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diff --git a/58413-0.txt b/58413-0.txt index 25bca1b..dac7829 100644 --- a/58413-0.txt +++ b/58413-0.txt @@ -1,29 +1,7 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Billiard Room Mystery, by Brian Flynn +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58413 *** -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. -Title: The Billiard Room Mystery -Author: Brian Flynn - -Release Date: December 5, 2018 [EBook #58413] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net @@ -8140,365 +8118,4 @@ the publishers for a complete catalog._ End of Project Gutenberg's The Billiard Room Mystery, by Brian Flynn -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY *** - -***** This file should be named 58413-0.txt or 58413-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/4/1/58413/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Billiard Room Mystery - -Author: Brian Flynn - -Release Date: December 5, 2018 [EBook #58413] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58413 ***</div> <div class="img"> <img class="cover" id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="The Billiard Room Mystery" width="500" height="740" /> @@ -5981,2688 +5947,7 @@ the skirting-board. So I reasoned. Anthony spread them out.</p> <p>I reproduce the three pieces here as nearly as I can remember them after so long an interval.</p> -<pre> -I will meet you in the B so -when you Mary. -at 1. -</pre> -<p>I gasped! “Good Lord!” I exclaimed. Anthony -raised his eyebrows.</p> -<p>“What’s this?” he interrogated. “An assignation? -Mary?”</p> -<p>“It’s Mary Considine,” I answered. “It’s her -handwriting—I’ve seen it too frequently not to know -it. Has she written that to Prescott?”</p> -<p>“No evidence as to whom it’s addressed, Bill. -We can only conjecture as to that. Also we can only -surmise what the capital ‘B’ stands for.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_196">196</div> -<p>“What do you think yourself?” I whispered -almost fearfully.</p> -<p>“Billiard room, possibly! On the other -hand——”</p> -<p>“If it was her way of answering his proposal—why -wasn’t she frank with us about it? Did she -meet him or merely intend to?”</p> -<p>“Look at the handwriting again, Bill! Look -at it closely.”</p> -<p>I did as he told me. “You’re absolutely <i>certain</i> -it’s Mary Considine’s writing?” he urged with intensity -in his tone. “You haven’t the shred of a -doubt?”</p> -<p>“Not a shred,” I replied. “Not the vestige of -a doubt.”</p> -<p>“Very well! I’ll see her! I’m pretty accurate -at summing people up psychologically, and I’m fully -prepared for an adequate explanation.”</p> -<p>“I’m relieved to hear you say that,” I said. -“Somehow it goes against the grain to have Mary -implicated in this business, even though remotely.”</p> -<p>“How came you to look under there, Bill?” -he asked suddenly.</p> -<p>“I think I was fired by your example,” I replied -after a slight pause. “Yes, it was,” I went on. -“Seeing you poking about in the bathroom started -a train of thought in my mind and I decided to have -a nose round in here. I glanced at several things -in the room, and then suddenly thought of looking -under the bed.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_197">197</div> -<p>He showed signs of approval. “It only shows -you that second thoughts often prove to be very -valuable. Our decision to take another glance at -the billiard room and at this bedroom has brought -us a great deal of really important information. -We’ve progressed.”</p> -<p>“Do you think so?” I queried rather gloomily, -I’m afraid. “It seems to me we’re getting deeper -and deeper into a kind of morass of doubt and suspicion. -Each clue we pick up seems to complicate -matters, and contradict the previous one.” I sat on -the bed. I really meant all that I said. As far as -these discoveries went we seemed to be traveling -away from a solution and not towards one.</p> -<p>“Be of good cheer, William,” cried Anthony -jocularly. “All will yet be well.”</p> -<p>“I don’t know that I share your optimism,” I responded—“what’s -the next move?”</p> -<p>“I’m going to take a rather bold step,” he replied. -He came and sat himself on the bed beside -me. “I’m going to have another word or two with -Mary.” Then he stretched his long legs out and -thrust his hands deep in his trousers-pockets. -“Maybe I’m running a certain risk, but in life you -have to take risks—I’ll take one now.” He jumped -to his feet—“Coming, Bill?” I found myself wondering -what was coming next as we descended the -stairs. Where were we going? I loathed the proximity -of Mary to the affair at the first onset and this -latest development might mean anything.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_198">198</div> -<p>“Would you be good enough to give me a moment -in the library?” asked Anthony when we found -her. “Just as a ‘quid pro quo’? I gave you a few -moments in the billiard room, and now I’m asking -you to return the compliment.” He smiled and -Mary smiled back.</p> -<p>“Of course, Mr. Bathurst! I’ll come now! Is -it anything important?” she asked when we were -settled.</p> -<p>“That’s a difficult question to answer, Miss Considine,” -said Anthony seriously, and with an obviously -deliberate choice of words. “You were -pleased a short while ago to tell me certain intimate -details affecting Prescott and yourself—I appreciated -intensely the confidence you imposed in me—you -see you’ve known me for a considerably less time -than you have Bill, here.” He paused.</p> -<p>Mary intervened. “I don’t quite know to where -all this is leading—but possibly I share, to a very -humble extent, your own gift of character-reading.”</p> -<p>Anthony bowed to her. “Thank you—again! -I am yielding to the promptings of that gift when -I approach you now! And the information that -you gave me earlier makes that approach a matter -of necessity.” He held the three scraps of paper -out to her.</p> -<p>“Miss Considine—will you look at these very -closely? Is the handwriting yours?”</p> -<p>Mary glanced at the fragments with growing -astonishment.</p> -<p>“What is this—please?” she queried.</p> -<p>“Can you help by answering my question first?”</p> -<p>I watched her and saw the amazement in her eyes.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_199">199</div> -<p>“Very well then—Mr. Bathurst—yes. But I -can’t——”</p> -<p>“You are certain? I want to be unmistakably -certain—certain for instance that it isn’t an imitation—a -wonderfully accurate imitation?”</p> -<p>She wrinkled her brows and pored over the pieces. -When she raised her eyes she betrayed greater wonderment -than ever.</p> -<p>“Mr. Bathurst—Bill—I’m absolutely bewildered. -I’m certain—positive—as positive as I ever could -be about anything—that this is my handwriting—yet -I can’t recognize the letter from where they’ve -come—I can’t even think whom it’s to—and if I -didn’t know that it <i>was</i> my handwriting—<i>I should -swear that I hadn’t written it</i>!!”</p> -<p>“You mean,” suggested Anthony, “that you -don’t——”</p> -<p>“I mean this—absurd though it may seem and -sound—that I recognize the handwriting, but I don’t -recognize the <i>letter</i>. It is entirely unfamiliar. It -appears to me at the moment that I’ve never previously -seen it.” The color flamed in her cheeks -and her eyes were bright with excitement. Anthony -waited for her to proceed. He seemed to divine -what her next question was going to be.</p> -<p>“Tell me,” her lips were working tremulously, -“what is this? How did it come into your possession?”</p> -<p>“Those three fragments in your handwriting, -Miss Considine, were found under the bed in the -room recently occupied by Gerald Prescott.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_200">200</div> -<p>“What?” she exclaimed—indignation challenging -surprise in her tone—“Mr. Bathurst—it can’t -possibly be—I’ve never written a line to Mr. Prescott -in my life.”</p> -<p>“Yet they were discovered as I have just said.” -He spoke very quietly.</p> -<p>“There is some mistake—some mystery,” she -reiterated.</p> -<p>“Some enemy hath done this—eh?” remarked -Anthony.</p> -<p>“I’m dumbfounded—I don’t know what to say or -suggest. I can’t think!”</p> -<p>“Tell me,” he said, “I realize the fragments are -small, and therefore, not too easy to identify—but -there’s this point. Do you recognize the notepaper -as notepaper that you yourself would have been -likely to use?”</p> -<p>She looked at it closely and ran her fingers over -its surface.</p> -<p>“Yes,” she answered. “It is Considine Manor -notepaper—I am sure of that. We have used it for -years. I can show it to you.”</p> -<p>She went across to Sir Charles Considine’s desk -that stood in the corner. “Here is some,” she said. -“Compare it for yourself.”</p> -<p>Anthony took it and inspected its texture and -quality. Then passed it over to me. There was no -doubt about it.</p> -<p>The fragments that I had picked up were pieces -of the Manor notepaper.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_201">201</div> -<p>Then I took a hand. “If you don’t recognize -the letter, Mary, that these fragments are part of—well, -it seems to me that you can’t have written it. -Don’t you see what I mean?”</p> -<p>She gazed at me blankly. Then her reason appeared -to reassert itself. “That’s just how it appears -to me, Bill! That’s what I’ve been trying to -tell both of you.” She crossed and seated herself -again.</p> -<p>“Yet it is your handwriting—you are certain,” -interposed Anthony.</p> -<p>“Yet it is my handwriting——” she echoed his -words in acquiescence.</p> -<p>“It’s a staggerer,” I exclaimed. “It all seems so -completely contradictory.”</p> -<p>“The most paradoxical and seemingly contradictory -things have sometimes the simplest solutions,” -remarked Anthony—“when you can find them.”</p> -<p>Mary pressed her hands to her brow. “If I -could only think clearly about it,” she cried wearily, -“I’m sure the explanation would come to me—but -I can’t! I can only repeat what I’ve previously -said—I’m certain it’s my handwriting—yet I have -no knowledge of the writing beyond that fact.” She -turned to Anthony. “You say you found the pieces -under the bed? Am I to understand you suspected -their existence and were looking for them?”</p> -<p>“Bill was the discoverer, Miss Considine—not -I,” replied Anthony. “I haven’t really heard the -source of his inspiration.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_202">202</div> -<p>“It seemed to me there was just a possibility of -picking something up in the bedroom”—I tried -to bear my blushing honors with modesty—“so I -just had a crawl round. Of course it was a piece of -terrific luck. A positive thousand to one shot.” I -looked at Anthony. He had relapsed into a chair—thinking -hard. His silence seemed to infect the -whole room, and Mary and I sat and regarded each -other solemnly. Then Anthony astounded us both. -I always knew that his mind had the habit of flying -off at surprising tangents, and I was a little prepared -for the sudden turn it took now.</p> -<p>“How many cars have you in the garage, Miss -Considine?” he asked.</p> -<p>She wrinkled up her forehead in surprise.</p> -<p>“Of our own, do you mean, or including everybody’s? -I don’t quite follow——”</p> -<p>He regarded her steadily.</p> -<p>“Of your own—belonging to Considine Manor, -if you prefer it put that way.”</p> -<p>“Two.”</p> -<p>“What are they?”</p> -<p>“What make—do you mean?”</p> -<p>“Exactly,” he answered.</p> -<p>“A ‘Daimler’ and a ‘Morris-Oxford.’”</p> -<p>Anthony made a gesture of annoyance. “Had -them long?”</p> -<p>“The Daimler about four years—the Morris-Oxford -only a few months—February, I think we -bought it. Why?”</p> -<p>He waved her question on one side, swinging a -question back to her—“What made you buy it?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_203">203</div> -<p>She thought hard for a moment. Then her face -cleared. “The other car we had at that time kept -giving trouble. The engine was continually giving -us trouble.”</p> -<p>Anthony leaned across—nervously eager with -excitement—“What was the other car—Miss -Considine?”</p> -<p>“The old one?—a ‘Bean,’ Mr. Bathurst.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_204">204</div> -<h2 id="c16"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XVI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">THE INQUEST</span></h2> -<p>The morning of the inquest broke beautifully -fine and sunny. I looked out of my bedroom window -and felt that the duty that lay ahead of us meant -putting such a glorious day to poor use. The -inquest was to be held at the “Swan’s Nest”—the -most pretentious hostelry that Considine boasted. -I shaved, washed and dressed with an ill grace that -morning, for I could remember attending an inquest -before—it had bored me beyond expression.</p> -<p>Sir Charles opened the matter at breakfast. -“Baddeley tells me they are bringing Marshall in -from Lewes for to-day’s affair. I was, I confess, -somewhat surprised at the news—I had scarcely -anticipated such a step. I suppose they know -their own business best.”</p> -<p>“Who is the coroner for this district, Sir -Charles?” asked Anthony.</p> -<p>“A Dr. Anselm. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting -him once or twice before ... being a magistrate,” -replied our host.</p> -<p>“It wouldn’t astonish me to see a verdict of -‘Wilful murder’ against ‘Spider’ Webb,” said -Jack Considine—“despite what he and this pretty -wife of his say about it. What’s your opinion, -Bathurst?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_205">205</div> -<p>Anthony walked across to the sideboard and -helped himself to a healthy portion of cold pie.