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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Jade God - -Author: Alan Sullivan - -Release Date: June 7, 2021 [eBook #65559] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed Proofreaders - Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JADE GOD *** - - - - - - [Cover Illustration] - - - - - THE JADE GOD - - - BY - ALAN SULLIVAN - - - [Illustration] - - - PUBLISHED BY THE CENTURY CO. - _New York and London_ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ - - - - - Copyright, 1925, by - THE CENTURY CO. - - - PRINTED IN U. S. A. - - - - - CONTENTS - - I THE OLD HOUSE - II PERKINS - III THE MAN FROM THE EAST - IV JEAN - V THE PAPER-KNIFE - VI GOD—OR DEVIL? - VII A MYSTERIOUS PEDDLER - VIII THE POWER OF THE UNKNOWN - IX THE ESCAPE - X A NIGHT OF TRAGEDY - XI A STRANGE CONFESSION - XII “I LOVE YOU!” - XIII THE SACRIFICE - XIV A BROKEN TILE - - - - - THE JADE GOD - - - - - The Jade God - - - - - CHAPTER I - THE OLD HOUSE - - -MR. JARRAD was a tall, lean man, with very quiet eyes, an observant air, -and an impassive face. His clothing was unobtrusive and seemed to have -arrived at that point of age at which clothing shows no further sign of -wear. He was standing near the fireplace of an old-fashioned, -oak-paneled room, and from his expression one might assume that he -beheld its entire contents at a glance. Presently he fingered a bowl on -the gray stone mantelpiece. - -“One blue six-inch Delft, slightly chipped in two places on the upper -edge,” he drawled. - -Another man, rather younger, somewhat fatter, was seated at a table. He -had something of Mr. Jarrad’s world-weary manner, but the process had -not been carried quite so far, and he looked rather less diffident. He -raised his eyes from a large book spread open before him and nodded. - -“On the upper edge,” he repeated mechanically. - -Mr. Jarrad put his ear to the clock. “One black marble timepiece, -apparently in good order, lower left-hand corner damaged, complete with -key. Keyhole slightly scratched.” - -“Yes, we have that.” - -The older man paused, took a swift inspection of his surroundings, -pulled in his lower lip, and nodded thoughtfully. “Matter of fact, Mr. -Dawkins, when I compare this room with several thousand others I’ve -inspected, I rather like it. Wouldn’t mind having it myself, and in our -profession that’s about as far as one can go.” - -Dawkins put down his pen. “I had an idea that by this time you were past -liking anything in the line of furnishings.” - -“Two twelve-inch pewter candlesticks, all feet bent. You’re not right -there. After thirty years of inventory work one sometimes becomes -thankful in a sort of negative way for the things one does not see. This -is one of those times. I generally look about, take the whole show in -with one squint, and ask myself why people commit such crimes. Did you -ever reflect how much humanity is run by things, just things?” - -“No, I haven’t, and I don’t think they are. Things have no influence, no -effect. They can’t run anything.” - -Mr. Jarad grunted, “Matter of fact, they do. You think again. The -getting together of things makes jobs for you and me in the first place. -Therefore they run us. There was no inventory work in prehistoric days. -And, apart from that, the collecting of them is the finish of at least -half the entire number of what we call civilized women.” - -Dawkins laughed. “It’ll never finish my woman. We haven’t got any to -speak of.” - -His companion nodded approvingly. “Keep on like that, if you can, and -you’ll do; but it isn’t as easy as you think. It’s the bargain that you -really don’t want here, and the job lot there—the gradual accumulation -of things—that makes life drag and anchors their souls as well as their -bodies. Stop and think a minute. First of all, when a girl is married -she starts collecting. Children may come, but she goes on with the -collecting in between. It takes her mind off the children. The -collection grows and grows. As a general rule about half the articles -are not ornamental, and about half are never used. That makes no -difference; she goes on. At middle age, Dawkins, they’ve got her; she’s -surrounded by them. Carved wood from Uncle John in Burma, Birmingham -brass from Egypt, assagais from her brother in Africa, deer heads from -Scotland, and perhaps an elephant’s foot from Ceylon, all as ugly as -ugliness can be. Some of these things may have certain virtues, -or”—here Mr. Jarrad hesitated a little—“or certain disadvantages, but -she can’t appreciate that, because they are lost in the general ruck. -After a while she dies; the new generation comes along, holds up its -hands, says what a frightful collection, throws it all out, and begins -the same process over again under new rules.” - -Having delivered himself of these sentiments, Mr. Jarrad indulged in a -smile that was a little quizzical. His face, though shrewd, had no touch -of cynicism, and this in spite of the fact that he had spent thirty -years in estimating other people’s property. This interminable -procession produced in his mind rather a curious effect, and he had -acquired the habit of estimating his fellow-men by the things the latter -owned and apparently treasured. Experience enabled him to form an -excellent appraisal of the individual by merely walking through his -house. He could visualize the owner. And if sometimes the job bored Mr. -Jarrad, he never disclosed it. - -“I said just now,” he went on with a wave of the hand, “that I rather -liked this room. These things are good and not too numerous. They -practically all fit. Of course they belong to Mr. Thursby, except the -portrait, but, if they could, I’ve an idea they’d sooner still be owned -by Mrs. Millicent. Mr. Thursby made his money very quickly during the -war, and Mrs. Thursby isn’t the kind to collect such as this.” He -touched a bit of lacquer with what almost amounted to a caress. “Ever -hear the story? It’s short, but not pretty. It rather got hold of me, -because there’s more in it than meets the eye.” - -Dawkins shook his head. “I’ve never been in this part before.” - -“Well, Mr. Millicent, who lived here for years with his wife and -daughter, died very suddenly in this very room. He was a strange, remote -sort of gentleman, so I’m told, and a great traveler. About middle age, -he was. Had a habit of sitting up late, reading and writing, enjoyed -perfect health, enough money to live on so far as people knew, and -apparently without an enemy in the world. At ten o’clock one evening he -was found lying across that desk with a wound in his throat big enough -to put your hand into.” - -“Why?” said Dawkins, startled. - -Mr. Jarrad shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what the coroner and the -local police and the London detective tried to find out, and failed. No -proof against any one; no strange characters about, no clues, nothing -found afterward, nothing whatever to go on; but it happened in this -sleepy old place where there’s nothing but roses and scenery. It’s never -been cleared up to this day, and probably never will be.” - -Dawkins glanced about rather uncomfortably. “Then the place was sold?” - -“Mrs. Millicent couldn’t get out quickly enough. The Thursbys came along -in their car, offered half its value, and got it. They said they didn’t -mind a murder or so if the drains were good. When they moved in they -intended to stay; but they moved out in less than six months, and I’m -told that Mrs. Thursby said that nothing on earth would induce her to -stay. Interesting, isn’t it?” - -“It’s a queer old house anyway. Not haunted, is it?” - -“I never heard a whisper of that, and it’s the sort of thing you can’t -keep quiet if tongues start wagging.” - -“I wonder,” murmured Dawkins reflectively, “if my client knows about -this.” - -Mr. Jarrad’s brows went up. “In our profession it does not concern us -what our clients may or may not know. Our business is to establish the -physical condition of a lot of infernally uninteresting things. But, -believe me, every house has its secret. We can’t report on that; we -can’t even read it, because we’re not there long enough.” - -Dawkins nibbled the end of his pen. “I wonder!” - -“Why not? Every room I go into seems to want to say something to me, -something it’s tired of keeping to itself, but I hurry through because I -don’t want to be burdened. When you’ve been an inventory clerk a few -years longer, it will come to you. You can’t escape it.” He paused, his -gaze traveling round the oaken walls, then peered under the clock, swung -out a picture, and examined the surface behind it. He touched this with -a moistened finger. - -“Condition in general I should say is excellent.” - -It struck the younger man that for some time he had been accepting Mr. -Jarrad’s conclusions without comment; so he got up and made a -businesslike inspection on his own account. - -“Only fair, I should say.” - -Mr. Jarrad made a little noise in his throat. “There’s not much to -disagree about. Shall we arbitrate?” - -“Of course!” - -The older man felt in his pocket, produced a coin, and tossed it. - -“Heads,” said Dawkins. - -“It’s tails,” Mr. Jarrad smiled blandly. “Make a note of that, will -you?” - -Dawkins moved back to the table and began to scribble. The next moment -he became aware that some one had entered the room and stopped short. -Mr. Jarrad was regarding a woman who stood just inside the door and -surveyed them with grim attention. Neither man had heard her come. Her -face was well formed but sallow; the chin rather square, the nose long -and thin. Her lips were immobile and slightly compressed. It was the -eyes that held the two appraisers, being large and black and filled with -a kind of slow, smoldering light. Her figure, tall, spare, and angular, -carried with it an odd suggestion of menace. Her air was one of distinct -animosity. Dawkins gave a slight start. A short silence followed, and he -wondered how long she had been there, also how much she had seen and -heard. - -“Mr. Derrick is just coming up the drive,” she said crisply. - -Mr. Jarrad rubbed his hands as though they were cold. - -“Excellent,” he replied with obvious relief. “My colleague and I have -just completed our work. I understand you are the housekeeper, Miss -Perkins?” - -“No, I am the housemaid; at least, I was.” - -“Then it may interest you to know that we find the place in admirable -condition.” - -Perkins seemed unimpressed, took a slow glance round the room, and -disappeared. Nor did Mr. Jarrad appear to expect any reply. Dawkins did -not speak but whistled softly. Since the history of this room had been -unfolded, it had become rather oppressive, and the sudden advent of this -strange woman added mysteriously to his uncomfortable sensations. He -experienced a swift longing for light and air. Mr. Jarrad had crossed to -the fireplace and was staring at an oil portrait over the hearth. -Presently he stroked his long chin. - -“That woman, I believe, came here soon after Mr. Millicent first came. -She was here when he died, then stayed with the Thursbys during their -occupancy, took charge of the house when they decided they had had -enough; and, Dawkins, I don’t mind betting she’ll stay with your clients -too, as long as they stay.” - -Dawkins gave an involuntary shiver. “What holds her in such a lonely -place?” - -“Every house has its secret,” said Mr. Jarrad. - -At this moment quick steps sounded in the hall, there was an echo of a -young, strong voice, and the new tenant of Beech Lodge entered the room. -Dawkins jumped up, while Mr. Jarrad assumed an air of professional -dignity. - -“Good afternoon, sir,” he said. “My colleague and I have just finished -our work, and you will be glad to know that all is in excellent order. -You may be assured that your interests have been well looked after.” - -Derrick, a tall young man with restless eyes, nodded casually. He did -not seem much impressed, being busy with a swift scrutiny of the study. -The mellow paneling, big fireplace, wide oak-planked floor, the large, -companionable desk, and the French window opening to the smooth lawn all -gave it an atmosphere at once restful and intimate. He felt as though he -could turn out good stuff here. Then he nodded contentedly. - -“Thanks very much, but I think you’d better see Miss Derrick about these -things.” - -Mr. Jarrad and Dawkins made two stiff little bows which were absurdly -alike and gathered up their papers. Derrick, left alone, moved -automatically to the fireplace and stood staring at the oil portrait. He -was in this attitude when his sister entered, short, alert, and -businesslike. He glanced at her with a slow, provocative smile. - -“Well, here we are. Am I forgiven for a snap decision?” - -“Really I don’t know yet. I’ve hardly seen the place, but it seems very -comfortable, and I know what took your eye. Isn’t getting settled an -awful feeling? When will the Thursbys be here?” - -He consulted his watch. “They should be here now; early in the -afternoon, Thursby said. Did you inquire about servants?” - -“Yes, and I wanted to speak to you about that maid. Did you notice her?” - -“Rather; who wouldn’t? She mesmerized me when I came here the first -time.” He laughed. “Do you want her?” - -“My dear Jack, the question is the other way. If you insist on renting a -house two miles from anywhere, the first thing to decide is whether your -prospective servants want you. As to this one I don’t exactly know. She -rather gives me the creeps.” - -“What’s the matter, old thing?” - -She sent him an odd smile in which there was no comfort. “I can’t say; -probably nothing at all but the move, and this house, and all the rest -of it. Jack, why were you so keen on it?” - -He looked about, almost as though he saw something more than pictures -and furniture. There was something more; he had been sure of that the -first time he put foot in the room, but it was not the sort of thing one -could explain or even justify. - -“I really don’t know,” he said slowly, “but I was, and without any -question. The rest of this house is what one might expect to find, but -this room, well, I took a special fancy to it, and here we are. That’s -about as much as you can expect from the ordinary man. I can do good -work here from the feel of the place.” - -She examined the study with curious interest. Comfortable? Yes. -Workmanlike? Yes. A man’s room with nothing in it that was not -completely livable. A few books in corner cases; a few good prints -framed in harmony with the walls; the big, flat desk, leather-covered as -to the center, with its dark mahogany edge showing long and careful -usage; the leather chairs, men’s chairs, large and inviting; the great -fireplace in its dull, oaken setting; all this dominated by the oil -portrait, from which a pair of quiet brown eyes looked out with a gaze -at once striking and contemplative. - -“But did you find anything unusual about this room?” - -“I’m not so sure now; but, yes, I did. You know my weakness for jumping -to conclusions.” - -Her brows wrinkled. “I’m glad you admit that at the very start. You were -tired with a flat in town, passed this place, and saw the sign. You -walked through it and fell a victim, as you often have before. The -immediate result is that we’ve made an extra effort to gratify your -whim, though I’m afraid it’s really more than we should have attempted. -You’ll be much happier, Jack, if you admit this at once.” - -“I do,” grinned Derrick, “but I’d never have fallen had I not a very -competent sister who I knew would save the situation. You’re quite -right, Edith; I really can’t afford it, but the place was dirt cheap.” - -“Well, I’m afraid it’s going to be something of the same sort with that -maid, who will want more than you can really afford to pay; just another -luxury we’ll have to live up to. In a lonely spot like this a servant -asks top wages; and we’ll need two.” - -Derrick hardly heard this. There was an odd little singing in his ears, -as though a myriad of tiny voices, long held silent, had suddenly found -a myriad of minute tongues. Well, he could wait for the rest. He went -back to his discovery of Beech Lodge, the inspection under the guidance -of its silent caretaker, the interview with the agent, and the growing -conviction that he must take this house at once. - -“How much does the maid ask?” he hazarded. - -“I don’t know. I’m almost afraid to inquire.” - -“She is a bit formidable,” he admitted; then, slowly, “I wonder whether -we’ve taken the house, or the house has taken us.” - -His sister glanced at him, puzzled. “I don’t quite follow; but isn’t the -result the same in either case?” - -He shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that.” - -Edith Derrick was prone to confess that she had never quite understood -her brother, but had so far maintained that she was better able to look -after him than any other woman. He was the only man in her life, and she -was not ready to surrender him; but of late the going had become more -difficult. She did, however, understand well enough not to attempt to -fathom his moods and with a certain placid good nature put them down to -the vagaries of the creative mind. - -For the past few months he had been caught up in the ambition to write -the one great book of his career. This would demand solitude and -concentration and, above all things, a garden of his own. So when he -returned from a prospecting trip and announced that the abode of his -dreams was discovered and secured, Edith packed their belongings and -journeyed into Sussex, determined not to be disappointed, yet prepared -for the worst. In Beech Lodge she found but little to criticize, so -little that she wondered mutely why the terms were so low. The place was -comfortable but to her in no way fascinating, and her chief thought was -of her own responsibilities in keeping the domestic wheels turning -smoothly. If there were anything else behind this, anything that -exercised a peculiar fascination on her brother, it would doubtless be -apparent later on. Meantime he was in one of his moods. She glanced at -the placid features above the mantel, wondering whose they were. - -“It’s quite obvious that Mr. John Derrick has one of his preoccupied -sensations to-day.” - -He nodded. “As a matter of fact I do feel a bit queer, but there’s no -anxiety in it, just the preliminary quiver to settling down.” He paused -and glanced at her oddly. “I had no alternative.” - -“From what?” - -“From coming here. I mean I was meant to come.” - -She smiled indulgently. The thing about him was that he was different -from all the men she knew. A good deal of the boy, a touch of the woman -in his gentle persistence, whimsical, sensitive, calling her to aid him -in a thousand ways he never saw, his mind open to winds of influence -that she could only guess at; how much and how constantly he needed her! -She admired his work, which she could not fully appreciate, and believed -him capable of anything. Something of this was in her look, and he put -an arm caressingly on her shoulder, then perched on the corner of the -big desk. - -“I think we’re going to be jolly happy and comfortable here, and I’ll -certainly get a lot of work done. That’s a man’s way of putting it, and -if you only—” - -He broke off suddenly, jerked up his hand, and stared at it strangely. -“Well, I’ll be dashed!” - -She bent forward quickly. “What’s the matter, Jack?” - -He flexed his fingers, shook his head with some confusion, and, turning, -leaned over and examined the big desk. “Don’t know,” he said awkwardly; -“probably only writer’s cramp; but it never took me before. Perhaps I’d -better get a typewriter, though I hate the things.” - -Edith was about to speak when there came an almost inaudible knock at -the door, and Perkins entered. - -“If you please, madam, Mr. and Mrs. Thursby are walking up the drive.” - -“Thank you; please bring them in here. And, Perkins—” - -“Yes, madam?” - -“It—it doesn’t matter now. I’ll see you afterward.” - -The woman went out, and Derrick glanced at his sister with genuine -curiosity. This was very unlike her. - -“I say, Edith, what’s up?” - -She blinked and pulled herself together. “Nothing at all, Jack.” - -“Don’t think of keeping that person if you don’t fancy her. There must -be others available.” - -“What an extraordinary expression she has! It made me feel a little -cold.” - -The coming of the Thursbys reduced the atmosphere of Beech Lodge to an -undoubted normal. Mr. Thursby was short, brisk, alert, and highly -colored both as to clothes and complexion. He spoke in a sharp staccato -voice that carried unfailing self-assurance. A manufacturer in a small -way before the war, he had seized opportunity with both hands and made -his fortune by sending in regular supplies of handgrenades, of which, -though they were unloaded when they left his works, he seemed at first -almost afraid. This uncertainty, however, soon left him, and after the -Armistice he made an excellent settlement in respect of partially -completed orders, winding up his business with a credit balance that -surprised even himself. - -And if her husband’s rotund person was eloquent of commercial success, -his feminine counterpart reflected no less this satisfactory -_dénouement_. She had a round, plump face; stubby and equally plump -fingers, weighted with rings of varying value and brilliancy; full, red -cheeks, and a penetrating, high-pitched voice. She wore all she could, -and on top of this a mountain of glossy furs. The Thursbys, man and -wife, reeked of money; but were naturally good-hearted people whom money -could not quite spoil. And from their present manner it would seem that -they were genuinely interested in Derrick and his sister. Mrs. Thursby -glanced round, nodded at the sight of familiar things, and settled -herself comfortably. - -“I’m very glad to meet you, Miss Derrick,” she said cheerfully, “and -isn’t it odd to come into one’s own house and find some one else sitting -there?” - -Miss Derrick smiled. “I suppose it is.” - -“I do hope you like the place, and if there’s anything I can tell you -about it you’re very welcome.” - -“It’s a good deal larger than I expected, but it seems very homelike, -and my brother evidently fell in love with it at first sight. The things -in it are charming.” - -“Glad they appeal to you, but as a matter of fact I chose hardly any of -them.” - -Mr. Thursby nodded complacently. “That’s so! I picked up the place just -at it stood, with practically everything in it. We were motoring past, -just like your brother, saw the sign, took a fancy, and bought it the -very next day. I don’t believe in haggling over prices when you see what -you want.” - -“And, what’s more, we took it over with the servants just as they stood, -too,” chimed in his wife. “The only trouble was that they stood too -much; in fact, all of them except Perkins.” - -“Really,” said Edith. - -“Yes,” replied Thursby genially, “she couldn’t get a job on the strength -of her looks, but I never knew a servant do so much work and make so -little fuss over it. The thing is to forget her face, if one can. How do -you like Beech Lodge, Mr. Derrick?” - -“Very much; but I suppose that since I’m the guilty party in taking it, -I couldn’t say anything else. This room appeals to me, especially.” - -As he said this, he intercepted a glance that Mr. Thursby darted at his -wife, and experienced a curious conviction that these two were trying -hard to conceal their satisfaction at having unloaded the house on some -one else. He saw the plump lady on the sofa shake her head ever so -slightly. Mr. Thursby stiffened, got a shade redder in the face, and his -eyes rested for a fraction of a second on the features over the mantel, -as though asking their late owner whether he required any publicity. The -features evidently telegraphed back that he did not. Whereupon Mr. -Thursby looked more genial than ever. - -“It’s a good, comfortable room,” he agreed, “but I generally used the -little one off the dining-room. It’s warmer.” - -Mrs. Thursby gave a slight shiver and regarded the Derricks with renewed -and unaffected interest. “I dare say it will sound very queer to you, -but neither of us cared much for this room. For my part I like something -brighter than old wood and old pictures. Never cared much for leather, -either.” - -Edith betrayed no surprise. She quite understood. But what did puzzle -her was that people of the Thursby type should ever have bought this -ancient mansion. - -“You weren’t here very long, were you?” she ventured. - -“Six months,” said Mr. Thursby; “six months, then we went off to France. -I wanted to see some of the places where they used my grenades.” - -“Did you make that stuff?” asked Derrick, amused. - -“Tons of it. Ever use them?” - -Derrick smiled. “Rather, but,” he put in hastily as his visitor -brightened and prepared to talk shop, “one doesn’t say anything on that -score now.” - -“I’d be awfully obliged if Mrs. Thursby would show me something about -the house up-stairs,” said Edith. - -Thursby laughed. “Your sister is as practical as my wife, Mr. Derrick, -so I’ll take the opportunity of showing you one or two things outside -that may be useful.” - -He seemed in an odd way glad to get out of the room, and Derrick -listened to a disquisition on roses and mulch, Thursby being an -authority on both. Beech Lodge had a reputation for its roses. - -Meanwhile Mrs. Thursby, left alone with her hostess, glanced at the -latter rather uncertainly. - -“As to Perkins, Miss Derrick, I really don’t know that I can tell you -very much. She isn’t the sort about whom one can say much.” - -“I’d really be very grateful for anything you can tell me. Might I ask -how long you had her?” - -“Only six months or so. We weren’t in the house any longer than that.” - -“Then did you ascertain anything about her before that? I mean, had she -satisfactory references?” - -Mrs. Thursby shook her head with what seemed unnecessary decision. “No, -we found her here, just as you found her, or your brother. She was -practically part of the house, and, looking back at it, I can’t imagine -the house without her. Of course she had been with Mrs. Millicent, whom -I have never seen, though she lives near here.” - -Edith experienced a sudden curiosity about the Millicents, but something -in Mrs. Thursby’s expression suggested that information on this subject -would be forthcoming before long. - -“And you found Perkins quite satisfactory? It would help me a good deal -to know, because, frankly, I don’t see what keeps a woman in such a -lonely spot.” - -“She is absolutely clean and superior, very superior. As for being -lonely, I saw no sign of it. She never once left the place, even to go -to the village.” - -Miss Derrick smiled. “That’s very good news, but I was just wondering if -she isn’t too superior for us. We’re going to live very quietly. My -brother can’t stand interruptions when he’s writing.” - -The other woman sent her a look of candid scrutiny, then shook her head. -“Miss Derrick, I’m going to tell you something that will sound queer, -but it’s perfectly true. Perkins will like you a good deal better than -she liked us. She made no pretense of that, though she was always most -respectful. But I felt it just the same. I got the idea, and still have -it, that she looked on us as intruders. I can’t for the life of me say -why such a thing should be, but there you are, and I know it seems -ridiculous. But Beech Lodge is too far from anywhere for its occupants -to be over particular about trifles, and I put the thing out of my -head—or tried to, anyway.” - -“That’s curious,” said Edith reflectively; “she seems very respectful.” - -“She’s the soul of respect, but I’m not sure what it’s for. Also she was -too reserved for me. And she appeared to be afraid she’d say too much -and let something slip she didn’t mean to. You asked about her -references, but as a matter of fact I hadn’t the cheek to inquire for -any, and took it for granted that she went with the house, whoever took -it. I didn’t even write to Mrs. Millicent.” - -“Who is Mrs. Millicent?” - -Edith put the question impulsively, and Mrs. Thursby’s eyes sought the -portrait that hung just above her head. She did not answer at once but -seemed to be debating how much she might say. When finally she did -speak, it was with a reluctance that was gradually overcome by the -interest of her subject. - -“We bought the place from her but only saw the agent. Mrs. Millicent -herself was ill at the time and on the south coast with her daughter. -Mr. Millicent had just died here, very suddenly, and she did not want to -come back. She’s never been back since.” - -“I didn’t know that,” said Edith slowly. - -“Yes, and it happened in this very room.” Mrs. Thursby spoke more -confidently now, warming a little, as though it was good to remember -that it was now some one else’s room. “Mr. Millicent was found at that -very desk and, I’m told, found by Perkins, who was devoted to him. Then -his wife put the house on the market at once.” - -Edith took a long breath. “I wish I’d known that,” she said -thoughtfully, “but I’m glad somehow that I’ve heard it at once.” - -“Would it have made any difference? I thought every one hereabouts knew -it. Didn’t Perkins say anything about it to your brother?” - -“Nothing whatever, and, Mrs. Thursby, please, I don’t want him to know -just yet. I hope your husband won’t say anything. Jack is so sensitive -and imaginative that it would divert him completely from his work, which -at the present is very important.” - -The stout woman laughed. “My husband is probably talking hard about -roses and garden-mold. He’s got that on the brain now instead of -grenades, and it’s much healthier. And if I were you I wouldn’t worry -about Mr. Millicent. So now you know how we found Perkins, and I must -say she kept the house spotless. But she was so quiet that it did get a -bit on my nerves. She went about as though expecting something or some -one, till I used to feel like asking her to shout out who or what it -was. And, as I said, she never liked me.” - -“How very strange!” - -“I’m afraid I’ve rather let myself go on the subject, but I’ve told you -all I know. It may be that Perkins likes things old and subdued like -this, while I confess that I like them more new and shiny. Perhaps -that’s why she wants to stay, if she does want to. I know how you can -find out without asking.” - -“How?” said Edith curiously. - -“If she smiles at you, it will be all right. She never smiled at me.” - -“I’m afraid I should need rather more than that.” - -Mrs. Thursby shook her head impulsively. “I don’t believe you will. It’s -a queer sort of house, if I do say it.” - -“Did you ever imagine it was haunted?” Miss Derrick knew the question -sounded childish, but it came out involuntarily. Much to her surprise -Mrs. Thursby took it quite seriously. - -“I did at first, but soon got over that. No, we’ve never been bothered. -There’s a bit of creaking now and then, but not more than in any house -of this sort, and certainly we never saw anything.” She paused, then -went on quite frankly. “The real reason I came here to-day was to see -whether it was likely that you and Perkins would hit it off, and if not -I would have advised you to get rid of her, if you could; but whether -the queerness is in the house or in her I really don’t know. It’s -somewhere, not the sort of thing that can hurt, but that one just feels -without knowing why.” She paused a moment. - -“As to your brother, I’d advise you to say nothing at all if he’s the -kind of man you describe. He’s bound to find out for himself. And if -you’re wondering, Miss Derrick, why we should have let you take the -house and then talk about it like this, the reason is that I may be -misjudging Perkins altogether, and the whole affair may just be the -result of my own imagination. Don’t take any notice of her, and -everything should be all right. Now tell me: does it seem to you that -I’ve said a lot of foolish things?” - -“Not at all. I think you’ve been extremely kind, and, if I may say so, -very honest, and it should all help very much, especially with Perkins. -My brother had to have a quiet place to work in, and this should do -admirably. I really don’t believe in ghosts; neither does he.” - -“He’ll find it quiet enough here,” replied Mrs. Thursby significantly. - -Voices sounded in the hall, and Derrick entered with his landlord. He -looked pleased, as though Beech Lodge had revealed unexpected -attractions. - -“We’re going to have lots of roses next summer, Edith. Never saw a -better lot of trees. Mr. Thursby has shown me everything. Place out -there I can work in, too, when the decent weather comes.” - -Edith nodded. “How very nice!” She turned to Mrs. Thursby. “One of my -principal duties is to keep out of the way of a toiling author, yet to -be on hand when wanted. Jack has always pictured himself working in a -garden. Now we’ll have some tea.” - -“That’s true, but who’s going to look after the roses? What about your -late gardener, Mr. Thursby? Is he available for a man of moderate -means?” - -“I’m afraid I don’t know where he is. There should be somebody in the -village who’d like the job.” - -“And I’m sorry we can’t stay for tea,” put in his wife; “we have rather -a long way to go.” She stole a glance at the portrait, her expression -suggesting to Edith that there were already too many in the room. - -“So thanks just the same,” said Thursby, “but as a matter of fact we -have to be back in town within the hour, and that means hustling. We’re -off to France for a while next week, but not the battle-fields this -time. If you’re ready, Helen, we’ll make a start now. Good-by, Miss -Derrick, and I hope you’ll be comfortable. My agent will look after any -repairs, if you let him know. It may be we’ll pass here again, and if so -I’ll drop in. And I want to read that book when it comes out.” - -He spoke so abruptly that Miss Derrick was a little startled and felt -now that while Mrs. Thursby had told her a good deal it was probably not -all. Her first impulse was to betray nothing to her brother. - -“Can’t you really stay for a few minutes? Tea is ready.” She rang the -bell. - -“We’d love to,” Mrs. Thursby assured her hastily. “But it’s quite -impossible. I hope we’ll have better luck next time.” She put out a -plump hand. - -Derrick indulged in a puzzled glance. The manner of their departure was -unmistakably hasty. He intercepted another wordless signal and felt -suddenly amused. - -“Would you like tea in the other room?” he hazarded. - -The little man shook his head with decision. “It isn’t that at all, I -assure you.” Then the door opened, and Perkins stood motionless on the -threshold, her eyes fixed on Miss Derrick. She seemed unaware there were -others present. Mrs. Thursby busied herself with her gloves and did not -look up. - -“You rang, madam?” - -“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Thursby are not staying for tea.” - -Derrick had a strange conviction that Perkins knew this without being -told, but the severe face of the maid changed not at all. She -disappeared into the hall, followed shortly by the young man and his -visitors. There were a few words of good-by and a final assurance that -Beech Lodge would be found homelike and comfortable. Edith looked after -them in silent wonder. Why were they so anxious to leave? The excuse had -sounded something more than hollow. The whole affair had been queer and -unnatural. Then she too stared at the portrait, as though asking what it -all meant. Presently sounded the horn of a car and the dwindling note of -an engine. - -Derrick came back, and she regarded him expectantly. How much of it had -he caught? It was the dream of his life to write his biggest book in a -place like Beech Lodge. But he was sensitive, imaginative, and -subjective, and she dreaded the impression this strange and mysterious -atmosphere might produce. The uncertainty made her feel a little cold. - -“Well, that’s done!” he said, rubbing his hands. “And I’ve nothing more -to learn about the grounds. Thursby must have spent a good deal of money -on the place. It’s odd that he left it, because in a way he seems still -keen on it. Funny chap, that. He was almost apologetic about what he had -done in the way of improvements. Anyway, here we are in full -possession.” - -“That’s just what I feel, and, Jack, I do hope it will be just what you -want.” - -“It is absolutely. I know that already, if you don’t find it too slow -and remote. I’m a bit guilty on that score. I suppose there are some of -the right sort in the neighborhood, and the Millicents are not far off. -Did you learn anything satisfactory about that maid?” - -“Yes,” she said slowly. “Mrs. Thursby’s report is that she’s very -competent and trustworthy and possibly willing to do the whole thing -herself. So I think I’ll keep her if she’ll stay.” - -“Good. I thought you would. A bit out of the common, that woman.” - -The door opened as he spoke, and Perkins came in with the tray. The two -glanced at each other, and watched her silently. The long, deft fingers -moved with a sort of definite precision, lingering over the silver as -though the touch of it conveyed an actual pleasure. This deliberate -procedure was marked by a noiseless precision. One could not imagine a -woman like this making a mistake. Her face, absolutely impassive, -betrayed nothing. While she was in the room she seemed part of it, and -from her there spread something that almost suggested ownership. Then -she went out, as silent as themselves. Derrick sat up. - -“By George!” he said softly. - -“What is it, Jack?” - -He laughed. “Hanged if I know yet; something in the air. Probably it’s -only the new and rather ideal surroundings that set one’s fancy going. -You don’t feel anything, do you?” - -“Only that I want my tea dreadfully. I had quite a talk with Mrs. -Thursby.” - -“What sort is she? Like her husband?” - -“I should think so. Limited, you know, but doesn’t put on airs and is -very honest apparently. She actually said that Perkins made her feel -like an intruder but that it would be different with us. She says we -suit Beech Lodge better than they did. It was rather pathetic.” - -He put down his cup. “I can easily imagine that. The people who -modernized Beech Lodge are our own sort and have a good deal in common -with us. For instance, when the Thursbys picked up the place I don’t -believe they were meant to, or expected. It’s different now. We were. I -knew that as soon as I stepped into the hall.” - -“Don’t be absurd, Jack! Expected by whom?” - -“Perkins, for one, and no doubt by other people, or things; it doesn’t -matter which, but I’m sure of it.” - -“Jack,” she protested. “You’re rambling!” - -“Well,” he answered slowly, “you just remember this talk, and see. We -blend with the place, we’re suitable and acceptable, while the Thursbys -were not. That’s obvious at a glance, and they certainly felt it -themselves.” - -“But how could we be expected by any one who didn’t know us? You can’t -explain that.” - -He looked at her with sudden gravity. “Did you never have a curious -sensation that you were doing things for the second time?” - -“Now you’re joking. Have some more tea?” - -“No,” he said, “I’m not, and there’s no explanation for it. In fact I’ve -an idea that they’re not meant to be explained; at least not yet. But I -felt it the minute I got here.” - -“But, Jack,” she protested, “you saw the house; you liked it, especially -as you couldn’t quite afford it; and of course you were impulsive and -took it. What has that to do with a servant, or any one else?” - -“Perhaps nothing whatever. It’s a wonderful place to work in.” - -“I think that’s the best way to look at it. What did Mr. Thursby talk -about?” - -“Mostly roses and mulch.” He broke off suddenly, regarding his sister -with an intense and puzzled expression. “I’ve an extraordinary -impression that some one died in this room not long ago; some one who -didn’t want to die and wasn’t ready for it.” - -“What do you mean?” she stammered. “Please, Jack, don’t go off on that -tack the very day we reach here. You’ll never get anything done.” - -“I mean just that; I’m perfectly sure some one did. Perkins will know, -and, I say, perhaps that’s what—” - -“Jack,” she interrupted hastily, “please leave Perkins to me. When Mrs. -Thursby was here she said that there was a sudden death in this room -about two years ago, and—” - -“Millicent?” he shot out. - -“Yes,” she said helplessly. - -“Murdered?” - -“I assumed that. He was found at his desk. Mrs. Thursby seemed to want -to say more, and yet not want to.” Miss Derrick paused, aware of her -brother’s penetrating gaze. He would soon know it all in any case, and -perhaps it was wisest to clear the air as much as possible at the -outset. - -“Now I understand why the rental asked was so low,” she continued. “The -Thursbys simply got frightened. But I’m astonished you asked no -questions on your account.” - -He shook his head and stared at the portrait. “The questions will come -later on. I haven’t got them ready yet. By the way, Edith, that’s -Millicent over the fireplace. He’s been trying to tell me something ever -since we came into the house; what you call a speaking likeness. Now -I’ve got it, and he’s trying to smile.” - -“I wish you wouldn’t go on like that, Jack. Please don’t.” - -“It’s nothing in the world to be nervous about. This sort of thing is -going on all the time around all of us. Some see it, and others don’t.” - -“But how did you know?” she asked nervously. - -“Can’t tell you that; it’s not a matter of reason or information. Some -people call it the influence of the inanimate, which is rather a bald -way of putting it. I’ve got the idea that it’s the permanence of things -that are universally put down as lost, or at any rate as only transient. -Just imagine, for instance, that nothing is really lost, but that -everything, every act and motion, and even word, is registered in some -kind of extraordinarily delicate vibration, so delicate that it is quite -imperceptible to the average person. But the record is there -nevertheless; in fact the entire universe is throbbing and quivering -with such records that he who can may read, or at least perceive. Go a -little further and admit that the more tense the act or word the more -keen the pitch of the ethereal record, and one begins to appreciate what -is really implied by what we call coincidence, and how it is that often, -after many years, mysteries are solved that long baffled any approach to -solution. It really means that some one was sensitive enough to decipher -the record that was always there. I’ve an idea it may turn out like that -in the case of Millicent. And when you ask me how I knew some one died -suddenly in this room, I can’t answer in any other way than this. I just -knew; that’s all.” - -Edith felt utterly confused. She was a practical girl, with a healthy -dislike of anything that might upset the normal progress of every-day -affairs, and for years had stood between her brother and the drab -realities of life, in order that his fancy might have untrammeled swing. -Imagination, either on her own part or that of others, had never -heretofore caused her any discomfort. She admitted its value, but the -process by which it worked was beyond her. Now, however, she experienced -a sudden distaste for her new