The Riddle of the Frozen Flame

by Thomas W. Hanshew and Mary E. Hanshew

  CHAPTER XVIII

  POSSIBLE EXCITEMENT

  Meanwhile, Cleek, Mr. Narkom, and Dollops stayed on at the Towers forsuch time as it would take to have the coroner's inquest arranged, andMerriton brought up before the local magistrate.

  Mr. Narkom was frankly uneasy over the whole affair.

  "There's something fishy in it, Cleek," he kept saying. "I don't likethe looks of it. Taking that innocent boy up for a murder which I feelcertain he never committed. Of course, circumstantial evidence pointsstrongly against him, but--"

  "He's better out of the way, at all events," interposed Cleek. "Mind you,I don't say the chap is innocent. Men of Wynne's calibre have the knackof raising the very devil in a person who is under their influence forlong. And there's Borkins's story." The queer little one-sided smilelooped up his cheek for a moment and was gone again in a twinkling. Hecrossed to where Mr. Narkom stood, and put a hand on his arm. "Tell me,"he said, quietly, "did you ever hear of a chap squirming and moaning anddoing the rest of the things that the man said Wynne was doing in thegarden pathway, when a bullet had got him clean through the brain?Something 'fishy' there, if you like."

  "I should think so," replied Mr. Narkom. "Why, the chap would have diedinstantly. Then you think Borkins himself is guilty?"

  "On the contrary, I do not," returned Cleek, emphatically. "If mytheory's correct, Borkins is not the murderer of Dacre Wynne. Much morelikely to be Nigel Merriton, for that matter. Then there's the questionof this I.O.U. that I found on the body. Signed 'Lester Stark', and thedoctor--Gad! what a loyal friend to have!--told me that Lester Stark,Merriton, and a little man called West were bosom friends andclub-mates."

  "Then perhaps the man Stark killed him, after all?" threw in Mr. Narkomat this juncture, and there was a tinge of eagerness in his excitedtones, which made Cleek whirl round upon him and say, accusingly, "Oldfriend, Merriton has won your heart as he has won others'. You're deadnuts on the youngster, and I must say he does seem such a clean, honest,upstanding young fellow. But you're ready to convict any one of themurder of Dacre Wynne but Merriton himself. Own up now; you've a sneakingregard for the fellow!"

  Mr. Narkom reddened.

  "Well, if you want the truth of it--I have!" he said, finally, in an"I-don't-care-what-the-devil-you-think" sort of voice. "He's exactly thekind of chap I'd like for a son of my own, and--and--dash it! I don'tlike seeing him in the lock-up; and that's the long and short of it!"

  "So long as it's only the long and short, and not the end of it, itdoesn't greatly matter," returned Cleek. "Hello! Is that you, Dollops?"

  "Yessir."

  "Any news for me? Found that chap with the straggling black moustachethat tried to do me in the other night? I've not a doubt that you'vediscovered the answer to the whole riddle, by the look upon your face."

  Dollops cautiously approached, looking over his shoulder as though heexpected any minute that the cadaverous face of Borkins would peer in athim, or that perhaps Dacre Wynne himself would rise from the dead andshake an accusing finger in his face. He reached Cleek and laid a timidhand upon the detective's arm. Then he bent his face close to Cleek'sear.

  "Well, I've an inklin' that I'm well on to the untyin' of it, s'help meif I ain't!" he whispered in highly melodramatic tones.

  Cleek laughed, but looked interested at once, while Mr. Narkom preparedto give his best attention to what the lad had to say.

  "Traced the blighter wiv the straggling whiskers on 'is lip, anyway!" hesaid, triumphantly, casting still another glance over his shoulder in thedirection of the door, and lowering his tones still further. "Caught aglimpse of 'im 'long by the Saltfleet Road this afternoon, Guv'nor, andthinks I to myself, 'You're the blinkin' blighter wot tried to do theGuv'nor in, are you? Well, you wait, my lad! There's a little taste of'ell-sauce a-comin' your way wot'll make you sit up and bawl for yermuvver.' He'd got on sailorin' togs, Mr. Cleek, an' a black 'at pulleddown low over one eye. Mate wiv 'im looked like a real bad 'un. Goldrings in 'is ears 'e'd got like a bloomin' lydy, an' a blue sweater, andsailor's breeches. Chin whiskers, too, wot were somethin like rottenseaweed. Oh, a 'eavenly specimen of a chap 'e were, I kin tell you!"