</p> -<p>“Depends entirely upon what Baddeley wants,” -he responded. “If he’s keen on that particular -verdict he’ll probably play his cards to get it. Personally, -I’m not so sure that he is.” He went back -to the table.</p> -<p>“What makes you think that, Bathurst?” asked -Captain Arkwright.</p> -<p>“Oh—I’m not suggesting anything against -Baddeley, in any shape or form—but the police have -advantages in these matters—they’re playing on -their own ground as it were.” He laughed. “I’m -assured in my own mind that it is so—I’ve watched -events pretty closely and often noticed it—still, -this Inspector has impressed me throughout as an -upright, honest and quite efficient person so we can’t -tell.” He walked back to his seat. Then continued, -“And of course, there’s always the possibility that -he may have something up his sleeve. Personally—I -shall expect it.”</p> -<p>“Well, Baddeley isn’t the only one to have that,” -I ventured blazingly indiscreet.</p> -<p>Anthony shook a warning finger at me. “Bill—Bill——” -The breakfast company immediately became -all attention.</p> -<p>“What’s this, Bill?” demanded Sir Charles. -“Who among us has any special knowledge? Bathurst -hasn’t made any other discoveries, has he?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_206">206</div> -<p>Anthony flung another warning glance in my -direction then replied to Sir Charles. “You flatter -me, Sir Charles,” he said laughingly, “and you -make altogether too much of my Webb escapade—Bill -is getting as bad as the rest of you—that’s all -there is to it.”</p> -<p>I thought that Sir Charles looked somewhat relieved. -Lady Considine evidently had a similar impression -for she leaned across and patted him on the -sleeve. “Don’t you worry too much about it, -Charles,” she said quietly; “let’s get this unpleasant -business over to-day—then perhaps we may be allowed -to forget. If Inspector Baddeley arrests the -murderer—well and good—if he fails to——” she -shrugged her shoulders. The breakfast party broke -up.</p> -<p>“Both the cars are going down to the village—there -will be room in them for all,” announced our -host.</p> -<p>We murmured our thanks. “What do you say to -a stroll down, Bill?” said Anthony. “Plenty of -time, and it will stretch our legs.”</p> -<p>“I’m with you,” I responded. I was secretly -pleased at the opportunity—I imagined that he -wanted to tell me something or desired to discuss -some aspect of the case with me. I was disappointed. -He was quiet. We swung along some distance -before I broke the ice.</p> -<p>“What did you make of that letter business?” I -asked, watching his expression intently.</p> -<p>“In what relation?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_207">207</div> -<p>“To Prescott—to the murder.” I was nettled. -What relation did he imagine I meant?</p> -<p>“Oh, that! None at all!”</p> -<p>I stared incredulously, even more nettled than before. -“Sorry to hear that—I had hoped that I -had discovered something moderately important.”</p> -<p>“So you did, Bill. But its importance was not -exactly in reference to the actual murder.”</p> -<p>“What on earth do you——”</p> -<p>“Its importance is a matter of accumulation—its -real relation is to the boot-lace and the Barker -I.O.U.”</p> -<p>I shook my head hopelessly. “What can Mary’s -letter have to do with those other things—you said -yourself we didn’t know to whom the letter was -written—besides, we have Mary’s word that she -never wrote to Prescott in her life—surely you believe -her—you can’t doubt her?”</p> -<p>“Not for a moment, Bill.”</p> -<p>“Well, then”—I became emphatic—“there must -be——”</p> -<p>“You’ll see what I’m getting at all in good time. -Don’t be impatient—besides, here we are at ‘The -Swan’s Nest.’”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_208">208</div> -<p>The news of the inquest had excited considerable -interest, and a good-sized knot of people had -gathered outside the hostelry. As we entered, I -heard speculation regarding many details of the case, -and our identity was audibly discussed. Dr. Anselm -was just taking his seat. He referred to the shocking -nature of the tragedy that was to be there, and -then investigated and proceeded at once to put the -case before the twelve good men and true. Witnesses, -he informed us, would be called to identify -the deceased as Gerald Prescott, a guest of Sir -Charles Considine—he mentioned the name with -proper respect and reverence—at Considine Manor, -where he had been staying for nearly a week. A -good many of the company knew that the poor young -man—with whose relatives he would desire to express -his deepest sympathy—had appeared in the last -’Varsity Match at Lords’, and had been invited to -Considine Manor to take part in Sir Charles Considine’s -Annual Cricket Week. Nothing of any untoward -incident had occurred during his stay—they -had no evidence of any quarrelling or friction of any -kind—yet on the Saturday morning, Prescott had -been found lying on the billiard-table—in the—ahem—billiard -room—foully murdered. <i>Sensation!</i> Done -to death by strangulation, Dr. Elliott would inform -them, as a highly qualified medical man, and it -would be the jury’s duty to weigh this evidence and -all the evidence to arrive at a fit and proper verdict. -In addition to a boot-lace tied tightly round his -throat, the murdered man had also been stabbed at -the base of the neck, at the top of the spinal cord -with a dagger! <i>More and greater sensation!</i> The -case had also a strange complication. On the night -of the murder, Lady Considine’s pearls had been -stolen from the Manor. <i>Again sensation!</i> But -owing to the masterly handling of this portion of -the affair by Inspector Baddeley of the Sussex Constabulary, -who had acted with lightning-like rapidity -in the following up of certain data that he had -gleaned, two persons had been arrested and lodged in -Lewes Jail. <i>Final and crowning sensation!</i> The -reporters present licked their lips. This was almost -too good to be true. Anthony nudged me in the -ribs. “He’s rendered to Baddeley the things that -weren’t Baddeley’s—you see!” He grinned. “Just -as I expected.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_209">209</div> -<p>Dr. Anselm speedily got to the real business of -the morning. The room we were in was evidently -the dining-room of the “Swan’s Nest,” and I attempted -to picture it in its ordinary environment. -It seemed grotesque to imagine people could dine -here in any comfort after this inquiry was over. -Then I heard “Mrs. Prescott” called.</p> -<p>The Coroner once again expressed his profound -sympathy with her in her distress. She gave formal -evidence identifying the body that she had viewed -as the body of her son—Gerald Onslow Lancelot -Prescott. He was twenty-two years of age—unmarried—and -had just come down from Oxford. -As far as she was aware deceased had no troubles -or worries; he was quite sound financially and to her -knowledge hadn’t an enemy in the world.</p> -<p><i>The Coroner.</i>—“Had he any love affair?”</p> -<p><i>Mrs. Prescott.</i>—“No. None that he had ever -confided to me.”</p> -<p><i>The Coroner.</i>—“He had come to Considine -Manor simply to take part in the Cricket Week?”</p> -<p><i>Mrs. Prescott.</i>—“That is so.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_210">210</div> -<p><i>The Coroner.</i>—“Had you heard from him during -his stay there?”</p> -<p><i>Mrs. Prescott.</i>—“Yes—a short letter. Full of -the good times he was having.”</p> -<p><i>The Coroner.</i>—“And you know of absolutely -nothing that would throw any light upon this indescribably -dreadful affair?”</p> -<p><i>Mrs. Prescott.</i>—“Nothing! Nothing at all!”</p> -<p>The Coroner thanked her and the next witness -was summoned. If summoned can correctly describe -the procedure.</p> -<p>“Constance Webb!”</p> -<p>From between two sturdy members of the Sussex -County Police came she whom we had known as -Marshall. <i>Still sensation!</i></p> -<p>The reporters bent to their tasks with redoubled -energy—sweetened by the thoughts of circulations -to come. A low hum buzzed round the room at the -appearance of this new witness. Anthony clutched -at my arm.</p> -<p>“Look,” he muttered. Inspector Baddeley had -come round to the side of Dr. Anselm and was whispering -something to him. I saw the Coroner nod -his head three or four times in seeming acquiescence. -Baddeley appeared to be explaining something, for I -saw the doctor give a final approving movement of -the head, and then turn and address the witness.</p> -<p>“What’s afoot?” I interrogated.</p> -<p>“I think I know,” answered Anthony. “Listen!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_211">211</div> -<p>“Marshall,” as it seems the more natural for me -to call her, gave her evidence in a low, toneless, almost -inaudible voice. Several times the Coroner -had to request her to speak up. Up to Saturday -last she had been a maid in the employ of Sir Charles -and Lady Considine, and among her duties was the -task of sweeping and cleaning a number of the -Manor rooms first thing in the morning—as she had -done on the Saturday morning in question. She had -eventually reached the billiard room! Here the witness -was observed to falter and excitement ran high -in the “Swan’s Nest.” Dr. Anselm took a hand.</p> -<p>“What did you find when you got to the billiard -room?”</p> -<p>More excitement followed—a sharp-featured little -man on the left of the room jumped to his feet. -All eyes were turned on him.</p> -<p>“I object to that question, sir, with all deference—the -witness has not yet said that she had found -anything.”</p> -<p>Dr. Anselm glared at this disturber of the peace. -“Who are you, sir?”</p> -<p>The little man produced his card. “Felix Lawson. -I am present at this inquiry watching the interests -of Webb—the man under——”</p> -<p>The Coroner broke in quickly. “Very well, Mr. -Lawson. That is sufficient.”</p> -<p>He addressed himself to the witness again. “Tell -your story—go on.”</p> -<p>“I entered the billiard room and the first thing -I saw was the dead body of Mr. Prescott lying -across the billiard-table.”</p> -<p>“What did you do?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_212">212</div> -<p>She hesitated for a brief period. “I screamed -for help! Then the other people came in.”</p> -<p>“I see! I will only ask you one more question. -Describe the attitude of the body on the table as -well as you are able.”</p> -<p>“It seemed to be lying across the end of the table—almost -on one shoulder—I can’t remember any -more. Is that all?”</p> -<p>Dr. Anselm asserted his satisfaction.</p> -<p>“Inspector Baddeley!” Baddeley stepped forward, -as briskly as ever.</p> -<p>He told his story curtly and decisively. He explained -that he had been called to Considine Manor -about eight o’clock on the morning in question, in -company with Dr. Elliott. As the previous witness -had stated, the body of the dead man lay across -the billiard-table in the billiard room. The room -was to an extent disordered. Three of the chairs -were overturned, and by the side of one lay the -poker from the fireplace. The window of the room -was open—probably about two feet. There were -footprints outside this window, indicating that deceased -had been out there, and another man as well. -With regard to this latter fact he would say no more -for the moment.</p> -<p>Anthony plucked at my elbow. “You’ll hear no -mention of the ‘Spider’—you see.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_213">213</div> -<p>Baddeley went on with his evidence. No money -had been found on the deceased, although he was -almost fully dressed. He was wearing, when discovered, -full evening dress with the exception of his -shoes. These were brown—the deceased had evidently -pulled them on in a great hurry. He had -made inquiries about the deceased gentleman, and -had discovered nothing whatever to his discredit or -detriment. Inspector Baddeley retired.</p> -<p>Dr. Elliott then followed with his medical testimony. -Once again the room at the “Swan’s Nest” -buzzed and hummed with excitement. Death was -due, he told his audience, to strangulation. Deceased -had been strangled by a brown shoe-lace, taken from -one of the shoes that he was wearing and tied tightly -round his throat. A dagger had also been driven -into the base of the neck, at the top of the spinal -column, but in his opinion, death had already supervened -before this assault had taken place. <i>Acute -sensation!</i></p> -<p><i>A Juryman.</i>—“Was it possible, Dr. Elliott, for -this shoe-lace to have been placed round deceased’s -neck by deceased himself?”</p> -<p><i>Dr. Elliott.</i>—“You suggest suicide?”</p> -<p><i>A Juryman.</i>—“Yes. That’s what I mean.”</p> -<p><i>Dr. Elliott.</i>—“Quite possible, of course, but as a -medical man, I hardly——”</p> -<p><i>A Juryman.</i>—“Thank ye, Doctor.”</p> -<p>Continuing, Dr. Elliott gave it his considered -opinion that death had taken place about six or seven -hours when he first examined the body.</p> -<p><i>The Coroner.</i>—“That would time the murder -then, Dr. Elliott, at about one o’clock or half-past? -Am I correct?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_214">214</div> -<p>Dr. Elliott agreed. In conclusion he stated that -the body he had examined was normal, and healthy -in every respect—that of an athletic young man.</p> -<p>Then Anthony and I became like the crowd. We -got <i>our</i> sensation.</p> -<p>“Andrew Whitney.”</p> -<p>“Who the blazes is this?” I asked excitedly. -“Somebody Baddeley has dug up?” Anthony leaned -forward in his seat to look at the newcomer.</p> -<p>A medium-sized fat-faced man stepped up. He -had a jovial, well-nourished countenance and was -evidently full to the brim with <i>joie de vivre</i>. He -gave his evidence very quickly and clearly.</p> -<p>“I am Andrew Whitney—Sales Manager, Blue -Star Soap Products Co.