surroundings. Derrick’s eyes had taken on -an intense, far-pitched stare as though he were probing things beyond -her own ken. He seemed to be moving away from her. - -“I wonder if I’m going to like this house,” she hazarded. - -He pulled himself together and laughed. “Buck up, old thing, and you -mustn’t mind if I wander a bit. It’s too late to take exceptions after -signing a year’s lease.” - -She glanced at him seriously and a little anxiously. “It’s only that -you’ve been in a sort of half-world ever since we got here. Now I must -settle this matter of Perkins.” - -“Right! And I’ve got to find a gardener. And look here, Edith; speaking -of half-worlds, isn’t it possible that that’s about all we get in any -case—the obvious half?” - -“Don’t be so introspective, and see if you can’t find something cheerful -outside. And, Jack, will you ask Perkins to see me here?” - -He kissed her and strolled to the door. “If I may make a foolish manlike -suggestion it would be that when you’re talking to Perkins you try to -imagine this place without her. I’ve tried and failed. I’ll send her -in.” - -She sat for a moment, deep in thought, till very soon it seemed there -was nothing to be anxious about after all. Her brother’s fanciful mind -had merely unearthed something which he must inevitably have discovered -before long. The mystery might hold him for a few days, till his -restless imagination moved on elsewhere. It had always been like that in -the past. The fact that Millicent died here two years ago could mean -nothing to new tenants. All houses were built to live and die in. Beech -Lodge was charming and well arranged, and they had leased it on nominal -terms. It was true that the terms were, perhaps, suspiciously nominal, -but she pushed this thought aside to make room for others more helpful -and constructive. She confessed to being piqued with herself for giving -any evidence of discomfort, and would in future take less notice of her -brother’s whimsical ideas. Then she looked up and saw Perkins. - -“You sent for me, madam?” - -Miss Derrick regarded her with absorbed interest. How old was this -woman? At first appearance she seemed never to have been young, but her -smooth skin and straight figure suggested that she could not be much -past forty. It was the grave, inscrutable face that baffled. It carried -no trace of expression and revealed no play of the mind. In the dark -eyes moved a kind of secret light, quickening at times into a fleeting -gleam that was instantly extinguished. In these moments Perkins appeared -to receive communications from a source privy to herself, messages that -illumined a nature of which the outer world knew but little; and, save -for these occasional and passing glimpses, her face was like a mask. -Miss Derrick, held for an instant voiceless by something she could not -understand, wondered what sort of private life had been led by a woman -who looked like this. The pause lengthened, but Perkins stood, passive -and undisturbed. - -“I’ve had a talk with Mrs. Thursby,” said Edith rather stiffly, “and she -mentioned you. It was quite satisfactory.” - -“Yes, madam.” - -The flatness of her tone announced that it was immaterial what Mrs. -Thursby might have said. Obviously the latter meant nothing to Perkins. -There was no superiority in her manner; just a total lack of interest. - -“So if you would like to stay now, I would be very glad to have you.” - -Perkins’s thin lips moved ever so slightly, and the faintest trace of a -smile flitted over the blank features. She made a little gesture that -put her late employer definitely out of the reckoning. - -“I always stay, madam,” she said quietly. - -Edith stared at her. “Why always? I don’t quite understand.” - -“I came here to Mrs. Millicent, and”—here there was again the ghost of -a smile—“I even stayed with Mrs. Thursby, and I’m quite willing to stay -with you. People come and go, but nothing has really changed.” - -This announcement was made with such calmness that Miss Derrick found -herself for a moment robbed of speech. Whoever came or went, this woman -would always be at Beech Lodge, no more detachable than the roof which -covered it. Jack had suggested that his sister try to imagine the place -without Perkins, and now she saw what he meant. She began to recognize -herself as part of a procession which passed before the sphinx-like eyes -of this house-parlor-maid, a procession to which the woman ministered in -order that she might live, but to which she revealed no fraction of her -inner self. It was strange to be thus classified. But what was the -alternative? - -“I am glad you are so fond of the house,” she said uncertainly; “and now -it comes to a matter of wages.” - -Perkins’s eyes wandered to the portrait over the mantel. Wages, it -seemed, were the last thing in her mind. “There will be no difficulty -about that, madam.” - -Miss Derrick leaned forward involuntarily. “I don’t quite understand. -They are very important, to me.” - -“I mean, madam, that I don’t ask for high wages.” - -Miss Derrick, though greatly puzzled, breathed a sigh of relief. “The -most I can pay is forty pounds a year. And of course there’s a cook to -be found. Can you help me there?” - -Perkins’s face softened a shade. “Forty pounds will be quite sufficient, -and you will not need a cook.” - -“But are you sure you can do it all?” Miss Derrick felt distinctly -bewildered. - -“Yes, madam.” The woman said this with so complete a finality that the -subject closed forthwith. It was something more than mere competency. -There was no spark of animation in her expression. Her attitude -suggested that while household duties were unavoidable they were also of -a secondary character, and the conversation was becoming pointless. -Edith wondered whether some personal tragedy were not hidden behind this -immutable barrier and experienced a throb of sympathy at the narrowness -of such a life. - -“You see, Perkins, I realize that you are taking on a good deal of work. -You must not overtax yourself.” - -“It is only work of the hands, madam.” - -The new mistress of Beech Lodge shifted her ground hastily. “Is this -house very old?” - -“This room is the oldest part; about two hundred years, I think.” - -“You must have got very fond of the place.” - -The woman looked slowly about. Her lips were slightly parted, and her -eyes were full of shadows, like the eyes of those who know exactly what -they are about to see. Something might have been passing from her to -those mellow panels in exchange for some other communication she was -drawing from them. - -“I have been here for eight years, madam; and it may be that the place -has got fond of me.” She said this with a subtle change in her tone, as -though for an instant she had lifted a corner of a curtain in order to -test the other woman’s perception of what lay beyond. - -“I can’t quite follow you there, Perkins.” - -“No, madam? It doesn’t matter.” - -Miss Derrick remembered what Mrs. Thursby had said about wanting to tell -the woman to shout out whatever was in the back of her head and have -done with it. It was understandable now, and she felt the same desire. -The difficulty was going to be to regard Perkins simply as a maid and -not a creature of mystery. Again she tried to think of Beech Lodge -without her, and again she failed. - -“I’m afraid you must have been very lonely here, especially after Mr. -Thursby left.” - -“I was never alone, madam. That is—” She broke off in strange -confusion. “I never feel lonely.” - -Miss Derrick shivered in spite of herself. She perceived something now; -but it was only a curtain, with no suggestion of what was behind. A -thought darted through her brain. She recalled the strange manner of -Mrs. Thursby, her restlessness, her obvious desire to get away, -especially from this room. Mrs. Thursby had felt like an intruder, that -round-faced, good-natured, unimaginative woman. Perhaps all were -intruders here except Perkins, even Millicent himself. At the -recollection of Millicent her pulse faltered. Perhaps that was why -Millicent had been—She forced herself to speak evenly. - -“Perkins, will you please be quite candid with me and say whether you -have ever seen anything in this house which—which should not be here?” - -The black eyes rounded. “I do not understand.” - -“Have you ever seen what you thought was a ghost? I know there are no -such things, but some people think they see them.” - -“There are no ghosts here, madam.” She shook her head slowly. “I would -know if there were.” - -“Then will you explain what you meant when you said you were never -alone?” - -Perkins made the same slight indefinite gesture. “I’m sorry I said that, -madam, and it was foolish of me. It’s only my fancy and doesn’t mean -anything. Perhaps it’s my way of filling up empty hours, and sometimes I -say things without thinking. You surprised me, because Mrs. Thursby -never asked me any questions like that.” - -Miss Derrick pulled herself together. “Well, Perkins, perhaps you’re -quite right, and it really doesn’t matter. I suppose it’s the strange -house and the feeling of not being settled that makes one curious about -all kinds of things. When you’ve had your tea please come up-stairs, and -I’ll show you about the linen. Also I hope you’ll help me all you can to -make matters go smoothly in the house, on account of Mr. Derrick’s -writing. It’s important he should be disturbed as little as possible. -And,” she added genially, “please don’t fill your head with fancies -about never having been alone.” - - - - - CHAPTER II - PERKINS - - -MISS DERRICK left the room, and Perkins stood motionless as though she -welcomed its silence. Her eyes took on a strange expression as she -scanned this apartment, with every least detail of which she was utterly -familiar. The paneling ran nearly to the ceiling, and was topped by a -narrow shelf. The west wall was dominated by the fireplace, and in the -corner, placed at a slight angle from the wall itself, was the big desk. -Sitting there, one looked not out through the French window, but almost -directly at the door from the main hall. The desk was already littered -with Derrick’s manuscript, and toward it Perkins moved as in a dream. - -She put one thin hand on the smooth leather surface, then bent over the -massive frame, searching, it seemed, in the manner of one who hopes she -may not find. Her attitude suggested that she had done this many times -before, and always with the same result; but it did not affect the swift -and silent touch with which she fingered the heavy mahogany corners and -deep, carved molding of its intricate design. Presently she shook her -head with a sort of patient resolution and turned on the portrait a look -of extraordinary inquiry, as though Millicent’s eyes, peering from the -pigment, could have directed her—if they only would. The picture might -have been alive, so keen was her regard, so expectant of an answer. - -Evening had drawn on, and the study became peopled with soft mysterious -shadows in which she stood like a priestess before some half-veiled -shrine. She made no movement toward the lamp but in the gloom progressed -without a sound from point to point, with here and there a lingering -touch to furniture and woodwork. These intimate caresses blended her the -more completely with all that surrounded her till she was merged and -absorbed into the bodily human presentment of wood and stone. Finally -she came directly under the portrait, bent her head in an attitude of -profound thought, and remained quite motionless. She was standing thus -when the front hall door opened and Derrick’s whistle sounded cheerily -outside. - -At that the maid smiled to herself with sudden pleasure, crossed the -room swiftly, and became occupied with the tea-tray. Derrick entered. He -did not see her at first and started at a slight rattle of china. - -“Jove, Perkins, you made me jump! I thought you were part of the room.” - -She did not answer. He sent her a quick searching glance, stood by the -mantel, and, taking out his pipe, watched her silently. How amazingly -she fitted into everything! No, he could not imagine Beech Lodge without -this woman. - -“You will want to work now, sir?” - -He nodded. “Yes, I think I will”; then, suddenly, “I say, how did you -know I wanted to work?” - -She gave a queer, twisted smile, the first he had seen on that ageless -face—a strange and almost grotesquely communicable look, with which she -stepped at once from the rôle of servant and became a sort of -administrator of something yet to be explained. But there was no lack of -respect in her manner. - -“I thought perhaps you might, sir.” - -She took out the tray and, returning in a moment, adjusted the heavy -curtains over the French window. He watched her light the desk-lamp and -turn it low, feeling rested and soothed by every deft and noiseless -movement. His senses were comforted by the indescribable certainty of -her touch, which gave him an extraordinary feeling of confidence—in -something. And Perkins must know what this was. Presently he went to the -desk and fingered his manuscript. It struck him that what he had already -written was a little unreal and undirected. It didn’t go deep enough. - -“Shall I make up the fire, sir?” - -“No, thank you. It’s not worth while till after dinner. But I’d like the -lamp higher.” - -She came slowly toward him. “Have you really seen this room by -firelight, sir?” - -He looked at her curiously and instantly pictured this ancient chamber -with warm shadows flickering over its mellow casements. Depth and -warmth; that’s what it would be, had always been. He knew this much. - -“Perhaps you might make up the fire after all. Good suggestion!” - -She obeyed, and he watched the effect—more fascinating than he had -imagined. The study took on a new and ghostly beauty. Its dancing -shadows were populous with fantasy that died and was born while he -stared. There were tenants of the past here that no change of ownership -could ever displace; reminders of spoken things that had drifted from -vanished lips; echoes of songs whose lilt had never become silent. It -had ceased to be a room. It was a palace of dream and vision. And in the -background stood Perkins. - -“By George!” he said under his breath. - -“I thought you’d like it, sir.” - -She was half invisible, and he started violently. “It’s wonderful, but I -expected that.” - -“Yes, it’s strange how one can tell.” - -He glanced at her, as though he had known her all his life. “There is -something about this room, and I felt it the first time I came in. How -old is it?” - -“It has no age, sir.” - -Derrick did not seem surprised. “I thought you’d say that.” He paused; -then as though resuming some previous talk, “Who else has felt it?” - -“Only Mr. Millicent since I came here, and his daughter. It was -different with Mrs. Millicent, and she was frightened.” - -“I think I understand that, too. Was this his favorite room?” - -“Yes, that is his desk. I think that at the end he was frightened as -well.” - -“And you found him. How was that?” - -She made an indefinite gesture. “They sent for me.” - -Again he felt nothing of surprise. “Yes, because they had seen and knew. -But why did you stay here after it happened?” - -Perkins took one long, uncertain breath. “I did go away for a week, but -I couldn’t stay. It was all silent in London where I went. Then I knew -that it—that they would not let me remain away, so I had to come back.” -She gazed round this well-remembered room and seemed to signal that she -acknowledged its potency. - -Derrick looked at the littered desk and into the mask-like face. Her -eyes were alight now, and not those of a lonely woman. She was, as it -were, surrounded by friends. He wondered if they would ever be his -friends. - -“Do you mind talking like this? I think I understand, but most people -wouldn’t.” - -“It makes me happier. For two years there have been no living words -about it. I could never find any one who understood at all since it -happened, and Miss Millicent would not speak.” She hesitated, and sent -him the faintest smile. “For the last two days the house has been -amused.” - -“How?” he demanded. Beech Lodge seemed to be stirring about him, and -with slow palpitations of a monstrous life, throbbing in one vast pulse -on which Perkins kept a cool, knowledgeable finger. It moved and -breathed. - -“It was at the men who came to take the inventory. They were such -children; though one of them, and he was quite old, guessed at something -in a general way. The other could never hear or see anything.” - -He nodded and, turning, caught a yellow flicker that touched the -portrait into a strange similitude of life. Millicent’s eyes were -speaking now, strange things to which he had no key. But only for a -little while. The key was not far away. There came over Derrick the -profound conviction that this was all arranged. It belonged to the cycle -of appointed things. The stage was all set. If he could but keep his -ears tuned to the elusive vibrations that permeated this solitary -dwelling, he might decipher its mystery. And Perkins was part of it. - -“Is that like Mr. Millicent?” - -She nodded, with no surprise that he should know whose portrait it was. -“Yes, and there was something about him very like you, sir. Not in -appearance, but the other thing. He once told me that he began to hear -and understand a little while he was a child. They commenced to talk -before he left his first school. I’m glad, sir, that Miss Derrick does -not understand.” - -“How do you know that?” - -“Because she told me not to be lonely, as if one could. She thinks I’m a -little mad, and that’s why I’m willing to stay here and not ask high -wages.” - -He did not answer, beginning now to perceive why he had been led to this -isolated spot. Millicent stared down at him, and he was persuaded that -from the picture proceeded a thin appeal for help—or was it for -revenge?—Millicent whose life had been so suddenly snuffed -out—Millicent who had been afraid before he died. Afraid of what? - -“You’re not afraid too, sir, are you? It’s no use if you are.” - -He shook his head, scanning thoughtfully the books, the prints, the dull -paneling, and heavy oaken floor. - -“You believe,” he said slowly, “that all this has sucked in year after -year something from mortality, something that is never quite lost, till, -in time, wood and stone and paper become something much more than this, -and radiate back to us, if we can only catch it, the wisdom and courage -and love and evil they have so long absorbed. You believe all this, -Perkins?” - -Her eyes opened wide, filling with a strange light. She was no longer an -impassive, middle-aged woman, the servant of the house, but a creature -vibrant with feeling, as one who has unleashed her soul. Her lips moved -inaudibly, as at some mystic shrine. - -“Wisdom and courage and love and evil,” she repeated in an awed whisper. -“Yes, yes, that’s it, all of it. Last time it was evil in Beech Lodge. -The evil had been here for months and years, growing stronger and -stronger. It began when Mr. Millicent got back from the East, and it -never stopped. I tried to silence it but failed, and then it silenced -him. The evil was too strong.” - -“But it’s over now,” said Derrick steadily. - -“No, it’s here yet, in this room,” she pointed to the portrait. “He -knows. He’s been trying to tell me but cannot.” - -“From whom does it come?” - -“Wait, sir; you’re not ready yet. Nothing is quite ready, but it will be -soon. That’s why you came. The others will come, too.” - -He experienced a remarkable sensation of having lost all physical -weight, and seemed to catch a low singing note as of a myriad of tiny -voices, the far murmur of those who approached from the unknown. He -could see Perkins, still motionless, and feel his own body, but this had -no significance. As the wireless operator tunes his set till it -abstracts from the invisible only that which is carried by its own -individual wave-length and remains unaffected by all others, so Derrick -began to pick up a series of vibrations that in a queer and remote -fashion he recognized, but could not as yet interpret. Then he caught -his own tones. - -“So this air is full of that which can never die or disappear, and may -save or destroy as it is written. It destroyed Millicent and may be the -undoing of others unless it is brought to naught.” - -“How else could it be?” Perkins covered her pale face, bent her head, -and disappeared. - -Derrick stared at the portrait, his features transfigured with something -that was not altogether wonder. It was all unreal yet enormously real. -What surprised him most was that he should be admitted so readily to -this “no man’s land” where mystery, like a cloaked figure, moved among -the shadows of tragedy. How much was here? How much of it was his own -fancy? Who was the real Millicent, the man within the man who had been -afraid before he died? How and why did Millicent die? Did evil take on -an embodiment and, emerging like an apparition from the unknown, butcher -him where he sat? Derrick pictured him, shrinking back into his chair -with starting eyes while something moved closer, closer. And then— - -A knock sounded at the door. - -“If you please, sir, the inventory men would like to come in for a -moment.” The impassive mask had fallen over her face again. - -“Eh! I thought they had finished.” He spoke jerkily, aware that the -study had suddenly become void and silent. “All right, they may come.” - -A shuffle of footsteps in the hall, and Mr. Jarrad entered -deferentially, hat in hand. He was followed by Dawkins. The younger man -looked amused, and a trifle superior. - -“I beg pardon for disturbing you like this, sir, but on looking over our -notes I find that my colleague has omitted to make an entry concerning -this desk.” - -“Anything the matter with the desk?” asked Derrick curiously. - -“No, sir, it’s merely the point of its physical condition, which would -naturally affect any possible question of dilapidations. When I examined -it I noticed a large stain on the leather, quite faint and dull. It’s -the sort of thing one generally finds on desks of this character, -especially when there happen to be young people in the family. I did not -detect it till for some reason I made a second inspection. Now it seems -that either I did not mention this for record or, if I did, my colleague -failed to make the entry. So with your permission I’ll show it to him.” - -Derrick felt no surprise. “Certainly,” he said mechanically. “Do you -need more light?” - -Mr. Jarrad shook his head, advanced to the desk, reverentially moved a -sheaf of manuscript, put on his glasses, and bent low over the glossy -surface. Dawkins stood at his elbow looking openly incredulous. - -“I can’t see anything, just the same,” said the latter, “and a stain is -a stain.” - -Mr. Jarrad shifted the lamp and peered hard. “Curious,” he murmured to -himself. “How very curious! I could have sworn that—ah—there, my -friend,” he nodded with satisfaction, “you can see it now. It seems a -little more difficult to place than the last time, but there it is, and -quite large.” He ran a thin finger over an irregular outline. “In a -certain light it might be almost invisible. Very faint, I admit, but -surely your young eyes are as sharp as my glasses?” - -Dawkins scrutinized, nodded, mumbled an apology, and made an entry in -the large book. Mr. Jarrad turned to Derrick. - -“That’s what I referred to, sir, and it’s not my habit to overlook small -things. The foundation of a sound inventory business is system plus what -might be called perception.” - -“Perception?” - -“Yes, sir. It involves a certain amount of sensitiveness, strange as -that may sound, and the ability to perceive and record what is usually, -in fact one might almost say always, missed by the casual observer. It’s -not altogether a matter of training, either, but of instinct. Possibly -there’s not one man in a hundred who would have spotted that; and if I -were fanciful, sir, I would hazard the opinion that the desk was trying -to hide it, which is of course absurd. In fact, though I see that you -yourself have been sitting here, I am sure you did not observe it. Thank -you, sir, and good night! We’ll be of no further trouble now.” - -This oration being delivered in his very best manner, and the dignity of -his profession thus established, Mr. Jarrad retired. When the steps died -out, Derrick looked for himself. Close under the lamp he discerned a -shadowy blotch of irregular shape, a rough pool with a tone a shade -darker than the leather. It had apparently been subjected to hard -rubbing. It was a discoloration of no particular hue, but as he gazed he -knew without doubt that it had been made two years previously by the -life-blood of Henry Millicent. - - - - - CHAPTER III - THE MAN FROM THE EAST - - -A WEEK passed at Beech Lodge, while Derrick endeavored to get down to -work; but in spite of every effort, progress seemed impossible. Ideas, -when they came, were illusory; his characters imbued themselves with -strange aspirations and qualities, and plot after plot was displaced by -the secret but constantly strengthening conviction that this novel was -not, for the present at any rate, the most important thing in life. More -than ever he was fascinated by Millicent’s study and the nameless -advances seemingly made by the portrait of its late owner, and sat at -the big desk for hours, fingering his pen, grasping at thoughts that -continually eluded him. By the end of the second week he was assured -there was something the dead man wanted him to do. - -Of all this he said nothing to Edith, and it was a relief to know that -she was of too practical a nature to harbor imaginings similar to his -own. Her days were spent in settling down, and he agreed thankfully with -all she proposed, stipulating only that the study itself should remain -absolutely undisturbed. That room, he announced with an air of great -contentment, had been designed and equipped to suit his particular -fancy. When he said this it seemed that the portrait of Millicent -signaled its silent approval. - -It was one evening when he was at the desk, trying as usual to classify -his own thoughts, that Edith looked up from the book in her lap. - -“Jack,” she said suddenly. - -He put down his pen with relief. There were whispering shadows in the -corner, and one could not work to-night. - -“Yes, what is it?” - -“Will you tell me something, quite honestly?” - -He smiled and nodded. “It’s no particular effort to be honest with you. -What am I suspected of now?” - -She glanced into the leaping fire, and turned with a quick, familiar -motion. “How’s the book going? I do so want to know.” - -“It isn’t making what one would call absolutely triumphant progress. -It’s generally that way at first. Then later on you realize that you’ve -done far more than you thought, and the happy issue is in sight.” - -“Do you know yet whether Beech Lodge is as good a place to work in as -you expected?” - -“I think it is, quite,” he said slowly. “It’s a new atmosphere, and one -doesn’t get it at once, but whatever I write here will be different -and”—he hesitated an instant—“I think stronger than anything I’ve done -yet. I can see that already.” - -“I’m glad you haven’t any second thoughts about the place.” - -“But I have, quite a lot. They’re not sorted out yet. What about you? -Too busy to think at all?” - -She glanced at him oddly. “I’ve been trying to be too busy but haven’t -quite succeeded.” She said this with a touch of reluctance, as though -confessing to some feminine weakness. - -“I hope they’re pleasant thoughts.” - -“Not altogether, Jack. Sometimes they’re queer and sometimes a bit -disconcerting. Foolish for a woman like me to talk like this, isn’t it?” - -He laughed easily. “I know no person less foolish.” - -She did not answer but continued to gaze into the fire, her eyes a -little disturbed. Her brother wanted time to think, being convinced that -it was most important that for the present at any rate Edith should -remain unaware of certain things. Perkins, for instance. However -competent Perkins might be, she could not in any sense be called a -normal woman. Perhaps he was not at this time normal himself. Something -assured him that no revelation would be made from the unknown to his -sister. Her wireless set might be affected, but it was not tuned to the -right wave-length. After all, there was no reason why matters should not -proceed smoothly enough. - -“Why are your reflections disconcerting?” he hazarded. - -“I don’t know. It’s stupid of me, and I call myself an idiot for being -affected at all. The funny thing, Jack, is that I’m gradually beginning -to consider myself absolutely superficial to something or other—I don’t -know what. The house is running well, and Perkins is a treasure; a -little chilling at times, but the best servant I’ve ever had. Things -seem to do themselves at her desire. Why should I feel superficial?” - -He shook his head. “You’re anything but that. What else is the matter?” - -“Nothing whatever, and yet—” She got up restlessly and balanced herself -on the corner of the desk close to the dull stain. But it had no message -for her. “If you say definitely that we made no mistake in taking Beech -Lodge, I’ll feel a lot better. Isn’t it silly of me? There’s everything -here one wants, and all a housekeeper could desire, but—” - -He felt a touch of apprehension and laughed it off. “You’re only a bit -lonely, and probably I’ve been selfish in planting you in such a lonely -spot for the sake of that confounded novel. I admit to being a bit -spoiled. But we have neighbors. What about the Millicents?” - -“They’re about three miles from here in a cottage. Perkins tells me the -daughter is twenty-two and very pretty but has never got over her -father’s death. They were devoted to each other.” - -“You’ll see them soon,” he said involuntarily. - -“I hardly think so. They would not call under all the circumstances; at -least it would be strange if they did.” - -“Perhaps not, but—” He broke off. “Tell me more of what’s in your mind. -You know what you are to me, and I can’t help feeling rather -responsible.” - -“It’s hard to tell you without seeming an utter fool. It vexes and -amuses me all at once,” she said simply. “It’s things I’ve never been -conscious of before. I’m not actually conscious of them now, but it’s as -if something had suggested their existence. At the same time I know I’ll -never quite understand. I’m not built that way. Perhaps I get something -through what I feel for you because you feel it, even though it’s past -me. Does this all sound like gibberish? Then again it is as though both -of us were being threatened. I wonder if you understand that all this is -so different from anything I’ve felt before that I don’t quite know what -to do.” - -Derrick listened seriously. His first impulse was to laugh her mood -away, but instantly there came to him from the surrounding shadows a -warning that on no account must he be false to that which he himself -believed. Pondering this, he knew that he could not deny these -mysterious powers that now proclaimed themselves. He might desert their -kingdom, but to disown it was impossible. - -“If the place does not agree with you, we’ll chuck it,” he said slowly. - -She sent him a whimsical smile. “You know that’s out of the question, -dear old boy. We simply can’t; we’re in too deep for the next year. And -forgive me if I talk to you as though you were my sister, for that’s one -of my selfish habits, and it’s really your own fault for standing it. -Here we stick till that novel is finished and sold. I’m sorry it doesn’t -go as fast as you would like.” - -“It will when I get shaken down,” he answered doggedly. “Trouble is that -one is apt to think of too many things at once. Then follows the -discarding and selecting process, and I suppose I’m going through that -now. The point is to be sure of retaining what is really worth while; -and, when I begin to feel that, it means confidence and progress. In -that last novel I didn’t quite know what to discard, and it jumps at me -from every page. But now,” he concluded with a little lift in his voice, -“I’ve an idea that I’m just on the edge of something big.” - -“While your sister,” she murmured absently, “has a perfectly ridiculous -sensation that she’s just on the edge of something deep, and hasn’t the -slightest intention of falling over.” - -She sent him a companionable smile and was soon lost in her book. -Derrick struggled on with his opening chapters, thankful that she had -made no searching inquiry into his own inward sensations. There was no -sound save the methodical turning of a page and the scratch of a pen. -The fire puttered its ruddy comfort, and Beech Lodge was dipped in an -abyss of silence. - -Presently the inner edge of one of the heavy curtains that hung over the -French window stirred ever so slightly and at one point drew very slowly -aside, leaving a narrow oval gap on the border of which a man’s fingers, -short, broad, and strong, were visible. This gap widened inch by inch, -till, framed in the dull fabric, there appeared a face. A mass of -tumbled hair surmounted a low forehead, beneath which moved eyes that -were dark, shining, and restless. The man might have been forty, with -tanned skin, large and rather uncouth features, a broad mouth, heavy -lips—blue-black and unshaven—and a strange, furtive expression. No -part of his body was visible below the chin, and the face hung as though -suspended like a threatening mask in mid-air. The roving eyes searched -the room, darting from place to place with extraordinary quickness, and -reflecting little pin-points of light from the leaping flames. Finally -they rested on Derrick and his sister with a look in which surprise -mingled with a certain unconquerable composure. There was no fear in the -look but rather the suggestion that this formidable stranger from the -dark had been here before and was now making up his mind on some vital -matter. Then the lips widened into a grin rendered repulsive by -discolored teeth; the gap narrowed as silently as a leaf falls; face and -fingers diminished and disappeared; the curtain trembled and hung -straight; and there drifted into the room the faintest possible sound -from without. It was over, like a baleful dream. - -Derrick looked up sharply. “Who was that?” - -Edith, perceiving nothing, stared at him. His face was tense, his eyes -very wide open. She struggled against a foolish sense of alarm. - -“Where, Jack?” - -“In this room. Did any one come in just now?” He peered about, searching -the dancing shadows, keyed suddenly to a strange pitch. - -“No one,” she said. “Who could there be? I heard nothing.” - -“That’s odd,” he murmured. - -She got up, stood beside him, and put a hand on his arm. “What’s odd, -Jack? I wish you wouldn’t go on like this—and don’t be so mysterious, -unless you want it to get on my nerves.” - -“I had an extraordinary feeling that for a moment we were not alone.” He -laughed, but it sounded a shade forced. “Dreaming as usual, I suppose. -Sorry, Edith; I won’t do it again.” - -But Miss Derrick, in spite of herself, had turned a little pale. For the -past hour she had been trying to put out of her head a succession of -strange thoughts about strange things, and she had nearly succeeded. Now -she felt dizzy. Perhaps they had not been alone. But who could it have -been? Mystery, breathless, confusing, and baffling, stole in on her like -a secret assailant, attacking all senses save that of fear. Her pulse -slowed—and beat tumultuously. She stepped to the bell and rang hard. -Derrick looked at her with wonder. - -“What’s the matter? There’s nothing to be frightened about!” - -“How do you know?” she stammered. “I feel queer because I don’t know. I -want to see some one who isn’t just ourselves,” she went on chaotically, -“and I’m the more vexed because it has to—to be Perkins.” She covered -her eyes unconsciously, like a child. “Jack, Jack, what is the matter -with me? I’m acting like a fool.” - -He put his arm round her. “I’m awfully sorry, dear, but, really, it’s -nothing. I hardly knew I spoke. Of course it is nothing. I’ll search the -house if you like.” - -“But would you find it?” she whispered. “Would you find it?” - -Came a tap at the door, and Perkins entered, her face as blank as ever. -Edith controlled herself with an effort and looked straight into the -basilisk eyes. - -“Perkins, has any one come to the house just now?” - -The maid glanced at her, impassive and inscrutable. “No, madam. Was any -one expected?” - -Edith could but answer with another question. “You—you have heard -nothing within the last few minutes?” - -“Nothing whatever, madam.” The voice carried no suggestion of surprise, -but Perkins’s eyes met those of Derrick for a passing instant. - -“Thank you. Please go to my room, and—and bring me a handkerchief. Are -all the windows and doors fastened?” - -“Yes, madam, except this one. Mr. Derrick told me to leave that to him.” - -She disappeared. Derrick laughed and lit his pipe. - -“You’re answered now, Edith! The house closed tight as a drum, and the -only access from outside through this room.” - -“Perhaps you’re right! Yes, of course you are; but, when she comes back, -say something that will keep her for a minute; say anything at all. -Please do that. I can’t explain, but I must hear some other voice, even -Perkins’s comfortless accents. Jack, I am a fool.” - -“You’re not very complimentary to my powers of entertainment,” he -chuckled. “I won’t write any more to-night. We’ll get out the cards if -you like.” - -She shook her head and sent him a strange glance, as though wondering if -he would understand. “It isn’t entertainment I want to-night.” - -“Then what? I’m not in a position to offer much more.” - -“I don’t know. It’s something like protection, but not quite that, -either. I know it sounds absurd, but it’s the kind of thing that could -only come from one who does not believe what you do about all this.” She -made a gesture at the surrounding room. “I suppose it’s a sort of -companion in my incredulity. You’re beginning to make things rather too -much alive for my comfort, though I don’t believe in them at all.” - -“There’s nothing here,” he protested quickly, “nothing but ourselves. -Forget what I said. I was only dreaming aloud. It’s what the Scotch call -havering.” - -Even as he spoke there came to him the refutation of his own words. -Millicent signaled his disapproval from the canvas overhead, and -stinging whispers from the silence around proclaimed him false to his -real belief. The protest died on his lips, and Edith looked at him -keenly. - -“I don’t want you to say what you don’t believe in the hope of -stiffening me, but I’d be glad if you’d help to prevent my believing it, -too. I don’t want to, and I don’t intend to. I’m tremendously in earnest -about all this. The reason is that I know I haven’t got the right kind -of mental machinery. It would break me all up, while on the contrary it -is perfectly natural for you. All I want to do is to carry on here in -the ordinary way and make it as easy as possible for you to work. That’s -a woman’s job, Jack, and I’m satisfied with it and don’t want to go -beyond it. If there’s anything that you’re forced to tell me, well, tell -me, but don’t do any more. All this may sound rather hysterical, but it -isn’t; and it’s because I know myself better than I begin to think I -know you, even after all these years. So don’t try me more than you can -avoid.” - -While she was speaking, Perkins entered as silently as before. Edith -steadied herself, wondering how much the woman had heard. She took the -handkerchief and made an indefinite gesture to her brother. - -“I say, Perkins,” he put in, “this garden is running wild, and I’ve got -to get some one at once or there’ll be nothing worth while in the -summer. Do you know of any good man in the neighborhood?” - -“I’m sorry; I don’t, sir.” - -“What about the village? Any chance there?” - -“I can’t say, sir. I haven’t been to the village for more than a year.” - -“Mr. Thursby’s man seems to have been very capable. Think you could find -him?” - -“I don’t know where he is, sir. He came once a week for the past year, -but left the village about a month ago. There’s been no one since.” - -“Did Mr. Thursby take over Mr. Millicent’s man?” - -“No, sir.” Perkins’s expression changed ever so slightly. “He could -not.” - -“Why was that?” - -“Because Martin, Mr. Millicent’s man, had already left.” - -“When?” said Derrick curiously. - -“Three days after Mr. Millicent died.” - -Edith gave an involuntary shiver. “Why should he do that so soon?” - -Perkins glanced at the portrait with a kind of mute unconsciousness. “I -cannot say, madam. Martin did not tell me.” - -“It’s more or less understandable,” hazarded Derrick; “probably Mrs. -Millicent let him go. She wasn’t keeping on the place anyway. Do you -happen to know where he went, Perkins?” - -Edith looked up. “Does that matter, Jack?” - -“Yes, I think so. The man’s reputation for roses spread all over the -county, and I’d like to get him back if we could afford it. And it’s -better to have some one who knows the ground, if possible. What about -him, Perkins?” - -“No one has heard of him from that day, as yet, sir.” - -Edith got up with unmistakable decision. She was evidently feeling -herself again. - -“Good night, Jack. Perkins, please bring my hot water now.” - -Derrick followed her with his eyes but said nothing. When he was alone, -he seated himself again at his desk and looked musingly at his -manuscript. How thin and unprofitable was all he had written, these -doings of characters so obviously fictitious, so utterly divorced from -the stinging realities of life. They saw little and felt less, being -framed in paper and not flesh and blood. His long hand stole to the edge -of the desk, avoiding that discolored patch, and clasped the solid frame -as though to draw from it something like real inspiration. He now -touched the shadow of Millicent’s life-blood. His glance traveled then -automatically to the portrait. Blood and paint! Between them they held -the key of mystery. He scanned the composed features, feeling that the -essence of what had once been Millicent was close by. Then it came to -him that this essence of the murdered man had its own part to play and -was no doubt playing it at this very moment, moving in mysterious -channels and in league with mysterious powers. Recurrent and voiceless -questions crowded upon him. What could Millicent mean to Perkins, that -lank woman with the forbidding eyes? It seemed after a few moments that -the painted lips quivered and tried to speak, and the quiet gaze took on -something more than the mere flicker of firelight. What was it that -Millicent was trying to convey? - -“What have you absorbed?” murmured Derrick, half aloud. “What is it you -would tell me? You suffered here death and the fear that was perhaps -worse than death, but why did you pay the price?” He began to write -unconsciously, capturing the words as they came; strange words, unlinked -with anything that had gone before, but pregnant with clouded -suggestion. “You believed as I do that we are not the masters of things, -but that each of us builds up around him invisible towers of influence, -by which in time we are