  "On the Saltfleet Road, eh?" interposed Cleek, rapidly, as the boy pauseda moment for breath. "So? My midnight friend is doubtless sailing forforeign parts, as the safest place when coroner's evidence begins to gettoo hot for him. And what then, Dollops?"

  "Couldn't find out much else, Mr. Cleek, 'cept to trace the place wherethe beggar 'angs out, and that's a bit of a shanty just off SaltfleetBay, an' a stone's throw from what looks ter me very like a boat-factoryof some kind. Reckon the chap's employed there, as, from a casual chatwiv a sailorin' Johnny in the bar parlour of the 'Pig and Whistle', whereI wuz a-linin' of me empty stummick (detectin' is that 'ungry work, sir!)wiv a sossage an' a pint o' four-and-er-'arf, this feller tells me thatpretty near everyone around here works there. I arsked 'im wot they did,an' 'e says, 'Make boats an' fings, with now an' agin a little flurry inshippin' ter break the monotony.'... Anyway, I traced the devil wotnearly got _you_, Guv'nor, and _that's_ somefing. And if I don't give 'ima taste of the 'appy 'ereafter, well, my name's not Dollops."

  Cleek laughed and laid a hand upon the lad's shoulder.

  "You've done a lot toward unravelling the mystery, Dollops, my lad,"he said. "A regular right-hand man you are, eh, Mr. Narkom? Thisevening we'll hie us to the Saltfleet Road and see what further the 'Pigand Whistle' can reveal to us. It'll be like the old times of the'Twisted-Arm' days, boy, where every second held its own unknown andcertain danger. Give us an appetite for our breakfast, eh?"

  He laughed again, a happy, schoolboyish laugh which brought a positivelyshocked expression to Mr. Narkom's round face.

  "My dear Cleek!" he expostulated. "Really, one might think that youactually enjoyed this sort of thing! One of these fine days, if you'renot careful, you'll be caught napping, and it'll take all Dollops'sand my ingenuity to get you out of the clutches. I do beg of you to becareful--for Ailsa's sake, if not for mine."

  At mention of the name, for a second the whole look upon Cleek's facealtered. Something came into his eyes that softened their keenness,something settled down over his countenance, wiping away the mirth andthe grim lines together. He sighed.

  "Heigho!" he said, softly, spinning round upon his heel and surveying Mr.Narkom with a half-smile upon his lips. "I will be careful, dear friend.I promise. And I have given my word to--her--as well. And that the lifeof Hamilton Cleek should be so precious to any such angel as that--well,it 'fair beats me', as Dollops would say.... I'll be careful, all right.You may depend upon it. But Dollops and I are going to have a littleouting on our own. We'll ransack the 'make-up' box after lunch and seewhat it can produce. And if we don't bring back something worth hearingto you on our return to-night, then I'll retire from Scotland Yardaltogether and take a kindergarten class.... Gad! I feel sorry for youngMerriton. But there's no other course open to us at present but to keephim where he is. Coroner's inquest takes place to-morrow afternoon, anda lot may happen in the meantime."

  Mr. Narkom gravely shook his head.

  "Don't like the thing at all, Headland," he supplemented slowly, lightinga fresh cigarette from the stump of the other one, and blowing a cloud ofsmoke into the air. "There's something here that we haven't got at.Something _big_. I feel it."

  "Well, you'll have that feeling further augmented before many more daysare over, my friend," returned Cleek, meaningly. "What did the letterfrom Headquarters say? I noticed you got one this morning, and recognizedit by the way the stamp was set on the envelope--though I must say yoursecretary is more than discreet. It looked for all the world like alove-letter, which no doubt your curious friend Borkins thought it was."

  But if Cleek appeared in fine fettle at the prospect of a possibleexciting evening with Dollops, Mr. Narkom's barometer did not registerthe same comforting high altitude. He did not smile.

  "Oh, it had to do with these continual bank robberies,"
he replied with asigh. "They're enough to wear a man right out. Seem so simple, and allthat, and yet--never a trace left. Fellowes reports that another one tookplace, at Ealing. As usual, only gold stolen. Not a bank-note touched.They'll be holding us up in the main road, like Dick Turpin, if therobbers are allowed to continue on their way like this. It's damnable, tosay the least! The beggars seem to get off scot-free every time. If thiscase here wasn't so difficult and important, I'd be off up to London tohave a look into things again. Frankly, it worries me."