—I was motoring home on -Friday night last from Eastbourne. My home is at -Coulsdon. I left Eastbourne very late—I had been -staying with friends,—and it was very probably Saturday -morning before I actually got under way. -To make matters worse I had engine trouble, and -it was striking three as I came through Considine. I -remember hearing two church clocks strike the hour. -I passed Considine Manor about five minutes past -three. Just as I was passing, the engine trouble that -had previously helped to delay me, recurred and I -was forced to stop again. While I was tinkering -about at the job, I was surprised to see a room at the -side of the house suddenly flash into brilliant light—the -electric light was suddenly turned on. It remained -on for a period that I should estimate at -two or three minutes, and then equally suddenly went -out. It struck me as rather strange that people -should be walking about in rooms at that hour of the -night. I have since identified that room where the -light was, as the billiard room.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_215">215</div> -<p>The man who had described himself as Felix Lawson -rose to his feet. He bowed to the Coroner. -“With your permission, Dr. Anselm, I would like -to put one question to the witness.”</p> -<p>“Very well, Mr. Lawson.”</p> -<p>The little man turned to Whitney. “Are you -prepared to affirm, on oath, Mr. Whitney, that this -lighting up of the billiard room took place <i>after</i> -three o’clock? You are absolutely certain of your -time?”</p> -<p>Whitney nodded his head impatiently. “Quite -positive. I imagined I had made myself clear on -that point.”</p> -<p>Lawson raised his hand deprecatingly. “You -were judging, I think, from the chimes of a clock. -They are very easily miscounted, especially when -your mind is otherwise pretty well occupied. You -<i>counted</i> the strokes and were <i>sure</i>?”</p> -<p>“I did. I am positive on the point.”</p> -<p>“Thank you very much. Thank you, Dr. Anselm. -That is all I have to ask.”</p> -<p>Whitney stepped away smartly.</p> -<p>“Annie Dennis.”</p> -<p>A girl whose face was vaguely familiar to me -came forward. When she started to speak I realized -that I knew her. It was one of the kitchen maids -at the Manor. She had been called as a result of -Inspector Baddeley’s inquiries, and had something -to tell the world which the Inspector considered important. -I whispered again to Anthony Bathurst.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_216">216</div> -<p>“Did you know about this?” I said.</p> -<p>“No,” he replied. “Not a glimmer. The Inspector -has been busy.”</p> -<p>Annie’s evidence was as follows. On Friday evening -she had been sent down into the village by Fitch, -the butler. She had returned just after nine o’clock, -and as she entered the grounds of the Manor she -was amazed to see a man walking on the flower-bed -directly outside the billiard room window.</p> -<p><i>Dr. Anselm.</i>—“What exactly did he appear to -be doing?”</p> -<p>“Nothing! Only walking across the bed.”</p> -<p>“Can you describe him?”</p> -<p>The witness shook her head. “No, sir—not very -well. He seemed to disappear very quickly as I drew -nearer to the house itself. But there was something -a little peculiar about his walk.”</p> -<p>“In what way peculiar?”</p> -<p>Annie Dennis hesitated. “I can’t rightly say, sir, -it just didn’t seem ordinary-like—not free and easy.”</p> -<p>“Do you mean that he limped in some way or -was lame?”</p> -<p>“No, sir, not exactly that—I can’t tell you quite -what I mean—but I should know it if I ever saw it -again.”</p> -<p>Dr. Anselm desisted from worrying the witness -any more, and having summed the whole facts up, -concisely and accurately, the jury were asked for -their verdict. It was speedily forthcoming. “Wilful -Murder against some person or persons unknown—death -having been caused by strangulation.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_217">217</div> -<p>We filed out of the room one by one. I was -anxious to ask Anthony his opinion of the two fresh -witnesses. I turned to address him when I found, -to my surprise, Inspector Baddeley at our sides.</p> -<p>“I’d like a chat with you, Mr. Bathurst,” he said, -“at your convenience.”</p> -<p>“Whenever you like, Baddeley! You’ve deserted -the ‘Spider’ then?”</p> -<p>“Not altogether, although it might appear to be -so,” came the answer.</p> -<p>“You must have strong reasons.”</p> -<p>“Pretty fair,” grinned the Inspector. Then his -face relapsed into the grave again. “Still, I’m not -denying that I’m puzzled,” he admitted. “I can’t -get the facts to tally at all. That’s why I want a -word with you. Understand?”</p> -<p>Anthony patted him on the back. “Only too -pleased, Inspector; the case has been rather troublesome, -I admit.” We walked home together.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_218">218</div> -<h2 id="c17"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XVII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">INSPECTOR BADDELEY PUTS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE</span></h2> -<p>Baddeley closed the library door behind us and -gestured to us to be seated. “I don’t purpose troubling -Sir Charles Considine at the moment,” he informed -us, “for one or two reasons—but I do feel, -gentlemen, that I’ve reached a stage in the investigations -of this affair when I’m bound to talk things -over with somebody.” He paused and produced his -pipe which he proceeded to fill, slowly and deliberately. -Then he continued. “Early on, Mr. Bathurst, -you had a little joke with me about going -fifty-fifty in regard to our discoveries ... well -... it’s like this ... I seem to be properly -up against the most baffling set of clues it’s ever -been my good fortune—or bad, if you like—to encounter.” -He struck a match and lit the tobacco. -“In all probability I’ve been able to get information -that you haven’t, Mr. Bathurst—that sort of thing’s -my job so you’re starting a bit ‘scratch’ as it were—still -I’m going to play the game and put all the -cards on the table.”</p> -<p>Anthony waved a deprecating hand. “Quite so—Inspector.”</p> -<p>Baddeley eyed him warily—then went on again.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_219">219</div> -<p>“There’s a young fellow murdered and a pearl -necklace stolen in the same house on the same night. -The robbery is cleared up pretty quickly—thanks -to you, Mr. Bathurst—and the question arises—the -natural question if I may call it so—what connection, -if any, is there between the two?”</p> -<p>Anthony broke in. “Do you want me to answer -that?”</p> -<p>Baddeley held up his hand. “Not for the moment, -sir! Let me go on for a bit. My reason tells -me that there is a connection—because the murdered -man was strangled with a shoe-lace, and the man -pinched for the robbery has, as far as I can tell—the -identical shoe-lace in his pocket. I’m not exactly -a scholar, gentlemen, but you can say he’s caught -‘in flagrante delicto.’” He looked at us.</p> -<p>Anthony was smiling. “Go ahead, Inspector,” -was all that he said.</p> -<p>“Well, sir—that’s what reason tells me! But -instinct tells me just the opposite—I can’t get the -times to fit—nothing seems to link up just in the -way that it should—and I’ve got a decidedly uneasy -feeling that I’ve missed my way somewhere.” He -puffed at his pipe. “I’m going to do a lot of -talking, gentlemen; can you put up with it?” He -proceeded without waiting for our reply.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_220">220</div> -<p>“Usually, there’s a motive sticking out in these -cases. But I’m damned if I can find a really satisfactory -one here. Robbery? I don’t think so—he -had no money on him when he was found—but -his chief card winnings hadn’t been paid over, -and it isn’t likely he was carrying a very large sum -about with him. Robbery for something that he -possessed? The I.O.U. for instance? Possibly! -Revenge? Again—possibly! But if so for something -that has, so far, eluded me. Still—we’ll concede—a -distinct possibility. You see—we aren’t -nearing probabilities yet. And probabilities are much -more satisfactory than mere possibilities. Now -there’s that very mysterious piece of work with the -Venetian Dagger.”</p> -<p>He stopped again as though to let his words sink -well in. Anthony grew very attentive, and I found -myself more responsive, so to speak, to the Inspector’s -mood.</p> -<p>“The dagger had been used to ‘make sure’ apparently. -The murderer was taking no risks—dead -men tell no tales—but—and here’s something you -probably don’t know, Mr. Bathurst—that Venetian -dagger had unmistakable signs of finger-prints.”</p> -<p>Anthony grinned. “It was the dagger, after all, -Bill,” he said. Then he addressed Baddeley. “I -tumbled to your letter dodge, Inspector,” he explained. -“I spotted that you had some prints somewhere -and were after an identification. Fire away.” -He settled in his chair again. Baddeley gazed at -him steadily.</p> -<p>“You miss a hell of a lot. I <i>don’t</i> think,” he -muttered. “I fancy I’ve brought my samples to -the right market, after all.”</p> -<p>Anthony dismissed the compliment with a wave -of the hand. Then came as quickly to the challenging -point. “Whose were they?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_221">221</div> -<p>Baddeley replied very quietly. “They belonged -to Major Hornby, Mr. Bathurst.”</p> -<p>This was interesting with a vengeance.</p> -<p>“Really,” said Anthony. “This is very important! -Have you approached the Major, or are you -holding your hand?”</p> -<p>“I have seen the Major, and informed him of my -knowledge.”</p> -<p>“Ah! I am curious to hear what he says.”</p> -<p>“His explanation is that he handled the dagger -during the evening.”</p> -<p>“Really.”</p> -<p>“Yes. And what is more, Mr. Bathurst, he is -prepared to assert that when he retired for the night, -the dagger had been removed from its customary -resting-place on the table.”</p> -<p>“Removed from where he had replaced it?”</p> -<p>“Exactly.”</p> -<p>Anthony looked up and studied the Inspector’s -face very seriously. “Really—Inspector. Really? -This is most illuminating! Taken from the table -some time during the evening—eh?” He rubbed -his hands. “And do you know, Inspector—do you -know—I’m not surprised.”</p> -<p>Baddeley flung him a quizzical glance. “The -day that I surprise you, I reckon I’ll surprise myself,” -he uttered laconically. “But I’ll go on. I’ve -given you one piece of information that I believe you -were ignorant of. Now for what happened this -morning at the inquest—I fancy you heard a thing -or two there for the first time? Am I right?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_222">222</div> -<p>Anthony pulled at his top lip with his fingers—a -favorite trick of his. “You refer to the evidence -of Andrew Whitney and the maid, Dennis—I presume?”</p> -<p>Baddeley nodded. “Whitney’s evidence was a -stroke of pure good fortune for me. He had seen -the account of the case in the papers, read the description -of the house, Considine Manor, and knowing -of course that his delay occurred in the village -of Considine or thereabouts, had no difficulty in -recognizing it again when he came to have a second -look at it. I tell you I was glad to get my hooks -into this piece of evidence, from an absolutely unimpeachable -source—but when he swore that the -time was past three—well, I was pretty well staggered.” -He came right across to us and looked -Anthony straight in the face. “Mr. Bathurst, -think it over! Dr. Elliott tells us Prescott was -killed somewhere about half-past one—perhaps two—‘Spider’ -Webb was pulling off his little job of -work round about the same time—it all seems to -point to a connection between the two—yet I’m not -satisfied—I can’t think what was doing in that billiard -room after three o’clock that morning.” He -stared broodingly at his pipe. Neither Anthony nor -I broke the silence—he seemed determined to let -Baddeley have his entire say without further interruption.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_223">223</div> -<p>“So much then for Whitney’s evidence. Now we -come to Annie Dennis. I am indebted to the butler—Fitch—for -getting on to her. When I first questioned -her she told me she could tell me nothing. -Apparently she had either forgotten the incident or -didn’t consider it of sufficient importance to mention. -She took it to Fitch who passed it on to me—so -I interviewed her. What was a man doing outside -the billiard room window at that time—just after -nine o’clock—on Friday evening? Once again—was -it Webb—or an accomplice of Webb’s? There are -too many twists and turns in this for me, Mr. -Bathurst. I’m fairly staggered.”</p> -<p>Anthony rose and stretched his long body.</p> -<p>“This inquest to-day, Inspector Baddeley—I was -very interested to observe that all reference to -Webb’s arrest was avoided. In fact, as far as I can -remember not a great deal of mention was made of -the theft of Lady Considine’s necklace. Marshall—Mrs. -Webb—was treated exactly as an ordinary -witness. I presume I am correct, Inspector, in assuming -that you stage-managed this?”</p> -<p>Baddeley smiled. “Right again, Mr. Bathurst!”</p> -<p>“May I ask why? I have my own ideas of course—but——”</p> -<p>Baddeley cut in. “Well, I’ll be perfectly frank -with you, Mr. Bathurst. In these cases as you are -doubtless aware, especially at an inquest, it isn’t -always the best policy for the Police to put all their -cards on the table—at first that is. The robbery -and the murder may be linked up—on the other -hand they may not—if they are not—as my instinct -tells me—it’s just as well for the real murderer to -remain in the dark about Webb.