dominated. We store the air with records that -the air cannot discard or obliterate, eloquent—yet having no voice; -strong—yet casting no shadow. And behind it all are Things. We cry for -them as children, and when the end comes it is hard to let them go.” - -He was staring, puzzled, at what he had written, when Perkins came in, -her face grave. - -“If you please, sir, the gardener is here.” Her voice was a little -breathless. - -“What gardener? I thought you told me just a moment ago that you knew of -no one.” - -“It’s Mr. Millicent’s gardener,” she replied steadily. - -“The man who has not been heard of for two years?” - -“Yes, sir. He has just returned.” - -Derrick took a long breath. “What brings him back now?” - -He regretted the question as soon as it was asked, for Perkins was -regarding him as though wondering why he should be surprised. It was all -part of something else, something bigger. Surely he must realize that. - -“I do not know, sir. He only reached the village this evening and came -straight here.” - -“Does he expect me to engage him?” - -“He would like to come back to his old place, sir.” - -“How extraordinary!” - -Again Derrick spoke too hastily, and again he regretted it. Perkins did -not answer. She stood passively, an austere expression on her sallow -features; and, scrutinize as he might, there was no penetrating the veil -that enshrouded her. She was an embodiment of something that defied his -keenest analysis. - -“Where has this man been for the past two years?” - -“He did not say, sir.” - -“You can tell me whether he was satisfactory in every way to Mr. -Millicent?” - -She nodded. “Mr. Millicent used to say that he was the best gardener in -the county.” - -Derrick paused. “Perkins, I’m going to ask you another question, but you -need not answer unless you like to.” - -“I will tell you anything I know, sir.” She spoke steadily and without a -trace of surprise. - -“Then from all you know, and I refer to more than his ability as a -gardener, do you think it would be a good thing to take him on?” - -“Why do you put it that way, sir?” - -“I leave that to you. The matter may be more important than one can -realize—as yet.” He lingered a little over the last words. - -“Then, yes, sir, if you want a garden like Mr. Millicent’s.” - -The shrewdness of the answer took him aback. “Send him in,” he said -shortly. - - - -The man entered, the man whose dark features had peered through the -parted curtains a short hour before. He was powerfully built, very -broad, and dressed in loose and much worn tweeds of a foreign cut. He -came forward with the lurching walk of a seafaring trade, a colored -handkerchief twisted round the column of his brown neck. His swinging -hands were wide and knotted, and every motion spoke of great physical -strength. No mere Sussex gardener this, who had spent his placid years -among his roses and dahlias, but one who carried with him nameless -suggestions of the jungle and the faint pounding of distant surf. -Dangling his cap, he gave a sort of salute, making at the same time a -swift survey of the room. From this furtive and searching glance it -seemed to Derrick that the man missed something he knew of old in -Millicent’s time, but no flicker of change of expression could be -discerned on the weather-beaten face. The face itself was neither cruel -nor merciless but conveyed a grim, implacable resolution. Here, -reflected Derrick, was the man who disappeared three days after -Millicent’s death. What brought him back now? - -“What is your name?” - -“Martin, sir, John Martin.” The voice was deep and husky. - -“Perkins tells me you were in Mr. Millicent’s service.” - -“Yes, sir, for some years after his last trip to the East.” - -“Did you come from the East with him?” - -“No, sir, I—I was engaged here at Beech Lodge.” - -“Several years service, yet you left three days after your employer -died?” - -Martin jerked up his head. “Yes, sir; that’s it.” - -“How did you happen to go so quickly? Were you discharged by Mrs. -Millicent?” - -A dull flush rose in the tanned face. “You might as well ask how my -master happened to die three days before I left, sir. Mrs. Millicent was -giving up Beech Lodge and didn’t want a gardener. There was no other job -in sight about here, and I couldn’t afford to hang on in the village.” - -Derrick nodded with seeming carelessness. “Perhaps that’s fair enough, -and as it happens I do want a gardener, but you’ll have to satisfy me -completely on all points before I consider you. The circumstances are a -bit out of the ordinary.” - -“I’m ready to tell you anything I can, sir.” - -“Then where do you come from now?” - -“Upper Burma, by way of Canada. I have a sister in Alberta.” He fumbled -in his pocket. “Would you be wanting to see my passport?” - -“Not now, at any rate. I don’t understand why you should clear out of -Sussex for Burma just because there was no job close at hand.” - -“Well, sir, to tell the truth, I was that upset I wanted to get away as -far as possible. I couldn’t put the master out of my head. He’d always -been good to me from the first day I came, and we liked the same things, -sir.” - -“What was that?” - -“Roses.” - -He shot this out with rumbling assurance, and, strange as it sounded, -Derrick believed him. It was difficult to picture this great hulk among -the roses, these thick fingers training the delicate buds, but Martin’s -reputation had already been established far beyond Beech Lodge. There -had been, too, an assuring little break in the voice, suggesting a depth -of feeling in strange contrast to this forbidding exterior. If this was -acting, it was good acting. He scanned the man’s face, but as for -promising any future revelations it was no more expressive than that of -Perkins herself. Anything might lie hidden here. There were hints of -passion in the eyes, but over him rested the touch of a complete -control. If one could only get underneath that! It was obvious to -Derrick that he must act deliberately—and delicately. It would be a -matter of weeks, or perhaps months. The strangeness of the situation -came over him with redoubled force. It was all part of a plan. Whose -plan? - -“How is it, Martin, if you can tell me, that after two years on the -other side of the world you turn up here within a week or so of my -coming? There has been no job going for all that time, but you arrive as -soon as the job, your old one, is open.” - -Martin scratched his head and seemed genuinely puzzled. - -“Dunno, sir. It’s queer to me, too, but here I am. I didn’t know there -was a job open till a few minutes ago.” - -“I take it, then, you had no particular reason for getting back here -to-day?” - -The man glanced at him with a sort of awkward interest. He hesitated a -little, as though about to put forward something hardly credible even to -himself, and finally jerked out an answer. - -“I can’t say much more than that things kind of hinted at it, sir, and -kept on hinting till they made me uncomfortable. There wasn’t any -special reason I know of. I was doing well enough, trading up the -Irawadi, when something began to get at me to come back, and it kept on -till I started for Rangoon. It stayed with me, hustling me along, and I -felt I didn’t even want to go and look up my sister; but I did, and the -same feeling lifted me out of their farm in Alberta. Up till about two -months ago I believed I wasn’t wanted here; then I knew I was wanted for -something.” He frowned to himself at this, as though he hardly expected -to be either understood or taken seriously. “Maybe I was a fool to -come,” he added, “but in a way it wasn’t left to me to decide. It’s the -first time I ever struck anything like that. It was like jungle-fever -without the fever.” - -“You simply had to come,” said Derrick quickly. - -“I’m not given to such feelings, but, since you say it, yes, I reckon I -had to come.” - -Derrick had a faint thrill of triumph. Here again the mysterious factor -was at work, the thing to which he himself was yielding so completely. -It had spread its potent and invisible filaments half round the world, -penetrated the Burmese jungle, and haled this shifty-eyed man back to -the tiny Sussex village from which he had fled under the shadow of a -great crime as yet undetected. How could these filaments have been set -in motion if not at the demand of the dead Millicent whose quiet -features now surveyed this recaptured wanderer? What would the thing -that had been Millicent arrange next? At the thought of this Derrick’s -pulse gave a throb of excitement. Then he looked Martin full in the -face. - -“Who found your master?” - -The man dropped his cap, and all the blood in his body seemed to climb -to his temples. - -“Miss Perkins found him,” he said jerkily. - -“Where did she find him?” If Martin had lied the fact would come out -now. - -Martin pointed to the desk. “Where you are sitting, Mr. Derrick. He was -leaning forward, his head on one side.” - -“Dead?” - -“Yes, sir, but not long.” - -“What had happened?” - -“Stabbed in the neck.” - -“By what?” - -“I do not know, sir.” - -“And no trace of what killed him has ever been found?” - -“Nothing that I ever heard of.” Martin moved a little impatiently, but -Derrick’s voice was very even. - -“Of course you were at the inquest? These are some of the things you -need not answer, unless you’re determined to get that job.” - -“Yes, I was there”—this with a defiant glance—“and they examined me, -and when it was over not a man had a word to say against me.” - -Derrick sharpened his tone. “Your master is just behind you.” - -The man started violently and made a harsh noise in his throat. He -turned slowly and unwillingly, forcing himself inch by inch, till, -following Derrick’s gaze he saw the portrait. At that his color changed, -his face becoming overcast with anger. - -“By God, but you frightened me,” he said thickly. “I didn’t know what -you meant—thought it was a ghost.” - -“Is that a good likeness?” - -Martin breathed deeply and pulled himself together stretching his -fingers with a slow gesture of relief. - -“Yes, that’s him all right, but he looked older, a good deal older -toward the end. Something like you, sir, isn’t he?” - -“Where were you at the time it happened? Can you tell me exactly, and -what you were doing?” - -The dark face grew threatening. “Is this another inquest, Mr. Derrick? I -came here to try and get my old job.” - -“You can drop it if you like, Martin, or else answer my questions.” - -“Well,” said the man truculently, “I was smoking in that little garden -beside the cottage—I lived there then—when I heard Perkins. She was -running like a deer down from the house and calling at the top of her -voice. She was only half dressed, and I thought she was mad, screaming -about the master being killed. I ran back with her, and found him as I -told you—where you’re sitting now. Then I ran to the village for the -doctor. When we got him here he said that Mr. Millicent must have been -dead for over an hour. He had been struck with great force in the neck -with a dagger of some kind. And that’s all I know.” - -Derrick nodded, apparently satisfied. “It’s practically what I’ve heard -elsewhere.” He sat for a moment, plunged in thought. “Wait where you are -for a moment, Martin. I want to have a word with Miss Derrick before -deciding.” - -He went out. Martin balanced himself on the edge of his chair, listened -keenly to the retreating footsteps, heard a creak on the stair, and -glanced cautiously about. Then he got up, stole on tiptoe to the door, -and put his ear to the keyhole. Satisfied that he was secure, he crept -noiselessly across the floor, darting a look at the portrait as he went, -and halted stiffly beside the big desk. Here his hands became intensely -busy, his thick fingers passing swiftly over the carved frame, like -those of a blind man. One particular spot he explored with strained -attention, turning his massive head every few seconds toward the door, -his whole body keyed to the utmost nervous pitch. He had his back to the -French window, and the lamp cast his gigantic shadow on the ceiling, -where its distorted shadow quivered like that of a brooding giant. - -But from the window another pair of eyes surveyed this silent drama. -Once again the curtains had parted slightly some five feet above the -floor, and, from the gap so lately tenanted by Martin’s threatening -mask, Derrick now watched every move. This was what he sought, this -opportunity, but what had guided him to his vantage-point he could not -tell. He had remembered that the window was unfastened. He believed that -the curtain would keep him safe from discovery, because he was assured -that his strange visitor had come to stay and not to steal. To observe -Martin when Martin thought himself unobserved, in that direction might -lie knowledge. But what was it Martin sought now? - -The scrutiny lasted but a few seconds. The gardener was back in his seat -when Derrick entered unconcernedly, resumed his seat at the desk, and -lit his pipe with extreme deliberation. Martin’s face was utterly blank, -and he got up automatically when the new master of Beech Lodge came in. - -“If you want that job, I’m inclined to give it to you.” - -The big chest expanded slowly, and the broad figure lost something of -its rigidity. - -“Thank you, sir, and I’ll do my very best,” said Martin eagerly. “I know -the place like a book, and I know roses, and you won’t have reason to -regret it.” - -Derrick smiled. “We haven’t discussed the matter of wages yet.” He was -wondering whether the rate of pay meant as little to this man as it had -to Perkins. “What I’m going to offer won’t seem much to one who has -knocked about the world as much as yourself. It’s not a case of American -wages.” - -“I’m not worrying about wages, sir. It doesn’t take much to keep me -going, and I’ve never had a drink in my life. It’s the old job I’m -after.” - -“Then what do you say to thirty shillings a week and the cottage.” - -“That’s fair enough,” said Martin eagerly. - -“By the way, I take it you’re not married?” - -“I haven’t any wife now,” he stammered after a poignant pause. - -“Sorry, Martin, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Any children?” - -“No, sir.” The tanned face was calm again. - -“Then I suppose you can begin to-morrow?” - -“I’m ready for that.” Martin fingered his cap. “Might I sleep in the -cottage to-night, sir? I’ve got my bundle outside.” - -He said this without any seeming thought of the inference Derrick must -draw, an inference that the latter jumped at. Why bring a bundle before -one was sure of a job? But perhaps, and here a message drifted in from -the paneled walls, perhaps it was already arranged that Martin should -get the job, and the man in some queer way was aware of that. And, after -all, why should he part from his bundle? He would have slept with it -under a hedge. - -Derrick felt in his pocket. “Perhaps you’d better stop in the village -to-night, and clean up the cottage to-morrow. It must be cold and damp. -Got enough money?” - -Martin gave a twisted smile. “Yes, sir, I have money, but if you don’t -mind I’ll risk the damp. It’s nothing to me.” - -“No, let it stand till to-morrow; then you can move in. I’ll see you -about ten o’clock.” - -He rang the bell, Martin standing motionless, a baffling expression on -his face. He had secured what he came for but still seemed ill at ease -and uncontent. Then Perkins entered like a sallow ghost, and Derrick, -regarding these two, experienced a novel sensation at seeing them stand -side by side, the staff of Beech Lodge, the depositories of the secret -of the house. Between them lay the thing he pursued, or that pursued -him. They did not look at each other, but waited, silent, impassive, and -remote. He wondered what it would be that first broke through the -surface of this extraordinary calm, so profound as to be already -ominous. But that would come in its appointed cycle. - -“Perkins, I have engaged Martin as gardener. He will commence work in -the morning, occupy the cottage, and do for himself entirely. Did you do -anything in the house before, Martin?” - -“Boots and coals, sir.” - -“I don’t need any help now, sir,” put in Perkins swiftly. - -Martin’s lids flickered, but he did not stir. - -“Then for the meantime, Martin, stick to outside work. All right, you -may go now.” - -The man mumbled good night, made his former awkward salute, and marched -into the hall. He did not glance at the woman, nor she at him. Derrick’s -eyes narrowed a little. - -“Please come here, Perkins, when you’ve locked up.” - -The door closed, and he looked instinctively at the portrait as though -to ask whether in all this he had done the right thing. But Millicent -was uncommunicative to-night. Quite deliberately Derrick was rebuilding -the personnel of Beech Lodge as it existed two years before, peopling it -with the same faces, making it echo with the same voices. Its one-time -master was no doubt still here, and now there remained only the other -Millicents. If the circle could but be closed, and old contacts -reëstablished, then perhaps the way would become clear. He was -deliberating this when Perkins’s return ended the reverie. - -“I’d like, if possible, to feel sure, Perkins, that from all you know of -Martin I’ve done the right thing in engaging him. This unexpected return -is bound to affect you in some way under the circumstances, and—” - -He stopped abruptly. She was staring at him with so searching an -expression that he knew that to-night he had drawn nearer the essential -mystery of Beech Lodge. Yet it was not his action but his words that -produced this remarkable effect. He was aware that it was not in the -garden, where Millicent had lovingly tended his roses, or anywhere but -in this room that the spirit of the murdered man seemed to cry aloud for -vengeance—and for peace. - -“It was meant that Martin should come back and you should engage him,” -said Perkins dully. “I do not know more than that. You could not help -it. You were called, and Martin, too.” - -He perceived that there was nothing absurd in this. She spoke simply, as -though reciting facts established beyond all question. Her look told him -that at this moment she could go no further. Suddenly something reached -him out of space. The room was alive again. - -“How long had Mr. Millicent been dead when you found him?” - -“I told you that they sent for me,” she answered gravely, “but I do not -know how soon they sent. When the doctor came he thought that it had -happened more than an hour before.” - -“And you found him at this desk?” - -“Did Martin say that?” she asked breathlessly. - -“Does it matter who said it?” - -Her thin hands clasped over her breast. There was a look in her face he -had never seen there before. - -“But it matters a great deal if it was Martin. Were you and he long in -this room together?” - -“No,” she said tremulously, “only a moment, but he stayed there after -the doctor came.” - -Derrick’s voice, which in spite of himself had risen a little, now -dropped to a more level pitch. - -“And in spite of all this nothing of any importance seems to have -disappeared. Even his papers were undisturbed, so it was not burglary. -He had no enemies?” - -“He was not that kind. All liked him who knew him.” - -“And you have nothing to say or suggest as to any possible motive.” - -She did not answer but seemed to withdraw lest he unearth more than she -was prepared to reveal. This suggested that it was now for him to follow -the trail alone—if he could. - -“Was it hard to get that stain reduced?” He flung the question at her -like a missile. - -Perkins winced visibly, glancing first at him, then at the desk as -though its massive surface had found accusing speech. Her breath came -faster, and Derrick knew that he had moved a step nearer the truth. - -“Are there no secrets from you?” she whispered. - -“Perhaps it was not always there,” he continued meaningly, “but returned -after I came here. My fingers found it first, and it spoke. Soon after -that I began to understand. The inventory man saw it before I did but -got nothing from it. Perhaps Martin found it, too, when I was out of the -room. I hoped he would.” - -She nodded uncertainly, as one blinded by a sudden vision, then moved -unsteadily to the desk and stood looking down at the faint, irregular -patch. She put out a hand, lean and claw-like, forcing herself to touch -the discolored leather. Leaning over it, her eyes dark with unfathomable -things, she relived something in that moment; but it was hidden too deep -for discovery. Finally she spoke, as though to some one far distant. - -“Is it always this way? Is the whole world full of stains like this, -stains that go deeper and deeper, however we try to rub them out, till -by and by we cannot reach them?” - -“Some stains are never effaced,” said Derrick grimly. “We only rub them -deeper in.” - -“And Martin is here to-night!” The words came from her very soul. - -“Martin is probably in the cottage at this moment.” - -“But he said he was going to the village.” - -Derrick reached for his pipe. “Yes, that’s what I told him, but now I -think he’s in the cottage. He does not want to go further from the house -than that. I don’t know why, but I know.” - -She sent him a look like that of an animal in a trap and left the room. -Derrick sucked at his pipe, pitching his mind back over the last -half-hour, piecing together fragment after fragment of evidence, but -groping in vain for some underlying fact. Incident and strange -coincident, shuffle them as he might, they made no decipherable pattern. -Then, as happened so often, his eyes wandered to the portrait of -Millicent. - -“Is it all right,” he said, half aloud, “you whom I have never seen? You -know why I am trying, but I do not. It’s all clear on your side, but -misty on mine. Is it only for a little longer, till you find rest and -sleep—for till then will there be no peace for me?” - -“Jack,” sounded a voice at the door, “who on earth are you talking to?” - -He started and laughed awkwardly. “Come in, Edith; I thought you were -asleep long ago.” - -“I couldn’t get to sleep, so thought I would come and see you. Why this -oration to an empty room?” - -He hooked his arm into hers, led her across, and halted under the -portrait. - -“I want you to help me do something for that chap.” - -She looked at him regretfully. “There’s no reason in you at all, and -just when I had persuaded myself that everything was all right.” - -“I admit it sounds ridiculous, but really it’s not. I was never more -serious in my life.” - -“But how can you do anything for a dead man you never knew?” She glanced -keenly about the room. “Do you remember our last talk, the one we had -just after we got here?” - -“Yes, every word of it. And I’m not going to try you now.” - -She put a hand on his arm. “It isn’t myself, Jack; it’s you. I’m all -right, except that I blame myself for having been rather silly. But I -know perfectly well that nothing has been natural since we came here, -especially yourself. Things seem to be settled in the ordinary way; then -you make me feel they’re not settled, and you, my dear brother, are -drifting about as you never have before. What is it? If I knew, perhaps -I might help. Really I don’t understand, and in a queer way we don’t -seem to be living for ourselves any longer.” - -“Well,” he countered, “I’m not altogether unpractical. For instance, I -think I’ve got hold of a first-rate gardener.” - -“To-night?” - -“Yes, he has just gone. I took him on, and he starts to-morrow.” - -She brightened at that and went off after begging him not to sit up too -late. Derrick went back to his desk, feeling suddenly a little weary. -The singing silence reasserted itself, and the fire was low. He -endeavored to work. - -Presently he looked up sharply and caught his breath. There was a -distinct tapping at the French window. He had a novel sensation of fear. -The sound continued with a sort of regular and tiny beat. He got up -slowly, and drew aside the curtain. The window was not locked. Through -the glass he saw the peaked cap, red face, and brass buttons of a -gigantic policeman. The man made a reassuring salute, and Derrick opened -the window. - -“Come in,” he said. - -“Beg pardon, sir, for not going to the front door, but I saw you were -alone and didn’t want to wake the whole house. There’s no other light -anywhere.” - -“All right, officer, but you gave me a bit of a start. What is it?” - -“I’m on patrol, sir, passing here twice every night. I usually take a -stroll round the house and cottage to see that all is as it should be, -and just now, when I was at the back of the cottage, I noticed a light -inside. That surprised me, as I knew it had not been occupied since Mr. -Thursby left.” - -“That’s quite right.” - -“Well, sir, there’s a man there now. Is that with your permission?” - -Derrick’s pulse beat a little faster. “What sort of a man?” - -“Middle-aged, sir, queer face, queer clothes, sitting on a chair and -staring.” - -“At what?” - -“At nothing, sir, so far as I could make out. A thick-set party, his -skin burned and brown as though he’d come off the sea. Black hair, he -has, and big hands and odd eyes that never stirred. It was the eyes that -took me. He’s an ugly-looking customer all round, sir, but I thought I’d -better see you before I pulled him in, just in case. What puzzled me was -the lamp being lit and the blind up, if he’d no right to be there. -There, was a bundle on the floor beside him.” - -“I’m glad you came in first. How long have you been on duty in the -village?” - -“Matter of a year and a half now, sir. I was transferred here just about -the time Mr. Thursby left Beech Lodge.” - -“Well, I’ve been here a little more than a week. You knew, of course, -that this was Mr. Millicent’s house?” - -“Yes, sir, we all know that. There wasn’t much chance of forgetting it.” - -“But I don’t suppose you personally know anything about his death—or -murder, if you like?” - -The constable shook his head. “I know what the rest of the force knows, -and I’ve read the evidence at the inquest. But there wasn’t anything dug -up then that was of any real use.” - -Derrick nodded. “I had heard nothing of it up to a week ago, not even a -whisper when I leased this house last month. Now I’m beginning to feel -as though I’d known it all my life. What does the sergeant think about -it?” - -“I’m not supposed to say anything about what’s not my duty, sir,” -replied the man a trifle stiffly. - -“You’re probably right there; is this the first time you’ve been in this -room?” - -The constable looked ponderously about, his eyes glinting at sight of -the desk. He knew what had happened there. Then at the portrait, with a -hard stare. - -“Yes, sir, first time.” - -“Ever been in the house at all?” - -“No, sir, never crossed the door-step.” - -“I suppose you know that Mr. Millicent was found dead at this desk with -a stab in his neck? That’s him above the mantel. They say it’s very like -him and, oddly, something like me.” - -“I was told about that, sir. A harmless-looking gentleman, I should -say.” - -“And you’ll probably remember that the only person on whom suspicion -really fell was Mr. Millicent’s gardener. I think that’s common -knowledge, too.” - -“Yes, sir, it is, but he cleared himself somehow, got out of the -country, and hasn’t been seen since.” - -“Well,” said Derrick slowly, “that’s the man you found in the cottage, -the late gardener of Beech Lodge, and I’ve engaged him to work for me. -Can you guess why, constable?” - -The policeman’s mouth opened wide. “But he’s the one who the sergeant -thinks—” He broke off confusedly, while over his face spread a look of -dawning astonishment and admiration. “By George, sir, but you’ve done a -bold thing, and there’s not many would have done it. Perhaps you’re on -the right track. But what brought the fellow here again into the middle -of it?” - -Derrick smiled grimly. “Now you’re asking too much. We haven’t come to -that yet, and there’s no immediate hurry. Main thing is, he’s here and -settled for the present. That gives one time to think. As for my end of -it, I may be on the right track, and I may not. At any rate, I’m going -to make a push for it. So far, I’m trying to piece some of the bits -together, and Martin’s arrival is one of them. There’s bound to be a -good deal more. So don’t disturb our friend in the cottage, for I fancy -he’ll be rather badly needed. And, look here, do you think the sergeant -will be willing to have a talk about this matter?” - -“If you’re on the track of the man who killed Mr. Millicent, the -sergeant would walk twenty miles to see you. I think he dreams about -that case every night. It’s a sort of reflection on the police force of -Bamberley. It hurts him. That’s the way he feels still.” - -“Good! But perhaps it would be better if I went to see him. I’ll do that -within the next few weeks. Meantime do you have to report this visit?” - -“Only that the cottage is occupied with your authority. That takes it -off our special list of empty buildings.” - -“I’d be glad if it went no further than that, and the sergeant will -agree with me there. Good night, officer. I shall sleep peacefully now, -thanks to you. You can’t take a drink, I suppose?” - -The big man smiled ruefully. “No, sir; thanks just the same. I think -you’ll be a welcome visitor at the station. Good night, and I’ll slip -past the cottage without disturbing our friend.” - -He saluted, the French window closed behind him without a sound, and his -great bulk melted into the darkness. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - JEAN - - -SOME TWO weeks after the staff of Beech Lodge had been completed by the -engagement of the gardener, Mrs. Millicent and her daughter were walking -along a quiet lane at a little distance from their old home. The house -itself they had not seen since the time of the tragedy, and over them -still hung the weight of a great grief. It had touched Mrs. Millicent’s -hair with gray and given her a strangely wistful expression. Her sorrow -was increased by the belief that her husband had had an enemy, the -husband who had worshiped her with love and devotion for twenty years of -married companionship. What enemy could such a man make in all the -world? - -For Jean, her daughter, the blow had been no less severe. And it had a -deeper significance. Dazed and stupefied, she was nevertheless aware of -the power behind the blow, the power that dealt it. Where her mother was -inclined to give way with a hopeless wonder at the cruelty of fate, Jean -perceived that the hand that thus struck the helpless might not have -been stayed by her father’s blood. If her father were in the way of -something—she knew not what—might there not be others similarly -threatened? The resiliency of her youth refused merely to accept the -situation. - -They came to a fork in the lane, one turn of which led past Beech Lodge -and then on to their own small house. Mrs. Millicent took the other turn -instinctively, but Jean, for some reason she could never explain, felt a -sudden impulse to pass this time by the road they had both hitherto -avoided. She stopped, and her mother glanced back with surprise. - -“What is it, dear?” - -“I don’t know, mother, but”—she hesitated—“I rather want to go this -way.” - -“But why?” - -“I can’t tell you, really. It’s rather an odd feeling. Would you much -sooner not?” - -It flashed into Mrs. Millicent’s mind that perhaps she had been unwise -in allowing her own shrinking timidity to influence the girl. The only -reason she had to put forward sounded a little too personal to carry -much weight, and if time was healing the wound in Jean’s heart, should -she not be thankful—and show it? - -“Very well, dear,” she said slowly. “Perhaps it is better to begin this -way. I think I’d like your arm.” - -They went on thus, with unvoiced recognition of remembered things. Came -the bend in the lane beyond which lay Beech Lodge, and the older woman -seemed to feel the knife in her own throat. So many times had she walked -here, and so happily. The dip in the hedge, the glimpse of rolling -fields patched with woodland, the belt of timber that marked the grounds -of Beech Lodge, the cluster of old trees with their pale gray trunks -close by the roadside; then the white gates and tiny red-roofed cottage. -Her fingers tightened on the girl’s strong arm. - -“My dear, my dear,” she whispered. “Just two years ago!” - -Jean nodded sympathetically but did not speak. She was staring up the -drive at the house with its shining windows, its clustering ivy, and the -wide door, in every timber of which seemed to be a welcome. - -“Isn’t it strange?” she whispered. “So different, and yet so unchanged.” -She paused, then went on uncertainly. “I sometimes wonder, mother, -whether houses have some kind of consciousness and are aware of us who -live in them. Isn’t it queer, but I feel now as though Beech Lodge was -somehow glad to see us, and was wondering why we had never come before.” - -Mrs. Millicent shook her head. “It’s a pretty fancy, child, but—” - -Jean stopped, nearly opposite the white gates. “Who’s that at the -window—your old room? Mother, it looks like Perkins!” - -“It is Perkins. You knew she stayed on when the Thursbys left.” - -“Yes, but I did not know she was still here. And yet I’m not surprised. -She’s part of the house. I wonder if the Derricks like her.” - -“She always had a very peculiar manner, but she was an excellent -servant.” - -Mrs. Millicent’s voice faltered. This inspection was becoming too -poignant, and she moved on. It seemed that any moment there might emerge -that well-remembered figure, with the straight, familiar form and those -clear, thoughtful eyes. She had turned away, her lips trembling, when -Jean spoke quickly and sharply. - -“Mother, who is that?” - -From the climbing rose-bushes that bordered the wide drive, a figure had -emerged, shears in hand, a figure that halted and stared. The broad -shoulders, the uncouth head, the powerful and deliberate movements of -the man were unmistakable. - -“Martin!” she said under her breath. “It’s Martin!” - -Mrs. Millicent stopped, turned, and came unsteadily back. Then she too -looked, and became weak and agitated. - -“It _is_ Martin—” - -“But where can he have come from, and why come back here?” - -For a moment her mother could not answer, being too shaken by this -quivering recognition of one who she felt held the key to her husband’s -tragic death. It was Martin who had moved with threatening domination -through the nightmare of her dreams for the last two years. Now the -threat was alive again. It had returned with him. Then she heard Jean. -The color had fled from the girl’s cheeks, but her eyes were alight with -some thrilling instinct. - -“What does it mean, mother?” - -“I do not know, child. Come away now, please; I must get home.” - -Jean held back. Something more was stirring in her soul than Martin’s -return. He had come back to strangers who probably knew nothing of him. -If they did, he could not be at Beech Lodge. And Perkins was there, too, -and Perkins knew all. It followed, then, that the woman had not spoken. -Was it all in preparation for another tragedy? At this thought she felt -frightened and choked. Some one must speak—before speech was too late. -She glanced again at the motionless figure. Martin was staring, too, and -he also had recognized. He touched his cap, and at the curve of that arm -she nearly cried out. - -“Mother,” she whispered again, “we must tell them.” - -“Tell them what, Jean? Come along. I can’t stand this.” - -The girl held her ground. “We must tell the Derricks about Martin. Don’t -you see it would be utterly unfair, and perhaps cowardly, if we didn’t? -They’ve taken the place and, being strangers, can have known very little -about it. They have probably heard about father’s death through Perkins, -but perhaps not. The agent would naturally say nothing about it, and I -don’t suppose the Thursbys would advertise the truth. Perkins has -evidently said nothing about Martin, or the Derricks would not have -engaged him. We know all, and the suspicions as to Martin, and we simply -cannot be silent. Oh, we must tell them, and now!” - -“If you feel so strongly I’ll write to-night,” protested her mother -faintly, “but, Jean, I cannot go in now. I could not walk past that -man.” - -The girl was unmoved. “That won’t do, mother. There are too many things -one can’t put on paper. One of us must speak.” - -“I cannot make myself speak now, and you can’t go in there alone.” - -“Why not?” - -“There’s Martin looking at you. He knows what we are talking about.” - -“Perhaps he does, and if so he’s more afraid of me than I am of him. At -any rate I must go. You keep on toward the village, and I’ll catch you -up. If I have to wait I’ll have some one walk home with me. And please, -please understand that I’m not afraid, because there’s nothing to fear. -I know now why we came this way to-day for the first time.” - -Mrs. Millicent sighed despairingly and turned away. There was a look on -the girl’s face she could not meet, and Martin had not moved. - -Jean rallied her courage, passed between the white gates, and walked -firmly up the drive. Martin saw her coming and stepped back till he was -half screened among his roses. His face was working. When she drew level -he touched his cap the second time, and for an instant their eyes met. -In hers there was a cold recognition; in his a sort of mute and restless -petition. Yes, he knew why she had come and what she was about to impart -to his new employer. A surge of impotent anger shot through him, and he -turned silently lest he should betray it. He had not reckoned on this -when in the Burmese jungle there reached him the first of those -discomforting promptings that finally brought him half-way round the -world, he knew not why. Jean did not look back. Her eyes were fixed on -the too familiar door. It opened almost at once, and she met the -changeless look of Perkins. Now she could speak, but the sight of the -hall, its rugs and pictures, all as though she had never left them, was -nearly too much. They were as unchanged as Perkins herself. Suddenly she -felt like an intruder or a thief and wanted to leave. At that she -remembered Martin. - -“Good afternoon, Perkins. Is Mrs. Derrick in?” - -“There is no Mrs. Derrick, miss. It’s Mr. Derrick’s sister who is here.” - -“Oh, is she in, then?” - -“No, miss, but Mr. Derrick is here.” - -“Then I’d like to see him for a moment.” - -“Will you wait in the living-room, miss? Mr. Derrick is working in the -study.” - -“Thanks, I’ll wait here.” - -Perkins tapped at the study door. - -“Miss Millicent, sir.” - -Derrick put down his pen. “Miss Millicent,” he repeated puzzled. - -“She is waiting in the hall and would like to see you. She asked for -Miss Derrick first, but Miss Derrick is out.” - -He got up, his pulse beating hard, and came quickly into the hall. They -glanced at each other, these two, drawn thus together by the shadow of a -crime. Instinctively she held out her hand, feeling for a strange moment -almost as though no introduction was necessary. - -“How do you do, Miss Millicent? My sister will be very sorry to miss -you. Will you come into the living-room or”—he hesitated an -instant—“the study?” - -“I won’t keep you a moment,” she said a little nervously. “Are you -working in the study?” - -He nodded, smiling. “I think it’s a wonderful room. Please come in.” - -He followed her in, while Perkins, after a lingering glance, closed the -door. Jean took a big chair by the fireplace, and for a moment neither -spoke. Then she saw the manuscript littering the desk. - -“I’m so afraid I’ve interrupted you.” - -He shook his head ruefully. “What I was writing, or trying to write, is -all the better for being interrupted. And,” he added, “we have been -hoping to meet you and your mother.” - -Again their eyes met. Derrick noted the smooth oval of her face and the -sensitive curve of her lips. Her expression suggested imagination, a -mind at once alert and subjective. She was looking now at her father’s -portrait, and he saw the resemblance between these two. And, try as he -might, he could not guess her thoughts or what brought her there. But -something whispered that a Millicent was again in Beech Lodge. - -“I did not know I was coming here to-day,” she said gravely, “not till -mother and I came past the gates. Then I knew.” - -It was all so strange, and yet so utterly real, that Derrick did not -answer at once. Here was Millicent’s daughter in Millicent’s study. That -to begin with. And there was about the girl a nameless aura she had -brought with her that made the ordinary preliminaries of acquaintance -seem pointless and out of place. He did not feel that he had always -known her, but that somewhere and somehow they possessed something in -common. - -“Please tell me,” he said quietly. - -“Yes, if I may begin by asking questions.” - -“It will be very kind of you.” - -“Then, did you know about Beech Lodge when you took it?” - -“No; that is, if I understand what you mean. I was looking for a quiet -place to work in, found this, and fell in love with it. I went straight -to the agent in London and made an offer. He telephoned to Mr. Thursby, -and the offer was accepted so quickly that it surprised me—and here we -are.” - -“It was Perkins who showed you over the house?” - -“Yes, she was alone here, and in charge.” - -“And the rest?” She glanced at him as though counting on his intuition. - -“I discovered that after we moved in.” - -“I’m so sorry,” she said involuntarily. - -“But why, Miss Millicent?” - -“Because I’m sure you would not—” - -She stopped abruptly. A whisper came to her that she was saying things -of which she was not quite sure. What if Beech Lodge had imparted the -edge of its secret, the secret of which she had long been conscious, to -its new tenant? His face was that of one who might be able to receive -such things. - -“You were going to tell me that if I had known what happened here two -years ago I would not have taken the house.” - -She nodded thankfully. Yes, he did understand. - -“Then may I say that I think I realize what it must have meant to you to -come in here for that purpose? And, Miss Millicent, while I did not know -at the time, I do know now, and regret nothing.” - -“Nothing?” she murmured. - -He shook his head. “Nothing. Shall I go on?” - -She nodded again and, lifting her eyes, took a long straight look at her -father’s portrait. Perhaps he was here now, and knew, and was in a way -glad she had come. She noted, too, with a sort of thankfulness that -Derrick did not sit at the desk. - -“When I came first,” he continued, “I saw Perkins. She gave me a strange -impression, but it was not altogether discomforting. I took the house -without consulting my sister, being attracted to it in a way that I only -began to understand by degrees. I actually felt what had happened here -before being told about it. That isn’t the sort of thing one can -explain, but—” - -“It doesn’t need explanation,” she put in. - -He sent her a quick, searching glance. “It helps to have you say that. -Well, after we moved in, the thing, or perhaps it was the influence, -grew stronger—I can’t express it in any other way—till presently I was -sure we were meant to come. I got some details from Perkins, but they -were incomplete; I was convinced that I must wait for more—which would -certainly be furnished from some source.” He paused, reflected for a -moment, and went on rapidly. “Does it seem impertinent for me, an utter -stranger, to be so interested and allow myself to be drawn into -something which is not my affair? If it does, I can only assure you that -it is not curiosity, or,” he added thoughtfully, “the result of anything -I have done or said.” - -“It is impossible to think that.” - -“I’m glad you see it that way, because it brings me to Martin. Is it on -account of Martin you were kind enough to come in?