  Cleek lifted a restraining hand.

  "Don't let it do anything so foolish as that to you, old man," heinterposed. "Give 'em rope to hang themselves, lots of rope. This is justthe opportunity they want. Give orders for nothing to be done. Let 'emhave a good run for their money, and by-and-by you'll have 'em so they'lleat out of your hand. There's nothing like patience in this sort of ajob. They're bound to get careless soon, and then will be your chance."

  "I wish I could feel as confident about it as you do," returned Mr.Narkom, with a shake of the head. "But you've solved so many unsolvableriddles in your time, man, so I suppose I'll just have to trust yourjudgment, and let your opinion cheer me up. Still.... Ah, Borkins! lunchready? I must say I don't like eating the food of a man I've just placedin prison, but I suppose one must eat. And there are a few very necessaryenquiries to be gone into before the coroner's inquest to-morrow. The menhave been up from the local morgue, haven't they?"

  Borkins, who had tapped discreetly upon the door and then put in a sleekhead to announce lunch, came a little farther into the room and repliedin the affirmative. Save for a slight light of triumph which seemed toflicker in his close-set eyes, and play occasionally about his narrowlips, there was nothing to show in his demeanour that such an extremelylarge pebble as his master's conviction for murder had caused the ripplesto break on the smooth surface of his life's tenor.

  Cleek blew a cloud of smoke into the air and swung one leg across theother with a sort of devil-may-care air that was part of his Headlandmake-up in this piece.

  "Well," said he, off-handedly, "all I can say is, I wouldn't like to bein your master's shoes, Borkins. He's guilty--not a doubt of it; andhe'll certainly be called to justice."

  "You think so?" An undercurrent of eagerness ran in Borkins's tone.

  "Most assuredly I do. Not a chance for him--poor beggar. He'll possiblyswing for it, too! Pleasant conjecture before lunch, I must say. Andwe'll have it all cold if we don't look sharp about it, Lake, old chap.Come along."

  ... They spent the afternoon in discussing the case bit by bit, probinginto it, tearing it to ribbons, analysing, comparing, rehearsing oncemore the scene of that fateful night when Dacre Wynne had crossed theFens, and, according to everyone's but Borkins's evidence, had neverreturned. By evening Mr. Narkom, note-book in hand, was suffering withwriter's cramp, and complained of a headache.

  As Cleek rose from this private investigation and stretched his handsover his head, he gave a sudden little laugh.

  "Well, you'll be able to rest yourself as much as you like this evening,Mr. Lake," he said, lightly, trying the muscles of his right arm with hisleft hand, and nodding as he felt them ride up, smooth and firm as ivory,under his coat-sleeve. "I'm not in such bad fettle for an amateur, ifanything in the nature of a scrap comes along, after all. Though I'm notanticipating any fighting, I can assure you. There's the morning'spapers, and the local rag with various lurid--and inaccurate--accounts ofthe whole ghastly affair. Merriton seems to have a good many friends inthese parts, and the local press is strong in his favour. But that's asfar as it goes. At any rate, they'll keep you interested until we comehome again. By the way, you might drop a hint to Borkins that I shall bewriting some letters in my room to-night, and don't want to be disturbed,and that if he wants to go out, Dollops will post them for me and see tomy wants; will you? I don't want him to 'suspicion' anything."

  Mr. Narkom nodded. He snapped his note-book to, and bound the elasticround it, as Cleek crossed to the door and threw it open.

  "I'll be going up to my room now, Lake," he said, in clear, high tonesthat carried down the empty hallway to whatever listener might be thereto hear them. "I've some letters to write. One to my fiancee, you know,and naturally I don't want to be disturbed."

  "All right," said Mr. Narkom, equally clearly. "So long."

  Then the door closed sharply, and Cleek mounted the stairs to his room,whistling softly to himself meanwhile, just as Borkins rounded the cornerof the dining-room door and acknowledged his friendly nod with oneequally friendly.

  A smile played about the corners of the man's mouth, and his eyesnarrowed, as he watched Cleek disappear up the stairs.

  "Faugh!" he said to the shadows. "So much for yer Lunnon policeman, eh?Writin' love-letters on a night like this! Young sap'ead!"

  Then he swung upon his heel, and retraced his steps to the kitchen.Upstairs in the dark passageway, Cleek stood and laughed noiselessly, hisshoulders shaking with the mirth that swayed him. Borkins's idea of a'Lunnon policeman' had pleased him mightily.