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_224">224</div> -<p>Anthony pondered for a moment. “All very -well, as far as it goes. To have charged Webb and -Marshall with the murder might possibly have given -this other chap—your murderer—a sense of false -security. Don’t you think so?”</p> -<p>“I always believe in keeping people uninformed—as -far as possible. They are more likely to betray -themselves.”</p> -<p>“But there is an alternative to that,” replied -Anthony. “By imparting information—carefully -prepared and selected, you sometimes force people -to betray themselves. Don’t you see? However, -it’s of no particular consequence—I merely desired -to know what exactly was your intention. Now I -know!”</p> -<p>Baddeley plunged his hands into his jacket -pockets. “You asked me just now, Mr. Bathurst, -if I wanted you to answer a question that I had -raised—and I asked you to refrain from answering -it at the moment. I’d like you to answer it now. -Has Webb with his robbery any connection with the -death of Prescott?”</p> -<p>“You want me to answer that—here and now?”</p> -<p>“If you please, Mr. Bathurst.”</p> -<p>“In my opinion, then, as I read the case, none -whatever!”</p> -<p>“None whatever!”—I intervened incredulously—“then -what about the shoe-lace? I can’t understand——”</p> -<p>“Neither can I,” reiterated Baddeley. “That -beats me—that does.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_225">225</div> -<p>Anthony smiled. “You asked me a simple question, -and I gave you a simple answer. Let’s leave -it at that, for the time being. And now allow me -to ask you a question!”</p> -<p>Baddeley signified assent. “Very well, sir!”</p> -<p>“Shortly after you were called to this business, -Inspector—you definitely stated that Prescott had -been out in the grounds of the Manor <i>after</i> twelve -o’clock. Do you remember?”</p> -<p>“Decidedly, I do,” came the answer. “What are -you getting at?”</p> -<p>“You drew your inference, I supposed, Inspector, -from the mud on the brown shoes, and the state -of the clothes that Prescott was wearing when -found? They were bone-dry, and you argued that -had he been out before twelve they would have got -very wet—rain was falling pretty steadily—and -would still have shown some traces of wet when you -arrived. Am I on the lines of your reasoning?”</p> -<p>“You are—pretty conclusive too, don’t you -think?”</p> -<p>“It would fit one hypothesis, certainly—but not -another.”</p> -<p>“I don’t quite get you.”</p> -<p>“Don’t go too fast. I was merely satisfying myself -as to the line your inferences had taken.”</p> -<p>Baddeley looked doubtfully at him. “You think -I’ve missed something?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_226">226</div> -<p>Anthony patted him on the shoulder. “Naturally—we -all have, haven’t we—or the murderer would -be kicking his heels in Lewes Jail by this time—there’s -no urgent necessity for you to be despondent -because of that.”</p> -<p>“That’s all very well,” returned the Inspector—“but -you see this happens to be my job—my bread -and butter depends on it—I can’t afford to miss -things and get away with it.”</p> -<p>“Don’t abandon hope yet,” responded Anthony. -“I am becoming more optimistic as we progress. -You’ll clap your handcuffs on the criminal yet. Now -tell me something else. You collared Prescott’s -papers when you first ran your eye over his bedroom. -Find anything?”</p> -<p>“Nothing of any consequence. Here they are.” -He fished in his breast pocket. Then produced an -ordinary brown leather wallet which he handed over -to my companion. About a shilling’s worth of -postage stamps, and half a dozen papers were all it -contained. Anthony looked through them.</p> -<p>“Hotel Bill—July—’Varsity Match probably, -two letters from his mother”—he scanned them -through—“not important—a communication from -the O.U.D.S.—another from the ‘Authentics’—and -a tailor’s bill. H’m—nothing here apparently.” -He returned the wallet to Baddeley.</p> -<p>“Did you get his check-book?”</p> -<p>“You bet your life I did. Care to have a look at -that?” He smiled.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_227">227</div> -<p>Anthony turned over the counterfoils for a moment -or two. “Nothing here, either, I fancy; only -five checks drawn since the beginning of May—four -to ‘Self’ and one to the tailor whose account -we just handled. Well, I’m not surprised—I didn’t -want to find anything startling.”</p> -<p>“Any information helps,” muttered Baddeley -somewhat gloomily.</p> -<p>“Not always, Inspector! Consider your own -position here—you found pieces of information from -time to time that only served to confuse you. You -have admitted that yourself! They wouldn’t fit in, -as links in the chain—I had the same difficulty——”</p> -<p>“That’s true,” conceded the Inspector. “But you -like to feel you’re running freely.”</p> -<p>Anthony went straight across to him. “I do, Inspector. -I feel that I’m actually ‘in the straight.’”</p> -<p>But Baddeley refused to be comforted. “I’m -not denying that you’ve done one or two smart -things, but I’m afraid you’re a bit over-confident. -I’ve been at the game longer than——”</p> -<p>Anthony cut in. “Look here, Baddeley, do you -think I should say a thing like that, without good -and sufficient reason?”</p> -<p>I subjected Baddeley to a careful scrutiny, for I -felt myself sympathizing with him. How could -Anthony possibly make a statement like that? It -seemed to me from what I had seen of the case—which -was as much as anybody—that several people -lay under suspicion, but none more than any other. -Now there was Hornby to add to Webb, Barker, -“Marshall” and the rest of them. I could quite see -Baddeley’s point of view—a maze of clues and not -one, to my outlook, that stood out conspicuously -from the others.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_228">228</div> -<p>Baddeley’s voice broke in upon my reverie.</p> -<p>“No, Mr. Bathurst—I don’t! But since you ask -me—I’m dashed if I can follow you—I <i>don’t</i> see my -way clearly and that’s a fact.”</p> -<p>Anthony took a cigarette from his case—we did -likewise at his invitation. “Do you mind being -the third, Inspector?” he asked as we lit up.</p> -<p>“I’m not superstitious, Mr. Bathurst—though -I’ve a shrewd idea this little conference will prove -unlucky for somebody.” We laughed.</p> -<p>“You do?” said Anthony. “Well, listen to me -for a moment.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_229">229</div> -<h2 id="c18"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XVIII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">MR. BATHURST PARTIALLY EMULATES HIS EXAMPLE</span></h2> -<p>We settled down in our chairs, eager and expectant. -I think Baddeley shared my feelings now. -What were we going to hear that would throw light -on the affair?</p> -<p>“You’ve acted very decently all the way through, -Baddeley, I’ll say that for you, and I appreciate it -as a compliment that we’re running this little ‘confab’ -now. I realize that to a certain extent, you -have come to me for help—well, I’ll give you some. -You said just now you were going to put your cards -on the table. Perhaps you thought that I held some -trumps too.” He paused and waited for the Inspector -to reply. But the answer was some little -time in coming. Baddeley shifted uneasily in his -seat as though he didn’t altogether approve of -Anthony’s opening remarks. Then somewhat -grudgingly it seemed to me he answered the question -that had been put to him.</p> -<p>“Well—perhaps I did, Mr. Bathurst.” Then, as -though he realized partly that he was exposing himself -to charge of churlishness, he made the <i>amende</i>.</p> -<p>“You see, Mr. Bathurst, I’ve developed a certain -amount of admiration for you.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_230">230</div> -<p>Anthony smiled. “Then we know where and -how we stand. In the first place, Inspector—a question. -When were you last in the billiard room?”</p> -<p>“Yesterday—Wednesday.”</p> -<p>“Care for a jaunt up there now? I’ll show you -something.”</p> -<p>Baddeley looked surprised, but accepted the invitation -with alacrity. We ascended the stairs—I -knew well what the journey meant for us.</p> -<p>“Billiards”—said Anthony, with an air—“have -lapsed into disfavor since Prescott was found murdered. -A very natural consequence, I submit. Sir -Charles and Jack have kept away, Arkwright has -had a nasty attack of muscular rheumatism in his -right arm—Mary Considine and Helen have given -the room a miss. But Bill and I fancied a game. I -fancy it was on Tuesday. Shortly after we started—one -of us potted the red rather brilliantly—modesty -prevents me telling you which of us it was, -Inspector—are you interested?”</p> -<p>Baddeley eyed him studiously—but refrained from -replying.</p> -<p>“That was the pocket”—he indicated it—“where -the balls are now. Do you mind putting -your hand in and sending them out? Thank you, -Inspector. Now feel in the pocket.”</p> -<p>I watched Baddeley’s look of amazement as he -thrust in his hand. Barker’s I.O.U. was still lying -where we had replaced it. He took it and smoothed -it out, his look of amazement deepening.</p> -<p>“You found this here?” he gasped. “When? -Why didn’t you tell me before?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_231">231</div> -<p>“Come now, Inspector. Recriminations weren’t -part of our bargain. We found this, Cunningham -and I, exactly as I have indicated—I am not pretending -that I found it because I was looking for -it—it was entirely fortuitous.”</p> -<p>Baddeley made no reply. He read and reread -the writing. Then tapping it with his forefinger: -“Here’s the motive—gentlemen. The very link -for which I’ve been searching. Prescott was murdered -for possession of this I.O.U., and the murderer -in his haste or excitement dropped or lost the -very object he wanted to obtain.” Then to us—“don’t -you think so?”</p> -<p>“I ought to tell you, Inspector,” Anthony answered, -“that I don’t quite know the actual position -that this piece of envelope was occupying in the -pocket when I found it. Don’t look mystified! I -sent the balls flying from the pocket with the flat -of my hand, <i>before</i> I discovered the I.O.U. Therefore, -you understand, I don’t know for certain if it -was down the side of the pocket say—or right at the -bottom—<i>under</i> the billiard balls! Get me?”</p> -<p>“Yes, I understand that. You think the paper’s -position important?”</p> -<p>“Very. For instance, if I could definitely assert -that it occupied the latter position, I should incline -to the opinion that it had been <i>hidden</i> there—not accidentally -dropped.”</p> -<p>Baddeley rubbed the ridge of his jaw with his -knuckles.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_232">232</div> -<p>“Yes—that’s sound reasoning,” he admitted. -“But why hide it? Why murder to get it—and -then hide it? That beats me—it does.”</p> -<p>“It wants a bit of working out,” chuckled Anthony. -“Still, there’s nothing more to be gained by -staying up here. Hang on to that precious piece of -paper and let’s get back to the library.”</p> -<p>Baddeley followed us out of the room.</p> -<p>“On second thoughts,” interposed Anthony, -“come upstairs once more and not down. Come on, -Bill. Come on, Baddeley. There’s something else -I want to tell you.”</p> -<p>He showed the way to Prescott’s bedroom, while -Baddeley trailed along in apparent discomfiture.</p> -<p>“You’ll not be able to hand me out any surprise -packets in here, Mr. Bathurst. I went through -Prescott’s belongings pretty thoroughly.”</p> -<p>“I’ll give you credit for that,” laughed Anthony. -“So don’t worry on that score. I’m going to take -you farther than this room—but only just a little -farther. Come into the bathroom.”</p> -<p>We made our way—I bringing up the rear. Anthony -fished in his pocket and produced the cigar -stub that he had so carefully preserved. He passed -it on to our companion. “See that cigar end, Baddeley? -That was found on the edge of this wash-stand -basin—I found it there, and on this occasion I -<i>do</i> know where it was lying.” He pointed to the -spot. “And I’ll tell you this”—he continued. “As -far as either of us can say—we don’t think it’s one -of Sir Charles Considine’s—it’s certainly not one -of his customary brand.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_233">233</div> -<p>“Been smoked by a man with jolly good teeth,” -remarked the Inspector as he studied it closely. -“Prescott himself had excellent teeth—gentlemen.”</p> -<p>“Yes—that’s a distinct possibility—I admit that,” -replied Anthony. “Just a piece of absent-mindedness -on his part might account for its presence -there.”</p> -<p>Baddeley nodded. “Was he a cigar smoker? -Can you tell me?”</p> -<p>“What do you mean?” I broke in. “Habitually—or -occasionally?”</p> -<p>“Either!”</p> -<p>“Well,” I uttered, “he’d smoke a cigar after dinner -if Sir Charles or anybody offered him one—I -can tell you that—I’ve often seen him.”</p> -<p>“Just so! That’s all I meant. I’ll keep this and -make a few inquiries.”</p> -<p>“By the way, Baddeley”—from Anthony—“you -went all over the bedroom itself pretty systematically—didn’t -you?”</p> -<p>“I did that,” replied Baddeley. “And I don’t -think I missed anything.”</p> -<p>It was on the tip of my tongue to put him wise -again—I thought of the letter fragments—but Anthony -put a quick finger to his lips, unseen by the -Inspector. I also caught the fleeting suggestion of -a lowered eyelid. It then became evident to me that -he did not intend to let Baddeley know what I had -found in the bedroom. Neither had he mentioned -Mary’s evidence about the mysterious watcher that -she and Prescott had seen—in short, I realized -that Anthony was only putting some of his cards on -the table.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_234">234</div> -<p>Baddeley led the way downstairs somewhat ruefully, -I thought.