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then, some day, if you or Mrs. Millicent will tell me, I’d like to hear -more about him; but meantime please be assured that Martin’s being here -is all part of the rest of it. I knew what was said and thought about -him when I took him on. He told me why he happened to come back at this -particular time.” - -“Why was it?” asked Jean swiftly. - -“He _had_ to come. Telling you that seems to explain a good many other -things one can’t very well put into words. I know now that Perkins had -to stay, that I had to take this house, that you had to pass this way -for the first time in many months; and I know, too, that the gathering -is not yet quite complete. It is all utterly intangible; there is no one -point on which one can put a finger and say the reason lies there; and -one of the most remarkable things is that we can meet for the first time -and talk like this. It is something more than fate; it is purpose.” - -She looked at him wonderingly. The room, with its poignant memories, was -speaking to her now, its ancient walls vibrant with mystical messages. -Here was the sounding-box of the unknown, where in times past she had -thrilled to mysterious whispers. Here her father had sat—himself even, -with all his love, something of a mystery—and here at the end his life -had been snatched from him. What reason was there to assume that evil -and danger had passed away? And till it did pass the tale could not be -complete. - -“I am not going to try and thank you,” she said slowly, “for having made -my coming here so much easier than it promised to be, but when I saw -Martin I knew what I had to do. Mother was with me, but she could not -face it and has gone on to the village. Martin looked at me as I came in -and knows why I came. He must know that.” - -“Would you and your mother feel more comfortable if I sent Martin away?” - -“No, you must not do that. We are in no danger from him. I mean you must -not do it on our account. But there’s your sister and yourself to think -of.” - -He shook his head. “I am convinced that this need not trouble you. The -police know of the new arrangement, and Martin knows that they know. No -danger of the sort you mean lies there. I want to leave Martin to his -roses and Perkins to her house-work till something I cannot describe is -reëstablished. Beech Lodge seems to be waiting for that. Perkins and -Martin are also waiting, though unconsciously. I am certainly waiting. -And, Miss Millicent, I think that without knowing it you have been -waiting, too.” - -“Yes,” she whispered, “it’s the only thing.” - -“Then, may I ask something that’s rather difficult to ask? I wouldn’t -unless I believed that you too felt something that’s very difficult to -express.” - -“Please—what is it?” - -“You hold with me that we are all surrounded by influences we do not -understand, and in so far as we are able to interpret them the difficult -things become less threatening?” - -“One cannot escape that,” she said slowly. - -“I thought as much. But there are some who fight against such powers, -and, believing them to be all for evil, are frightened, they know not -why. If they are not frightened, they scout them. But since these powers -are both for good and evil, and I believe those for good must be the -strongest, it is only right to admit that the beneficent and invisible -influences are always fighting for readjustments of some kind and will -conquer in the end. If this were not the case, what advantage could -there be in life? You believe all this?” - -“I must believe it.” - -“Well, my sister does not; she says she’s too practical, and I do not -argue the point. Unless one can accept it, there’s no room for anything -but restlessness and probably fear. So what I’d like to suggest, if I -may, is that you do not say anything of all this to—to any one who -does—not see this as we do.” - -“You mean my mother?” she said quickly. - -He nodded. “You told me she could not face coming in here, but you came, -and that explained much.” - -“Mother would not understand,” she admitted, “and I think you’re very -wise. But is there nothing else I can do?” - -“Yes, if you will, a little later on, tell me some of the things I would -like to know. May I bring my sister to see you?” - -“Please do; we should be very glad.” - -She said good-by. The ordeal she had dreaded was over and concluded in a -fashion she never anticipated. It was all strange—and yet not strange. -She was persuaded that this interview had been dominated by something -her father had left behind, in order that it might fight for what -Derrick called readjustment. And in that she was ready to aid to the -utmost. There was no room for fear now. She declined Derrick’s offer to -walk home with her and went thoughtfully back with a new sense of being -fortified in things that for years past had stirred secretly in her -soul. - - - -Derrick sat in the study late that night, with no pretense at work. -Beech Lodge had dipped into utter silence, and the fire was low. His -mind was full of the visitor of the afternoon, whose coming had lent a -new significance to his surroundings. Now he perceived more clearly what -it must have cost her to come. He was conscious of her communicable -courage, the charm of her youth, and above all of the fact that to her -also something had whispered from the infinite. How vivid she was, how -understanding! - -He wondered, too, what impression she carried away. Had he said too -much, or too little? In talking, as he had done, to the daughter of a -murdered man while she sat in her father’s study beneath her father’s -portrait, in taking on himself the office of avenger—had he not already -gone too far and too fast? Could Jean Millicent have done otherwise than -approve while she must have been still struggling with profound and -reawakened emotions? Had he been stilted and self-assured and pedantic? -Had he assumed too much? These questions harassed him. - -Against it he put the girl’s coming. She had not known what manner of -person she would find but, braving the revival of her own loss, had -determined to do what she could to save others from any tragic -experience. This thought grew in his mind till, in turn, he recognized a -new element in this strange affair. He had desired to answer if he could -the voiceless petitions of the dead man, but now, in addition, he felt a -wave of protection for those whom Millicent had left behind. It was -this, he realized, that had animated him during his talk with Jean -Millicent. And she had promised to help. He got up restlessly, lowered -the lamp, and, moving to the French window, stared out at the -moon-smitten lawn. How often must Millicent, who was so close to-night, -have stared like this? Perhaps it was on such a night that the evil -thing came, strong and merciless. But whence and how? - -It was in the midst of a space of profound silence that he heard the -faintest click at the door. He started at that, for his sister had been -long in bed, and Perkins’s room was in the far corner of the house. What -moved in Beech Lodge now? The door was opening, so slowly that it was -almost imperceptible. His hair began to prickle. Was this the evil -thing, and what did it seek? - -He stood, breathless and motionless, his pulse hammering, till through -the widening crack projected a hand, followed by a long arm and -white-clad shoulder. The fingers were empty and extended as though -feeling blindly. Then a face, pallid as of the dead. It was Perkins! - -She glided forward without sound or speech, a wraith, a spirit of the -night, so unreal, so remote as to be divested of human attributes, the -thin hand still held out, exploring and testing the half-light that -filtered through the silent chamber. It was the hand rather than the -body that had life, with consciousness in its quivering finger-tips. She -was only partly dressed and wore a loose white wrapper that accentuated -the tall straightness of her figure. Her black hair hung in two thick -ropes over her shoulders; her feet were bare; and her face was that of -one who sees unspeakable things. The eyes were wide open, and in their -glassy stare was a strange hunger and a great question. - -She came on like an uncaptured spirit, feeling delicately along the -paneled wall, a creature of body and flesh, but directed by some -mysterious influence beyond human ken. She did not look toward the -window but paused for a moment to survey the portrait with an unearthly -and profound recognition. From this she turned to the desk, leaning over -it, her dangling ropes of hair rendered semi-luminous against the lamp, -peering, peering, till at length the long, questing fingers found what -they sought, and poised, quivering above the stain. - -Now she swayed, leaning ever a little more forward, till at last her -head drooped, her arms stretched out, and her lips touched that darkened -patch where they rested in a mute and desperate caress. - -“Master,” she pleaded, “master, where are you now? Why did you go; why -are you not here where you used to be? The evil waits still, and all is -empty and cold and dead without you, all dead, all dead!” - -The voice ceased like a wail in the night, drowned in silence. Her lips -pressed close to the stain till they seemed to infuse into it the -message of her own blood, while the blind fingers groped and groped for -that they could not find. Then with a sigh that hung tremulous in the -throbbing air she moved to the portrait, made a slow, despairing gesture -of farewell, and glided back to the door and out of sight. - -Derrick, rooted where he stood, thrilled to a new light that began to -flicker in his brain. The fabric of his imagination was becoming more -substantial. He had seen the soul of a woman stripped of all disguise, -and heard a voice that was robbed of all powers of concealment. The -essential meaning of this danced before his mind’s eye. - - - - - CHAPTER V - THE PAPER-KNIFE - - -THE VILLAGE of Bamberley lay about two miles from Beech Lodge, a -homelike nest of buildings gathered in a wrinkle of the Sussex hills. It -was well removed from any main road, and its thatched roofs and crooked -cobbled streets had fortunately escaped the demoralizing finger of -progress. It was, in fact, just as it had always been in the memory of -its oldest inhabitant. A village green, with the pens of the cattle -market just across the road, a rambling public house, whose swinging -sign creaked cheerily when the wind was high, a few diminutive shops, -the contents of which were huddled in the meadows, perhaps a hundred -cottages, a dozen more pretentious buildings dominated by the village -institute—and then the encircling hills, velvet and brown and wide, -patched with irregular coverts and dotted as far as the eye could reach -with farm-house and barn. - -Bamberley happened to be the most important of four adjoining villages; -so here were the police headquarters of that utterly rural district. It -was a neat brick building with the local jail immediately behind, -standing where the cross-roads provided the main interest in life. - -The road from Beech Lodge climbs the crown of a low hill ere it dips -into the village; and Derrick, as he strolled toward the station and -looked down on all this, thought he had never seen anything so peaceful. - -The sergeant, a large, ruddy-faced, cylindrical man, greeted him with -undisguised interest, and Derrick lost no time in getting to the point. -They talked in the tiny office, which seemed filled by the other man’s -bulk. Derrick knew what he wanted, for this visit had occasioned him -much thought. He was aware, too, that minor officials in isolated places -were apt to regard with a jealous eye anything that might infringe on -their position and privilege. It was at once obvious that the sergeant -felt an added sense of responsibility when the visitor asked if he might -read the official documents in the Millicent case. - -Burke had been prepared by the constable for Derrick’s coming, and -during the past few weeks had chafed at his delay. He wanted to talk -about the Millicent case more than anything else in the world. It was -the biggest and most baffling puzzle in his career, and for a day or so -the eyes of England had turned curiously toward Bamberley. After the -inquest they turned away to the next sensation, leaving the police force -of that tiny community with the stinging sensation of having fallen -grievously short. Since then, Burke, feeling his position more than he -would ever admit, had explored every avenue that presented itself to his -methodical mind. And always with the same result. Now, after nearly two -years of silence, the thing was up again, brought up by a complete -stranger who had actually taken into his employ the man suspected of the -crime, against whom no definite charge could be laid. Burke secretly -wondered whether by any chance Derrick and his gardener knew each other -a good deal better than appeared on the surface of things. This was -undoubtedly a matter for caution. - -“The point is, sir,” he said slowly, “that I have no authority to tell -you anything whatever, unless it is clear that the law may be aided -thereby, and you have supplementary evidence with a direct bearing on -the case.” - -Derrick nodded. “I quite understand, sergeant, and that’s entirely -reasonable. Would you sooner I looked up the counsel acting for the -crown at the inquest? I’m quite willing, if you’d rather not talk about -it.” - -Burke reflected. He did not want to lose anything that might help -himself, nor did he want to go beyond his boundaries. There was probably -nothing here, but he could not get the reappearance of Martin out of his -head. He had walked past the cottage at Beech Lodge only the week before -and had a look at the man. Martin had nodded coolly and gone on with his -work. A hard man, any way one took him. - -“Please yourself, sir, about that; but if you’ll tell me what’s in your -mind perhaps it won’t be necessary to go any further.” - -“It may take a little time, sergeant.” - -Burke glanced out of the window and along the cross-roads. “We’re not -likely to be disturbed this morning.” - -“Then I’ll begin with a question. Do you believe in the theory that when -a serious crime has been committed, I mean one of passion or revenge, -that the criminal, wherever he may be, is constantly reminded of it by -the process of his own brain—that in spite of all he can do he builds -up picture after picture, and lives it all over and over again?” - -“There are too many proved instances of that to doubt it.” - -“And do you also believe that something constantly suggests to such a -man that he should go back and revisit the scene of the crime?” - -“There was the Hardwick case, like that,” said Burke reminiscently. “You -remember the Gloucester Square doctor who was killed by the man who -afterwards took rooms immediately opposite the doctor’s house; and the -murderer never could tell why, except that it seemed the only thing to -do.” - -“Then I take it that in your profession the likelihood is really weighed -and considered.” - -“Yes, sir, it is. Some of the London men who came down here two years -ago were talking about it.” - -“Another point is the matter of coincidence. How do you feel about -that?” - -“It’s something that has played a big part in our work. One can’t put it -aside. Coincidence and the other things you’ve mentioned often seem to -run together.” - -“And you know, of course, that Mr. Millicent’s gardener turned up very -soon after I took Beech Lodge?” - -“Yes, Mr. Derrick; Constable Peters reported that you had authorized him -to occupy the cottage.” - -“Then can you guess what brought him here all the way from Burma?” - -“Did he go that far?” - -Derrick nodded. “And came back by way of Canada—” - -“There might be several reasons,” said the big man thoughtfully. - -“Well, as a matter of fact there is but one.” - -“How do you know, sir?” - -“Martin told me himself.” - -“What was it?” Burke’s tone had changed a little. - -“He _had_ to come. He had no bones about saying so.” Derrick paused a -moment. “Sergeant, could an innocent man have felt like that?” - -The sergeant stared at his own massive boots, glittering mountains of -leather that shone with official luster. - -“Anything else, Mr. Derrick?” - -“Of course you remember Perkins?” - -“Perfectly; the sort of woman one can’t forget.” - -“Yes; a strange character, showing nothing on the surface, and so much a -part of Beech Lodge that we took her on with the house.” - -Burke grinned. “I can see that she hasn’t changed much.” - -“No, she can’t change. But did you know that she walked in her sleep?” - -The sergeant looked at him sharply. “For a newcomer, sir, you’ve -unearthed a good deal. I never heard that before.” - -“And would you think it of interest if I told you that the desk at which -Mr. Millicent was found is of particular attraction to both Martin and -Perkins?” - -“Why do you say that?” - -“Because I’ve seen them both examining it closely when they thought they -were unobserved. They were looking for something, sergeant.” - -Burke got up, stood at the diminutive window, and with his hands folded -behind his back stared at the verdant expanse of Bamberley Green. -Obviously he was thinking very hard. Derrick lit his pipe and -contemplated the big frame, the thick neck, and round, neatly clipped -skull. There was no promise of great ability here, no quick perception, -no imaginative brain. Burke found his inspiration in his official -regulations. Law, order, and discipline, was it not all in a book? He -was the type for whom it was hard to let go, and impossible to forget. -And the biggest thing in his life was still the Millicent murder. It -hurt, just as Constable Peters had intimated. Presently he turned. - -“Mr. Derrick, in most cases of crime, and especially that of murder, the -force is pestered with amateur detectives who believe they have the one -and only clue. It’s very often a reporter for some paper. They make all -kinds of trouble, and always mix things up if you give them any rope. -But you’ve said enough to justify me in talking about what took place at -the inquest on Mr. Millicent; though, mind you, it’s entirely -unofficial.” - -“That’s all I ask, sergeant; and if this thing can be solved I have no -desire to appear in it at all. I’d much sooner not. If we get any -results, they’re yours, not mine. I don’t pose as an amateur detective; -but, from what I have already seen and know, I believe this thing can be -run to earth.” - -Burke reached to a shelf above his head and took down a large -leather-bound volume. On the well-thumbed pages of this were pasted -envelopes, from one of which he extracted a docket bearing the name of -Millicent, with a date. The manner in which he turned to it suggested -that this procedure had often taken place before. He cleared his throat -and began rather stiffly. - -“At ten thirty on the night of October fourteenth—that’s two years ago -less three days—I was just leaving this office when Paling, the groom -of Dr. Henry, drove up in great haste and said that I was wanted at once -at Beech Lodge by the doctor, who was himself at that time at the Lodge. -He had been summoned there by Martin, Mr. Millicent’s gardener, who told -him that a murder had been committed. We galloped all the way to the -Lodge, arriving there at ten thirty-seven by my watch. I left -instructions here that Constable Franklin should follow me without -delay. I was admitted by the maid Perkins, who took me to the study, -where I found Mrs. Millicent, her daughter, and the doctor. A lamp was -burning on the desk, and beside it was Mr. Millicent, lying forward so -that his head rested on the desk. He was quite dead. There was a large -wound in his neck that had bled profusely and formed a puddle among his -papers. The doctor very wisely had left things undisturbed, because his -first examination proved that life was extinct.” - -“Were Perkins and Martin in the room at this time?” asked Derrick -evenly. - -“No, only Mrs. and Miss Millicent and the doctor. Perkins and Martin -waited in the hall with the doctor’s groom.” - -“And then?” - -Burke turned a page. “It was, of course, most important not to destroy -the slightest clue that might have been left, so a very careful -examination of the room was made, with exact measurement of the position -in which the body was found. I searched the room, examined the door -leading to the lawn, and found that it was fastened. By this time -Constable Franklin had arrived, and he helped. We went over the entire -ground floor, made sure that all windows were closed, then locked the -study door, and took Mr. Millicent up-stairs to his own room. I left the -constable on guard outside with instructions that no person should be -allowed to enter or leave the grounds.” - -“What sort of a night was it?” - -“Dull, mild, and rather cloudy, with no rain.” - -“And the outside of the house?” - -“Nothing could be done till next morning except make sure that any -tracks should remain undisturbed; but after a most careful examination -we found nothing of the kind. My own conclusion, and it has not been -changed since, was that the blow must have been struck by some member of -the household—or”—here Burke paused significantly—“at any rate some -one in the family service. Mind you, Mr. Derrick, this is absolutely -unofficial.” - -“I quite understand that. Now what can you tell me about the inquest?” - -“I was just coming to that. The witnesses were narrowed to five: Mrs. -Millicent and her daughter, Dr. Henry, Perkins, and Martin. I’ll take -them in their order, so Mrs. Millicent comes first. She told a very -simple story. Her husband was forty-five, and the latter part of their -married life had been spent at Beech Lodge. He had at one time a very -comfortable income, which latterly had been reduced by speculations. -They were not, however, in difficult circumstances, although she seemed -to know very little of his financial affairs. He was always much -interested in anything that had to do with the Orient. So far as she was -aware he had no enemies. He spent a good deal of his time in the garden -and often went for long walks, always alone. Since his last trip to the -East, from which he returned five years before his death, he seemed to -have some kind of worry, of which he would never speak, or explain. -Letters had arrived for him from Singapore, at which his worry seemed to -increase; but he always destroyed these and never referred to their -contents. From what I make of it, he was up to his eyes in something he -found it necessary to conceal from those he cared for most. There had -been no hard words with any of the staff, and no stranger had been at -the house that day so far as we could learn.” - -“I understand that Mrs. Millicent engaged Perkins, while later on her -husband employed Martin. How much later?” - -“About a year.” - -“So that any collusion between them before this is improbable?” - -“I should say so; and it seems that they took very little notice of each -other at any time.” - -“Then, as far as we have gone, the period between the actual moment of -the murder and the time when Perkins notified Mrs. Millicent is -unaccounted for.” - -Burke nodded. “Exactly!” - -“Before we go on to the other evidence, can you tell me whether anything -was missed after the murder?” - -The sergeant opened another envelope, extracting a sheet of brown paper -some eighteen inches long. - -“This is a drawing made by Mrs. Millicent of a thing that her husband -used as a paper-knife. It’s not been found since that night.” - -Derrick took it eagerly and scrutinized the outline of a -murderous-looking weapon. Its curving blade must have measured a foot, -being chopped off at the point in a curious and characteristic fashion. -The handle was heavy and carried a short guard. Its deadly curve was -unmistakable. - -“By George!” he said. “That’s a Malay creese!” - -“Yes, Mr. Millicent got it in the East and seemed to attach some kind of -sentimental value to it. He always kept it on his desk. Of course, it -may be that it was there for protection, though the average man would -have preferred a revolver. On the other hand, you can see what chance -any one would have against a thing like that.” - -“Then there are two assumptions,” answered Derrick thoughtfully, “one -that the person who committed the crime knew that this thing was on the -desk available for his purpose; the other, that he came without any evil -intent, but a dispute developed and in a burst of anger he picked up the -creese, and struck.” - -“And there’s just one person to whom both of those cases might apply, at -ten o’clock at night,” said Burke grimly, “the person against whom we -have no evidence.” - -“I agree with that. Did anything else disappear at the same time?” - -“So far as we know only one thing, and that apparently not of any -importance. It was a sort of little toy image, about three or four -inches high, that Mr. Millicent used as a paper-weight. It was carved -out of a block of jade. He used to joke about it in a queer sort of way -and say it was more valuable than they knew. Sometimes it was on his -desk, but only when he was in the room himself. At other times he used -to hide it away; but no one ever knew where. He never talked about it, -except in that joking manner. It seems to have been an ugly-looking -thing, too, but Mrs. Millicent could not make a drawing of it.” - -A sudden light danced in Derrick’s eyes. “Then there was no concealment -about this?” - -“No more than that it used to be stowed away, and he’d never allow it to -be touched. You know how men sometimes get queer ideas about things?” - -“Yes, I know.” - -“And it’s generally something quite unimportant. Well, it was like that -with this image. Matter of fact, it was so ugly that no one in the house -seemed to want to touch it, except Perkins.” - -“Ah!” said Derrick slowly. His eyes were very keen. “Now, there are a -few other questions I’d like to ask, but first you might tell me what -other evidence was given.” - -The sergeant glanced out of the window. “That’s queer! I was going to -say that Miss Millicent couldn’t tell us anything important, and there -she is now.” - -Derrick looked up. The girl was just abreast of the tiny office, walking -slowly. Involuntarily she turned her head, and their eyes met. Color -mounted to her cheeks, and she bowed. Derrick went out to her quickly. -There were no preliminaries. - -“May we come over in a few days? I think perhaps you could help then.” -He spoke as though their last conversation had only been interrupted. - -“Do!” she nodded. - -“And till then I hope you’re not worrying, or anxious?” - -She shook her head, smiled, and sent him a look of complete confidence. -“Would it seem odd if I said that I worry less now than in the past two -years?” - -“I’m so glad of that!” - -“It’s quite true. I’m happier, and so is mother. I”—she hesitated a -little—“I think we don’t feel so horribly alone.” - -“You’re not.” His voice was queerly strained. “Indeed, you’re not.” - -She glanced at him again, then turned quickly away. - -Derrick looked after her, following the slight figure till it came to -the corner of the green. Something of him went with her, and he -reëntered the sergeant’s office wondering at himself. - -Whatever doubts the latter might have had about this unofficial -conference had been laid at rest. The new master of Beech Lodge was -animated by more than mere curiosity. That was now established; and, -surveying the past two years, the big man realized how heavily the -unfathomed crime had rested on his own spirit. The memory of it could -never leave him till the mysterious scroll was unrolled. This visit of -Derrick’s might result in nothing; but, in a way not entirely clear, the -chance of solution seemed at last a little more probable. He looked at -the young man almost with respect. - -“As I said, Miss Millicent could really tell us little more than her -mother. She seemed just as frightened of something that might still take -place as of what had happened. She knew about the image, but nothing of -its history; and my impression was that she linked it up with the crime -in a way that none of the rest of us did. She had no explanation of -this. I got the impression that she understood her father, if one can -put it that way, better almost than her mother—although I have no real -reason for saying this.” - -Derrick glanced at him shrewdly. “Nevertheless, I’m glad you mentioned -it. Anything else?” - -“No, sir. Perkins was the next witness. She had been in Mrs. Millicent’s -employ for nearly five years. An Englishwoman, aged thirty-eight, she -had traveled a good deal before she went into service. She stated that -on the night in question she was on her way up-stairs from the servants’ -hall—there was no other servant there at the time—and passed the -study. The door was closed, and there was no sound; but she could see -the lamplight under the door. A little later, when she was ready for -bed, she went back to the servants’ hall for a book and noticed that the -door was ajar and the lamp still burning. - -“She went in, thinking that Mr. Millicent had gone to bed and forgotten -to put it out. There she found him, bent forward over the desk, his head -on one side and a deep wound in his neck from which the blood had poured -in a pool. She said that for a moment she could not move, then ran -up-stairs, hammered at Mrs. Millicent’s door, and told the latter that -there had been an accident in the study. Mrs. Millicent called to her to -send Martin at once for the doctor, so she raced down to the cottage at -once without going again into the study. She found Martin, who ran for -Dr. Henry, coming back a little later with the doctor and groom in the -cart. Then the groom came for me. As you probably know, Beech Lodge is -about half-way between Bamberley and the doctor’s house.” - -“Did Perkins admit having missed anything from the desk?” - -“She mentioned the paper-knife but said nothing about the image till she -was questioned.” - -“And then?” - -The sergeant reflected a moment. “I didn’t make much of what she said -then. She was very upset, and rambled a good deal, till I think the -coroner was glad to have done with her. I almost thought she attached as -much importance to that as to the paper-knife, but of course she was -hysterical.” - -“Possibly,” murmured Derrick. “So I take it that Martin could not -actually have seen the body till he returned with the doctor?” - -“That is his evidence, which I will come to in a minute, and also -Perkins statement. It would be a matter of perhaps twenty or twenty-five -minutes after Perkins waked Mrs. Millicent.” - -“And Mrs. Millicent, and I suppose her daughter, stayed with the body -till the doctor came?” - -“Yes.” - -“Where was Perkins then?” - -“Also in the study, trying to help Mrs. Millicent, who she thought was -going off her head.” - -“Let me go back a minute. The first time Perkins passed the study on her -way up-stairs the door was shut, and the next time ajar. How long -intervened?” - -“Perkins says perhaps half an hour, while she undressed.” - -“So during that half-hour the crime was committed, and the door was -probably left ajar by the murderer?” - -“I could never see it any other way, Mr. Derrick.” - -“And that is the time left unaccounted for?” - -“Exactly. Now you’ve reached the point where I’ve had to leave the thing -for two years, and you’ve reached it by the same road of reasoning.” - -Derrick smiled. “Tell me what the doctor said, sergeant.” - -“Very little. He testified that from the condition of the body life -could not have been extinct for more than one hour.” - -“That again narrows it down to about one half-hour in which the thing -happened. The question is what did happen, so perhaps we’d better hear -what Martin said.” - -“There again it didn’t amount to much. He stated that he was smoking in -the garden of the cottage when Perkins came running in, half dressed, -crying out like a mad woman that Mr. Millicent had been murdered, and—” - -“She used the word ‘accident’ to Mrs. Millicent,” interrupted Derrick. - -“Yes, but not this time. She told Martin to get Dr. Henry as soon as -possible. There was no horse at Beech Lodge then, so he ran all the way -to the doctor’s place. The rest of it coincided with Perkins’s evidence. -He also said that he had been outside the cottage all the evening and -could swear that no one had entered the grounds from the road.” - -“Had there been any difference between him and Mr. Millicent?” - -“Apparently not. Mr. Millicent had been in the garden with him that -afternoon, discussing the pruning of the roses and general preparations -for the winter. Mrs. Millicent confirmed this, subsequently, and said -that her husband trusted the man implicitly.” - -“Did Martin mention the paper-knife?” - -“He was questioned but said he knew nothing about it. From what the -others testified, it seems that he very seldom came into the house, so -it’s reasonable he should not have known.” - -“Or the image?” asked Derrick thoughtfully. - -“No, sir, nothing of that, either.” - -“And how long had he been in Mr. Millicent’s employ?” - -“A matter of something less than five years.” - -“And before that?” - -“According to his statement, knocking about in the Orient.” - -“Do you think it is possible that he may have met his master somewhere -in the East, and the fact never came out?” - -“I hadn’t thought of that, but now it begins to seem possible.” - -“And that there had for some time existed between them something that -ultimately culminated in murder?” - -“We could not get as far as that at the inquest, sir.” - -“Let it stand for the present. What was Martin’s manner or attitude -while he gave evidence?” - -“A bit surly, as he always is, though I think without meaning it. It’s a -bit against him that he’s apt not to look one in the face.” - -Derrick nodded. “Now I’ll only put one or two more questions. From what -you know, do you imagine there can be any link or understanding between -him and Perkins?” - -The sergeant shook his head with decision. “What makes me feel there is -not is that, from all I can gather, Perkins dislikes the man.” - -“That seems to be so. When I took him on she preferred to do the boots -and coals herself, though he was available. She’s doing them now. On the -other hand, Martin has come back around the world, and Perkins seems -riveted to the house. Neither of them displayed any particular interest -in their wages. Martin jumped at thirty shillings a week, which is not -much as things go now. The point is, why are they both so keen on Beech -Lodge?” - -Burke stroked his chin. “I suppose that’s one of those coincidences you -spoke of. I’ll admit that they almost certainly know a good deal more -than we’ve been able to get out of them, but we haven’t got enough -evidence to hang your hat on. One can’t make an accusation on anything -else, much less an arrest. It’s up to me to prove that so and so is -guilty, and not for him to prove that he isn’t.” - -“What then would you call a step toward real evidence?” asked Derrick, -with a little lift in his voice. - -“Proof that either Perkins or Martin had been lying at the inquest, -or”—he added with an incredulous smile—“the discovery of that -paper-knife, or even the image.” - -Derrick put his hand in his pocket and laid a small dark green object on -the table. - -“Was it at all like this, sergeant?” - -The blood rushed suddenly to the big man’s temples. “My God, sir! where -did you find that?” - - - - - CHAPTER VI - GOD—OR DEVIL? - - -THE THING on the table was a diminutive image, about three and a half -inches high. It was carved, apparently, from a single block of the most -perfect jade, and when the sergeant, fingering it delicately, held it -toward the window, the light filtered through it, illuminating it with -striking translucency. The base was perhaps two and a half inches -square, supporting a tiny throne, on which sat a figure clothed in -flowing robes. Each individual drape and fold was produced with absolute -fidelity. The hands of the figure were folded, showing narrow -finger-nails of extreme length; and though the general suggestion was -that of the god Buddha, Derrick remembered that in such images as he had -seen the right hand was raised in benediction. - -But there was no benediction here. The head was bent slightly forward, -the slits of Oriental eyes were represented as half closed, and over the -whole face rested an expression of utter and fiendish malignity. One -could not imagine anything more devilish and cruel. There was power in -the face, an abysmal knowledge that penetrated all human frailty and -disguise, and a certain fixed, implacable purpose. Derrick had spent -hours in secret scrutiny of the thing, and it seemed to him that here -was the presentment of the embodiment of evil, and, fixed with an -infinity of patient art, there had been transmitted to this opaque and -precious stone the picture of some soul, wicked and irretrievably -damned. Even now as he stared a chill ran through his body, and he -glanced at the sergeant to determine whether he, too, were not -susceptible to this malign emanation. - -“I don’t know that I ever saw a more ugly thing in my life,” said the -latter slowly. “Where did you find it, sir?” - -“It’s not much use at the moment to try and tell you what led up to -that. I can only say that ever since going into the house I have been -conscious of something. I had no reason to believe that anything of this -kind existed there, and in spite of what you have said I can’t quite see -that this is really evidence, as yet. All we know is that it used to -stand on Millicent’s desk and was missed after the murder. It may be the -thing that both Martin and Perkins were seeking, but it was removed -during that half-hour of which we spoke.” - -“My first move would be to confront them both with this thing when they -didn’t expect it, and watch what happened.” - -“I’m afraid I can’t agree with you there. I’ve never studied your -profession but fancy you’d get as much out of them as out of the image -itself. Perkins has been under very close observation for weeks without -knowing it, and her face is a mask. Martin is much the same. The minds -of both of them are foreign countries, so far as we are concerned.” - -The sergeant leaned forward. There was no doubt about his attitude now. -“Perhaps you’re right, sir, but what is in your mind as to the next -move?” - -“I haven’t gone far enough to say, and there’s an old proverb about -hurrying slowly. Meantime I’d like to know whether you agree that to-day -there are aspects of the case that so far have not been considered at -all?” - -“In fairness to you, sir, I must admit that.” - -“Then you’ll also agree that of the two ways of approaching it the -inductive method is the only one to be considered?” - -Burke was genuinely puzzled and showed it. “I’m afraid I don’t quite -follow you there, Mr. Derrick. It sounds like one of those magazine -stories where the police always fall down and the amateur pulls the -thing off.” - -Derrick laughed. “I’ve an idea the police won’t fall down this time if -they adopt the right method—at least the method that I would follow -myself.” - -The sergeant looked at him curiously. “And how would you start in this -case, may I ask?” - -“Not knowing who the murderer is, let us assume one and proceed on that -assumption. We can safely say that he did his work between nine and ten -at night. We assume also that he did not come with any murderous intent, -unless, and this is a point that must be carefully considered, unless he -knew that there was on Mr. Millicent’s desk a weapon suitable for his -purpose. We also assume that he knew about the image, though for some -reason he denied this, and, more than that, believed that it had -something to do with some act that weighed against him—say, in the -Orient. Mr. Millicent also knew this, and therefore concealed it, and -thereby maintained his hold over the criminal—or the man who finally -became the criminal. That the image should have remained undisturbed for -two years points to the absence of the criminal for that period.” - -Derrick paused for a moment and looked hard at the sergeant. “Are you -with me thus far?” - -“Yes, go on, sir,” was the tense answer. - -“Well, add to that the characteristics of Perkins and Martin, and there -remains the doubt as to whether the woman actually did run to Mrs. -Millicent’s room the minute she made the discovery. Admit the -possibility that she actually saw the murder committed, and, having -secret reasons for sparing Martin, allowed him to return to the cottage -before giving the alarm. Assume, for instance, that she was terrified by -Martin into doing this.” - -The sergeant struck his clenched fist into his palm. “By God, sir! but -that’s more than likely.” - -“There’s nothing in the evidence to prevent it being the case except the -testimony of two persons who you believe know more than was drawn out. -It simply involves the reversal of the sequence of two actions to both -of which Perkins was sworn. To-day she is to all appearances a -broken-hearted woman. Why? Two reasons; one that the master to whom she -was so undoubtedly devoted was killed; the other that for fear of her -own life she has committed herself to the protection of the criminal. In -this connection there’s a very interesting point. When Martin came to me -and asked for a job, I made a point of privately inquiring from Perkins -whether, from all she knew of him, and under all the circumstances, I -would do well to take him on. Her answer was that if I wanted a garden -like Mr. Millicent’s I should take him. It seems to me now that she was -afraid of what would happen if she said anything else.” - -“Yes, sir, that fits in perfectly.” - -Derrick got up and relit his pipe. “Then, I think we might let the -matter rest there for a while, and I won’t trouble you any further this -morning. If it is decided to do anything later on, it will all be done -through you, as I do not wish to appear in the thing at all.” - -“Very good, sir, and if I can help, which I’d like to, I’ll go as far as -my duties permit, and maybe”—here the sergeant grinned meaningly—“a -bit further.” He pointed to the jade god. “Had I better keep this thing -here?” - -Derrick shook his head, picked up the image gingerly, and slipped it in -his pocket. - -“No, thanks, I want to use it for a while. By the way, do you know -whether I can get a couple of pounds of green wax in Bamberley?” - - - -Jean Millicent’s unpremeditated visit to Beech Lodge had marked a -turning-point in the long, gray months that followed her father’s death. -The violence and brutality of this had shocked her beyond words, while -to