myself, whenoccasion has arisen. I'll fetch them in a minute. You will?"
The doctor stood up between the two tall policemen who had a hand uponeither shoulder. His face was set like a mask.
"It's a damned outrage, but I will," he said.
Dollops was gone like a flash. In the meantime Cleek cleared the room. Hesent Merriton off to the smoking room in charge of Petrie and Hammond,and Borkins with them--though Borkins was to be kept in the hallway, awayfrom his master's touch and voice.
Cleek, Mr. Narkom, and the doctor remained alone in the room of death,where the doctor set to his gruesome task. Outside, Constable Roberts'sburly voice could be heard holding forth in the hall upon the fact thathe'd been after a poacher on Mr. Jimmeson's estate over to Saltfleet, andwasn't in when they came for him.
And the operation went quietly on....
... In the smoking room, with Hammond and Petrie seated like deaf mutesupon either side of him, Merriton reviewed the whole awful affair fromstart to finish, and felt his heart sink like lead in his breast. Oh,what a fool he had been to have these men down here! What a fool! To seethem wilfully trumping up a charge of murder against himself was--well,it was enough to make any sane man lose hold on his reason. And'Toinette! His little 'Toinette! If he should be convicted and sent toprison, what would become of her? It would break her heart. And he mightnever see her again! A sudden moisture pricked at the corners of hiseyes. God!--never to call her _wife_!... How long were those beasts goingto brood in there over the dead? And was there not a chance that thebullet might be different? After all, wasn't it almost impossible thatthe bullet _should_ be the same? His was an unusual little revolver madeby a firm in French Africa, having a different sort of cartridge. EveryTom, Dick, and Harry didn't have one--couldn't afford it, in the firstplace.... There was a chance--yes, certainly there was a _chance_.
... His blood began to hammer in his veins again, and his heart beatrapidly. Hope went through him like wine, drowning all the fears andterrors that had stalked before him like demons from another world. Heheard, with throbbing pulses, approaching footsteps in the hall. His headwas swimming, his feet seemed loaded with lead so that he could not rise.Then, across the space from where Cleek stood, the revolver in one handand the tiny black object that had nested in a dead man's brain in theother, came the sound of his voice, speaking in clear, concise sentences.He could see the doctor's grave face over the curve of Mr. Narkom's fatshoulder. For a moment the world swam. Then he caught the import of whatCleek was saying.
"The bullet is the same as those in your revolver, Sir Nigel," he said,concisely. "I am sorry, but I must do my duty. Constable Roberts, here isyour prisoner. I arrest this man for the murder of Dacre Wynne!"