</p> -<p>“I must thank you, Mr. Bathurst, for putting me -wise on these points,” he said very frankly. “But -if I was to say that I felt any nearer to a solution, -because of them—well—I shouldn’t be taking a -medal for veracity. Think I’d better start keeping -rabbits. More in my line.”</p> -<p>“Don’t be too self-critical, Inspector. A little is -good for all of us—but a little goes a long way, and -too much of it is bad for one.”</p> -<p>Inspector Baddeley looked at him with no little -chagrin.</p> -<p>“You mean what you say, kindly, I’ve no doubt, -but I feel that I’d like to think quietly over what -I’ve learned from you to-day. Somewhere, at my -leisure—I get a bit bewildered unless I can go my -own pace. So you won’t mind if I say ‘good-day’?” -He held out his hand to us in farewell. -“Good-day, Mr. Bathurst! Good-day, Mr. Cunningham!”</p> -<p>Anthony looked after him whimsically as he closed -the door. Then we heard Sir Charles Considine’s -voice booming out. “Hullo, Baddeley, what did -you think of old Anselm? The inquest didn’t produce -much that we didn’t know—eh—and also didn’t -produce some that we did—what?” Baddeley appeared -to murmur a reply that tickled Sir Charles’ -humor.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_235">235</div> -<p>“Very good. Very good! What do you think of -that, Jack—eh, Arkwright?—good-bye, Baddeley.”</p> -<p>“Good-day, Sir Charles.” We heard the Inspector’s -footsteps down the drive. I turned to Anthony.</p> -<p>“You deliberately kept Mary’s evidence from -him, and you didn’t show him those letter fragments -I found in the bedroom. Why?”</p> -<p>“Why? Well, I told him as much as I thought -was good for him to know!”</p> -<p>“It seems hardly fair to him,” I muttered. “He’s -handicapped.”</p> -<p>“Less than if I hadn’t told him what I did. I’ve -helped him. For instance he’s got the Barker -I.O.U. and the cigar stub. He’ll probably get to -work on the latter at once.”</p> -<p>This last remark was a wonderfully good shot on -Anthony’s part. For Inspector Baddeley went -straight into the village to the larger of the two -tobacconists that supplied Considine and its adjoining -district with its nicotine needs. This establishment -was kept by a large florid-faced man—Abbott, -by name. Baddeley handed over the object of inquiry.</p> -<p>“Could you possibly tell me what brand of cigar -this is, Mr. Abbott?”</p> -<p>Abbott took it, after the manner of a connoisseur. -Felt it—then smelt it. Then shook his head. -“Afraid not, sir. But it’s just a common one. Quite -ordinary—what we in the trade would call a four-penny -or five-penny smoke—sold in a ‘pub’ very -likely. But I couldn’t give the brand a name.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_236">236</div> -<p>“I see! Sold many yourself lately?”</p> -<p>Abbott’s answer was a decided negative.</p> -<p>“Don’t sell a cigar once a week now, down here! -It’s all tobacco and cigarettes with the villagers. -Afraid I can’t help you there.”</p> -<p>The Inspector thanked him and withdrew.</p> -<p>“Drawn a blank there,” he muttered to himself, -dismally. He weighed the matter over in his mind. -Should he pursue that line of investigation any -farther? It seemed to him that it would prove, in all -probability, a fruitless one. He might go to a dozen -places and fail to find anything definite about a cigar -like this—it might have been purchased a hundred -miles away. Again it might prove nothing—it might -have been, as he had been quick enough to point -out—Prescott’s own—just left on the wash-stand -basin carelessly. He decided to abandon it. Then -the question of the I.O.U. obtruded itself again. -One thing, he knew whose that was! On second -thoughts that should prove very much more profitable -if followed up. Confronted by that—Lieutenant -Malcolm Barker might, conceivably, tell a different -story. Major Hornby, too! Try as he -would, he couldn’t entirely rid his mind of the suspicion -that that gentleman knew more than he had -so far been disposed to tell.</p> -<p>Baddeley squared his shoulders and thrust his -hands into his pockets. He would lose no time in -seeing both Barker and Hornby again. This time -they would find him very much more determined. -Especially Major Hornby—damn him!</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_237">237</div> -<h2 id="c19"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XIX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">MR. BATHURST’S WONDERFUL SYMPATHY</span></h2> -<p>Anthony drained his last cup of tea and pushed -his chair away from the breakfast table.</p> -<p>“Fitch!” He called the butler over to his side. -Fitch listened to him.</p> -<p>“Yes, sir. With pleasure. I think it’s the July -issue. I will obtain it for you, sir; in just a moment!”</p> -<p>I think the rest of the company were somewhat -surprised to see the excellent Fitch return with the -A.B.C.</p> -<p>“Leaving us, Bathurst?” queried Sir Charles -Considine. “You haven’t forgotten our——?”</p> -<p>“No, sir. Only taking a run up to town. I shall -be back this evening.”</p> -<p>“Want a companion?” I asked.</p> -<p>He thought for a moment or two. “Awfully -good of you, Bill—but if you don’t mind, I’ll go -alone. I’m not altogether sure that I shan’t be wasting -my time—so I’ve no desire to waste yours, possibly!” -He smiled his disarming smile. I was immediately -mollified.</p> -<p>“Have the Morris-Oxford, Bathurst, to run you -to the station,” offered Sir Charles.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_238">238</div> -<p>“Thank you very much, sir, I shall be delighted. -I’ll leave here about twenty minutes past ten. I’ll -just go and get ready.”</p> -<p>“What’s taking him away, Bill?” said Jack Considine. -“I’m not inquisitive I hope, but is it this -Prescott business?”</p> -<p>“I can’t say,” I replied. “Very probably, though.”</p> -<p>“I think it must be,” announced Sir Charles. -“Baddeley was up here again yesterday, you know. -I had a moment with him. I gave him a rub or -two concerning the inquest.” He chuckled. “He’s -a very decent fellow though, and very despondent at -the moment over his lack of success in regard to, -what I am informed, is now known to the world in -general as ‘The Billiard Room Mystery.’” He -sighed. “Such is fame, Helen! Anyhow, when I -realized that he was genuinely sore and upset, I tried -a different tack. I’m afraid this case would have -tried a greater brain than Baddeley’s.”</p> -<p>“Well, I for one, sincerely hope the affair will -be settled,” intervened Captain Arkwright. “We -are all more or less under a cloud while it remains -unsolved—that’s how I feel about it. And others -besides us—Hornby, Tennant, Daventry—and all -the fellows that were here at the time.”</p> -<p>“That’s very true,” agreed our host. “The -whole house is under a cloud—the Cricket Week will -always have this unholy reminiscence hanging over -it—even after the whole tangle is cleared away—if -it ever is cleared away. Of course there is less strain -for all of us since Mrs. Prescott returned to -London.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_239">239</div> -<p>The door opened and Anthony came quickly in.</p> -<p>“The car’s waiting, sir, so with your permission, -I’ll get away.”</p> -<p>He waved a good-bye and shortly afterwards we -heard the car go humming away down the road. -He reached the station with a good five minutes to -spare before his train (as he related afterwards) so -he sauntered to the booking office to get his ticket. -Surely he knew that figure just in advance of him!</p> -<p>“Good-morning, Inspector!” Baddeley wheeled -quickly at the unexpected greeting.</p> -<p>“Why, it’s Mr. Bathurst. Going to Victoria, sir?”</p> -<p>“Yes. Are you?”</p> -<p>“Thought of taking a run up.” He grinned. -“Though I didn’t know I was coming till this morning, -itself.”</p> -<p>“Good! We’ll travel together then, Inspector.”</p> -<p>The train rumbled in and the pair sought, with -success, an empty compartment.</p> -<p>Baddeley was in a communicative mood.</p> -<p>“Major Hornby has left Canterbury, Mr. Bathurst. -You may be interested to know that. I made -inquiries last night. He’s stopping at a private hotel -in the Kensington district—near Gloucester Road.”</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst was interested—but not tremendously. -He was not aware of the Inspector’s desire -to get into touch again with Major Hornby. How -had the Inspector fared over the little matter of -the cigar stub?</p> -<p>“A dead end, Mr. Bathurst!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_240">240</div> -<p>Mr. Bathurst complimented his companion upon -the particular aptness of his reply, but was assured -with transparent sincerity that it had been unintentional. -How far had the Inspector taken the line of -his investigation?</p> -<p>“It was a commonplace brand of cigar—sold -most probably in a ‘pub’—to trace it would entail -a long and arduous task—and then might prove to -be unilluminative. I abandoned the idea!”</p> -<p>Then the Inspector was not at work on it this -morning?</p> -<p>“No, as I indicated, I’m desirous of having another -interview with Major Hornby. Are you leaving -Considine for good?”</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst was most certainly doing nothing of -the kind. He was merely paying a visit to a friend. -He was returning to Considine that evening—all -being well.</p> -<p>“A great weight of what I will term—<i>police</i> -opinion is in favor of charging Webb and his wife -with the murder of Mr. Prescott. Up to the moment -I have stalled them off. I don’t think Webb’s the -man. That shoe-lace business doesn’t spell Webb -to my way of thinking, and as for the lace found in -the ‘Spider’s’ pocket—one lace is very like another.”</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst assented. But was rather surprised -that Webb had <i>not</i> yet been charged with the murder.</p> -<p>“I’m not denying that a very strong ‘prima facie’ -case could be made against him,” said Baddeley—“because -it undoubtedly could.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_241">241</div> -<p>“Had Webb an alibi from any time of the fatal -night?” asked Mr. Bathurst.</p> -<p>“Yes, he’s attempted to put one forward from -about two-fifteen. He states that he was with a -confederate—so it comes from a source that is suspect—a -good counsel would speedily demolish it.”</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst agreed. But there was Andrew -Whitney to be considered. His evidence would help -Webb considerably. He considered it was very -sporting of Inspector Baddeley to have put him up -before the Coroner.</p> -<p>Inspector Baddeley was not oblivious to the compliment -and smiled his acknowledgment.</p> -<p>Then Mr. Bathurst took a turn.</p> -<p>Had the Inspector by any chance a photograph of -the body when found? He believed he was correct -in his idea that the Inspector had ordered Roper -to take certain photographs of the room and body on -that first morning.</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst was quite right in his assumption, -and Inspector Baddeley would be delighted to show -him what he had. He produced half a dozen plates.</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst examined them carefully. The Inspector -offered his help. Was there any point in -the disposition of the body upon which he could -throw any further light?</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst thanked him, but replied in the -negative. He was not concerned about the position -of the body. He was curious about the position of -the red ball!</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_242">242</div> -<p>The Inspector stared in amazement. The red ball -was not on the table! What on earth did Mr. Bathurst -mean?</p> -<p>Mr. Bathurst quite understood that the red ball -was not on the table because it was in the pocket -as shown by one of the photographs taken from a -higher altitude. He pointed it out to the Inspector—lying -on top of the other two. By the time they -reached Victoria, Inspector Baddeley was more perplexed -than ever. “This is where we part, Inspector,” -said Anthony, as they passed through the barrier. -“<i>Au’voir.</i>”</p> -<p>Anthony made his way to the underground and -booked to Cannon Street. Arrived there he made -tracks for the Main station.</p> -<p>The next train to Blackheath was at 12.22.</p> -<p>“That will land me there just in time for lunch,” -he thought to himself, and events proved him to be -a sound prophet.</p> -<p>A smart-looking maid took the card he proffered -her, and in a few seconds he found himself in what -was evidently the drawing-room.</p> -<p>Mrs. Prescott followed him in. “I got your wire, -Mr. Bathurst, and of course, I am very pleased to -see you. I can hardly realize yet all that has happened. -I’m trying to bear up—but frankly, I have -little left in the world now to capture either my -interest or my imagination. Now, what is it you -wanted to see me about?”</p> -<p>Anthony was all sympathy. “I want to talk to -you about your boy.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_243">243</div> -<p>“You asked me a good many questions at Considine -Manor, Mr. Bathurst. You wish to ask me -some more?”</p> -<p>“If you would be kind enough to answer them.”</p> -<p>Mrs. Prescott bowed her head in assent.</p> -<p>“First of all, let me assure you that I feel a very -great sympathy with you in your sorrow.” He -touched her arm for a brief moment, very gently. -“And I have every hope that the crime which has -hurt you so much will not go unpunished.” He -spoke with a feeling that Mrs. Prescott was not slow -to detect.</p> -<p>“I thank you for your words and for your sympathy, -too, Mr. Bathurst.”</p> -<p>“Tell me about your boy—as much as you can—everything!”