her sense of loss was added the numbing knowledge that on the very -threshold of life she had been confronted with the worst that life had -to exhibit. Millicent himself had had no surviving relations; her -mother’s people, after the first horrified sympathy, did not allow the -matter to burden them further; and, as the girl impulsively told -Derrick, she felt tremendously alone. - -Between mother and daughter there was complete love—and a limited -understanding. The real link had been with Millicent, from whom Jean -inherited the subjective side of her nature. She had a profound belief -in mysterious influences, incapable of analysis, but controlling -nevertheless the world of unseen things. She realized that she moved -among these, swaying unconsciously to their faint pressure, the -recipient of distant and unmistakable signals that flicked over the -horizon of existence. She had never talked much about this with her -father. His own belief had of late been too burdened with an -apprehension she never fathomed. But she understood where her mother -often failed to understand, silently completing the sentences he -sometimes left unfinished, putting her mind parallel with his, and -building up a queer unexplainable union that expressed itself not so -much in speech as in those fleeting glances of comprehension that are -more eloquent than any words. - -Something of this she recognized in Derrick, and the psychology of the -moment was such that it meant more than she could well express. While -she was with her mother, her heart needed no other companion, though her -spirit was lonely. But she had not been lonely during her visit to Beech -Lodge, however strange the circumstances. She knew now that the visit -was intended. For the first time she had been in touch with another -intelligence that acknowledged what she acknowledged but remained poised -and unafraid. It was like traveling through an unknown and threatening -country, and meeting one to whom all its roads are familiar and who -traverses them without fear. - -A few days after Derrick’s visit to the sergeant, he and his sister -walked two lovely miles to the Millicents’. Edith was glad of it for -several reasons. She admitted being lonely, and also welcomed anything -that lifted her brother out of himself. For the past few weeks she had -watched him closely, saying nothing. He was less distrait and more like -his old self, but she knew that the novel progressed not at all. He was -busy in his own peculiar way, and she asked no questions. - -She was charmed with Mrs. Millicent, found they had much in common, and -noted with contentment that Jean and her brother seemed like old -friends. While all four were together, the subject of Beech Lodge was -instinctively avoided, but a little later Derrick found himself in the -cottage garden with Jean. It was after a pause that she sent him a -straight questioning look. - -“Well, I’m waiting. Something tells me you’ve been very busy and, I -think, successful.” - -“Busy, yes,” he smiled, “but I don’t know how successful.” - -“Did you have a long talk at the police station?” - -“Fairly long. The sergeant regarded me at first as most officials regard -the amateur, but he was interested before I left. It seems that he -regards your father’s case as the one unsatisfactory spot on his record. -It’s odd to talk to a man who is so blunt and at the same time has to -admit that he’s beaten.” - -“But you haven’t told me yet. I know by your face there’s something.” - -“Yes,” he admitted, “there is. Will you let me know what you can about a -small image that came from Burma?” - -“The jade god?” she said swiftly. - -“Yes—or devil.” - -“How extraordinary! Have you come to that, too?” - -“Or else it came to me. Look!” - -She shrank involuntarily, then, without touching the thing he had taken -from his pocket, stared at it closely. - -“Are there two? Where did you find that?” - -“No,” he smiled, “this is a cast in green wax made from a mold I took of -the image itself. I—” he hesitated—“I did not like to carry the -original about with me.” - -“I think you are very wise, but where did you find the original?” Her -eyes were full of wonder. - -“It happened a week ago, the day before I went to see Sergeant Burke. I -was in the study, looking at your father’s portrait as I often do, when -it seemed more than ever that he was trying to tell me something. That -has often been the case before, but never as vividly. He wanted to -speak, and I believe he was speaking, but not in a language I could -understand. Then I got up and stood in front of him and could have sworn -the expression of his eyes changed. They appeared to be looking down at -something below himself and not far away. Without knowing it I put out -my hand as though to meet an invisible one held out to me, and touched -the oak frame on the side of the mantel. You know those old carvings?” - -“Yes,” she said breathlessly. - -“It was just under the upper one. Then I heard a click, and a small -panel fell forward, opening a tiny cupboard about six inches square. The -original of this thing was inside, as though it had been waiting for me. -I did not touch it at once but looked up, and there was a sort of relief -in the painted eyes.” - -“Go on; please go on!” - -“I haven’t much more to say, as yet, except that to my knowledge both -Perkins and Martin have searched the study for something I take to be -the original of this. There’s one other thing to be found now. Evidence -was given that it was there that evening and has not been seen since.” - -“I know what that is.” - -“Well, I have an idea it’s not far away.” - -“Why do you say that?” - -“I don’t know, but I feel it. Meantime will you tell me what you know of -the image?” - -“Father brought it back from Burma about seven years ago,” she said -slowly, “and seemed both to love and fear it. I have always thought it -terrible, as though half the evil in the world had been captured in that -bit of green stone. From the time he brought it back he himself appeared -to change. I felt that the more because we were very near each other, he -and I, and he believed what you believe. We never talked much about it, -as that didn’t seem necessary. As to the image, I knew it was somewhere -in the study but didn’t know where. No one did. All he ever said about -it was that he got it up country. I have seen Perkins come in when it -was on the desk, try not to look at it, then stare as though -fascinated.” - -“Did Martin ever see it?” put in Derrick. - -“Yes, and it had the same effect on him. I often wanted to smile at -grown people feeling like that, but somehow I couldn’t.” - -“Then, if either Perkins or Martin wanted it there would have been no -great difficulty in stealing it?” - -“Perhaps not, but I had a queer idea that though their fingers itched -for it they were afraid to touch it.” - -“Yet it kept Perkins at Beech Lodge, and brought Martin back half round -the world. It sent out vibrations to which they had to respond.” - -“You believe that?” - -He nodded. - -“It all fits in,” she admitted slowly. “Always in the study I’ve felt -some kind of war going on between influences; good fighting with evil. -Father used to feel that, too. The room found its own voice and spoke, -and against that was the voice of the jade god, confusing and -confounding everything with threatening messages.” - -“And you are satisfied there was no common interest between Perkins and -Martin?” - -“I don’t see how that could be. She never had anything to do with him -and didn’t even like having him about the house. I never saw them -together.” - -“May I ask if you know what your father actually did in Burma?” - -“No, sometimes he talked about the Mong Hills, but he never made any -money in the Orient and used to come back saying that he had been in -touch with strange things and people. That used to content him, but -latterly he sometimes used to look desperate. As to money, we have -always had enough to live quietly.” - -“Do you think he had any premonitions of death?” - -“No, I’m sure of that. Once he said that it was harder to live than die, -so he expected to live a long time.” - -“Was that after his last trip?” - -“Yes.” - -Derrick was silent for a moment. “Does Mrs. Millicent know that I’m -working on this?” he asked presently. - -She sent him a quick smile. “Yes, and she thinks it’s tremendously kind -of you but that it can’t come to anything.” - -“My sister knows, too, and can’t see the point, either.” - -“She would feel that it is interfering with your work. I feel it, too, -and it may prevent a splendid book from being written. Am I tremendously -selfish?” - -He looked at her steadily, and her eyes met his without flinching. She -stood, tall, slim, and straight, with a proud carriage to her head and a -broad serenity of brow. Imagination was in her face, the beauty of whose -contour filled him with a sort of comforting satisfaction. It was firm -but gentle, courageous but sweet. Her eyes were a little wistful, and -charged with changing lights and shadows that he found infinitely -appealing. She awakened both heart and spirit, and he knew she could -awaken his soul. What would it be like to be cared for by such a girl? -He felt that already there existed between them something more than -friendship. - -“Will you forgive me for putting you through such an inquisition?” he -asked. - -“There is nothing to forgive, and everything to thank you for.” - -“I think you are very brave.” - -“Brave! It is you who are brave. We have no claim, no reason why you -should be involved in all this.” - -“And yet,” he said thoughtfully, “I was involved before we two ever -met.” He made a sudden impulsive gesture, but it was his eyes that spoke -next. - -She smiled gravely, and at that smile he knew that another voice had -reached him from the unknown. It carried no mysterious threat; it was -unburdened with tragedy; it emanated neither from wood nor stone nor a -jade devil. It was part of the rest, but all grace and purity and joy; a -whisper of life, not death. What sped between them then he could never -tell, but some echo of that whisper must have reached Jean, for her -glance, strange and lingering and perhaps prophetic, met his own for a -memorable instant while the color climbed delicately to her smooth -cheeks. - -“You see,” she said softly, “unless I can think of myself as having -shaken all this off, and laid the ghost of uncertainty and, yes, fear, I -can never have any real future.” - -He pressed her slim fingers. “Don’t worry about the future,” he -whispered. - -Edith was very cheerful on the way home. She had had a long talk with -Mrs. Millicent, promised her Derrick’s last book, found they had mutual -friends, and in general enjoyed herself. It was a relief to be with some -one professedly practical. Also she was beginning to entertain a shrewd -suspicion that her brother was rather more than interested in Jean and -turned the conversation in that direction before long. She chatted away, -swinging her stick and feeling more at peace with herself than for some -time past. - -“I don’t think they’ll stay there very long,” she hazarded. “It’s too -lonely. Mrs. Millicent spoke of France for the summer and feels that -Jean should have a change. It’s no place for a girl like that.” - -“Oh!” said Derrick uncomfortably. - -“From what I gathered she blames herself for having stayed there at all. -It seems she wanted to move away altogether, but Jean wouldn’t have it. -She’s worried about the child and says that she cannot shake the -dreadful thing off, which isn’t a healthy state of affairs at that age. -You two hit it off very well, Jack, from what I saw. You had a regular -conference.” - -He laughed. “Did we?” - -“Didn’t you? You ought to know. I never realized fully before what a -variety of interests you seem to demand. First you come into the country -to write a novel—and, by the way, you’ll notice I’ve said nothing about -the novel recently—then you switch off to a murder case, and I haven’t -mentioned that either recently, and the latest development is a -perfectly new young woman of undoubted charm, of whom I begin to have -suspicions.” - -“And of whom perhaps you won’t say anything at all,” he parried. - -Edith nodded. “Nothing could arouse feminine intuition more than that -remark. However, she’s awfully attractive.” - -Derrick grinned. “Suppose we leave it at that.” - -“All right, brother, but just in case my feminine intuition happens to -be right, I wouldn’t take Miss Millicent too seriously.” - -“You’re very oracular to-day, Edith. What is it?” - -“Her mother practically said that she didn’t understand that girl, but -did know that she still felt very strangely about her father’s death.” - -“One can imagine that.” - -“Yes, of course, but it works in a curious way on her mind. She imagines -herself linked with it in some odd fashion and won’t think of marrying -till the thing is cleared up, which, of course, it never will be now. -She argues that she has her father’s blood and all that, and she may -have inherited some kind of threat or danger or whatever it was that -killed him. The very idea seems grotesque to me, but there you are.” - -“What else did Mrs. Millicent say?” - -“Very little more about Jean, and nothing of her husband, but she did -talk about Perkins and Martin. I suppose she wanted to reassure me.” - -“Anything new about them?” - -“Nothing much. Perkins seems to have been just as invaluable to them as -she is to me. You know, Jack, I’ve rather changed my mind about that -woman.” - -“In what way? Perkins hasn’t changed that I can see.” - -“Not a fraction. She looks just as forbidding and severe and -wet-blankety as ever, and that used to worry me more than you ever knew. -Also I was puzzled about you, and the influence the place seemed to be -getting over you, upsetting your work. I’ve got over that now, and -Perkins has turned out a regular trump. I’m beginning to see what’s -behind that manner of hers.” - -“I wish I could.” - -“Jack, it’s only that of a broken-hearted woman, her way of expressing -it, and nothing else. Yet in spite of that she’s a household treasure. -Things do themselves; there’s no lost energy and no lost time. If -Perkins could be duplicated in sufficient quantities she’d revolutionize -domestic life in England.” - -“It’s a pity she’s never married and started a new breed.” - -Edith decapitated a surviving thistle. “That kind doesn’t marry very -often. They’re born into the world without any desire for marriage, and -perhaps it’s just as well in this case. She’d be working for her husband -and not for us. Marriage,” she added quizzically, “isn’t the solution -for everything.” - -“But why do you say she’s broken-hearted?” - -“Because of a queer thing that happened last night. I wasn’t going to -say anything about it, but you’re so unusually sensible to-day that it -doesn’t matter. I was lying half awake last night, and seemed to hear -some one talking at a little distance with no attempt at concealment, -and quite loud, so I wasn’t nervous. It was a woman’s voice. I got up -and prowled about and found it came from Perkins’s room. She was talking -in her sleep in a queer, flat tone, talking very fast, apparently -arguing with some one, greatly excited and rather desperate.” - -“What was she saying?” put in Derrick sharply. - -“That’s the strange part of it; I couldn’t understand a word. It was all -in some strange liquid sort of language, ending in ‘ong’ and ‘yang’ and -‘ing,’ and sounds like that. Three or four times she said, ‘Master, -master.’ That must have meant Mr. Millicent, to whom she was so devoted. -All of a sudden it stopped, as though her brain had come back from its -travels, and I heard nothing more. This morning I looked at her very -closely, but not a line of her face had changed, and her eyes were just -the same as ever. She had evidently been dreaming about Mr. Millicent’s -death, and, Jack, that’s the biggest thing in her life now. She was dour -and silent before; Mrs. Millicent said so to-day; and one can imagine -what a tragedy like that must mean to a queer locked-up nature like -hers.” - -“Can’t you remember any of the foreign words she used?” he asked -casually. - -She frowned a little, thinking hard. “There were two that came quite -often, more than any others, one something like ‘rumah,’ ‘sambayüng,’ -and the other like ‘santari.’ That’s as near as I can get to it. Why do -you ask?” - -“No particular reason, except that I’d like to identify the language.” - -“You’re not going to speak to Perkins herself, are you?” - -“No,” he smiled. “Far be it from me to put my finger into the wheels of -domestic comfort. Anything more about her?” - -“Nothing except that I’m going to try and cheer her up, and coax out a -smile or two. As it is she smiles about once a week. Then there’s -Martin.” - -“And what of him?” - -“I don’t quite know. I’ve been watching him at work and talking to him -occasionally, and what strikes me is that here at Beech Lodge are two of -the loneliest souls imaginable. I’ve got it now!” she added suddenly. -“Why shouldn’t they marry?” - -“Oh!” said Derrick, startled. - -“Well, just think a minute. It might work splendidly for all concerned,” -continued Edith, warming to the idea. “Martin, in spite of his -appearance, is as faithful as a dog, and he absolutely loves flowers. -This place is going to be a picture next summer. He’s had some sort of a -blow, too, and his eyes are often more sad than I can describe, and not -a bit shifty or furtive. And he’s beginning to like you just as he used -to like Mr. Millicent from all accounts. Jack, why shouldn’t they marry? -Don’t you suppose it’s possible that that’s what brought him back, -looking for Perkins?” - -Derrick did not answer at once. The idea was too fantastic. It was not -Perkins that Martin sought when he returned, nor was she the type of -woman to bring a suspected man round the world to a place which for -every reason he should avoid. They shared something; he was sure of -that; but whatever it was it had dug a gulf between them, and to -discover a bridge to span that gulf was Derrick’s aim. - -“If I were you I’d put that idea out of my head,” he said quietly. - -Edith was a little disappointed. “Why? Stranger things have happened -before this.” - -It was on the tip of his tongue to say that stranger things would -probably happen, but he only laughed. - -“We know nothing of their past—that is, before they came to Beech -Lodge—and their future is their own. It’s too delicate a business. -Perkins doesn’t like Martin, though she was bound to recommend him as an -excellent gardener, and it would be stretching the point a good deal to -imagine that she is anything to him. She hardly speaks to him as it is. -Didn’t you say just now that she was not the marrying kind?” - -“Yes, I did; but since there’s no probability of my arranging my own -wedding, I rather like to potter about with other people’s. That may be -useful to you, Jack, later on. As to Perkins, I dare say you’re right, -and after all, if they did ultimately come together, it couldn’t be -utterly festive, could it?” - -“No,” he laughed, “it couldn’t. What else is there in the mind of the -thoughtful Martha?” - -“Nothing except that I’d like to make those two lives a bit more cheery, -if I could; and naturally one’s mind pitches ahead.” - -“It does,” he admitted. “Do you feel prophetic at the moment?” - -She sent him a keen glance, at which he colored in spite of himself. - -“I don’t believe, old boy, you’re quite ready for me to go on yet.” - - - -Now, if one takes the case of a highly sensitive and imaginative young -man, whose mind is continually exploring for new sensations, and plunges -him into a situation that is clothed with grimness and mystery, there -will inevitably be set up a series of reactions such as Derrick had been -experiencing for weeks past. And if, further, he then comes into touch -with the girl whom he desires for his own, discovers her to be involved -in the mystery, and realizes that she will remain out of reach till the -problem is solved and her spirit set free, there will be added to his -efforts the greatest incentive of all. - -So it was with Derrick. Both from Jean herself and from Jean’s mother he -now knew exactly where he stood. Though not told in so many words, he -was under no misapprehension. All thought of his own work disappeared. -This was his work, and the call of it was irresistible. As for Edith, -and he smiled when he thought of her, she was in no danger. She stood -too far outside the sweep of the drama, and it would be an error in -tactics to tell her too much. He believed he would need her help at the -end, but the end was not yet. - -He was returning from a long and solitary walk when, nearing Beech -Lodge, he noted on the road ahead a curious figure. It was that of an -elderly-looking man who tramped some hundred yards in advance. His -clothing was loose and weather-beaten. He stooped a little forward as he -walked, and supported himself on a staff which he had evidently cut by -the way. As Derrick drew abreast he took a sidelong glance and at once -remarked the brightness of the stranger’s eyes. Physically he did not -seem more than fifty years old. A first impression of age was given by -the whiteness of his beard, but in spite of both stoop and stick he -moved with an agility that belied his apparent years. His skin was a -dark olive shade, his nose hooked like a raven’s beak, and his cotton -shirt was open at the neck, showing where a thin gold chain lay yellow -against the swarthy flesh. - -Derrick, meeting a swift look, experienced a sudden thrill. What manner -of man was this to find in a Sussex lane? It seemed that something -invisible but enormously potent moved down the road beside him. Then, -instinctively, he halted at the gate of Beech Lodge and waited till the -stranger came up. The latter made a sweeping gesture of salutation, and -swung forward the pack that had been balanced on his shoulders. - -“Good morning, sir. Will you buy a trinket and help an old man on his -way? Cheap, sir, cheap, so cheap that they’re nothing short of presents, -trade is that bad. Worse than I ever saw it in this country before.” - -He spoke in a thin singsong voice that carried with it a sort of -outlandish lilt. No British peddler this, but one from foreign parts. -Derrick felt a now familiar thrill, and the spirit of him scented the -Orient. - -“What part of the world do you hail from?” - -“Any and every part, sir. So long as it’s south of the line it makes no -difference to me. Central America, Bengal, Borneo, the Cape, Cochîn, and -Singapore, they’re all the same.” He shivered a little. “Time was when I -thought the old country was the only place in the world, but I’ve got -over that now, specially in winter.” - -“Have you been here long this time?” - -“A matter of a few months, but I’m going back East. This wind is too -much for my bones.” - -“What have you got?” - -The pack was unrolled deftly on the wet grass, and inside lay a long -strip of raw silk. Opening this after a swift glance down the road, the -stranger revealed a medley of things, some beautiful, many valuable, and -none of them ordinary. No Manchester stock was this. He had chains of -native workmanship, hammered bangles of gold and silver, semi-precious -stones carved with amazing cleverness, bits of oddly shaped ivory, all -the paraphernalia of the peddler of the Far East. These he showed with -obvious and lingering interest as though he loved them, pattering -meantime of the Sunda Islands, the Moluccas, Bali, Lombok, and a host of -Eastern ports and places whose accustomed names fell from his lips with -glib fluency. There was no doubt about his knowing the East. - -“This, sir, is a bit of hammered tin from Kuantan in Pahang, and you -don’t get much of that kind of work nowadays. They wash the tin out of -the gravel on the hillsides, and there are only three men in Malaysia -who turn out this grade of art. This gold bangle is from Berak—all -Chinese labor there—and you can have it for ten shillings. Better take -it, sir, for it weighs twenty pennyweight and is worth a sovereign for -the gold alone.” - -“Then why not sell it as gold?” - -“I wouldn’t offer it unless I were footsore and had to have somewhere to -sleep. Can’t sell this sort of thing in an English village. I’d get -arrested for having it; that’s why I’m heading for London.” - -His piercing eyes rested on Derrick while he spoke, and in them moved -something more than a mere interested scrutiny. Then they roamed -curiously about the neighborhood. A brain was working behind those eyes, -and it occurred to Derrick that this man knew well where he was. - -“Ever been in this part of England before?” - -The lean brown fingers hung motionless over the trinkets. “No, sir, -there’s nothing to bring my kind here unless it’s the June race meet. -Won’t you take this bangle? There’s a good twenty pennyweight of fine -gold in it. There isn’t a lady who would turn up her nose at it. I’ve -seen a woman bought and sold for one not half as good.” - -Derrick hesitated. Strange thoughts were coursing through his head and -with them the growing conviction that this, like all the rest of it, was -meant to be. Perhaps it was grotesque, but had not Perkins said weeks -ago that others were coming to Beech Lodge, drawn by mysterious signals -they could not withstand? Then Martin had come, and Jean Millicent, and -who should say that here was not the last of the gathered company. It -was not a bundle of trinkets that had brought this wanderer to these -tragic gates. - -“What’s your name? You speak good English, but you’re not English, are -you?” - -The peddler shook his head. “No, sir, my name is Blunt. My father was -English and my mother a Malay woman. I was born out there and spent most -of my time between the islands. Now I’m for getting back as soon as I -can, so I’m heading for the East India Docks, where I’ll sign on. It’s -too cold for me in this country. Couldn’t I spend the night in one of -the outhouses, sir?” - -“Well,” said Derrick thoughtfully, “I think perhaps my gardener might -find a corner for you in his cottage. I’ve no objections. You can see -him about it, if you like.” - -The man’s dark eyes took on a sudden gleam. “That’s good of you, sir, -and I won’t be a bit of trouble to any one. If there’s any work to be -done, I’ll do it. Here, you’d better take this bangle now.” - -He held out the yellow circlet. Derrick was about to refuse when -something whispered to him to take it. Slipping it into his pocket, he -was surprised at its weight. - -“Why do you offer something worth a sovereign for a night’s lodging?” he -queried. - -The peddler sent him a curious glance. “That’s all right, sir. A few -pennyweight of gold is neither here nor there in a lifetime.” - -Derrick nodded. “Perhaps not—to either of us. If you turn in here I -think you’ll find the gardener just on the other side of the cottage.” - -The man rolled up his pack and moved along the drive toward the house. -Derrick stood irresolute for a moment; then something impelled him to -follow. Presently he stopped and, making no noise, slipped behind a -sheltering tree. The peddler was now thirty yards ahead. At this moment -Martin, who had been working among his rose-bushes, looked up and saw -the stranger. - -What happened next was all over in an instant. He made a swift -involuntary gesture in which fear and astonishment were tensely blended. -The spade slipped from his fingers, and his eyes protruded. He seemed to -sway a little as he stood with an uncouth elephantine motion, and his -lips trembled, but no sound came from them. Then, as Derrick emerged -from behind the tree and came carelessly toward him, he made an -extraordinary noise in his throat and turned again to his work. And, so -far as the master of Beech Lodge could determine, the peddler had given -no sign whatever. - -Derrick lounged forward with a manner of complete indifference. - -“Martin, this man has asked that he might sleep somewhere on the place -to-night, and I told him I had no objection to his spending it in the -cottage if you’re willing. His name is Blunt, and it’s for you to say. -You will be responsible for him if he does stay, so you can settle it -between you.” - -The gardener’s face had become rigidly impassive, but there was no -concealing the blood that surged into it. He glanced first at his -master, then at the mysterious stranger, and moistened his dry lips. - -“Name of Blunt, sir,” he said thickly. “That will be all right as far as -I’m concerned. I’ll look after him.” - -Derrick, fearing that his curiosity might become too apparent, nodded -and strolled on toward the house. He was very deep in thought. Another -factor was now added to the problem and had to be dealt with. In a way -it was not unexpected. There had been built up a triangle with a dead -man in the center and an undeciphered personality at each corner. Was -this all coincidence, or was not destiny rather arranging the puppets of -a great drama without any extraneous assistance? - -His first instinct was to report the new arrival to Sergeant Burke, but -on second thought he decided to say nothing at the moment. The -sergeant’s methods were too heavy-handed, too likely to disturb whatever -process was now at work. However vague to human eyes it might be, he was -convinced that subtle causes were in motion, wheels of fate that -revolved within other wheels, a mechanism that operated silently, -mysteriously, and with some inflexible purpose. As to himself, he could -only wait. Instructions would come, as they always had come, and in the -appointed time, from the same imperceptible and unchanging source. - -As though in search of these, he went into the study and gave himself up -to thought, leaving the windows of his mind open to the lightest breath -of influence. His vision embraced four divergent figures, all of them -inextricably linked. Perkins, with the half-told tale of her life -shrouded behind her sphinx-like face, a domestic automaton as -imperturbable as the jade god itself, the rigid guardian of her own -secret, who talked a strange language in her sleep, and in that sleep -mourned the disappearance of her murdered master. Martin, new come from -round the world, the recipient of viewless signals that reached and -followed him through the rotting jungles, signals that worked and -whispered till they penetrated his slow brain and he came back perforce -ten thousand miles of land and sea, a suspect to the source of -suspicion, to work within sight of the window of the dead man of whose -violent passing he no doubt knew the secret. - -Then the peddler, with restless intelligence in his ageless eyes, -himself a traveler from the same land of strange peoples, tongues, and -gods, tramping indomitably along the deep Sussex lanes till he arrived -as though by chance at the door of one who apparently knew him not, yet -regarded his advent with fear and astonishment. And, last of all, Jean -Millicent, the shadow of tragedy clouding her bright youth, a creature -made for love and tenderness and care but weighted with brooding -apprehensions, toward whom his own spirit had begun to move, striving, -seeking, and hoping. - -Compassed with thoughts like these, he saw himself in relation to those -profound forces which, whether acknowledged or not, dominate our lives. -The winds of circumstance seemed to him no longer the winds of chance. -There was purpose behind all, some high and remote goal to which we are -led along roads that might seem strange and byways that wander -apparently from the general direction. He knew now that it would be -futile to attempt anything save the task that lay directly ahead, and -till that task was discharged Jean Millicent could never be his. - -He was still plunged in reflection when Edith’s entrance brought him -sharply back to earth. She came into the study, noted that he was not -working, seemed about to speak, then smiled at him inquiringly. He -smiled back. She took a penny from her pocket and laid it silently on -the desk. Derrick was feeling for another when his fingers closed round -the gold bangle. - -“Can you wear this?” he asked casually. - -She examined it with delighted and intense interest. “It’s perfectly -lovely, Jack; but where on earth did you get it? Not in Bamberley?” - -“Not much,” he laughed. “I got it as a present a few minutes ago from my -paying guest, or rather Martin’s.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“There’s a peddler down at the cottage now. He has a pack full of things -like that.” - -She shook her head. “Jack, you know you can’t afford it.” - -“It’s all right and didn’t cost me anything. It’s the price of a night’s -lodging with Martin.” - -“Then why didn’t the man give it to Martin?” - -“That never occurred to me. He was tired and footsore, wanted shelter -for the night, and I suggested to Martin that he take him in and be -responsible for him. The man insisted that I take this, so there you -are. Cheap at the price, I call it. There’s a sovereign worth of gold in -it.” - -Edith pushed the bangle on her wrist and twisted it thoughtfully. “Why -don’t you tell me the real truth, old boy?” - -“I have. Want to see him? Interesting sort of person, white beard, -bright eyes, and been everywhere. You’ll never guess where he’s come -from now.” - -“Where?” - -“Burma,” said Derrick meaningly. - -“Isn’t that where you told me Martin had come from when he turned up -here?” she asked slowly. - -“Yes.” - -She was silent for a moment. “Well, Jack?” - -He glanced at her thoughtfully. “It’s all part of the rest of it. I’m -caught up in something stronger than myself. I can’t help it.” - -She took off the bangle and laid it on the desk. “Do you know where it’s -leading you?” - -He nodded, smiling. “Yes, I think so.” - -“To Jean Millicent?” - -“I believe that,” he said gravely. “It seems now that it was meant I -should find her like this. It was all meant.” - -Edith nodded. “When I saw you two together the other day I felt the same -thing, so you’d better give her this. It’s more appropriate. You see, -Jack,” she went on with a smile that was rather sober, “I’m not the -marrying kind.” - -“Nonsense,” he expostulated. - -“It’s quite true, and girls know it by instinct rather early in life. -Then they try to forget it, and settle down in a sort of way to making -other people comfortable. But they can’t help seeing what’s going on all -round them—I mean other girls with their men—and feeling a bit out of -it. It’s a bit solemn for a woman to realize that she’ll never waken the -biggest thing in the world in the heart of a man, because she lacks the -indescribable something that is necessary, and it makes a good many of -us queer and cantankerous. You see we don’t possess what every woman -longs for. - -“Sometimes, too, she has a sort of perception about others. I had it -when I saw you with Jean; and, Jack, it made me happier than in a long -time. That’s why I want you to give her this bangle, which is really -lovely, and also tell me just what I can do to help. You needn’t make -any bones about that. It’s my job, and I’m thankful for it. And for -goodness’ sake, old boy, don’t think of me as being down in the mouth. -I’m not. I understand about you and Jean, and nothing would make me -happier, but as for all the rest of this queer affair I don’t understand -it at all. So tell me what I can do, and I’ll do it. And don’t you ever -think of me as a good-hearted and deserving spinster, or I’ll never -forgive you.” - -It was a long speech for Edith, who but seldom let herself go. Derrick -was oddly touched and patted her arm affectionately. He knew she wanted -no thanks and felt that in the next few days he might need her more than -ever before. - -“I’d like to tell you something. You probably won’t accept it as I do, -but you ought to know, and somehow I’m glad you don’t believe in the -occult.” - -“I don’t,” she said frankly. - -“Well,” he laughed, “please carry on. Nothing could help me more. I’ve -no desire to spend the rest of my life in criminal investigation. I know -you think I’m being carried too far by this one and am collecting a lot -of unimportant data that I anticipate will produce something remarkable -later on. Perhaps I am, but I’m going to see it through, and you know -what I’m working for.” - -“She’s a darling,” murmured Edith, thoughtfully. - -“It means everything to have you say that.” He looked at her keenly and, -deliberating how much to tell her of what was in his mind, decided to -leave the matter where it stood and disclose only what was necessary. - -“You’ll think it wild of me to associate the coming of this peddler with -Millicent’s murder, but I do. I want to keep him here a few days if I -can. There’s something, I don’t know what, in the air; but the thing -that brought him is probably what brought Martin. I’ll talk with him -later on. Would you like to go up to town for a few days?” - -“Why?” she asked, puzzled. - -“I’ve been thinking it’s rather unfeeling of me to expect you to be here -at present under the circumstances. A good many women would not like -it.” - -Edith smiled and shook her head. “My dear, I can’t take it as seriously -as you do, and I’m not nervous. Do anything you like that you believe -will bring you nearer Jean. Be as mysterious and occult as you please. -It won’t worry me a bit. But the house must be looked after, and that’s -for me. I hope this won’t upset Perkins, as things are going very -smoothly in her domain, and don’t forget that it will imperil next -year’s roses if you demoralize Martin. Now it’s time for lunch.” - - - - - CHAPTER VII - A MYSTERIOUS PEDDLER - - -HE WENT to the Millicents’ that afternoon, the bangle in his pocket, and -found Jean unaffectedly glad to see him. Mrs. Millicent had said nothing -to her daughter, but her manner had been that of one who approves. She -liked Derrick and had conceived a genuine fondness for Edith. The -contemplated summer in France was becoming a little indefinite. In a few -moments she murmured something and disappeared. Derrick thought rapidly -and looked straight into the girl’s clear eyes. Then he held out the -bangle. - -“Will you take this from me? It has a curious something about it.” - -Jean hesitated, the look on his face being unmistakable. “It’s charming. -Where did you get it?” - -“From Burma,” he said slowly. “It arrived this morning by a peddler who -is staying the night with Martin. He seemed grateful for my allowing it -and insisted that I take this from his pack.” - -She stared at the yellow circlet. “Does he know Martin?” - -“He pretended that he did not, but Martin knew him without question and -was horrified to see him.” - -Jean did not speak, but her eyes were full of swift wonder. “And then?” - -“Then it was my turn to pretend that I had noticed nothing. They are -together now and will be till to-morrow morning, at any rate. That’s one -reason I came here.” - -She did not ask the other but slid the bangle on her wrist with a slow -and lingering touch. Derrick’s gaze did not leave her. He saw the color -flood and desert her cheek, and the pulse throbbing in her slim throat. -How utterly desirable she was! This was the indescribable quality about -which Edith had talked with a cheerfulness that he now saw must have -cost her dearly; the thing that secured what all women at some time long -to possess. - -He waited breathlessly, but she was still silent. Her heart whispered -one thing, but over her there yet hung a cloud of memories that well -nigh blotted out all else. For so long she had thought of herself as the -child of a foully murdered man, for so long had the menace seemed to be -transferred to herself, that the promise of a future such as she -believed she saw in Derrick’s eyes seemed almost as unreal as it was -divine. She was already more than fond of him and admitted it in secret -hours. It was something new and strange and alluring for the mind to -feed on. But what escape would it mean till the secret of Beech Lodge -had been read, and the weight lifted from her soul? She took the bangle -because she did not want to hurt him, but her eyes avoided his. - -“What do you think is going to happen now?” she asked shakily. - -“I don’t know. I wanted to see you first of all. Do you remember such a -man ever coming to Beech Lodge before?” - -“What is he like?” - -He told her, and she shook her head. “I can’t think of any one. Martin -had no friends even in the village, and father had no visitors from the -East. Can it be the image that brought him?” - -“Nothing else, as I see it.” - -“But how could he know it was there?” - -Derrick smiled. “How did I know? It’s all part of the main puzzle, and -perhaps the missing part. I hoped you might be able to tell me something -that would throw some light on this man’s arrival. I have a queer idea -that it closes the circle, and am going to get him into the study on -some pretext.” - -“Alone?” - -“Yes, to begin with.” - -“Have you told the police about him?” - -“I’m not ready for the police yet. The first thing to find out is -whether the study means anything to him. That little god, or devil, is -there, safely out of sight and touch, but if the peddler is what I take -him to be, he will know it, and if he has come here for it, some attempt -will be made before long.” - -“But what about you?” she asked nervously. - -“He’s not interested in me, but I expect he has something to say to -Martin. He’s probably saying it now. Oh, my dear!” he went on -unconsciously, “don’t you see that we’re getting nearer to the end of it -every hour?” - -Nothing he might have said could have touched her more, or given her a -swifter assurance of what lay next his heart. It moved her to see that -he did not know he had said it. So tender was the thought that she hid -it away to delight in after he had gone. She was ready to love in -secret, but he must not know that yet. Then, in this new light, she was -suddenly afraid for him. - -“Are you quite sure there’s no danger?” - -“The danger,” he said slowly, “is to the man who committed the crime.” - -There was a little silence till instinctively they turned to other -things. It was a strange talk, of the lips and mind only, veering -sometimes to ground where as yet it was trespass to enter, and just as -often diverted with a deftness that only added to the growing reality of -what they both felt but must not declare. He studied the girl, wanting -her the more as moments passed, finding in her the charm that is beyond -explanation, delighting in her perception, caressing her with the arms -of his spirit, and wondering a little at the strangeness of his own -voice. Often in days to come they would remember this meeting and smile -at each other. - -And Jean, timid lest she show what must not yet be shown, discovered in -him a companion of her fancy, a swift interpreter, creative, sensitive, -and ambitious, whose nature was fresh and unexhausted. She did not -realize how secluded a life had been hers. She only knew that never -before had she met a man just like this. And, above all, he made her -feel safe. - - - -He walked thoughtfully back to Beech Lodge and, approaching the gates, -unconsciously slackened his pace. He pictured the jade god in its hidden -cabinet, ominous behind the mellow oak, its creamy fingers resting on -its rigid miniature knees. Who had lifted this thing from the place -where it should be, and where was that place? It had brought death to -Millicent. What would it bring to others? He pictured Perkins, haunting -the room of tragic memory that would not let her go. How much more did -Perkins see than that to which she had sworn? He pictured Martin, his -thick fingers among the rose-trees. What was written on the screen of -Martin’s mind, what had jerked him out of the jungle, and why should -fear be written on his swarthy face at sight of the stranger of that -morning? How could he fear a man he did not know? But he did know him! - -Pondering this last, and with the cottage but a few yards ahead, Derrick -thought he could hear voices, and stepped close against the high hedge -that fronted the grounds of Beech Lodge. Peering through this, he could -make out the window of the cottage kitchen, and it was from here that -the voices came. There was a little stirring of wind that made it -difficult to distinguish anything clearly, but even at this distance it -was evident that some kind of heated argument was in progress. Martin -was speaking with a stubborn sort of rasp in his tones that carried with -it a queer suggestion of nervousness, while the other man talked with a -contemptuous lift in his voice as though he reminded the gardener of -things he had culpably forgotten. Coming as close as he dared, and, -leaning tensely forward, Derrick listened. He could not understand one -word. - -The men were using some unknown language, sometimes sharp, sometimes -liquid, shooting it out with a speed that showed complete familiarity. -Into Derrick’s brain flashed his sister’s description of how Perkins had -talked in her sleep, and he knew that this was the same tongue. -Breathless at the discovery, he listened the more intently. Martin was -rapidly getting on the defensive, jabbering a jargon of defiance, in -which, however, fear seemed always present. Derrick started at the sound -of his own name, then Millicent’s, then Thursby’s. The word “Buddha” was -repeated, but always linked to some unintelligible prefix, and never -with the usual respect accorded to the god by the Oriental. - -What the peddler now said appeared to take the form of some kind of -pronouncement as though he were delivering a verdict, framed almost in a -mysterious chant that sounded as though it came from an infinite -distance. In the middle of this Martin burst forth in a great English -oath, to which the stranger replied with one word that came like the -hiss of a snake, whereat Martin choked audibly and fell silent. Then -Derrick, his brain working like an engine, stepped back on the road, -strolled on to the gate at his usual pace, and, turning in, went -casually on to the house. No sooner had his foot touched the gravel than -instantaneous silence spread in the cottage. And at that he smiled -grimly. - -Passing directly to the study, he closed the door and, making sure he -was not observed from the lawn, opened the oak panel. Inside was the -jade god and its waxen copy. Weighing these in either hand, he -deliberated a moment; then, putting the original back, he closed the -cabinet and dropped the model into his pocket. From the top drawer of -the big desk he took a small automatic. Finally, with god and gun -balancing each other in their concealment, he lit his pipe and strolled -back toward the cottage. - -This time he knew he was observed, for, as he neared the gates, Martin -emerged from the front of the cottage and touched his cap. His face was -of a curiously mottled appearance, and betrayed signs of great tension, -but as his eyes met those of his master he pulled himself together and -assumed his ordinary gruff though respectful manner. Derrick nodded -affably. - -“Well, Martin, what do you think of those Lady Hillingdons for next -year? I see you’ve been at them.” - -“They promise well, sir, but I don’t think so much of the Richmonds.” - -“Sorry to hear that. Why not?” - -“One thing, they weren’t properly pruned last winter, and for another -the mildew’s been at them.” - -“You don’t seem to think much of the man who was here last.” - -“I don’t, sir, and that’s a fact!” - -“And what do you make of your visitor of this morning? Does he know -anything about flowers?” - -“No, sir, flowers aren’t exactly in his line from what I make of him. -Queer sort of chap, I should say, but I don’t take it there’s any harm -in him.” - -“He told me he came from the East. Does he know any of the parts you -know?” - -“Yes, sir, some.” - -“Never happened to come across him before, did you?” - -Martin stiffened ever so slightly. “No, sir, never set eyes on him. The -East is a big bit of country, and there’s room for all kinds there.” - -“You know some foreign lingos?” - -“Yes, sir, a trader needs them if he’s going to do any business.” - -“Have you tried your friend in that respect?” - -“I tackled him just now with Hindustani, but that beat him.” - -“It would beat me, too. Does he know any Malay?” Derrick smiled a -little. “Not that I know any myself.” - -“Only a word or two, sir.” - -“Curious that two traders like you, both of whom have lived in the -Orient, should have to fall back on English to converse.” - -Martin’s eyes were unfathomable, and Derrick searched his mind for the -next move. The man had twice been proved a liar, but the object of his -lies was as remote as ever. Then suddenly came the thought of Perkins, -babbling what was probably Malay in her dream-haunted sleep. - -“I wonder if Perkins happens to know any of those Eastern lingos?” - -The man’s face underwent a swift change. There was fear in it now. He -ground his heel nervously into the soil, while the big fingers clenched -tight. There was in his manner that which suggested a new anxiety, and -for the moment he seemed oddly helpless. - -“I couldn’t say, Mr. Derrick, but if I may make so bold, I wouldn’t try. -She’s a queer woman, and”—here he touched his forehead -meaningly—“she’s best left alone. Mr. Millicent never bothered her, and -he knew her well.” - -Derrick nodded. “You may be right. Where are you putting your visitor -to-night?” - -“On the floor in the kitchen, sir; he says that’s good enough for him. -He’s about used up and asked if he might rest for another day or two. -Showed me his feet. They’re in bad shape. I told him it was for you to -say.” - -Derrick felt a quickening of his pulse. Once again everything fitted in. -The peddler would stay, but not on account of sore feet. He pressed his -fingers against the image in his pocket, but his mind sped to the dark -recess where the real god stared malevolently into the darkness and -waited till his servants should gather at his baffling summons. Then he -glanced at Martin, experiencing a throb of pity for one who was so -secretly tortured. He began to see how the man must already have -suffered, anticipating the inevitable, paying in advance, with the pangs -of two years, part of the price of a blow that took place in a second. -But there was no room now for compassion. - -“Did you happen to see the inside of the peddler’s pack?” he asked -carelessly. - -Martin shook his head. “No, sir, he won’t trouble to show that to the -likes of me.” - -“I don’t know! I’d ask him if I were you, and have a look at them. -They’ll probably remind you of a good many places you ought to know. -Also I think I’d keep an eye on him to-night.” - -“He’s all right so far as that’s concerned,” put in the gardener -hastily. - -“He may be, but one can never tell. I fancy he wouldn’t mind picking up -anything portable, especially if it happened to be in his own line. One -can never be sure about men like that. I’ve known them to wander about -the country picking up odds and ends that were of no value to most -people, but of particular interest to others. I’ve half a mind to send -him along to the village as it is.” - -“That will be all right, sir,” put in Martin hurriedly; “he’s a harmless -old soul with not as much strength as a cat. I’ll stand good for him.” - -He spoke with great earnestness and unconsciously raised his voice. -Derrick at this moment felt his gaze drawn toward the cottage and, -glancing over Martin’s shoulder, noted that at one of the tiny windows -of the kitchen the blind had been drawn slightly aside. The window was -open. Pitching his own tones a little higher, he looked straight into -Martin’s troubled eyes. - -“You remember that talk we had about Mr. Millicent’s death the first -night you came to see me?” - -“Yes, sir,” replied the gardener with reluctance. - -“Well, I’ve said nothing about it since then, but I’ve thought a good -deal. What about you?” - -“I don’t forget it, either, Mr. Derrick, but what else is there to be -said? I told you what I know.” - -“Then I take it that nothing has occurred to you since?” - -“What could occur, sir? It’s more than two years ago now. The poor -gentleman’s cold in his grave, and the world has moved on. I’m trying to -forget it as hard as I can.” - -“Yes, I know, but sometimes, Martin, when a man comes back to a -well-known place which is associated with an event like that, the mind -takes a curious turn and pitches on something it did not see before. -It’s almost as though the place had kept something up its sleeve to -reveal later on. Perhaps it’s your friend’s arrival that has started me -thinking.” - -Martin sent him an indescribable glance. “I don’t quite follow, sir.” - -“I was wondering,” went on Derrick in the same clear tones, “whether it -was possible that any one answering to the description of this stranger -had been hanging about the night Mr. Millicent was killed. Things like -that have been known to happen.” - -“For God’s sake don’t talk that way, sir.” Martin’s face was now -desperate, and he glanced apprehensively over his shoulder. - -Derrick smiled reassuringly. “I can’t see that there’s any harm done by -mentioning it, and it might be as well to let your friend know that -we’re not asleep.” - -The man winced as though struck. “Mr. Derrick, sir, if there’s anything -you want to say about Mr. Millicent now, couldn’t we go a few steps up -the drive? It isn’t wise, is it, that this fellow should know anything -about it?” - -“What’s the matter with you, Martin?” - -“Nothing, sir, but I can’t help being upset when I talk about the -thing.” - -Derrick hesitated, then thrust the probe still deeper. “I can’t see what -difference would be made if he did learn of it. However, let that go, -and perhaps you’re right. You remember my asking you if anything was -missed at that time?” - -“Yes, sir, and I told you all I knew.” - -“And the motive for the crime is as much a mystery to you as ever?” - -Martin’s lips were trembling now, and he could only nod. - -“Well, I had a chat the other day with a man who was on the case, and he -told me that another thing, not that creese, was missed and has never -been seen since. It was a sort of image, carved in jade.” - -“I never heard of that, sir,” stammered Martin thickly. - -“Yes, and apparently it had been picked up by Mr. Millicent in the East -years before.” - -Martin made a convulsive gesture. “Please, sir,” he begged, “don’t talk -like that here.” - -Simultaneously his gaze was drawn to the cottage window as though by -mesmeric power. It seemed that now he had ceased to feel anything except -a mounting fear that struck to his very heart. Little tremors ran -through his massive frame, and he began to sway with a slow, rhythmic -motion as if endeavoring to maintain his balance. His face was a -changing mask in which there was not so much of guilt as of a deadly -recognition that he was being overtaken by some remorseless destiny from -which there was no escape. No longer a gardener, a pruner of rose-trees, -or a traveler from far countries. He became in that moment a man under a -curse. - -Again Derrick felt a fleeting pang of pity for such torture, but -remembered the triangle of death, with Martin standing at one corner. At -the same time he sensed the strangeness of the situation, in which he, a -dweller in a quiet country-side, should be inextricably involved in a -problem so grim and unexpected. Might it be some period of fantasy or -subconscious phase from which he would presently awaken? To this there -were two apparent answers. One, the faint tingle that seemed to spread -from the thing hidden in his clenched hand. The other, the picture of a -girl waiting, waiting. At that, all thought of compassion vanished from -his mind. It was real, all real, and destiny was at work in Beech Lodge. -Then in a flash the next move became clear. - -“I wonder,” he said slowly, “if this was the sort of thing that was -missed from the desk?” He took the image from his pocket and balanced it -openly in the palm of his hand. “Of course,” he added, fixing Martin -with a steady eye, “you can’t tell me, because you say you never saw -it.” - -The gardener’s figure seemed to shrink visibly, and his eyes protruded. -He made a choking sound, the blood rushed in a mottled flood to his -cheeks, and the big hands clasped and unclasped mechanically. Derrick, -staring at him, felt a throb of triumph and slid the image out of sight. - -“God!” said Martin chokingly. “Oh, God! Where did you get that?” - -Then he swung round and glared at the cottage. - -Out of the door came the figure of the peddler, and Martin, watching -him, made a gesture of despair foreign to so powerful a man. The -stranger’s eyes were preternaturally bright, and there was now no trace -of the weary limp with which he had moved only a few hours ago. His head -was erect, the bent shoulders were straight, his body was lithe and had -taken on something of the springy contours of youth. Instinctively -Derrick’s fingers tightened round the image, but it was at him rather -than at his pocket that Blunt looked first. - -“Excuse me, sir,” he began, “but when I was smoking inside just now I -couldn’t help hearing you say that some one had been killed in your -house. Might I ask who it was?” - -The audacity of the thing made Derrick blink. He could not trust himself -to glance at Martin but knew that the gardener’s eyes were fixed -intently on the peddler’s face. There followed an instant of silence. -Derrick realized that he was hunting big game, the biggest game of all, -and it behooved him to keep his head. - -“Will you tell me first why the matter is of any interest to you?” - -Blunt’s lips formed an inscrutable smile, but his gaze was as blank as -sea-water. - -“It’s of no more interest than anything else of the same kind, but I’ve -seen a bit of that sort of thing in the East, and it may be I can be of -use in getting at the bottom of it, if that’s not been done yet.” - -Derrick pondered. “This was not the usual kind of sudden death, and -there were no clues left.” - -The man nodded understandingly. “There ain’t so many deaths of what you -would call the usual kind where I come from, either, but there is most -always a clue of some sort if one knows where to look. That’s a matter -of instinct. Can’t explain it, but I reckon I’ve got it.” - -Over Martin’s features crept a shade of admiration. Derrick saw this, -and it stiffened his resolution. The hunt was afoot now, one against -two. Soon, he was convinced, it would be one against three, when Perkins -joined in. She would prove perhaps the most elusive of all. Then his -mind jumped back to the man in front of him. - -“I don’t see how a complete stranger could spot at first sight anything -that skilled detectives failed to discover after very close -examination,” he said coolly. “You’ll have to convince me that it’s -something more than mere curiosity on your part before I go any -further.” - -“And against that there’s such a thing as looking at some object for so -long that after a while one doesn’t see it at all. It’s the fresh eye -that picks things up. Would it surprise you if I said that you’ve got -something close to you at this minute that might be a clue, and you -never guess it.” - -Martin drew in his breath sharply, but Derrick’s eyes never left the -stranger’s face. - -“Isn’t that a rather wild shot of yours?” - -“It may be, but I’ll risk it. I reckon I’ve sucked in something from the -places I’ve been in that helps to get under the skin at times. Getting -back to clues, this world is full of clues that go unnoticed just -because people don’t know how to look at them. Same thing when you get -so used to a thing that you can’t tell whether it’s in the room or not, -without making sure. That’s because you don’t hear what it says.” - -“Ah,” put in Derrick swiftly, “then you believe that things talk?” - -“It’s the only talk worth listening to now and then.” - -Derrick’s pulse quickened. “Is that what you depend on in this case?” - -The peddler nodded. “Perhaps it would surprise you if I said that -something was talking at this very minute, a queer kind of stuff that I -only half get.” - -Saying this, he lifted his eyes, and sent Derrick an extraordinary look. -There was power in it, and a certain mesmeric weight, and in a strange -but unmistakable fashion it invited the young man to acknowledge what he -himself believed. This look stated very plainly that the stranger saw -through Derrick’s camouflage, and also quite understood the present -necessity for it; but it suggested, too, that behind the newcomer was an -authority that as yet he had no intention to disclose. There were no -words in which to phrase what Derrick felt. Presently, and as though to -make the thing as easy as possible for the master of Beech Lodge, the -little man gave a short laugh. - -“You might as well let me try it, sir. If I fail there will be no harm -done.” - -Derrick, without realizing it, took his cue. “Well,” he said -good-humouredly, “at any rate, you can’t do much harm by having a look -at the room. What do you say, Martin? I’ll let you decide, since you’re -responsible for Blunt while he’s here.” - -Martin twisted his lips in a vain effort to speak, but it seemed that -any reminder of responsibility was almost too much for him. He shot the -peddler a swift glance, in which fear and respect were mingled, and when -he looked at his master his eyes implored that he be not further -involved. In that moment Martin acted like an honest man. Then the -expression passed, and his face was once more a mask. - -“That’s just as you feel about it, sir.” - -Derrick turned to Blunt. “Well, then, you can come up, say, at six -o’clock, and you’d better bring Martin with you. And, by the way,” he -added, “if you want any details about this murder before you come, -Martin knows a good deal more than I do, so you’d better pump him.” - -Blunt shook his head. “It’s just as well I shouldn’t know anything at -all, sir. Sometimes the more one thinks one knows the less one finds -out.” Again he sent the young man that extraordinary look. - -“All right; but if you change your mind, and Martin gets stuck, I’ll put -you in touch with Perkins at the house.” - -Martin started at this, but Blunt seemed unmoved. “Who might Perkins -be?” - -“The maid who was here when Mr. Millicent died. She found him.” - -The man’s expression did not change in the slightest. - -“I won’t want to bother her, sir; and look here, if you doubt my faith -you can take my pack till you’re satisfied I’m straight. Anything else?” - -His voice lifted as he spoke, and Derrick knew what he meant. The sharp -eyes peering from the cottage window had missed nothing. The stranger -was aware that something lay hidden in that pocket, nor could all his -art conceal the hunger that was growing in his soul. Derrick, his mind -tense, and realizing that every step taken now must inevitably affect -the last scene of the drama, gripped the image with fingers that felt -suddenly cold, then drew it out and dropped it carelessly into the -peddler’s hand. The man quivered at the touch. - -“While we’re on the subject, there’s something that may interest you. -Ever see anything like it before?” - -A tremor ran through the lean form, and the bright eyes became clouded -with emotion. The brown fingers closed caressingly, till, all in a -breath, a look of concentrated shrewdness spread over the swarthy face. -The man stared at the molded wax, then at Derrick. “You clever devil!” -was what the eyes said. He grasped the meaning of this model, there -could be no doubt of that, and telegraphed an unconscious admiration to -the one who had fashioned it. He scanned the small square base, the -cloaked shoulders, the tiny folded hands, and the hellish sneer on the -pygmy features, and nodded. Yes, it was all there, and nothing was -there. A great gulf yawned between wax and jade. But the peddler -remained master of himself, while Martin, at his elbow, seemed rooted to -the ground. - -“What do you think of it?” asked Derrick smoothly. - -The peddler shook his head. “Of this, sir, nothing at all; but if I -could see the original it might be another matter. Do you happen to have -it?” - -“I do, but not here. And it doesn’t belong to me. Ever see anything like -it?” - -Blunt nodded. “Yes, but not often. The original of this may have come -from Indo-China, up northeast of the Bay of Bengal. I reckon it would be -about five hundred years old. They don’t make them often nowadays. These -things sometimes drift down into the Malay country, but they’re not -supposed to. Look here, sir, I’ve a leaning for carved jade, which -brings a good price from the Chinese, and I’ll trade you anything in my -pack for the original of this.” - -“But I’ve told you it’s not mine.” - -“Maybe, sir, but if you’ll put me in touch with the owner I’ll make it -worth his while to sell.” - -“We’ll see about that later. Why did you say that these things are not -supposed to get out of Indo-China?” - -“Let me ask first, sir, if this ever brought any bad luck to the man who -owned it?” He paused and smiled cynically. “I mean the original.” - -Derrick nodded. The daring of it was prodigious. - -“Does it happen to be the man you spoke of just now?” - -“Yes.” - -Again the odd smile, and the peddler handed back the image. “It’s a -queer thing,” he said slowly, “but I’ve heard tell that the spirit of -Buddha doesn’t like these things drifting about. It’s talk of the East, -of course, and perhaps it isn’t worth much in England. But there’s -something at work in those parts that gets hold of people without their -knowing it. It isn’t so long ago that I was in a temple up country where -there was something like this, and it just looked at me and dared me to -steal it. I reckon I would have tried to if it hadn’t been guarded by -about a hundred priests. It was the same size as this, and just as ugly, -and carved out of jade, too. - -“All round it there were the usual images, but arranged like rows of -policemen. Next it was an empty stand, and I guessed that that was where -another one just like it had been, but when I asked where it had got to -there was a hell of an excitement, because the beggars thought perhaps I -had it and had come after its mate. It took me all my time to get them -quieted down. Queer sort of game, wasn’t it, sir?” - -“Yes,” said Derrick, in a strained voice. “Anything else?” - -“We had a lot of talk back and forth but didn’t get anywhere. They -seemed to claim that the thing was a sort of link between what one saw -and didn’t see, and in a way joined them up to make a kind of general -picture. I didn’t take much stock in all that, for Indo-China is stuffed -with temples where they palaver about such subjects year after year. So -that, sir, is why I happen to be interested in the original of this, and -if you could put me in the way of getting it I’d make it worth your -while.” - -Derrick glanced involuntarily at Martin. On the man’s face had settled a -look of utter hopelessness. There was no sullenness now, nothing grim or -repellent. His eyes, at times so furtive, held only despair. His figure -was slack, the broad shoulders dropped, and the big hands hung inert by -his side. As though conscious of his master’s scrutiny, he looked up and -pulled himself spasmodically together. - -“Well,” said Derrick, “I don’t know if the present owner puts any value -on the thing, but I’ll find out.” He took back the wax impression and -slipped it into his pocket. “I don’t suppose this model really interests -you from what you tell me.” - -The peddler shook his head. “The copy is dead,” he replied slowly, “but, -from what I gathered in the East, the real thing may have a sort of life -in it.” - -“All right, I’ll see you both at six o’clock.” - -The man touched his cap. Derrick strolled on through the white gates, -and, turning to the right, took the road that led away from Bamberley. -Following this a quarter of a mile, he left it abruptly, traversed a -neighboring copse, and doubled back along a parallel lane. He walked -fast and came to the village in a little more than half an hour. In the -tiny police office sat Sergeant Burke. Derrick waved his hand, went in, -and took the proffered chair. Burke’s face was full of sudden interest, -but he asked no questions. Presently Derrick leaned forward. - -“I think, sergeant, that an attempt at robbery will take place at Beech -Lodge within the next hour or so.” - -Burke sat up straighter than ever. “What’s that, sir?” - -“I’ll explain in a minute, but first I want to make sure that, so far as -the evidence went, no stranger was seen in the vicinity of the Lodge -about the time of the murder.” - -“No, sir. That seems to be without question.” - -“No peddler or traveling tinker had been in Bamberley that week?” - -“No, Mr. Derrick, these people are all licensed and registered, and we -examine the license of every one who comes along. They are under the -head of itinerant vendors.” - -“Well, there’s an itinerant vendor at the Lodge now, and he’s more keen -on buying than selling. He doesn’t make any bones of the fact that he’d -like to get hold of the original of this.” - -Derrick put the model on the table, and Burke fingered it curiously. - -“Neat sort of job you’ve made of it, sir. Weighs about the same, too, -doesn’t it?” - -“Yes, I put some shot inside the base and balanced it with the other. -It’s the other that my peddler friend is coming to see at six o’clock. -Martin will be there with him.” - -“When did this fellow turn up?” - -Derrick told him all that had happened, Burke’s face growing ever more -tense, while he thrilled to the belief that the Millicent case was alive -again. - -“You haven’t missed much, sir,” he rambled presently. “Now what can I -do?” - -“At six o’clock those two men will be in the study. Blunt will be -apparently in charge of Martin, whom I have made responsible for him, -but actually I suspect it is the other way round. From what I can see, -Martin is under Blunt’s thumb. Blunt will be asked if the room suggests -anything to him in connection with the murder. He will probably pretend -it does, and begin some kind of queer story, which may after all have -something in it. I expect that he will in some way involve Martin, and -that’s what Martin is in such fear of. At the same time, so far as Blunt -is concerned, I can’t feel that Martin is so very important. It’s the -image he’s after. Whether he can resist the impulse when he sees the -real thing I can’t tell, but if he does not, that’s where you come in. -The Millicent case will then start all over again with an attempted -burglary, and I shall be in a position to testify that Martin lied to me -about the burglar. And that’s as far as I can go at the moment.” - -Burke nodded approvingly. “Then you want the grounds guarded?” - -“Yes, in any way you think best. I would not bother about the front -door; it would take too long to get out that way. The French window is -the place.” - -“The trap will be set at a quarter to six,” said Burke, glancing at the -clock. - -Derrick grinned contentedly. “It would be a bit of a feather in your -cap, sergeant, if you could pull this thing off after two years.” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - THE POWER OF THE UNKNOWN - - -DERRICK walked quickly back, slackening speed as he approached the -Lodge, and reëntering the grounds from the direction in which he had -started. There was a light in the cottage kitchen, but neither man came -to the window as he passed. In the study he found Edith beside the -tea-tray. She handed him his cup, and with it sent an inquiring glance. - -“How’s your friend the peddler behaving himself, and what did Jean say?” - -He flushed a little. “She didn’t say very much, but”—he smiled -reminiscently—“she took the bangle.” - -“I’m glad of that, my dear,” she said softly. “Had she ever heard -anything of the peddler?” - -“Not a word, nor has Sergeant Burke.” - -“You’ve been there, too?” - -He nodded. “I thought it best to have a chat with him. He’ll be here in -a few minutes.” - -“Why, has anything happened?” - -“No, but something may, and I want to be ready, in case.” - -“I don’t understand, Jack. What do you anticipate?” - -“Well, our friend has an odd idea that he may be able to suggest -something that would help in the Millicent matter in the way of a clue -if he could see the place where it happened. So I’m having him in here -shortly with Martin, who doesn’t seem to fancy the visit at all. The -sergeant won’t be in evidence, and they know nothing about him.” - -“Oh!” she said slowly, “can I do anything except keep out of the way? -I’ve an idea that’s what you want me to do.” - -Derrick laughed. “It is, exactly. There’s one other thing. I’d like to -see Perkins for a minute before the others come.” - -Edith got up. “Then finish your tea, and I’ll send her in for the tray. -She’s been even more queer than usual to-day, so I fancy she knows that -man is here. Good luck to you, brother, and I’m so glad I know what -you’re working for.” She bent over, kissed him impulsively, and went -out. - -He sat motionless for a moment, vibrant with the knowledge that he was -playing for great stakes. Martin—the peddler—Perkins—the jade -god—all intervened between him and the goal of his desire. At that his -nerves seemed slowly to be turned to steel. - -The door opened. Perkins came in and busied herself with the tray, and -for the first time he noted that her fingers were trembling. Something -of the transitory pity he had felt for Martin came over him, and he made -a gesture toward a chair. - -“Please sit down a minute, Perkins. I want to ask you something.” - -She seated herself silently and sent him a blank glance. - -“What I want to inquire is something more about Martin. Can you tell me -nothing of his history before he came to Mr. Millicent?” - -“Why should you ask me, sir?” - -“Who else is there to inquire from? You occupy just the same trusted -position that you have for years past. You’ve let me into your feelings -enough to know that you perceive things that are not usually seen, and -you’re aware that I’m doing what I can to clear up the mystery of your -master’s death. Shall I say to you that I’m convinced you are trying to -shield some one in this affair?” - -“Don’t say that, sir,” she whispered shakily. - -“What other conclusion can I come to?” - -She stared at him as though he was an intruder on some strictly private -domain and had come to rifle her very soul. - -“Do you think there’s any connection between the murder and the arrival -of this peddler?” - -Perkins shook her head. She made no attempt to disguise her knowledge of -the stranger’s advent and now seemed touched with the same helplessness -that had so lately swept over Martin. Her hands were slack in her lap, -and he noted their smoothness and strength. - -“I’m afraid I cannot help,” she muttered. - -He looked straight into the passionless eyes. “And yet you must know so -much more than I do. Here, in this room, the voice of a dead man is -sounding now, asking for vengeance. There are other voices, we have both -heard them, but this is the clearest. Here your master died, and the -evil thing triumphed, and you told me that fear came before he died, the -fear that is worse than death. Can’t you hear that voice?” - -The blank-faced woman shivered as he spoke, and Derrick knew that the -truth had crept a little, a very little nearer than ever before. There -was mystery in the study, but the greatest mystery of all was locked -within this unresponsive breast. There was some chord which, if he could -only touch it, would vibrate in unison with her guarded secret and -unloose its bonds. Perkins trembled again and waited. - -“He was good to you, as everyone has told me,” went on the steady voice, -“and it seems that you were devoted to him. For six years you had his -confidence and lived under this roof. I do not know what may have taken -place before that, if anything, but is six years forgotten so soon?” - -“Don’t!” she said brokenly. “Don’t!” - -“Two men are coming here in a few moments,” he persisted. “Of one of -them I know little, and nothing of the other. But I am assured that in -the peddler’s heart are things at which I have not guessed. He, too, has -his secret, or he would not be here. He poses as a stranger, but -something tells me that he is no stranger to Martin, and perhaps not to -you.” - -“Why do you say that?” she flashed. - -“It matters not why, but I have my reasons. It may be that there are now -assembled all those who were here two years ago, and the Millicents are -not far away. One of these men was in the grounds of Beech Lodge when -its master met his death, Perkins; was the other here, too?” - -He shot out these last words in a tone so sharp and commanding that the -woman quailed visibly. Her fascinated eyes were fixed on him in a stare -that began to be strangely hypnotic, till it seemed that she was -receding visibly from his reach, dwindling to a distance, and leaving -behind her only a baffling intelligence that mocked and dared him to -follow if he could. She had recoiled, but with her secret locked tighter -than ever. He became aware that fear, though fear was in her every -motion, could not conquer her. She relied apparently on powers that from -long use had become stronger than fear. When at last she spoke, it was -as though a safe distance had been established and her spirit had caught -its breath again. She seemed now safe from further probing. - -“I have told you already what happened that night, how I found the -master”—here she hesitated a little—“and then went for Martin. There -was no one at the cottage but him. There is nothing else to be said.” - -“And Blunt,” he said again. “The man who will be here in a few minutes, -the man who is so anxious to enter this room, has he never been here -before?” - -“I am not Blunt’s keeper,” she parried. “I do not know, but”—and at -this point an extraordinary light flickered through her dull eyes—“he -may have been. I cannot see in the dark.” - -“He made an offer for something this afternoon,” said Derrick quietly, -“something that seemed of little worth to me.” - -She looked at him silently, as though in contempt of his childishness. - -He felt in his pocket and leaned forward. “The offer was for the -original of this,” he replied, and put the wax image on the desk -immediately in front of him. - -In the next moment he snatched it away. Perkins, springing with -convulsive strength, had laid her nervous grip on the model, her eyes -suddenly ablaze with mad cupidity. In a fraction of time she was -transfigured into a wild thing dominated by one uncontrollable desire, -and her movement had the swiftness of light. Her hands closed like -claws, but even as she touched the thing her grip relaxed, for in that -instant she knew it was not real. She sent Derrick the same strange look -of baffled incredulity he had received from the peddler, then sank back -in her chair, trembling and unnerved. Her gaze rested on what lay safe -in his grasp, wandered to the picture of her master, and round the -paneled walls, searching for what she knew must be somewhere close at -hand. The hunger in her eyes slackened, becoming reborn again as though -fanned into life by this knowledge, till again she was almost a demon, -urged by some driving force, terrible in its power. - -Once more the light faded, the tense figure slowly relaxed, the face -resumed the sphinx-like character to which he was so well accustomed, -and there was before him the former Perkins, silent, mysterious, and -remote. She quivered as though from the storm that had passed over her -and, with her body limp, waited for what might come. - -“Does Martin want the real image, too, like yourself and Blunt?” he -asked deliberately. - -She remained silent, her lips pressed tight. - -“Then what is this thing?” - -Even while he spoke there came to him the certain knowledge that in the -emerald depths of the hidden figure lay that which passed man’s -understanding. Nor could any man tell how this should be. The fact was -potent enough, and, as to the rest, it mattered not when or why. The -tiny god exemplified something for which there was no explanation. It -was absurd to expect Perkins to make one. It rested in the abyss that -yawns at the feet of all, whether they see it or not. Sometimes one -might touch it in the darkness, only to lose it. The thought of it -imposed sudden silence in careless hours and made the lips dry and the -blood tingle as it does when we feel on our brows the touch of vanished -fingers, and out of nothingness comes the echo of a remembered voice. -No, there was no explanation. Perkins spoke after a stinging pause. - -“Where did you find it? I mean the other?” - -“It found me. Can you understand that?” - -She nodded, her eyes still wide. “All the time I knew it was here. I -could hear it talking, talking in the dark.” - -“It has been there for two years, and I do not know how much longer. Did -it send the fear that was worse than death?” - -“What else could have sent it? But it was not on his desk when I found -him.” - -“Then if the man who killed your master had captured this as he hoped, -there would have been no death here that night?” - -“No,” she whispered, “no death, and perhaps no fear.” - -“So that the man who wanted it then may after all be the same as the one -who wants it now, and, having washed his hands, he returns for what he -then sought?” - -Again the sudden light in the baffling eyes, as of torches lit in the -gloom. Derrick saw it and racked his brain. It was not an old thought -that moved behind the mask now, but some conception new to that -mysterious mentality. Were Blunt indeed the criminal, and assuming his -return to recapture his prize, why should the suggestion of this produce -so vivid a reaction? If this were the truth, why conceal it? What could -this woman lose by coming into the open? She would write herself down a -liar, and an innocent man be avenged. No, there was something else, and -it beckoned a mystical finger to Derrick’s imagination and invited him -on. The grim reality of the moment fell on him like a cloak. In a few -more clock-ticks there would be others with whom to deal. - -“Perkins,” he said evenly, “for better or worse this matter must soon -take another form. Two men will shortly be in this room, and one of them -in all probability is guilty of murder. You know this, and I know it. -The hand of fate may descend suddenly and point clearly, or it may be -that the innocent may suffer for the guilty. God forbid that this should -happen, but it has happened before, and sometimes because those who knew -the truth were not there to tell it or, knowing it, kept an infamous -silence. I ask you again, has Blunt to your knowledge ever been at Beech -Lodge before, and, if so, was he here at the time your master died?” - -“I am not Blunt’s keeper,” repeated the woman. - -Derrick slid the wax image into a drawer. “Thank you, Perkins. You’ve -told me what I wanted to know.” - -The door closed behind her. Derrick did not stir but waited till the -last sound died away. The hour of decision had come, and there was but -one thing to do. He took a glance at Millicent’s calm face, read in it a -mute approval, and, opening the invisible panel, took the jade god from -its dark recess. - -Setting it a little on one side of the lamp, he stared hard into its -pygmy countenance. There still sounded in his ears Blunt’s voice telling -of strange gods in strange countries, and there came now the -unforgettable whisper of the East, with its mystery, its scarlet -passions, its swift terrors, its throbbing invitations, and the jungle -call of its fevered life. There was more than that. On these miniature -lips was set the smile of sardonic knowledge and the curve of utter -evil. The lids that lay over the slant and lazy eyes were heavy with -slumber, but it was a repose that carried with it no oblivion. -Unnameable knowledge rested on the face, a knowledge that sneered at -good and gathered to itself the wickedness of misty centuries. Here was -the touch of supreme art, the superb assurance of a master hand, but the -issue was to charge the mind with a blinding comprehension of all that -decent men most strive to forget. - -Still staring, he yielded unconsciously to the spell. Beech Lodge grew -oddly indefinite. The landmarks of his mind seemed unsubstantial. He was -free as the wind, with neither kith nor kin. He found himself wondering -why for months he should have been possessed by the desire to avenge a -man he never saw. The tiny green eyes suggested that Millicent, and even -Millicent’s daughter, did not matter so much after all. “Come East,” -they signaled, “where man can taste all the wild joys of life, and women -know how to love as do no others. Books, what are books? Dead things and -dusty against the curve of a breast and the languorous hours of tropic -nights. Good is ever the same, and it is only evil that changes, -assuming a thousand lovely shapes, inviting, alluring, the wine that, -having tasted, no man may forget. Come and drink deep while your blood -is hot. There are those who wait to show you the way, and soon it will -be too late.” - -Thus spoke the jade lips; thus cajoled the jade eyes. Even the milky -fingers with their narrow, transparent nails seemed to lose their -stiffness and beckon, while the blood deserted Derrick’s heart and the -hair prickled on his head. He was listening to the soul of the man who -had carved this thing, and what manner of man or devil could he be? But, -whoever he was, he knew, Derrick felt that, and knew it utterly. Yes, -life was short, too short. Perhaps the jade god was right! - -His brain began to swim, and the image now to recede, now to approach, -dwindling to a pin-point, and swiftly enlarging till it towered over -him, when something drifted in from the outer world. He blinked like one -wakened from sleep. It was a tapping at the French window. He got up and -crossed the room unsteadily. There was visible through the glass a -peaked hat, a broad, red face, and a pair of bright, inquiring eyes. He -breathed deeply and with a sudden sense of relief. Here was something -sane and strong and wholesome. It seemed to dear away the miasma that -surrounded him. - -He stepped out and found the sergeant flattened against the wall in a -vain endeavor to minimize his own bulk. - -“Got here as soon as I could, sir, and had a squint at the cottage; -they’re both there. Peters is behind the hedge at the back. Anything new -since I saw you?” - -“There may be a good deal. I think it’s likely that the peddler is the -man we want after all, and not Martin. The woman Perkins declines