</p> -<p>It was not a difficult thing that he had asked her.</p> -<p>A mother who has lost her boy—under the circumstances -that she had—grasps at the straws of -reminiscence to save herself from going under.</p> -<p>“Begin at the beginning,” said Anthony.</p> -<p>She told him. He listened attentively. She got -to his cricket—he had played for Oxford at Lords’.</p> -<p>Then Anthony made his first interruption.</p> -<p>“Tell me, Mrs. Prescott—has your son in any -game or sport—been ambidextrous?”</p> -<p>Mrs. Prescott showed signs of surprise.</p> -<p>“Think carefully,” he reiterated. “Did he ever -bat left-handed or bowl left-handed—did he ever -play billiards, for instance, left-handed?”</p> -<p>She shook her head. “Never to my knowledge, -Mr. Bathurst.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_244">244</div> -<p>“Had he any personal peculiarities, at all?”</p> -<p>“Peculiarities? Well, I suppose every one of us -has a——”</p> -<p>“I mean physical. For example—a right-handed -acquaintance of mine always counts money with his -left hand and deals cards in the same way.”</p> -<p>“I see what you mean,” she declared. She -thought, but to no effect.</p> -<p>“No, Mr. Bathurst, I can’t think of anything like -that.”</p> -<p>Anthony accepted the situation, and Mrs. Prescott -continued her memories.</p> -<p>“I can’t imagine anything more that I can tell -you,” she concluded very quietly.</p> -<p>“Thank you very much. One last point. Had -your son any particular knowledge of knots? The -various types of knots that can be tied, that is?”</p> -<p>“Once again—not that I know of,” she answered. -“I think the only knot that I have ever seen him -tie—was just an ordinary bow. Why do you ask?”</p> -<p>“A little whim of mine, Mrs. Prescott. Nothing -more.” He rose.</p> -<p>“You’ll stay to lunch, Mr. Bathurst. I insist.”</p> -<p>Anthony did, and when about to take his departure -sometime afterwards realized that his hostess -was a singularly able woman.</p> -<p>He shook hands with her. “Good-bye, Mr. Bathurst. -You have hopes?”</p> -<p>“I have,” he said gravely. “And fears. We are -on the verge of a very horrible discovery. But it -can’t be helped. Good-bye.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_245">245</div> -<p>Mrs. Prescott looked white and troubled as he -spoke. “Good-bye,” she murmured.</p> -<p>Anthony made off down the road—a prey to conflicting -thoughts. Then he encountered a surprise, -that quickly jolted him back to realities. Two figures -passed by on the other side; well in his view. He -stared in surprise. Major Hornby and Lieutenant -Barker! “What the devil——” He stopped in -the shadow of a wall and watched them curiously. -They knocked at and entered the house that he had -just left!</p> -<p>“Now—what on earth,” he muttered. A hand -touched him on the arm, and a voice exclaimed -eagerly: “Tell me—quickly—whose house is that, -Mr. Bathurst?” The hand was the hand of the -Law—and the voice the voice of Inspector Baddeley.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_246">246</div> -<h2 id="c20"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XX</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">MARY RECEIVES HER SECOND PROPOSAL</span></h2> -<p>When Anthony left us that morning there was -much speculation as to where he had gone and deny -it as I might, I am pretty certain that the company -generally regarded me as being in his confidence.</p> -<p>“What’s his game, Bill?” demanded Arkwright. -“You must know—from—what’s the correct term—information -received.”</p> -<p>I declared my ignorance. “Bathurst has not told -me his destination—and what’s more, I haven’t -asked him. I told Jack just now I knew nothing of -his movements or intentions—for to-day! He has, -of course, confided one or two matters to me during -the past few days. I think, perhaps, I’ve helped him -a bit—once or twice.”</p> -<p>I spoke with a sense of pride.</p> -<p>“Well, I for one, wish him success,” cut in Jack -Considine, crisply. “Gerry Prescott was one of the -best. A thunderin’ good all-round sportsman, and -we can ill afford to lose him. I tell you I’m more -than sorry that he’s gone—there are plenty of fellows -the world could have spared before Gerry Prescott! -I know we shall miss him in the ‘House.’”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_247">247</div> -<p>This outburst of Jack’s startled me somewhat, and -I noticed Helen Arkwright and her husband look -at him curiously.</p> -<p>Sir Charles himself, also seemed a trifle taken -aback.</p> -<p>“Seems to me we have to wait till we’re dead—to -be thoroughly appreciated,” I put in.</p> -<p>“Something like that, Bill,” said Mary. “I’ve -noticed that.”</p> -<p>She rose and went into the garden. To me she -had grown more lovely than ever, during the past -few days. The blow that had befallen Considine -Manor, and the sorrow that it had brought in its -train, seemed to have invested Mary with a serener -beauty. It was almost as though the charming winsomeness -of the maid had merged into the more -steadfast beauty of the woman. The sadness and -sorrow had hastened the hand of Time. It was -borne upon me at that moment, that Life to me -meant Mary Considine, and I determined to put -into active form a resolution that had been but a -thought to me for many months past.</p> -<p>I found her in the garden.</p> -<p>“The roses are going off, Bill,” she said—pointing -to the rose trees. “What a pity they don’t last -two or three months longer.”</p> -<p>I looked at them. “Tell me their names, -Mary?”</p> -<p>“Sharman Crawford, Caroline Testout, Daily -Mail, La France, Betty, Xavier——”</p> -<p>I interrupted her. “Some roses are always with -us,” I ventured.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_248">248</div> -<p>“Why, what do you mean, Bill?”</p> -<p>“I meant you,” I replied. Lamely, I’m afraid. -It sounded so, at least.</p> -<p>She smiled very sweetly. “That’s very nice of -you, Bill. I hope you really meant it.”</p> -<p>“Of course I meant it. I never meant anything -half so much in my life before.”</p> -<p>“You mustn’t make me conceited, Bill—and I’m -afraid you will if you talk like that.”</p> -<p>“I couldn’t make you anything,” I declared. -“Only a master could make you, and I’m only a big -lump of commonplaceness and ordinariness. You’re -just lovely. And to me, Mary, the loveliest, dearest -and sweetest girl in the world,—for I love you.”</p> -<p>“Oh, Bill,” she gasped.</p> -<p>I caught her by the hand. “I want you to marry -me, Mary. After all, I’ve got some little right to -ask you. I’ve watched you grow up, you know. -Give me the right to watch you grow up always.”</p> -<p>I watched her face anxiously. And I fancied I -saw her sweeping lashes brim with tiny tears. “Tell -me—you will, darling?” I urged.</p> -<p>“This is very sudden, Bill—I know that sounds -silly—but I can’t think of anything else to say—and -it’s very dear of you to think so much of me.”</p> -<p>“Then you <i>will</i>?” I said with eagerness.</p> -<p>“I don’t know, Bill. I’m not quite sure. Of -course, I like you—as we all do—but——”</p> -<p>I tried to take her in my arms but she evaded me.</p> -<p>“There’s no one else——?” I asked. “Say -there’s no one else!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_249">249</div> -<p>“No.” She spoke very quietly. “You may be -easy on that point. There is no one else.”</p> -<p>“Then why do you hesitate, dear? Put me out -of my misery!”</p> -<p>“You must give me a little time to think it over, -Bill.” She held out her hand to me, and I took it.</p> -<p>“How long, Mary? How long? It isn’t as -though I’m a stranger to you.”</p> -<p>“Not very long, Bill. I’ll promise that. I just -want to feel <i>sure</i>—you know.”</p> -<p>She broke away and left me.</p> -<p>The rest of the day passed miserably for me. Anthony’s -absence didn’t make it any the brighter and -Mary’s reception of my proposal had left me in an -agony of apprehension. One moment I rose to heaven’s -heights and “struck the stars with my uplifted -head”—the next found me in the depths of an intolerable -despair. But generally, I was able to find -courage and with courage—optimism! “There is -no one else,” she had said. Perhaps I had tried her -too closely after Prescott and Prescott’s death. -“There is no one else!” Prescott belonged to the -past tense. Would she have said that a week ago? -I pondered the whole thing over in my mind. And -the wondering with its attachment of doubt and -uncertainty brought me the alternating moods that -I have just described.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_250">250</div> -<p>So the day wore on to the evening and dinner. -Anthony had not returned, and everybody seemed -very quiet. The meal passed uneventfully and conversation -was desultory. I watched Mary carefully, -trying to read my answer in her face. She seemed -cheerful and smiling. Jack and Arkwright went into -the drawing-room together, and in the buzz of their -conversation I caught Prescott’s name. The girls -started music and we settled down comfortably. All -the Considines have good voices, and they were always -well worth listening to. After a time, Jack -Considine and Arkwright strolled into the garden, -but I refused the invitation to accompany them. I -was thinking about Mary. Suddenly two revolver -shots rang out on the evening air. Shots that were -succeeded by shouts.</p> -<p>Captain Arkwright came running up.</p> -<p>“Somebody’s tried to murder Jack,” he shouted. -“In cold blood. Two shots have been fired at him -from the direction of the Allingham Road. Great -Scott! it was a near thing and no mistake. One has -gone clean through his hat.” He paused and wiped -his face—pale with anxiety and worry.</p> -<p>“Where is Jack?” cried Lady Considine. “Are -you sure he’s all right?”</p> -<p>“He’s coming. And he’s all right—by the mercy -of Providence. But what does it all mean?”</p> -<p>“Where were you, Arkwright?” demanded Sir -Charles. “Weren’t you with him?”</p> -<p>“No! I had left him for a moment. I stopped -behind one of the trees on the way to the tennis -courts to light a cigarette. There’s a strong wind -blowing.”</p> -<p>“And Jack had walked on?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_251">251</div> -<p>“Yes, Jack was a couple of dozen paces ahead of -me. Just as I was in the act of lighting up, my -attention fully taken up—I heard two shots—revolver -shots, I knew with certainty. I saw Jack -spin round in amazement—his hat had been neatly -drilled.”</p> -<p>“A merciful escape,” murmured Sir Charles.</p> -<p>“A merciful escape indeed, sir,” replied Arkwright. -“Then Jack shouted and I shouted—and -I rushed back to tell you. He’s coming along.”</p> -<p>I ran into Jack some distance from the house. He -looked a bit rattled and nervy, but was otherwise -none the worse for the adventure.</p> -<p>“Been having a Wild West display, William,” -he grinned, when I met him. “Some enterprising -blighter has succeeded in letting daylight into my -best hat.” He held out his soft hat to me. “Look!”</p> -<p>“What the devil’s the matter with the place?” -I growled. “Not much peaceful Sussex about it -now. Who was it—any idea?”</p> -<p>“Not on your life, Bill,” he responded. “All I -know is that the beggar popped at me from the -Allingham direction. And very nearly got me!” -He paused and grasped me by the shoulder. “Considine -Manor doesn’t seem to be a health resort -these days.”</p> -<p>“Did you make any attempt to discover who it -was?” I asked him.</p> -<p>“Well, for the moment I was too scared. When -I did recover my presence of mind there wasn’t a -sign of anybody.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_252">252</div> -<p>We reached the others. Sir Charles was bursting -with indignation at this fresh outrage, but Lady -Considine seemed more thankful at Jack’s miraculous -escape than upset at the shock. She fussed over -him—mother-like.</p> -<p>“I suppose it’s useless sending a search party out -now?” fumed Sir Charles, “but by all the powers, -I’ll put Baddeley on to this in the morning!”</p> -<p>“Baddeley?” said a well-known voice. “What’s -Baddeley wanted for now?”</p> -<p>Sir Charles wheeled round quickly. His face -lighted with relief.</p> -<p>“Another dastardly outrage, Bathurst! And in -my own grounds, too!”</p> -<p>He proceeded to relate the incident. Anthony -listened to him, gravely.</p> -<p>“Not more than a quarter of an hour ago, eh? -I can’t have missed it by much—I’ve just got back.” -He turned to Jack Considine.</p> -<p>“Tell me all the facts!”</p> -<p>Jack, assisted by Arkwright, retailed the whole -story again.</p> -<p>“Come and show me the exact places you occupied -when the shots were fired.”</p> -<p>He accompanied Jack Considine along the path -that led to the tennis courts.</p> -<p>“You walked straight along with Arkwright, you -say?”</p> -<p>“I’ll tell you when we come to the trees where -he stopped to light up,” replied Jack.</p> -<p>“Right,” replied Anthony. “That’s what I want -you to.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_253">253</div> -<p>They walked on. Then Considine stopped and -pointed.</p> -<p>“Arkwright fell behind just here and sidled up -to that tree for shelter.”</p> -<p>Anthony walked to the tree. He looked round. -“All in order, Considine,” he shouted. “Here’s -the match he threw away.”</p> -<p>He quickly rejoined his companion.</p> -<p>“I don’t think I shall have to trouble you for -any more information. This time, I propose to -show you where you were when you were shot at.”</p> -<p>“What do you mean?” Jack Considine stared at -him, incredulously.</p> -<p>“Wait a moment. You’ll see what I mean.”</p> -<p>They walked on for a short distance, Considine -watching him curiously. Suddenly Anthony stopped -and caught his companion by the arm.</p> -<p>“This is where you were when the first shot was -fired. Approximately. Am I right?”