to say -whether she has seen him before or not, also whether he was in this -neighborhood the night of the murder.” - -“Good enough, sir. That ought to help. Anything else?” - -Derrick glanced at his watch. “Yes, the sight of the image produced on -her the same effect precisely as it did on the others. She, too, tried -to get it. That’s all there’s time to say now, sergeant. The men ought -to be here in five minutes.” - -“Are you armed, sir?” - -“Yes, but I hardly think it’s necessary. You’ll be able to attend to -that end of it. Mind you, I’m not at all sure that anything is going to -happen. This is only a shot in the dark. Can you see the image on the -desk quite clearly from where you are?” - -“Yes. Is that the real one? It looks somehow more alive than the other.” - -Derrick smiled. “Just what Blunt told me. The dummy wouldn’t serve the -purpose with him, so we must take this chance. Don’t stir unless one of -them tries to get away with it. If no such attempt is made, it’s for us -to make the next move. I take it, sergeant, you’re willing to work with -an amateur a little while longer?” - -Burke nodded grimly. “I’ll follow any one who can lead me to the man who -killed Mr. Millicent.” - -He moved back and out of sight. It was nearly dark now, and Beech Lodge -was encircled with ghostly shadows. Edith had obliterated herself in her -bedroom, and was pretending to read. All she asked was that this too -serious play-acting be concluded as soon as possible. It deranged the -house and made her restless and uncomfortable. Derrick manipulated the -curtains so that they hung partly open, revealing the French window, -then seated himself at the desk and shot an oblique glance at the jade -god. He was not afraid of it but experienced no desire to stare straight -into those emerald eyes. He glanced at Millicent’s portrait, asking -mutely whether so far all was well done, but Millicent seemed -uninterested. What could he mean by that? Then steps in the hall, and -low voices, and a tap at the door. - -Came Perkins’s flat tones saying that Martin and Blunt were outside. She -looked not at all at the image but seemed to know it was the original. -Whatever emotion it may have aroused, she gave no sign, and he marveled -at her self-repression. - -“All right, they may come in, and I think you’d better stay in the room -while they are here.” - -A flicker of surprise flitted across the blank face. Then she nodded -with only the ghost of a smile. It seemed that she was not unwilling to -stay, and the smile was a little satirical and rather cruel, he thought. -But he remembered that she was not Blunt’s keeper. In the next moment -the men entered, their caps in their hands. Derrick leaned back in the -big chair. The curtain was up now. - -“Blunt,” he said with slow distinctness, “it may be that we are both -wide of the mark in this attempt, and, frankly, I don’t see how you can -be of any real assistance. It is only because you told me that sometimes -you had been able to get under the skin of things that I’m making it. -You understand that?” - -The peddler nodded, and for an instant their eyes met. The man’s gaze -swung back to the thing he had been staring at since he crossed the -door-step. Irrepressible hunger and desire was in the stare. Derrick -seemed oblivious to this. - -“The murder took place in this room two years ago. Martin has told you -that, I assume?” - -“Yes, sir, he has.” - -“It occurred between nine and ten at night. Over the mantel you will see -a picture of Mr. Millicent, who was found dead in this chair where I am -sitting. Apparently he had not time to make any defense. This jade thing -used sometimes to stand in front of him, but it seems that it cannot -have been there that night. It is not known, as yet”—here Derrick -paused for a second—“how the murderer entered the house.” - -He hesitated an instant, then looked suddenly at Perkins. “That’s right, -isn’t it? It’s not known?” - -“Not as yet, sir,” she answered slowly. - -Martin made an involuntary gesture, but the peddler wheeled and sent the -woman a swift and penetrating glance that had in it something of -contempt, as though he had caught the drift of her words and they -actually amused him. - -“Can you tell me anything more, sir?” - -“Yes, though it may be you know it already from Martin. The weapon that -is believed to have been used has disappeared, a Malay creese that was -always on this desk. No motive was then ascribed to the crime, but it -now seems that this might have been robbery, which was unsuccessful. No -strangers are shown to have been at the house that day, and not as far -as Perkins is aware have any been here till very recently. No clues—and -I take it that it is possible clues in which you are interested—were -left. Now you can tell me if anything suggests itself to you. If you -want to ask any questions, ask them.” - -The bright eyes were fixed on the speaker’s face. Martin was rooted to -the ground but cast furtive looks at the peddler, swerving from these to -stare with a dumfounded expression at the image. He had nearly mastered -his feelings, but there was a twitch in his fingers he could not manage -to control. Perkins, her lean hands folded, regarded Blunt with a fixed -and provocative gaze, as though inviting him to escape if he could from -the net she was weaving. But Blunt seemed unmoved. His keen eyes slowly -examined every angle of the room, scrutinized Millicent’s portrait with -temporary interest, then traveled to desk and chair, mentally -photographing their minutest detail. Finally he looked at the French -window, and Derrick wondered if by chance he knew what waited outside. - -“Was that door locked at the time?” he asked after a long pause. - -Derrick turned to Perkins. “Was it?” - -“Yes,” she said curtly. - -“And the front door?” - -“I am not sure of that. Mr. Millicent usually saw to it before he came -up-stairs.” - -Martin started. “What are you trying to get at?” His voice was rough and -threatening, his eyes vicious. - -For answer the peddler fixed on him a glittering stare, whereat the -gardener blinked and was silent. Derrick caught his breath. The very air -was now ominous. - -“Anything changed here since the murder happened?” asked Blunt with a -curious lift in his voice. - -“Just what do you mean?” - -“Things are talking to me now. They’re a bit confused, and all I can get -is that this room may not be the same as it was then.” - -Perkins put her hand to her throat. “How do you know?” she whispered. - -Derrick leaned tensely forward. This was evidence, new evidence. - -“Go on, Blunt. Tell me just what you’re after.” - -“I mean, are things in the same place as when that man was killed?” - -A slight sound escaped from Perkins, and her nostrils dilated, while -Derrick caught a swift but meaning glance that passed between herself -and the gardener. - -“I don’t know; I never thought of that. Are they, Perkins?” - -“No.” She spoke with a sort of satisfaction, not unmingled with -surprise. “And,” she added meaningly, “no one else has asked that -question for two years.” - -“Why do you ask, Blunt?” - -The peddler seemed untroubled. “In a way, I was told to,” he broke off, -and regarded Perkins with absolute composure. “What change is there -now?” - -“The desk was in the other corner,” she said faintly, “and facing the -window, and this screen was on the other side of the fireplace opposite -the sofa.” She got this out with a quick look at Martin in which she -seemed to expect his approval and almost thanks. - -“Then any one sitting at the desk would naturally see out of the window -but would not notice the door without turning?” put in Derrick sharply. - -“Yes, sir, it was like that.” - -“Well, Blunt, does all this take you anywhere?” - -The peddler came a shade nearer the desk. His eyes were now half closed, -and his dark features had smoothed out till they were strangely -inexpressive. He might have been under the influence of a dream. The -silence began to throb, and over Beech Lodge crept the touch of the -mysterious East. None moved, for in that moment the jade god asserted -his domination. The air seemed to palpitate, tremulous with unseen -vibrations, and a whisper of wind drifted from the puttering fire. Then -Blunt began to speak in a sort of half-chant without color or -inflection, his voice sounding thin and clear and distant and carrying -with it a nameless note of authority. - -“I see far away a picture of a place, large and poorly lighted. Strange -people are there, moving without sound, and strange smells are in the -air. Around it there are many trees, and when one comes that way a -whisper runs ahead through the forest, telling of his coming. I see a -man not unlike this one”—here the peddler made a gesture at the -portrait—“but dressed otherwise and with his skin dark like that of the -quiet people. He has journeyed from across the sea, drawn there he knows -not why, and saying nothing of the purpose of his journey, because he -himself did not know it. Traveling slowly, and taking at times many -false trails, he comes at last to this place, and, staying not long, -goes away by night, but not empty-handed. Behind him he leaves sorrow -and a great anger and fear.” - -The voice trailed out uncertainly, and a shudder ran through the -peddler’s body. His whole figure was now swaying, and his head moved -with a slow rhythmic motion. - -“Go on,” said Derrick tensely. - -“Not far from this place there is another man, and to him many call as -with one voice, and a burden is laid upon him, and after a little while -he is not seen there any more. Meantime the first man has returned to -his own land and the faces he knew best, and tried to shake off the -memories of what he had done and that distant place. But he could not do -this. Time went on, and always in his dreams he returned there and could -not forget. The thing he had taken was his master. At first when he -wanted it, he thought he loved it, and then learned it was not love but -fear. It was a thing of power, and stronger than himself. Mystery was in -it, and thereby it was able to give tongues to that which could not -otherwise speak. It was a tongue for the dumb.” - -Derrick nodded without knowing it. The world was full of clearing mists -through which he began to perceive that which heretofore was hidden. His -eyes wandered to Perkins. She stood rigid, as under a spell, her soul -carried away by some invisible stream. Martin’s furtive gaze had -changed, and his face was graven with despair, behind which moved -desperate possibilities. Derrick saw these and thankfully remembered the -man crouching against the wall outside. - -“Go on,” he repeated. - -“Others had heard that voice, thousands and thousands of them, and they -too loved and hated and desired and feared this thing. It was always -like this from the very first, because its hate had conquered love, and -the fear in it was at war with desire. It had sucked in all that the -hearts of men can feel, and because of its wisdom, and because it was at -war with the spirit of Buddha, it had been kept close till that day. But -only those on whom the spirit of Buddha rested might know the greatness -and danger of this thing. And it was written that should it go from that -place death would follow wherever it went.” - -Something in the unbroken monotone captured the brain of Derrick, and -the room swam. A mesmeric influence was at work. Everything around him -began to slide, smoothly, imperceptibly. Was Millicent’s death so -important after all? Soon it would be forgotten—with all else. What did -he owe Millicent in any case? Why trouble to waste his time on another -man’s affairs? Perkins, Martin, and even Blunt himself became blurred in -this general indistinction, merging peacefully with other unrealities. - -“So death came into this room, brother to fear, following the steps of -the doomed. It was in no hurry but waited till fear had established -itself firmly. There was not any escape, and there could be none, and -the man who was to die walked between them for years, seeing their faces -whichever way he turned.” The peddler waited an instant and leaned -slightly toward Martin. “So it will be with the next appointed to die.” - -Perkins was as though turned to stone, and Derrick’s breath came faster. -There fell a stinging silence, while the atmosphere seemed to hum and -quiver. Then from Martin proceeded a strange choking sound, and in that -second Blunt leaped forward. With the swiftness of light he traversed -the ten feet between him and the desk and grasped the image. At the mere -touch of this, an amazing virility shot through his body, and he darted -like a stone from a catapult across the room toward the French window. -Derrick tried to shout, but his tongue had lost its power. Following a -violent splintering of glass and wood, a bull-like roar from Burke, and -the lithe figure was half-way over the lawn. Behind it lumbered the big -frame of the sergeant, losing ground at every stride. - -Oblivious of the others, Derrick dashed out and took up the chase. The -jade god was in flight now. He had drawn level with Burke when there -sounded directly ahead the noise of a struggle, a sharp whistle, the -curse of a man who is strained to the utmost, and finally a strange, -shrill cry. At that the sergeant slackened his pace. - -“That’s Peters,” he panted, laboring for breath. “I gave him orders to -station himself there behind the hedge, and a good job, too. He’s got -our friend.” - -Derrick sped on. “Come along,” he shouted over his shoulder. “He may -need help.” - -Burke grunted. “Not him, with a chap that size, but the little devil -pushed his finger into my throat, and I saw stars. Make your own pace, -sir, but it’s all right now.” - -On the other side of the hedge the peddler lay flat, the constable -bending over him. The face of the latter was flushed and the collar of -his tunic torn. He saluted mechanically when Derrick ran up but said -nothing till Burke arrived, breathing like a leaky bellows. - -“I don’t know what to make of this, sergeant. The fellow ran practically -into my arms before he knew where he was and put up no end of a fight. -He got his finger into my throat and would have done me in if I hadn’t -thrown him. Then he got up and went for me again like a wild animal. I -got this thing away from him, and he spun round on his toes, put -something in his mouth, and crumpled up. Now he looks as though he were -dead, but I haven’t used any unnecessary force.” - -“All right, Peters; he’s not dead. It’s only bluff. You can make your -charge now, Mr. Derrick, and we’ll run him in.” - -“Charge? I’ve nothing to charge him with.” - -Burke grinned. “Do I take it that he attempted burglary and smashed that -door by your request?” - -Derrick laughed outright. “I’d clean forgotten that already.” What he -did not tell the sergeant was that somehow he felt immeasurably younger -and happier. - -“Well, it’s plenty to hold him for a while till we get at the real -thing. This will be theft and damage to property. Pick him up, Peters!” - -“One minute,” interrupted Derrick. “Did he say anything to you?” - -“Not a word, sir.” - -The young man did not answer but knelt quickly beside the prone figure. -A sickly color, half gray, half blue, was stealing slowly over the -peddler’s features. His eyes, partly open, were glazed and sightless. -His body, so lately animated by amazing vigor, had crumpled like a wet -leaf. Derrick, feeling himself queerly numb, slid a hand under the torn -shirt. No pulse of life was discernible. Close by lay the jade god, its -tiny malignant face sneering up from the wet grass. The master of Beech -Lodge saw it and shuddered. Was this the next man appointed to die, and -had he been the prophet of his own passing? Then Burke knelt beside him, -stared hard in his turn, and gave the white beard a strong and sudden -jerk. - -It came away in his hand, revealing a thin, oval face, a firm mouth and -chin, the face of a man not over forty. The jerk had parted the lips, -and these sent out a mocking grin, suggesting that it was nothing to -Blunt what they did now. Derrick’s breath nearly stopped. A new shadow -fell across the body. He looked up and saw Martin. There was a grim -satisfaction in the gardener’s dark eyes. It shot through Derrick’s mind -that this would free Martin from further suspicion. Burke stared at him, -too, then at Derrick. He did not speak, but the same thought was in his -mind. He turned again to the limp figure in the grass. - -“It looks as though your friend were done for this time, Martin. I’ll -not ask you anything now. Your opportunity will come later. Better give -Peters a hand and take this chap to the cottage.” - -The peddler was carried away, his slight frame sagging limply between -gardener and constable. Derrick, watching this, yielded to a vivid -realization of the immutability of fate. Ten minutes ago this man was -charged with life, throbbing with a desire that he hugged to his soul, -and for which he had journeyed from a mysterious country, forgetting all -else in one supreme ambition. Now the thing that had driven him thus far -had struck its own ambassador, the next appointed to die, and the thing -itself leered up from the ground at his feet, malevolent, devilish, and -seemingly yet unsatiated. Derrick picked up a stone and was about to -splinter the sneering jade when something flickered in the green eyes, -mocking and immune, warning him that the time was not yet. Presently he -felt that Burke was regarding him with broad amusement. - -“If I may say so, sir, I wouldn’t smash it yet. We’ll need it for -evidence, and if possible I’d like to hear what Perkins and your -gardener have to say about the thing. Shall I take it to the station?” - -Derrick stiffened. “No, thanks,” he said abruptly. “I’ll look after it -till it’s needed. I think perhaps it feels more at home at the Lodge.” - -He picked up the jade god from the ground, dropped it in his pocket as -though the touch burned him, and went slowly across the lawn beside -Burke. Passing the house, he saw Edith at a bedroom window and waved her -a cheery greeting. She signaled back, and he noticed that she smiled -with relief. What a standby she had been, he reflected. In a flash his -thoughts sped to Jean. He had not seen Perkins, but the woman was at the -study window, her hands at her thin breast, a sort of ecstatic joy in -her sallow face. So on to the cottage, where the peddler’s body had been -deposited on the kitchen floor. Derrick regarded it silently, and again -that recurrent sense of unreality came over him. - -“What next?” He turned to the sergeant. - -“Nothing at the moment, sir, till we get hold of Dr. Henry. It will be -queer to have him here once more in the same matter. Had this man any -possessions, Martin?” - -The gardener gave an odd smile and picked out of the corner a tightly -knotted pack. - -“This was all I saw. It’s trinkets and such like, but he didn’t show -them to me.” - -“Has this not been opened since Blunt gave Mr. Derrick that sight of his -wares?” - -“Not so far as I know. He slept in his clothes.” - -Burke fingered the bundle but did not slacken its knots. He sent Derrick -a thoughtful glance. - -“It’s not likely there’s anything else of importance, and from what -we’ve seen to-day we’re pretty near the end of the Millicent case. Would -you step outside a minute, sir?” - -Derrick followed him, wondering a little. Burke halted out of earshot. - -“I don’t want to say anything unnecessary in front of Martin,” he -explained, “but all we’ll need now is what I’m convinced they are ready -to tell us about Blunt’s last visit. We’re in a position to use pressure -to bring out that evidence, and with it will come the reason, which so -far beats me, for their ever trying to conceal the fact that he was the -murderer. One thing I can imagine is that he had them hypnotized in some -way, and as a matter of fact I began to feel hypnotized myself when I -was listening to that chant of his outside the French window. Did you -get any of it? If it had not been for that I would have nabbed the chap -when he came out. As it was I felt half asleep.” - -Derrick nodded reminiscently. “Yes, I did get it. Anything else with -regard to either Martin or Perkins?” - -“Nothing to-night, except that I would not say another word. Let this -thing soak in, and it will do the work for us. In a day or so they will -both be anxious to tell all they know. Now, just as a matter of -precaution, I’m going to search the cottage, with your permission.” - -“All right. It’s practically empty. Martin only brought a bundle, and I -sent him a few odds and ends from the house to make the place livable. -Shall I tell him?” - -“Yes, sir, if you please.” - -They went in together. Peters had lit his pipe and was smoking placidly -with no concern for the thing on the floor, but Martin stood, still -staring down. There was a kind of wonder in his face, and with it a -strange thankfulness. He was like a man who straightens his shoulders -after they have been crushed by some killing load. - -“Martin,” said Derrick crisply, “Sergeant Burke is going to make a -search of the cottage.” - -“That’s all right so far as I’m concerned, sir, but there isn’t anything -here except what any one can see.” - -There was that in his apparent readiness which gave his master a feeling -of solid relief. The latter found himself glad to admit that for months -he had been on the wrong trail. There were matters still to be -explained, deliberate lies to be accounted for, that secret search of -the study to be acknowledged and justified; but all this, thought -Derrick, was mysteriously involved with the potent thing that now -dragged at his pocket, and when the light did come no corner would be -left obscure. He remembered, too, that at times Martin had looked like -an honest man. And did villains ever love roses like this gardener of -his? - -“Martin,” he said, “you’d better leave the sergeant alone while he’s -making this search; he won’t need you.” - -The man nodded with the air of one who has nothing to fear, cast another -contented glance at the peddler’s body, and went out. They watched him -cross the drive, hesitate a moment as though deliberating which way to -turn, then stand, his hands deep in his pockets, staring down the road. -Again Derrick felt reassured. - -“Sergeant, I’m greatly relieved about that chap, even though I did bark -up the wrong tree.” - -Burke rubbed his big palms together. “Well, sir, it was a fortunate kind -of bark just the same.” - -“So it’s turned out. Now while you’re making this search could the -constable go up and stay in front of the house? Also, he might just -assure Miss Derrick that everything is quite all right. She’ll be more -convinced if it doesn’t come from me.” - -Peters got his orders, and the two were alone. Burke gave a broad grin. -The idea of promotion had flashed into his mind. Then he, too, indulged -in a long stare at what had been Blunt. - -“Well, sir, I expect we’ve both got the same conclusion in our heads -now. Curious, too, how it’s come about.” - -“What’s that, sergeant?” - -“That we needn’t dig any deeper to find the man who killed Mr. -Millicent. That theory of a criminal returning to the scene of his crime -certainly worked in this case.” - -“Yes,” said Derrick thoughtfully, “but what brought Martin back?” - -“I’ve an idea we’ll get that out of him in a day or two. Have you -studied this chap’s face, sir?” - -Derrick scrutinized the rigid features. They were gray now, the lips -still set in a strange cynical smile. It was not the face of a peddler -but had unmistakable signs of birth and breeding. The head was well -shaped, the ears small and set close to a finely molded skull, the -forehead high and rather broad, the eyes far apart. Nothing of the -murderer was suggested here, but much of the dreamer, the visionary, the -adventurer of sudden purpose. Over him was the touch of the East, -visible in the olive tinge of his skin, the slenderness of hands and -wrists, and the faint blueness at the base of his narrow finger-nails. -Derrick pondered over the possible history of this man with the build of -an aristocrat and the insignia of the Orient. What strange tales those -fixed lips might have told. But they were all his secret now. - -“He’s not a peddler,” he said, turning to Burke, “and probably never -was. We’ll have to depend on Martin and perhaps Perkins for the rest of -it. Are you going to have a look at that pack of his?” - -It was unrolled on the floor beside its late owner but revealed nothing -more than the trinkets Derrick had already seen. The man’s pockets were -empty save for a knife and a few coins, and the clothing itself bore no -marks that yielded the slightest clue to his identity. Burke made a -grimace. - -“We’ve drawn a blank this time; now I’ll have a look through the -cottage. How long did you say Martin had been with you?” - -“Something more than three months now, and he brought all he had on his -back. I don’t fancy you’ll find much of interest here.” - -The sergeant rooted about with a certain methodical deliberation, -finally coming to a small bureau, the drawers of which he pulled open -with the manner of one who expects nothing. Martin’s personal property -was in truth scanty. He paused at the bottom drawer and looked up. - -“Matter of fact, Mr. Derrick, while we know our dead friend is the -fellow who held the knife, we’ve got to admit that we can’t prove it -unless we drag the truth out of the others. Martin must know perfectly -well that he’s up against a sort of third degree examination, and what -convinces me that he’s ready to give us the inside of this thing is that -already he’s looking almost cheerful. And if he weakens, that woman -Perkins will weaken, too. I’m about finished here now.” - -He jerked open the last drawer as he spoke, jerked so strongly that it -came out on the floor. Like the others it was empty. But between the -bottom of it and the floor itself lay a small bundle of dirty shirts. - -“Your man isn’t what you’d call exactly a careful housekeeper. He needs -a wife.” He picked up the bundle between thumb and forefinger. “Look at -this.” - -Came a dull knock, a clatter on the floor, and a knife with a broad, -curved blade a foot long and a strangely carved handle slid across the -floor and rested almost touching the lifeless palm of the peddler. The -big man drew in his breath with a great gust and stood glowering. His -eyes met Derrick’s. - -“Call in your gardener!” he said huskily. - -Derrick’s brain was in a whirl. He stared back and, not trusting himself -to speak, tapped at the window. He could see Peters pacing slowly up and -down in front of the Lodge, and Martin, who was still standing in the -same place, apparently plunged in thought. The latter turned at the -sound, mechanically touched his cap, and came slowly back. The sergeant -nodded, put his hand in his pocket, and stepped a little on one side of -the door. A shadow darkened the threshold, and as the gardener crossed -it a grasp of iron fastened on his shoulder. - -“John Martin, I arrest you for complicity in the murder of Henry -Millicent. Anything you now say may be used against you.” - -A few minutes later Derrick walked slowly and rather wearily toward the -house, and Edith met him at the door. For her the past hour had been -full of a drama almost too tense for her practical soul, and she -realized what it must have meant to her brother. One look at his face -was enough. She hooked her arm into his and led him into the -dining-room, where dinner was ready. At the door she pressed his hand -for an understanding instant. - -“I’m not going to say a thing about it, nor are you, till afterward. -Perkins saw the whole thing, and the poor woman is happier than I’ve -ever seen her. Congratulations, brother; and now forget it for an hour.” - -He sat down with a vast relief. It seemed strange that in the midst of -this deadly game such matters as food and cooking should proceed -uninterrupted. It was Perkins’s work, Perkins, who, outwardly -undisturbed by that which must have shaken her very spirit, was still -the perfect servant, the ageless domestic automaton. He knew that Edith -did not want him to look at the woman, but could not refrain from quick -cursory glances at moments when she could not detect them. There was -really no difference, except that the sallow cheeks had a faint color, -and the lips were a shade less grim than usual. For the rest of it her -face was still a mask, her figure just as unbending, her movements just -as measured and deliberate. But what secret thoughts must be traversing -that unlocked mind, what emotions stirring in her breast! And through it -all she seemed not to know that he was there. - -Later, in the study, he filled his pipe, shot a contented glance at -Millicent’s portrait, took the jade god from his pocket, and set it on -the desk where so often it had glimmered before. Edith scanned it with -an interest she had never displayed till this evening, and sank -comfortably into a big chair. - -“Well,” she said curiously, “aren’t you going to tell me anything about -it?” - -“Yes, dear, everything.” He paused for a moment. “First of all, the -thing is practically over, except another inquest and what will -naturally follow that.” - -“The last thing I saw was that poor man being carried to the cottage. -Then that nice constable came up and talked to me as though I were six -years old. I did like that. But there was no real information in it.” - -Derrick laughed. “I’m afraid I did that.” - -“I thought you had. Did you notice any difference in Perkins at dinner? -Isn’t her control amazing?” - -“Not much, except that she seemed in a way less grim.” - -“Of course she is. She must have suspected the peddler all along, and -when she saw him carried off like that one can imagine what she felt—at -least one could if it weren’t Perkins.” She hesitated. “Is he dead?” she -asked gravely. - -He nodded. “The life seemed to go out of him when he was struggling with -the constable. Peters said he put something in his mouth—which was no -doubt poison.” - -Edith shuddered. “How dreadful! It was the fear of the other kind of -death, wasn’t it? What did Martin say or do then?” - -“Nothing, but stare and stare and look satisfied in a grim sort of way.” - -“He must have been something more than satisfied; so is Perkins. This is -probably the first evening for two years when they have known peace. You -remember, Jack, I told you I didn’t think Martin was really guilty.” - -“Martin,” said Derrick slowly, “is now in jail, charged with complicity -in Millicent’s murder.” - -At the door came a sudden and violent crash. It had opened without -sound, and there stood Perkins with the ruins of coffee-cups at her -feet. Her hands were gripped together, her lips parted, and the -suffering of the damned was written on her colorless cheeks. Her eyes, -now large and staring, seemed to be fixed immovably on space. Then, -imperceptibly, she regained a sort of shuddering consciousness. - -“I’m extremely sorry, madam, but I tripped over the door-mat.” - -The voice was lifeless, devoid of inflection, so flat as to be almost -unhuman. She stooped, gathered up the shattered china, and disappeared. -Edith, too shaken for a moment to speak, regarded her brother with -frightened astonishment. - -“What do you mean?” she stammered presently. - -“Exactly that. Neither you nor Perkins could see what happened after -Blunt was taken to the cottage.” - -He went on with a sort of labored carefulness and told her all, shooting -meanwhile quick glances at the door, where shortly Perkins would -reappear. Neither of them doubted that she would be master enough of -herself for this. In the middle of it she came in, looking straight -ahead. The tremor had left her body, her hands were again steady, her -face impassive as ever. She put the tray beside her mistress and went -out. At the click of the latch Edith gave a gasp. - -“I didn’t know such a woman existed,” she whispered. “Till a minute ago -she thought that Martin was a free man and innocent.” - -He shook his head. “Free, perhaps, but not innocent. It was obvious from -what little I got out of her this afternoon that she was doing all she -could to divert suspicion to Blunt, without actually accusing him. She -was afraid of Blunt and wanted to get rid of him.” - -“But why save Martin at the expense of Blunt?” - -“That I can’t say.” - -“But the only evidence you have against Martin is that the creese was -found hidden in his cottage wrapped up in his clothing?” - -“Yes.” - -“Could that be called final and sufficient? Could he be convicted on -that?” - -“It’s enough to start with and puts it up to him to disprove his guilt, -and he can’t do that without telling the whole story.” - -Edith was unconverted. “He actually left that thing, which may be enough -to condemn him, hidden in an old shirt where any one could have found -it. That doesn’t seem likely, does it?” - -“Perhaps not, but there it was.” - -“Jack,” she said suddenly, “that’s not the action of a guilty man. How -long had the peddler been there?” - -“Only a few hours, as you know.” - -“And why did he ask if this room was the same as it was the night of the -murder?” - -“I’ve been puzzling over that. It could not have been a shot in the -dark, and it laid him open to the suspicion that he had seen the place -before.” - -“Then, listen, Jack,” she said excitedly. “I’m sure he did see the place -before. Everything points to that, and you’ve got the wrong man, and it -was Blunt who killed Mr. Millicent on account of that thing.” She -pointed to the jade god. “Can’t you see how clear it is? He had some -sort of hold over Martin and Perkins, probably through that same horrid -influence, and they were afraid to incriminate him. Two years afterward -he turns up again, and Martin was amazed and terrified to see him, -thinking the matter was done with. While he is with Martin, and that was -very cleverly arranged, they have arguments which you overheard, and -somehow he manages to conceal in Martin’s clothes the knife, or one just -like it, before making another attempt at the image. You’ll have to be -frightfully careful now what is done, or an innocent man may be -punished.” - -Derrick looked at her, genuinely puzzled. - -“There may be something in that. Anything else to suggest?” - -“No, I’m not a detective, but it’s the way any sensible person would -look at it, if I may say so. And, yes, there is one thing.” - -“What is that?” - -“I’d go straight to Jean to-morrow morning and tell her the whole story. -She might be able to help, as it will probably suggest other things to -her you haven’t discussed yet.” - -Derrick took a long breath. “I will,” he said. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - THE ESCAPE - - -IT HAD been a cold night, and frost still sparkled on the dank grass -when Derrick neared the Millicents’. He had spent sleepless hours -picturing this meeting, recounting all there was to be said, and casting -about as to how the story might be put so as to revive as little as -possible the poignant memories of two years ago. It was a strange -mission that carried him now to his girl, but she greeted him with a -calm suggesting that she was not altogether unprepared. Mrs. Millicent, -unmistakably agitated, pressed his hand with a nervous tremor. - -“You have more news for us, Mr. Derrick? Jean has told me what you told -her yesterday. It is all utterly puzzling, and I wish I could help, but -I can’t.” - -Derrick nodded sympathetically. There was no such fiber of courage here -as had been transmitted to her daughter. She was gentle and patient, and -her heart centered on Jean, but she was not the woman to grasp a -situation like the present one. He wondered how much Millicent had taken -her into his confidence, how much she actually comprehended of the real -man who sometimes seemed to look out of those painted eyes, then -concluded that this could only have been fractional. She might have -soothed his secret fears, but she could never understand them. Her mind -was too ordered, her horizon too defined. She loved as a mother, and -mourned as a wife. That was her existence. There could be no object -gained in probing this gentle breast. - -But, with Jean, Derrick knew it was different. Hers were eyes that saw, -and a brain that pierced beyond the obvious. She had her mother’s charm -but her father’s imagination. Derrick knew, and it fortified him to know -it, that she could follow, pace by pace, wherever he led, and that her -vision might even be keener than his. She, like himself, responded to -whispers from the unknown and was also undismayed. So when he told his -story it was to her rather than her mother that the tale was recited. - -Both listened in rapt attention, Mrs. Millicent in sheer wonder, Jean -with a keen and fascinated absorption. When he came to the finding of -the creese, the older woman shivered, but Jean, her eyes cloudy with -thought, did not stir. When he concluded, he felt that while Mrs. -Millicent’s heart was lacerated afresh, Jean was possessed of more -profound and vital emotions. And it was she who spoke first. - -“It is very strange that the peddler should tell you something I meant -to tell you but forgot.” - -“Yes?” - -“It’s about the study. You remember, mother, how it always was?” - -“Yes, dear.” - -“The desk stood in the other corner, not where it is now, so that father -looked out of the window. The sofa was between the fireplace and the -window, and the screen between the door into the hall and the desk. Did -the peddler seem to know that?” - -“He did not say so but appeared to notice that things were changed. I -asked Perkins about it then, and she told me what you have.” - -“Don’t you think that in spite of what you found at the cottage he was -really the guilty man?” - -“But why?” - -“For one thing, he might easily have had that—that weapon in his pack -without you seeing it, and—” - -She broke off, and stared at the bangle on her wrist, slowly drew it -off, and handed it to Derrick. - -“Please, I can’t wear it now.” - -He nodded understandingly, pinched at the twisted metal which was shaped -oddly like a serpent, and put it in his pocket. Jean breathed a little -faster. - -“And, apart from that,” she went on, “doesn’t he seem to you to have -been the superior intelligence? Your description of him is not that of -an ordinary man, and he seems to have very nearly mesmerized those who -were there, including the sergeant. Don’t you see that perhaps Martin -and Perkins are, or were, only tools in his hands, and he represented to -them some power they had to obey without question. One could then -understand the look you say was on Martin’s face when the man died, -and,” she added, “it would also explain Perkins acting as she did after -dinner.” - -“But Perkins was shaken beyond words.” - -“Yes, because it meant that though the peddler was dead, the power -behind him still operated.” - -Mrs. Millicent got up unsteadily. “Jean, dear, I’ll have to leave you to -talk the rest of this over alone. I’m sorry, darling, but—but—” - -She went out hurriedly, and the girl was silent for a moment. - -“Please don’t be upset about mother, and really it’s much better.” She -put her hand impulsively on his. “Do you begin to see what it has meant -to carry the mystery and the terror alone? She could not help me, and -I’m glad for her sake.” She looked in his eyes with such utter -confidence and appeal that he thought his heart would break. - -“Oh, my dear, my dear,” he whispered, “you don’t know yet how well I -understand. It will take all my life to show you.” - -Jean turned pale, and from her parted lips came a little sigh of content -that, faint as it was, penetrated his very soul. Then she breathed -quickly, smiling at him as though she thanked him for a perfect -understanding, and for knowing her spirit so well that he could afford -not to say more. - -“Is it not possible,” she continued quietly—“and of course it is -possible; we both realize it—that Martin was unconsciously guilty? I -mean that not till after it had happened did he realize what had taken -place. If Blunt could dominate him yesterday, why not then?” - -“Stranger things have happened,” he admitted. - -“Well, if that’s the case it also explains Martin’s helplessness and -Perkins’ silence. She knows that Martin did it while under this -influence, while they both know that, now Blunt is dead, the influence -cannot be proved. It would sound like a fairy-story in court.” - -He nodded gravely. “All that may be. Does anything else occur to you in -this connection?” - -“Nothing about the others at the moment, but Blunt sticks in my mind. -You say he was partly Oriental?” - -“He had native blood. I’m sure of that.” - -“Then he was probably occult. Father was, but I have never told mother -that. And death might not mean much to him, as after death he would -expect his soul to live on in some other body. The poison he took must -have been almost instantaneous, and—” - -She looked up suddenly. The big figure of Sergeant Burke was coming -rapidly up the narrow brick walk that led to the porch. Hat off, he -mopped at his red brow. A bicycle stood against the gate. - -“He seems very upset. Perhaps you’d better speak to him, Jack.” - -She used the word before she knew it and bit her lip. Derrick hesitated -a moment, sent her a brilliant smile, and went out. The sergeant’s bulk -filled the doorway, and he breathed fast. - -“I’m glad to find you, sir. Went to the Lodge first, and Miss Derrick -told me you were here.” He gulped in more air. “A very extraordinary -thing has happened.” - -“What’s that?” - -“Blunt, sir, has escaped!” - -Derrick frowned a little. If this was a joke, it was a poor one; if not, -the man was mad. - -“I don’t follow you.” - -“It’s just as I say, sir. He’s got away.” - -“A dead man! Who took him?” - -“Damn it, Mr. Derrick, don’t you understand English? He’s not dead—he -never was,” exploded Burke chaotically; “he’s come to life again, and -escaped.” - -Derrick blinked. It was ridiculous, absurd, and yet—Burke’s face was so -red, his eyes so strained, the whole great body of him labored under -such excitement, that his earnestness could not be doubted. - -“Will you please tell me exactly what has happened?” he said with slow -and almost painful distinctness. - -“I will. The body was taken to the jail at the same time as Martin, and -I sent for Dr. Henry, but he was away at Eversleigh on some serious -case. I put it in an empty room used as a morgue at the other end of the -building from Martin’s cell. I examined it before I turned in. It was -just the same, but colder, with the hands quite stiff, the face a sort -of blue gray, and no pulse. A little after midnight I got to bed, -knowing that Dr. Henry would come to me as soon as he arrived. He was -out all night and didn’t get back till time for breakfast, after which -he went straight to the station. I had been back for three hours then, -saw Martin, who was all right, but didn’t go into the morgue. When I -took Dr. Henry there it was empty—and that’s all.” - -Burke concluded this remarkable statement with an eloquent and helpless -gesture, looking at Derrick with a sort of faint hopefulness that -perhaps the thing was not quite as baffling as it sounded. He was grimly -conscious that the Millicent case was reopened, but not in the manner -and with the prospects that a few days ago were so comforting. His -dreams of promotion had vanished. Why promote a man to escape from whom -it was only necessary to feign death? But all the signs of death had -been there. This and much more had jockeyed through his brain as he -pumped savagely up the long hill from Bamberley village. His attitude -now invited his amateur adviser to suggest the next move if he could. -The story would be all over England in a day or two. And Burke hated to -think of that. - -“You’ve heard of cases of suspended animation?” asked Derrick after a -long pause. - -“Yes, but I’ve never seen one before.” - -“Nor I, but they’re not uncommon in the East. It’s evident that Blunt is -master of most of those tricks, but so far as my knowledge goes the -suspension is generally for much longer than a few hours. This, no -doubt, is the effect of what he put in his mouth when Peters caught -him.” - -“That’s as I see it, but it doesn’t help matters.” - -“What does Martin say?” - -“Nothing; but I’m sure he knows.” - -“Why?” - -“There’s something in his face this morning, but I can’t read it. I’ve -an idea that Blunt must have seen and spoken to him on his way out.” - -Derrick whistled softly. “That’s more than possible.” - -“The point is,” went on Burke, with a desperation he took no pains to -conceal, “that if there’s anything to be done, it’s got to be done -quickly. If by to-night we can fasten on something that will prove -Martin’s guilt, the matter of Blunt’s escape won’t be quite so serious. -If not, I doubt whether the discovery of that knife will actually -convict him so long as Perkins sticks to the evidence she gave two years -ago. That’s how the matter stands now.” - -“I’d like to think a little before saying anything. Are you going back -to the station?” - -Burke nodded. - -“Well, I’ll be there in, say, an hour and a half.” - -The sergeant hesitated. “I might as well tell you, sir, that I’ve -already gone a good deal beyond my official limits in the matter, but -I’m ready to go further, which means risking my job, if you can see any -light. I’ll wait for you at the station.” - -He moved off with no spring in his walk, swung a thick leg over his -wheel, and disappeared. - -Derrick went back to Jean and by the tenseness of her face knew at once -that she had heard everything. They looked at each other for a moment -without speaking. - -“Well,” he said slowly, “isn’t it extraordinary?” - -“No,” she answered under her breath, “not so extraordinary.” - -“Why?” - -“It’s all part of the rest of it. Do you remember what I said about some -power operating behind?