</p> -<p>“You are, you wizard,” responded Jack. “This -is almost the identical spot.”</p> -<p>Anthony laughed. “Well, I told you I would, -didn’t I?”</p> -<p>“Explain yourself, for the love of Mike!”</p> -<p>Anthony shook his head. “All in good time. -Believe me, I have an excellent reason for keeping -silent—for the present. I am sure you will understand.”</p> -<p>“What do you think, Bathurst?” asked Sir -Charles Considine when they returned. “Shall I -put Baddeley on to it in the morning?”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_254">254</div> -<p>“As you please, sir—but I don’t think he’ll be -able to help you much.”</p> -<p>He turned away to greet Mary who had come up -to the group.</p> -<p>She spoke to him quietly.</p> -<p>Then I saw him jerk his head up and say, “Certainly! -I’ll come now!”</p> -<p>They wandered away, and as I watched them, Sir -Charles broke out again.</p> -<p>“It’s all very well for Bathurst to talk as he -does. Baddeley won’t be able to help me, indeed! -Deuced fine outlook when you can’t take a stroll in -your own garden without having your brains blown -out. What do you think, Bill?”</p> -<p>I turned to reply when a hand touched my sleeve. -It was Mary, who had just returned from her walk -with Anthony.</p> -<p>She had a curiously strained and excited look on -her face.</p> -<p>“Bill,” she said, “that question you asked me -to-day—so seriously. I’ve decided to give you -the chance you want. You’re far too hot for me at -cricket, I know that well enough. We’ll consider -that game played. But I’ll play you eighteen holes -of golf over at Cranwick to-morrow morning. Jack -will caddie for you and Mr. Bathurst has promised -to do the same for me. And, Bill, jolly good luck!”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_255">255</div> -<h2 id="c21"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXI</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">MR. BATHURST WAVES HIS HAND</span></h2> -<p>I went to bed that night with a feeling of intense -exhilaration. Mary’s challenge, with anything like -ordinary luck, meant a pretty comfortable victory -for me, for although only a moderate golfer—my -handicap was twelve—the strength and power of my -long game should prove too much for Mary whatever -she might do with me on the green. And victory -for me, according to the Considine Manor tradition, -would mean the equivalent of “Yes” to my -proposal. For Mary to run the risk of a defeat -from me at golf was tantamount to an admission -that she loved me. At the same time as I came to -consider the matter more fully I began to realize -that I shouldn’t be able to throw anything away. -Mary had the well-merited reputation of winning -many a hole by the uncanny accuracy of her short -game. As Jack Considine had said to me more -than once in the past when discussing his sister’s -game—“Bill—she’s a perfect whale at putts.” I -came to the conclusion that if I could consistently -out-drive her and only keep my head on the green, -I should be on velvet as regards the game’s ultimate -result. When I woke next morning this idea was -uppermost in my mind and the brilliant August sun -that poured in at my bedroom-window only served -to make me even more confident. Mary was a prize -worth playing for! I forgot all the recent sinister -associations of the Manor and, freshly tubbed and -newly razored, floated gaily down to a light but -pleasing breakfast.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_256">256</div> -<p>Anthony was nowhere to be found. He had -breakfasted, I heard upon inquiry, very early, and -had excused himself to the others, upon an errand -of some importance.</p> -<p>Also—there was no sign of Mary. I concluded—without -any worrying—that she was taking full time -over her matutinal toilet.</p> -<p>The Cranwick course was a matter of half an -hour’s easy stroll from the Manor so that leaving -there at ten o’clock we should be able to make a -start very little after half-past ten.</p> -<p>“I’ve been as good as my word, Bill.” Sir Charles -bustled into the breakfast room. “I’ve ’phoned to -Baddeley and he’s coming along at once. He seems -to think that last night’s affair has a bearing upon -poor Gerry Prescott.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_257">257</div> -<p>I’m afraid I wasn’t as interested as he was or -even as I should have been—to me Prescott was -dead. Past helping! My mind was of Mary. I -muttered a commonplace answer and turned away. -Then with an apology I wandered into the garden. -When well away from the house, I tried a swing -with an imaginary club and thought of all my golfing -vices,—those my friends delighted in pointing out. -Did I swing too fast?—Did I cut across the ball? -Did I “grumph” a straightforward shot? I tried -another swing and decided that there was nothing -wrong with it. I was full of confidence as I looked at -my watch. Time was getting on. I went back to the -house, got my clubs, and strolled off towards Cranwick. -I should keep my nerve better, I concluded, -if I went alone—and the idea came to me that perhaps -Mary had given way to the same idea. It was -five and twenty minutes past ten when I reached the -Cranwick course and the others had already arrived. -Jack Considine, looking none the worse for -his narrow escape on the previous evening, was talking -to his sister when Anthony came forward to -meet me.</p> -<p>“Morning, Bill!” he sang out. “Fit and well?” -He grinned. “Because you’ll need to be, my lad, to -win. I’ve been giving Mary the benefit of some special -coaching. Don’t see why you should walk away -with all the plums.”</p> -<p>I laughed. “I’m top-hole, old man—and out to -win—take it from me.”</p> -<p>As I spoke Mary looked straight across at me. I -could see that she was frightfully nervous, and I can -tell you I wasn’t sorry to see it. She walked over -to me—her hands were trembling. As she noticed -me glance at them she blushed deliciously and to -cover her confusion bent down to tie the lace of her -brogue that had come undone. She attempted to -put it right—but unsuccessfully—so, looking up at -me shyly, called me to fix things for her.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_258">258</div> -<p>“Are you ready—you two?” cried Anthony—“time’s -getting on, you know.”</p> -<p>“What’s your handicap, Mary?” I asked.</p> -<p>She shook her head. “You have the honor, Bill, -and please get it over quickly.”</p> -<p>I took the first two holes easily—actually doing -the second, of 400 yards, in birdie. Mary, on each -occasion, finished hopelessly bunkered on the left-hand -side of the “fairway.” Too confident, possibly, -I approached the third somewhat carelessly. -It was the shortest hole of the eighteen—135 yards -only. I sliced my tee-shot badly and Mary with -her best drive of the morning laid herself “dead” -on the green. After I had blundered further into -the rough she made me one-up only with the most -nonchalant of “putts.” I was two-up after the -fourth but by deadly work on the green Mary took -the fifth and sixth. The seventh saw me hook my -“tee-shot” most flagrantly but I recovered for a -half. I took the eighth, but the ninth—another -short hole—went like its fellow, the third, to my opponent. -Thus at the turn we were “all square.”</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_259">259</div> -<p>“There’s no wind, Bill!” exclaimed Anthony—“you -ought to be doing better than you are. Keep -your head down more and give your hips a bit more -freedom. Then you’ll win in a canter, laddie.” -Whether the advice helped me or not I can’t say -but I went straight away with the tenth and eleventh—both -in Bogey. The twelfth and thirteenth were -each halved. The fourteenth went to Mary—the -fifteenth was halved thanks to a magnificent “putt” -by Mary. From a nasty lie, she holed at a distance -of six feet and as the ball rattled against the back of -the tin, her assurance and sang-froid were amazing. -Now the sixteenth was another short hole of 158 -yards—Bogey being three. In appearance and general -“lie” it was something like the old Harley -Street at Woking with its straight menacing lines of -gorse and heather that seemed to converge upon the -player. Nobody could ever go straight at that hole. -But by now I was playing with the genius of inspiration. -I did a four and took the hole. With sixteen -holes played therefore I was dormy two. As we -started for the seventeenth I saw Anthony wave to -somebody in the distance. “There’s Baddeley,” he -said. “Suppose there’s some news or something. -He’s coming this way.” “Can’t help his troubles,” -I replied as I teed up to lay a lovely shot well past -the pin. Mary landed in a pot bunker to the right -of the green. I smiled. The game was in my hands. -My second shot left me with a two feet “putt.” But -Mary had the light of battle in her eyes. “Give me -my niblick, Mr. Bathurst, will you?” she said very -quietly. She went to her ball and with a perfectly -wonderful pitch-shot out of the wet sand landed -beautifully on to the green along which her ball -slowly trickled to hit the back of the tin. I gasped! -It was her hole!</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_260">260</div> -<p>“You’ve not won yet, Bill,” she uttered grimly. -The last hole was over 400 yards—Bogey four. I -took a fine straight drive down the “pritty.” Mary -on the other hand hooked her tee-shot into the rough -and after playing the odd she was still in the rough. -She couldn’t hope therefore for anything better than -a five. I rubbed my hands in unconcealed delight. I -could reach the green with a full brassie shot, which -was a trifle risky, or I could “kick my hat along” -for a five and make absolutely certain of a half at the -worst. I determined to be magnificent! “Give me -the brassie,” I called to Jack. I struck fiercely and -quickly—a good enough shot but with just the suspicion -of a “pull.” To my utter consternation the -ball pitched in a small bunker. Mary came well out -of the gorse. I was rattled. My recovery was -poor and I saw Mary, playing beautifully, get her -five and the hole. All square! As her last shot -rattled the tin, Baddeley walked up briskly, his face -alight with excitement.</p> -<p>“A grand game, Miss Considine. I never felt -more excited in all my life than over that last hole. -I want you to grant me a favor. Could I have that -ball of yours as a memento?” Mary nodded—too -overcome to speak and he looked towards me as -though in support of his request.</p> -<p>“I’ll get it for you, Baddeley,” I said and bent -down to collect it. As I did so he sprang forward -and something clicked on my wrists. I heard Baddeley’s -voice—faint yet distinct—miles away seemingly!</p> -<p>“William Cunningham, I arrest you for the Wilful -Murder of Gerald Prescott and I warn you that -anything you may say may be used as evidence -against you.”</p> -<p>Then Mary fell in a dead faint on the grass.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_261">261</div> -<h2 id="c22"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XXII</span> -<br /><span class="h2line2">MR. BATHURST REMINISCENT</span></h2> -<p>I have been asked by Cunningham to write the -concluding chapter to the manuscript that has just -reached me. Needless to say it has traveled by a -somewhat circuitous route from the institution -wherein he has been detained for so many years. -My presence there in the latter part of last year -awakened, no doubt, his egotistical interest in the -crime, and caused him to put his own account of it -to paper. His accompanying note to me contains -the remark that after all I am preëminently the -right person to finish the affair. Perhaps I am. At -any rate, I’ve decided to do what he requests, if only -to stifle certain ill-founded and prejudiced statements -that were current for some time after Cunningham’s -arrest, trial, sentence and subsequent detention “during -His Majesty’s pleasure.” Now for the facts. -The great difficulty for us who attempted to investigate -the Considine Manor tragedy lay in the separation -of the “faked” clues from the true ones. That, -of course, to a certain extent, would apply with equal -force to a number of other crimes, but in this instance -we were arrayed against a criminal—proved -afterwards to be a homicidal maniac who had deliberately -set out to lead us astray. That was, as I -have foreshadowed, our main trouble. Our second -difficulty was the apparent absence of motive. But -after a time this second matter became less obscure -to me. I have read Cunningham’s account of the -tragedy very carefully, and I will say this: he has -been very fair to his readers. Only three clues have -been kept from them, and in two of these three -cases he himself is unaware of them to this day. -The third omission he can be forgiven, for to have -given it in its full significance at the time when it -came under my notice would have destroyed some -of the interest in the narrative from the pure mystery-story -point of view. I will now attempt to show -how I arrived at my conclusions. When I was called -to the billiard room that morning I was very much -at sea—the whole thing seemed untrue, but when I -pulled my wits together I eventually found that I had -to find satisfactory answers to four questions.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_262">262</div> -<p>(a) Why was Prescott wearing brown shoes?</p> -<p>(b) Why had the dagger been used as well as the -lace?</p> -<p>(c) Had Prescott dressed <i>himself—because his -handkerchief was up his right-hand sleeve—and his -one laced shoe had been tied in a most peculiar manner</i>—I -only discovered this by actually handling it.</p> -<p>(d) Why was he there—what had brought him?</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_263">263</div> -<p>The question of the handkerchief was unobserved -by Cunningham—yet it was the first slip he had -made! The lace business he realized, for he spotted -me looking at it closely. I will try to describe its -peculiarity. The lace of the shoe had been tied in -a bow over a reef-knot. I had never seen a lace tied -quite like that before, and it was only by an accident -I noticed it, for it wasn’t exactly obvious to a casual -observer. Well, these two facts suggested a train of -thought in my mind—had Prescott been murdered—<i>then</i> -dressed or partially dressed—and <i>brought</i> to -the billiard room? Had he been brought there from -the garden? For there was mud on his shoes but -<i>no mud</i> on the billiard room floor—despite glaringly -obvious signs of a struggle and disturbance! With -that idea I paid a visit to Prescott’s bedroom. I -observed there were nine stairs to be negotiated—not -an impossible distance to carry a dead body—for -a very powerful man. My idea you see was -beginning to take shape. Prescott’s bedroom told -me something else. While there, I was able to -make a deduction of which I am secretly rather -proud! It will be remembered that the dressing -space of the room was between the entrance-door -and the bed, that is to say on the right of a person -lying in the bed on his back. Now when a person -gets out of bed he invariably turns the bedclothes -<i>away</i> from the side where he gets out. For example, -a person leaving this bed, to dress the side of the -entrance-door would undoubtedly fling the clothes -away to his <i>left</i>—<i>yet these clothes were all lying and -trailing on the side by the door</i>. Baddeley took this -as evidence that the bed had been slept in—to me -it was conclusive evidence in the other direction. -I was not concerned for the moment with the missing -money. I was reconstructing the crime. The next -stage was the garden—the footprints under the billiard -room window. For a long time these disconcerted -me. There were the four sets and the two -kinds. Who had been Prescott’s companion? Did -Prescott come from the billiard room into the garden? -Had he climbed up into the billiard room -from the garden? Had the footprints any relation -at all to the billiard room? Then the amazing truth -hit me. There was no sign of a descent from the -billiard room—the earth below was clear. The -shoes didn’t show a trace of scraping—yet why on -earth had Prescott put them on, and not his ordinary -dress-shoes? They were on Prescott’s feet because -the <i>murderer wished us to see them there</i>—the footprints -were faked—Prescott had not been outside -at all—<i>the murderer had worn them himself</i>. It was -at this stage that Lady Considine’s pearls made their -appearance or rather their disappearance, and once -again the job of unraveling the two skeins presented -itself. Just as I had convinced myself they were -dissociated from each other, came that startling discovery -of the shoe-lace in Webb’s pocket. To my -mind this was Cunningham’s second slip—he managed -to get it into the pocket during the struggle that -preceded Webb’s arrest—but it can be argued that -it might very easily have served to hang Webb. I -tried hard to persuade myself that Webb must and -should be the murderer, but my instinct was always -in conflict and I felt that the robbery was just a -coincidence. It was hard to place accurately the evidence -of the noises in the night—hard, that is, at this -stage of the inquiry. I will attempt to explain them -later. But so far, I had gone a long way towards -sorting out the conditions of the crime, but had found -no direct evidence against anybody in particular. -But the finding of this shoe-lace opened my eyes a -bit, and began to narrow down my field of suspicion. -The next point was the discovery of the I.O.U., -given to Prescott by Barker. How had that got -into the billiard-table pocket? For a long time I -was uncertain—then once again the solution came -to me. By reason and by memory. It had been put -there with deliberation! Nobody had used that -room—we <i>knew</i>—till Cunningham and I went there—by -“used” I mean—played billiards there. The -servants gave it a wide berth for transparent reasons. -I cast my mind back to the morning Prescott -had been discovered—I visualized the entire scene—what -had struck me about the “<i>billiards</i>” part of -it? I had it! The three balls were lying in the -pocket near the murdered man’s hand—<i>and the red -ball was on top</i>. The splash of color it had made -against Prescott’s white hand had been vivid to me. -Yet <i>when I knocked the balls from the same pocket -to commence our game—the spot ball was on top</i>—they -had been moved—surely for the secretion of -the Barker I.O.U.—<i>since the murder</i>. This caused -me to eliminate Barker from my list of “suspects” -and I began to grow uneasy. I decided upon that -second visit to Prescott’s bedroom for I realized I -had made a mistake. I hadn’t examined the inner -apartment. Here I ran across the “stub” of the -cigar—my idea had almost become a certainty! -Then I began to appreciate the horror of the affair -to me—what had come to Bill Cunningham? Yet -I clung to the hope that my trail would lead to somebody -else at the end, and I dared not let him know -what I suspected! Here came Cunningham’s third -slip! The letter fragments he found were his own. -He was getting desperate now and out to involve -as many people as he possibly could—why not confuse -matters more? He had an old letter from -Mary Considine in his letter-case—probably retained -for sentimental reasons—written years before and -quite innocent. “She would meet him somewhere—the -station probably—in the ‘Bean’—the car they -had at the time.” He suddenly realized the significance -of the time she mentioned in the letter—“faked” -it to appear relevant to the murder and -“discovered” it under Prescott’s bed. I saw through -this very quickly—strangely, Mary can’t remember -ever having written it. Still, I determined to be -certain so I popped up to see Mrs. Prescott. Alas! -my terrible theory received no shaking. Her son -was not ambidextrous and therefore not likely to -wear his handkerchief in his wrong sleeve. Also as -far as she knew, he was no fancy knot-tier. Running -into Baddeley there, was remarkable, and of course -he was on a wild-goose chase; Barker and Hornby -were merely visiting Mrs. Prescott in the hope that -she would accept payment of Lieutenant Barker’s -debt of honor. He told me this next morning. I -made some more investigations that day that revealed -the fact to me that Cunningham’s grandfather -had committed suicide after making a ferocious and -entirely uncalled-for attack upon a Roman Catholic -priest residing in his neighborhood. This decided -me. Any thought that to arrest Cunningham might -savor of treachery towards a friend—was dispelled. -I owed it to the community to put him away where -he could wreak no more harm and I arrived home -that night only to hear of his attack upon Jack. The -rest is known. Now this is the matter of the murder! -Cunningham’s jealousy of Prescott, born of -the loss of his Cricket “blue” had been fanned into -a blazing flame by the invitation of Prescott for the -Considine “week” and his strenuous attentions to -Mary. He felt that Prescott intended a proposal -and how he hated him for what he called his cursed -presumption! Prescott’s success during the week -and his own failures brought matters to a climax. -He’d kill him and he’d also set Anthony Bathurst -a nice little problem. He borrowed the shoes from -Prescott’s bedroom immediately after dinner, and -when the others first adjourned to the drawing-room -he constructed the “footprints,” returned the shoes -and kept one of the laces. He intended to hide in -the inner bedroom before Prescott came to bed and -then strangle him from behind by taking him unawares. -Things went well for him—he saw Barker’s -I.O.U. passed over and noted it. Also he noticed -Hornby fingering the Venetian dagger, so he removed -that—wearing gloves—when he went up to -bed—it had Hornby’s finger-prints—and also might -be useful if it came to a “rough house” with Prescott. -Against this, however, Dennis had seen him -in the garden—without, of course, recognizing him, -and Mary had been conscious of the “espionage” -that was connected with the “smell of a cigar.” As -a matter of fact his jealousy had caused him to follow -Prescott and Mary several times before—as she -told us. Arrived in Prescott’s bedroom he sought -a hiding-place in the bathroom, and was there when -Barker went along to bed. When the latter was -being questioned by Baddeley as to the people that -were upstairs when he went to bed, Cunningham -stated that he answered Barker’s “good-night.” He -did <i>not</i>, because <i>he was in Prescott’s bedroom and -not in his own</i>. When Prescott came to bed he naturally -began to undress—probably sitting on the bed -with his back towards Cunningham. Waiting for a -favorable opportunity the latter sprang on his victim -and strangled him with the lace—leaving a cigar -stub in the inner room. His fourth mistake!</p> -<p>Prescott, no doubt, had previously removed his -coat, vest, tie, collar and shoes. In the struggle the -bed-clothes were disarranged, and subsequently -pushed on to the floor by Cunningham.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_269">269</div> -<p>He then abstracted Barker’s I.O.U. and collected -all Prescott’s spare cash. All he had to do now was -to dress Prescott again—which he did, making the -two mistakes alluded to—wait till the whole house -was quiet—and then carry him downstairs to the -billiard room—the brown shoes of course being used -for the purpose that I have shown to give the affair -an “outside” connection. Everybody was asleep, -and he probably went in his stockinged feet—it was -a thousand to one nobody would hear him. But Jack -Considine heard him shut his own bedroom door -upon his return. Whitney, the motorist, saw the -light go up in the billiard room when Cunningham -entered with his ghastly burden—but that was all -he could see. Cunningham probably wore gloves all -the time—there were no finger-marks. But he knew -that Major Hornby’s finger-marks would show on -the dagger which he had had no occasion to use. So -he used it—driving it into Prescott’s dead body. It -would cause the police much mystification, and throw -suspicion on Hornby.</p> -<p>The noises that Arkwright and his wife heard -were consequent upon the visit of the “Spider”—about -an hour after the actual murder and say an -hour or so before the descent to the billiard room. -The attack on Jack Considine I can only attempt to -explain. But my conjecture is that Cunningham’s -jealousy had reached such extreme limits that he was -infuriated by Jack’s praise of Prescott at breakfast -that morning. He used the lumber shed to fire from—that -was how I told Jack the exact spot of the -outrage. He had used the shed before to hide -behind when following Mary and Prescott. Even -then I made him convict himself—I felt that I must -remove all shred of doubt before telling Sir Charles -and getting Baddeley to act. I arranged with Mary -to play Cunningham the eighteen holes of golf—fearing -the possible consequences of a refusal on her -part as he was by that time in a dangerous state. I -arranged for her shoe-lace to come undone—and -that she should get Cunningham to tie it for her. -He was excited—he forgot himself—<i>he tied it exactly -as he had tied Prescott’s shoe</i>! I had arranged -with Baddeley to give him the signal if my worst -fears were confirmed. I did so. When the time -came we acted quickly.</p> -<div class="pb" id="Page_270">270</div> -<p>I try to forget it all—and now, having written -this account of it, am going to try all the harder. -For then I can think of him as he was before that -dreadful madness turned his brain, and after all—</p> -<p>“There—but for the Grace of God—goes—any -one of us!”</p> -<p class="tbcenter"><span class="smaller">THE END</span></p> -<h2 id="c23"><span class="h2line1">FOOTNOTES</span></h2> -<div class="fnblock"><div class="fndef"><a class="fn" id="fn_1" href="#fr_1">[1]</a><i>Army slang for A. M.</i> -</div> -</div> -<hr /> -<p class="tbcenter">“<i>The Books You Like to Read -<br />at the Price You Like to Pay</i>”</p> -<p class="tb"><span class="large"><i>There Are Two Sides -to Everything</i>—</span></p> -<p>—including the wrapper which covers -every Grosset & Dunlap book. When -you feel in the mood for a good romance, -refer to the carefully selected list -of modern fiction comprising most of -the successes by prominent writers of -the day which is printed on the back of -every Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper.</p> -<p>You will find more than five hundred -titles to choose from—books for every -mood and every taste and every pocket-book.</p> -<p><i>Don’t forget the other side, but in case -the wrapper is lost, write to the publishers -for a complete catalog.</i></p> -<p class="center small"><i>There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book -<br />for every mood and for every taste</i></p> -<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> -<ul> -<li>Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.</li> -<li>In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)</li> -<li>Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.</li> -</ul> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Billiard Room Mystery, by Brian Flynn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY *** - -***** This file should be named 58413-h.htm or 58413-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/4/1/58413/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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