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, it just means that you are dealing with things that can’t be -explained by any reason or argument or logic, and Sergeant Burke hasn’t -the right kind of experience for this. He’s fighting against things he -can’t see. He’s hoping now that Martin or Perkins will break down and -tell everything. They won’t.” - -“How do you know that?” - -“I can’t explain, though I’m sure of it. Does anything suggest itself to -you?” - -“To be done now?” - -“Yes.” - -He shook his head. “Burke’s proposal seems to be all there is left.” - -“I think perhaps there’s something else,” she said almost timidly. “Do -you remember what you told me some weeks ago about the picture that must -always be passing through a criminal’s mind?” - -“Yes, distinctly.” - -“And the strange impulse to return to the scene of his crime that he has -to fight against? Well, let us assume that Martin is the criminal and -has returned.” - -“There’s no question of that,” he put in quickly. - -“Perhaps not, but the picture he found was not the one he had been -carrying with him.” - -“Why?” - -“The study had been changed—I mean its arrangement; therefore the -possible effect that might have been produced if he had seen the picture -in actual existence did not take place.” - -“Go on,” he said tensely. - -“But if on the other hand, and without expecting it, Martin were brought -suddenly face to face with that picture, if the study were reset just as -it was before, and if”—here she trembled, and went on bravely—“if he -thought he saw father lying there as he did see him two years ago, don’t -you think that something real and truthful might be startled out of -him?” - -“By Jove!” whispered Derrick. “Do you mean it?” - -She nodded. “Yes, all of it. I don’t just know how I feel it, but I -know, here.” She touched her breast. “It’s the right thing to do.” - -“Would you help?” - -“Yes.” - -“I hate to ask it. And if it’s attempted Perkins must know nothing about -it.” - -“No, she mustn’t; and, Jack, there’s something else.” It seemed natural -now to call him Jack. - -“Yes, Jean?” He lingered on the word. How near it brought him! - -Her eyes told him that she, too, felt the nearness, but for the moment -her brain was working too swiftly to yield to aught else. - -“There’s the peddler. One can’t tell where he is, but not far away. I’m -sure of that. He won’t finally go till he has that which he came for. -Where is it now?” - -“Behind the panel.” - -“But if you do what I suggest, and to-night, it should be on the desk -beside you.” - -“Beside me?” - -“Yes, if you—if you take the part of my father.” - -He caught his breath at this supreme courage. “Would you come and -arrange the study?” - -“Yes, when?” - -“Let me settle that with Edith. I’ll see her at once and then go on to -Burke. She’ll probably come this afternoon and ask you to dinner. Will -that be all right?” - -He longed to take her in his arms, but again it was only their eyes that -met—and spoke. - - - -It was to Bamberley police station and not to Beech Lodge that Derrick -went first. He found the sergeant in the little office, his face a map -of uncertainty. He looked up inquiringly as the young man came in. The -last few hours had been bad ones for Burke. Then Derrick put the matter -without delay, told how the suggestion originated, added that he had -agreed that it was the next and best move, and waited for the sergeant -to speak. Presently the latter shook his head. - -“I dare not, Mr. Derrick.” - -“Why not?” - -“Stop and think, sir. Here’s a man under arrest, and I myself have -charged him with complicity in murder. I’m responsible for him till the -authorities proceed. One suspect has already escaped. Now you propose -that I let the other man out of custody to try an experiment which is, -well, Mr. Derrick, fantastic any way you put it.” - -“Exactly; but if you stop to think, sergeant, the whole affair has been -more or less fantastic ever since we started. We acted on possibilities, -not probabilities, and you must admit we’ve dug up a good deal that -didn’t come to light before.” - -“Yes, I do admit it; also that ten to one we’ve got the man who killed -Mr. Millicent. But I’m frank to say that I don’t like what’s bound to -happen over Blunt’s escape. I’m only hoping that Martin’s evidence will -let me down with a good general average.” - -“And if you don’t convict Martin?” - -“Then I lose my job,” said Burke grimly. - -“Would you have to advertise the fact if you did personally bring Martin -to Beech Lodge at, say nine thirty to-night?” - -The big man stared at him. “No, but—” - -“Then look here. I’m willing to see this last attempt through if you -are, but if you’re not, I step down and out. I can’t give you any -reasons for saying that I think it will have surprising results, but I -do feel that. Admitting that you risk your job, isn’t it worth while -taking the chance of producing both the criminal and the evidence? If -you decide otherwise, well and good. It’s going to be rather a thick -night,” he added, glancing out of the window. - -Burke weighed the chances, his eyes half closed, pushing out his broad, -full lips and tapping on the bare table. Yes, the night promised to be -thick. He saw himself, the guardian of Bamberley, sneaking out of the -village in the fog, a criminal chained to his wrist, but himself the -more agitated of the two. Against this he was aware that ever since the -Millicent case had come to life things just as strange as this had been -going on. A man of order and law and precedent, knowing the police code -as a parson knows the Pentateuch, he shrank from outlawing himself by -doing as Derrick proposed. But here again the consciousness of something -beyond the ordinary that lay behind the Millicent case projected itself. -He could see the grin that would run through police circles from John -O’Groats to Land’s End when the Blunt story came out, and recoiled at -the mere thought of it. Without something, as for instance a conviction, -to counterbalance that escape, he was done. And he knew it. It was the -vision of that official grin that decided him. - -“Will you tell me exactly what you suggest I should do?” he asked -heavily. - -“First, say nothing to Martin. If you want to let Dr. Henry into this, -do so, but that’s for you to decide. Fetch Martin to Beech Lodge at -exactly nine thirty to-night. Perkins will bring you to the study door, -which will be closed. She will knock, and there will be no answer. Then -she will naturally open it, and you and she and Martin will see that -room just as it looked after the murder two years ago. I will be at the -desk in the position in which Millicent was found, and able to give -assistance if you want it. You must not speak. I anticipate that Martin, -or it may be Perkins, will break the silence, but it is sure to be -Martin. His very first words should tell us what we want to know. That’s -all.” - -Burke listened with strained attention. “If I did bring Martin I -couldn’t bring any one else. I mean I couldn’t have any one on duty -outside. The two constables could not be allowed to know anything about -this.” - -Derrick, realizing that the point had been carried, sent him a grave -smile. “I don’t think we need bother about the outside of the house -to-night, but that’s your end of it. All I ask for is you and Martin at -nine thirty. I’m not trying to persuade you into this, sergeant, so drop -it if you don’t think it’s good enough. But it’s the only program I can -suggest, and I’ve no alternative.” - -Burke rose mountainously from his chair. “And I’ve tried to tell you -what it involves me in, which is the risk of twenty years’ record and my -present job.” He paused, then gave a determined grunt. “But I’ll do it.” - -Derrick nodded. “I think you’re right, and sometimes a man moves further -ahead in ten minutes than in twenty years. Nine thirty, sergeant.” - - - - - CHAPTER X - A NIGHT OF TRAGEDY - - -IT TOOK all Jean’s courage to go with Edith when the time came. She had -had a not altogether comforting talk with her mother, in which, knowing -that it was unwise to tell Mrs. Millicent too much, she only said that -Edith wanted her to dine at Beech Lodge and that she might be able to -help Derrick in his self-imposed task. Her mother assented, with a -curious glance that suggested that it was not altogether the task that -took her daughter to her old home. Jean, realizing the futility of -fuller explanation, said little more. - -It was something of a help that Edith understood so much and yet, in a -way, understood so little. Her sanity, her cheerful hope that the -tableau would frighten Martin into saying something that would settle -the matter, and the growing affection in her manner, all combined to act -like a much needed tonic. Jean found herself talking more freely than -she ever imagined she could talk. She realized that this was because -Edith was aware what was in her heart, and could perceive love, though -the occult was beyond her. And the difference between the two girls did -much to cement their friendship. - -The affair of that night was tacitly avoided, Edith talking for the most -part about that which lay nearest her heart. This was Derrick. She did -not grudge him, wanting only his happiness, and the generosity of her -nature touched Jean enormously. Edith took it for granted that whether -the _tableau vivant_, as she put it, was successful or not, the next -important event would be of a brighter character, and her contented -assumption of this had an intriguing effect. It was strange to be -regarded as a sister-in-law before the word was spoken. She was still -talking about her brother, his art, his ambition, and the unexpectedness -of him that she loved so much, when they came in sight of the gates of -the Lodge. - -Jean fell silent as they passed the cottage, again untenanted, and the -rose-trees that bore the marks of Martin’s skill. She recalled her last -visit here, and marveled at its outcome. These familiar windows, this -well-known door, and most of all that she would soon meet the blank eyes -of Perkins, all moved her profoundly. She came to the house again not as -a visitor, or to revive memories of the past, but actually to rebuild -that past in such a way as to drag into the open the secret of so many -years. It was a crusade on behalf of the dead, a high mission that -involved putting aside all else till it be performed. Though the wound -in her own heart ached, it must ache till the mission be discharged. And -behind that was the whisper of love. It was this thought that enabled -her to meet Derrick with a glance of high resolution that he found -infinitely inspiring. - -Looking back at it afterward, she always wondered whether dinner was not -the greatest test of that memorable night. In spite of their combined -efforts, it was very voiceless. Perkins, who glanced less at Jean than -at her mistress, moved silent-footed as ever, blank to everything except -her duties, and even these were carried out with a sort of subconscious -detachment. She both cooked and served the meal, and with the same -unaltered perfection. Nothing in her had changed, and as of old she made -no lost motions. She knew that Martin was in jail, charged with -complicity in the murder of her former master, yet no sign of it -appeared on her ageless face. - -But from her emanated something that made the usual conversation well -nigh impossible. Had she shown her knowledge, the tension had been less. -As it was, Jean pictured her father and mother in the chairs occupied by -Derrick and Edith, heard the tones of a remembered voice, saw the same -trim, straight figure moving with the same soundless precision—and -could hardly forbear to cry out. When, a little later, she entered that -other room of grim significance, it was with a feeling that almost -amounted to relief. There was no Perkins here. - -Derrick, whose eyes were unusually bright, waited till the maid had -disappeared with the coffee-cups, then turned swiftly to Jean. - -“Now we must act. Edith has given Perkins enough to keep her busy till -half-past nine. That’s an hour. It was not safe to do anything here -before this, so we must move things ourselves, and if possible without -making a sound. One thing I want to ask: was your father dressed as in -that picture?” He made a gesture toward the portrait. - -“Yes, he always put on that coat after dinner.” - -Derrick nodded, opened a drawer in the bottom of the desk, and produced -a velveteen smoking-jacket. - -“I thought that might be, so rooted out this old one of mine. Now we -must shift the desk; then you can arrange the things on it. In a general -way, are the contents of the room just the same?” - -“Exactly, I think,” said the girl, after a swift scrutiny. - -“And that French window, was it locked?” - -“Yes, always before dinner at this time of year.” - -He gave a curious smile, “To-night I think we’ll leave it open.” - -“How stupid, Jack!” interjected Edith, “and let the man escape.” - -“He can’t, because he’ll be chained to the sergeant. It’s with another -object. Now are you ready?” - -Jean sent him a quick glance. She guessed the object, and it made her -heart beat faster. - -Gradually the room assumed its former appearance. Edith assisted with a -businesslike, good-humored alacrity, in the manner of a housekeeper who -helps to arrange a stage for young people’s tableaux. To her these were -chairs, tables, and rugs, nothing more. She wondered a good deal why a -practical man like Sergeant Burke should be willing to take part, a man -responsible for the custody of his prisoner, then reflected that it was -all rather queer, and there was no point in worrying about what one -didn’t understand. The consoling phase of it was her conviction that -this was the last act of the somewhat disconcerting drama of the past -few months, that it would soon be followed by the wedding of two of the -principals, and then her brother would settle down and get on with his -work. The thing that really most bothered her was the lease of Beech -Lodge. She knew that Jean would never live here again. - -It was as well she took her present occupation so placidly, for to Jean -and Derrick, especially the former, the rearrangement of the study -brought with it an austere and growing significance. They moved in the -presence of what had been Millicent, recreating a poignantly familiar -scene, directed by the gesture of an unseen hand. They were automatons, -obeying they knew not what elusive instinct. And it seemed that as the -room took shape it throbbed once more with a medley of tiny voices, each -thrilling its own message in a fine, thin, vibrating tone. The chair -where the dead man used to sit, the desk over which he leaned, the -blurred stain that bore its cloudy witness to his passing; all these -became vocal, joining in a mysterious communication which announced that -nothing is ever utterly dissipated or lost, but in some form or quality -remains, an imperishable record for all time. - -Nine o’clock struck, and Derrick glanced from the French window into the -darkness. The night was profound, and over the country-side rested a -great blanket of fog. Putting out his hand, he could hardly see it. -Beyond was the world, populous with life, lost and infinitely removed. -From the trees bordering the lawn came a slow, soft drip, sounding like -a vast, subdued weeping in this black obscurity. Anything might move -here and be undetected. All in a breath he became convinced that there -was something close by. But it did not move. - -He pictured what must be going on now in Bamberley jail. Burke in his -shiny cape, tramping down the barred passage to Martin’s cell, handcuffs -dangling, grim, resolute, conscious of the desperate risk he ran, his -jaw like iron. How had Burke disposed of his constables, and what kind -of story had he told? Again Burke, with his dark-lantern at Martin’s -barrier, the glint of yellow light on the gardener’s sullen face, the -brief word of command, the click of metal that chained them together. -Did Martin ask questions? Was he surprised, or unwilling, or did he take -it all with his customary dogged silence? Then two burly figures -engulfed in the fog, the wet glimmer from Bamberley windows—if -Bamberley were not already asleep—the scrape of heavy feet on the -graveled road, this strangely assorted pair moving up the long hill -beneath trees that stretched ghostly arms overhead. What must Burke be -thinking now? - -He turned abruptly, leaving the window ajar, and drawing the curtains -close. Crossing to the mantel, he beckoned to the two girls. - -“Now I’m going to show you a part of the mystery of Beech Lodge.” - -He touched the woodwork, a small panel fell forward, and inside gleamed -the jade god. - -“Isn’t that clever?” said Edith cheerfully. - -Jean did not stir. Her eyes, very wide open, were fixed on the image. It -was all very extraordinary—and very simple. Had her father found this -hidingplace, or had he made it during the long evenings he spent alone -after it became imperative to have some hidden shrine for his deadly -trophy? Here was the spot, so near and yet so safe, whence came the -mysterious authority that gave tongues to inanimate things. Yes, the -jade god was safe there. Again she looked at Derrick. - -“I begin to understand now,” she said under her breath. - -Edith moved close and peered in. “I’ll have that well scrubbed out -to-morrow. It’s dreadful!” - -Derrick laughed. “Please wait till I ask it.” He took out the thing and -set it beside the lamp. - -“It used to stand on the other side of him.” Jean’s voice was quiet and -steady. - -“I know, but that won’t matter this time, and,” he added thoughtfully, -“I want it to be visible from the window.” - -He paused, then sent her a glance that gave her renewed fortitude. “Now -I’m going to get into position. Please don’t try and help me unless you -feel you must, and it can only last a few minutes. You and Edith stand -behind the screen, if you feel that staying there won’t be too much for -you, and above all don’t stir till I do. It will all turn on Martin’s -first words. If anything happens at the window, leave it to me. When -Perkins knocks do not answer on any account. Is the lamp right?” - -Jean nodded. - -He pressed her hand comfortingly, and again their eyes met in a gaze of -perfect understanding. - -“Get behind the screen now,” he whispered, “and don’t look at me.” - -He put on the velveteen jacket and took the dead man’s chair. Leaning -his head forward on the desk, the blurred stain was but a few inches -from his throat. The deadly creese was beside him. He could see the jade -god, its sardonic eyes bent on him, the cruel lips curved as though they -comprehended the grim irony of the moment. Under that scrutiny he felt -once more the mesmeric power evidenced here only the day before. - -“Edith,” he murmured. - -“Yes?” - -“Twitch the curtains so that they are about an inch apart. Then get back -quickly.” - -She did this without a sound. Derrick lay still, his eyes closed. He -knew that a narrow rib of light was streaming out over the sodden lawn -and that the one who hid there could view the strange scene inside. Then -silence fell. The tick of the clock sounded heavy and fateful. Shadows -danced on the oaken walls, as they had danced two years before, and the -flicker of fire cast an intermittent glow on Millicent’s face as it -looked down from its gilded frame. From a near-by covert came the soft -hooting of a barn-owl. - -A faint whisper from the outer world reached Derrick, lying motionless -with the blood pounding in his temples. It was that of movement, not -sound; the merest fraction of movement, and transmitted by the most -delicate waves of air. His senses, tuned to the utmost pitch, caught -this, though it was no more than the suggestion that the atmosphere had -been displaced not far off. Close to him some one had changed position. -That was all he knew, and by the quality of this sensation he also -guessed that the change had been made stealthily. - -In the midst of this, and while the air seemed to transmit a steady -singing monotone, came a sharp knock at the front door. He held his -breath for the click of the latch, presently catching Burke’s voice, -deep and husky. Followed a sound of heavy feet, and Perkins’s tap at the -study door. She waited a moment; Derrick felt a slight draft and knew -she was in the room with the two men behind her. - -From Martin came a strange, throaty cry, and from the woman a choking -gasp. Derrick’s hair prickled, and all power seemed to leave him. Again -the gasp. Then flying feet crossed the floor with inconceivable -swiftness, and Perkins flung herself beside his chair. He felt the grip -of frenzied arms on his shoulders and heard tones of unutterable -anguish. - -“Master, master, what is it? Speak to me, speak to me! You’re not dead! -I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know I did it. I was asleep; don’t you -understand? And when I woke your blood was on my hands. Speak to me, -master; for God’s sake, speak!” - -For an instant Derrick was unable to move. Perkins crouched on the floor -beside him, her body shaking, her face buried in her arms. Another cry -from Martin, and he plunged, dragging Burke with him. He put his one -free hand on the woman’s head. - -“Don’t you go on like that, lass. It’s only a plant. You didn’t do it. -I’ll swear you didn’t.” - -Perkins staggered to her feet. Her eyes were glazed. She stared wildly -up at Martin, then at the sergeant as though she did not see him, then -at the French window. The curtains had parted, and in the gap crouched -the tense figure of Blunt, poised for a spring. At this last, her -features became distorted. All the suffering of the damned crowded into -them. With a motion of incredible swiftness, she grasped the creese and -plunged it into her heart. Simultaneously Blunt darted forward. - -What happened in that instant happened in a flash. Martin fell on his -knees beside the woman. Burke, half dazed as he was, flung out his great -fist and caught Blunt on the temple. There came a cry from the two who -had been hidden behind the screen. Derrick leaped up. He saw Perkins, -her breast stained scarlet, with Martin beside her, rocking in an -abandonment of grief. Against the wall, as though it had been thrown -there like a rag, huddled the insensible figure of the peddler. Burke -was breathing hard and already fumbling at the lock of the handcuff that -bound him to the gardener. On one side stood Jean and Edith, their eyes -starting with horror. - -In a moment the sergeant got himself free with a clink of metal. He -glowered at the inert body of Blunt with a sort of animal satisfaction, -then, kneeling beside Perkins, stared at her hard, and finally put his -big head against that crimson heart. Martin did not move but gave one -long shuddering sigh. A moment thus, till Burke heaved up, his face very -grave, and made an unmistakable gesture. At that Edith put her arms -round Jean and held the girl close. - -“I’ll take charge now, sir,” said Burke grimly. “These two men must come -to the station with me. As for this poor woman, we can’t do better than -take her to the cottage, if you don’t mind her being there till morning, -and I’ll send a man up there as soon as possible. And,” he added, -“perhaps I’d better take this knife for safe-keeping till the inquest.” - -“No, no!” Martin turned his grief-stricken face, clutching at the -officer’s arm. “For God’s sake don’t do that. Let me stay with her,” he -implored hoarsely. - -Burke stared at him. “What are you talking about?” - -“Don’t leave her in the cottage with any one but me. I’ll be there in -the morning. I won’t run away. I’ll do anything else you like, but for -God’s sake let me stay with her to-night!” - -Burke shook his head. “You’ll do what you’re told, and do it now. What -is this woman to you?” - -“My wife,” groaned Martin, and burst into throttling sobs. - -Utter silence fell upon this room of death. Against the wall, Blunt gave -a slow shiver and raised his head, regarding the scene with a strange -calm, as though such tragedies were only passing incidents in a still -greater drama. He made no attempt to move but lay there, resting on one -elbow, part of it all, but infinitely removed. Derrick stared at the two -girls. Edith’s arms were still round Jean, but their eyes were fixed on -what lay on the floor. Jean looked at the man she loved. The terror was -leaving her face, being replaced by a vast incomprehensible wonder -mingled with a profound pity. In that moment she was his, and yet -unspeakably distant. It was like traversing a forest of dreadful shadows -and emerging, suddenly blinded, into the light, where one had to find -oneself before seeing anything else. A great pity enveloped her -altogether. She came quickly forward and knelt beside the still form. - -“Jack, you must ask the sergeant to permit that. Don’t you understand? -One poor woman among all these men,” she whispered. “Oh, the poor, poor -soul!” - -Burke nodded. “Perhaps that will be all right, miss,” he broke in with a -queer, deep gruffness. “We’ll let it go at that, but I’ll have to send a -man up to stay outside till morning. He won’t come into the cottage. Is -there anything you want to say, Mr. Derrick, before—” - -Derrick shook his head. “I think it has all been said.” - -The sergeant touched Martin’s shoulder. “Will you—” He glanced at the -body. “Blunt goes with me.” - -Martin nodded speechlessly. With infinite tenderness he picked up his -wife as though she had been a child and, staring straight ahead with -unseeing eyes, strode through the door which her lifeless hand had so -recently opened for him. Then into the hall alone with his burden. The -others heard the front door open and close, and after that the sound of -slow feet on the gravel. This dwindled. Burke stepped across to where -the peddler lay on his side and snapped on a handcuff. At the ring of -metal, Derrick felt his eyes suddenly drawn to the jade god. - -The thing still rested, the light soaking into its emerald depths, and -it seemed that on the tiny features rested a smile of sardonic -satisfaction, as though it had known it all, and all the time. What was -any individual tragedy, what was this minute portion of the great human -drama, with the pangs of a moment, to the profound acquaintanceship with -evil that lay hidden here? These actors were only discharging their -parts in an endless play that would continue with its constantly -changing scenes so long as humanity could feel passion and anger and -fear and revenge. Derrick stared at the image and vowed silently that, -come what might of his act, this reign of terror would soon end. But -here was neither the time nor the place. He made a gesture to Edith, and -the latter slipped her arm into that of Jean. When he knew they had -reached Edith’s room, Derrick turned to Burke. - -“I want to speak to you a minute.” - -The sergeant crooked a finger at Blunt and led him into the hall. Again -the clink of metal, and the peddler was anchored to a massive chair. The -big man came back, smiling grimly. - -“That’s a useful dodge when you think of it. Now, what about this image? -Hadn’t I better take it to the station for the present?” - -Derrick shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather keep it till it -happens to be needed.” There followed a little pause, while through both -their brains ran the swift wonder of the night. “I suppose,” he added, -“there’s no objection to that.” - -Burke grinned. “No, sir; matter of fact, I’m not in love with the ugly -thing myself. It worked, didn’t it? that plan of yours,” he went on -respectfully, “but not just in the way either of us expected. Who would -ever have thought it? As for that poor woman, why, there’s only one -explanation.” - -“What’s that?” - -Burke put a significant finger to his forehead. - -“Look here,” said Derrick suddenly, “I want to know something. What’s -the next move, now that the matter is in your hands?” - -“There’s the inquest, perhaps to-morrow, but maybe the day after. It -depends on Dr. Henry.” - -“And then?” - -“The trial of Blunt and Martin, of course.” - -“Just what will they be tried for?” - -“Housebreaking, attempted theft, and possible complicity in the murder -of Mr. Millicent.” - -“Then take Martin first. He did not break into this house. I sent for -him.” - -“That may be true, sir, but you can’t say that for the other fellow, and -they seem to be in pretty close touch and to have worked together.” -Burke paused and looked puzzled. “I don’t very well see how they can be -separated in this affair, judging by what you’ve said yourself in the -last day or two.” - -“Suppose, sergeant,” said Derrick thoughtfully, “that I should decide -not to lay any charge against Blunt after all.” - -The big man blinked. “I don’t quite follow you, sir. What’s to be gained -by acting like that?” - -“I can’t say yet, but do you honestly think there’s any chance of really -proving anything serious now against these two men?” - -“There’s a good working chance, but I fancy a jury would be as much -puzzled as we’ve been, and probably more. You never can tell about a -jury.” - -“Then I particularly ask that no charge be laid against either of them -till I have had a talk with both. I admit, and you’ve said it, too, that -all our suspicions were wrong and unfounded. We were working hard, but -only playing about on the edge of the truth. Now we have heard a -confession of the act from lips where we never expected to find it, and -the person who committed the murder has gone before another court. Our -discovery, which has led to this, was a matter of chance, and we were on -a false trail from the start.” - -“I admit that, sir, but you did all the guessing. The only thing we had -in common was our suspicion of Martin.” - -“That’s true, and I’ll shoulder whatever blame attaches to it. But, -officially, the net result is that you have cleared up the mystery of -the Millicent murder, and after every one else had failed. You mustn’t -forget, sergeant, that so far as any one else is concerned I’m merely an -onlooker. I congratulate you, Burke. It ought to mean promotion.” - -The other man indulged in a broad smile. He had had no time to think -about promotion yet, but the prospect was distinctly rosy. “That’s very -good of you, sir, and this certainly ought to help.” - -“So that now the matter of Blunt’s escape does not seem very serious?” - -“Well, sir, Dr. Henry told me enough about that trick to show that it’s -fooled a good many wiser men than me. It has proved not to be important -after all, and I don’t think it will be brought up against me. Is there -anything you want me for now?” - -“Yes, to make the following arrangement. I’ll be responsible for Martin -till morning, and he will then go with your man to the station. -Meantime, please understand that I lay no charge whatever against him. -As to Blunt, in that case also I lay no charge at present, but reserve -the right to do so to-morrow if I wish. Meantime, I’d like it -understood, if possible, that you are merely taking him at my request -because I found him in my house without my authority. I don’t know the -law in such matters but assume that you could not proceed against him -till I did actually lay the charge. As for the rest of it, I suppose -they will both be needed as witnesses to the confession and suicide. -With that, of course, I have nothing to do. Can the matter be left that -way for the next day or so?” - -Burke pondered. He could not get much further at present than that the -Millicent mystery was solved, and his own reputation not only -reëstablished but enhanced, and there was solid satisfaction in the -thought. Already he could see the head-lines in the London papers. - -“Yes,” he said slowly, “I think we could leave it that way, sir. When -would you want to talk to these men?” - -“To-morrow morning?” - -“All right, Mr. Derrick. I’ll get most of my work out of the way by ten -thirty and be ready for you, if that will suit. Nothing more I can do -for you here to-night?” - -The young man breathed a long sigh of relief. “There’s nothing left to -go wrong now, and I’ll put this jade friend, or enemy, of ours back -where he belongs for the present. Good night, sergeant, and I’m glad -your luck has turned.” - -Burke saluted and went out. There was the slight jingle of a chain, and -the front door closed. Derrick pushed back the oaken panel. -Involuntarily he glanced at the portrait. Millicent seemed satisfied. He -was avenged now. - -Then over the young man began to creep sensations in which there was no -triumph, no pride, no self-congratulation. The blank-faced woman over -whom Martin was crouching in the silent cottage seemed to rise up and -point a thin accusing finger. Why had he done this thing? Her secret had -been torn from her, and her life with it. What had she ever done to -Derrick? His lips became dry at the thought, and he felt almost like a -murderer himself. What was wrong with his philosophy? Up-stairs was Jean -waiting for him. He would go to her across the body of another woman. - -He struggled with this picture, but it would not down. By what trail had -he come to so unexpected a solution? Could it be that it was always thus -with those over whom the jade god held its malignant sway? Were their -lives at the mercy of undercurrents of whose very existence they were -ignorant? What did the image mean to Perkins, or any of them? She knew -now, perhaps for the first time, but would he himself ever know? Who was -Blunt in this deadly circle, and why should Martin and Perkins, being -man and wife, remain yet strangers to one another? Had the jade god come -in between? His brain rocked with hazardings like this, and at the end -of it all he felt guiltier and guiltier. - -He went up-stairs and found Jean waiting for him in the hall. She had -watched Blunt, swinging one arm, disappear in the fog, walking close to -the sergeant. They had stopped at the cottage, where Burke peered in but -did not enter. He saw what he expected to see. Blunt did not attempt to -look. Then the two passed on through the white gates and were swallowed -up. Jean knew that Derrick would now come to her soon. - -“Oh, my dear,” she said, “who ever could have dreamed of this?” - -He made no answer, for there was none, but the look on his face gave her -a new throb of fear. - -“What is it, Jack?” - -“I don’t know,” he said wearily, “but if it were not for you I would -regret having done anything. As it is”—he made a helpless gesture—“see -what I have done!” - -“Has anything else happened?” she asked timidly. - -“No, there’s nothing more to happen now. I’m thinking of Perkins down in -the cottage, and that it was I who sent her there. I wish I hadn’t. God, -how I wish that!” - -“Jack,” she said swiftly, “don’t think of it that way! Dear one, don’t!” - -“I’ve done a woman to death,” he said in a half-whisper. - -“No, no”—she was trembling with a great longing to comfort him—“no one -has. It was all written, and had to be. I am full of the horror of it, -too, but you and all of us were only pawns. Perkins’s life was utterly -unhappy, and her death, however terrible, can’t be more so. To me it all -seems like some law.” - -“What law?” he asked dully. - -“I can’t explain. She killed my father, we all know that now, but why we -don’t know. Nor did she really know why she should kill herself. You did -not bring her to her death.” - -“But if I had not acted as I have she would be alive now.” - -With that his arms went out, and he held her close. For a moment they -clung like children, moved by some common and half-understood impulse. -Surrounded by something, they knew not what, it was good to be like this -and touch each other in the shadows of life. It brought Derrick a throb -of divine comfort, strange and new. It was his turn to feel not so -utterly alone. - -“To-morrow, and after that?” she asked. - -He told her, and what he had arranged with Burke. - -“I’m glad. Just think of Martin all these years, how he must have loved -her in spite of everything; what it must have cost him to go away as he -did, and under suspicion, just to save her. And all that hidden behind -his strange and threatening face. It could not have been anything he did -that killed her love for him. Jack, dear, I can only feel pity, all the -pity in the world, and you must feel only that, too. That poor woman -would not want to live it all over again. And, oh, it does make me want -to be understanding and merciful when I can to every one, always!” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - A STRANGE CONFESSION - - -THE WHOLE earth, bathed in bright sun and clear air, looked younger when -Derrick walked into Bamberley next morning. It seemed but an hour since -he had piloted Jean back through the fog, and when they parted she had -clung to him for a wonderful moment that needed no words. His mind was -still in a whirl, and with difficulty he pitched it forward to Bamberley -jail. - -Martin had been brought there in the gray of dawn, and with him the body -of his wife, which rested where so lately the stiff figure of the -peddler lay till subjugated consciousness mysteriously returned. There -had been no chance to talk with Blunt, nor did Martin want to talk. He -had sat for hours, quite motionless, turning the thing over and over in -his slow brain, and it seemed that from the truth itself there was least -to be feared. It was strange for him even to contemplate truth now. He -was innocent of murder, but he was a perjurer nevertheless. He would -have to risk that. Burke did not speak to him, and the moments dragged -inflexibly on. But there was a new look in his swarthy face when Derrick -entered the cell in company with the sergeant. He got up and nodded -awkwardly. - -“Do you want Blunt here when you question this man?” asked Burke. “I’ll -answer for it that nothing has been fixed up between them since last -night.” - -“Do you see any objection?” - -“They’re your questions, sir, not mine.” - -Derrick hesitated a moment but felt persuaded that already he had got -far enough under the skin of things to detect any probable collusion. He -rather wanted to see these two men together and see if he could -corroborate or disprove the story of one from the eyes of the other. -Then something suggested that with death so near at hand there was -little prospect of collusion. - -“Yes, I think Blunt had better be here.” - -Martin gave him a swift glance in which there was something that was -almost gratitude for his confidence. Blunt was brought in by Peters, the -constable. Peters’s face was full of an unbounded curiosity, and he was -unaffectedly disgusted when Burke motioned him to withdraw. The peddler -looked now not more than forty, and only in the brightness of his eyes -was there anything of the bent and bearded man who had opened his pack -at the cottage of Beech Lodge. One temple was swollen from Burke’s blow, -but there was no animosity about him. Nor was there any suggestion of -fear. He glanced not at all at Martin but sent Derrick a long, steady -stare. There was knowledge in that stare, and a certain unshakable -fortitude. Such men in times past had died on the rack without a whisper -of confession. Their bodies one can conquer, but not their spirits. -Derrick knew then that what Blunt would say would be the truth; as much -of it as he thought wise, and no more. - -“Well, Martin,” began the former slowly, “Miss Derrick and I and all of -us are more than sorry about what happened last night, and what I don’t -understand is why your poor wife and you should have thought it best to -say nothing to us of what you were to each other. Even now I am not here -to examine you, I have no right to do anything like that, but just to -ask whether you do think it wise to say something of your own free will. -I think”—here he hesitated a little—“that I’ve been fairly decent to -you since you came. As to your wife, she never said anything which gave -us the slightest inkling of the situation.” - -The man regarded him with unfathomable eyes, and here again there was no -fear. He seemed to be weighing chances, and at the same time to be -prepared for any outcome. Presently he looked full at the peddler, and -Derrick noted that the latter nodded ever so slightly, while once more -there spread from him that nameless atmosphere of authority. Then Martin -took a long breath and began in a deep voice, rough and broken with -emotion. - -“You’ve always been straight with me, Mr. Derrick, and now I’m going to -be just as straight with you. I can’t help letting myself in for -it”—here he glanced swiftly at Burke—“but I don’t much care what -happens. What’s more, I’d just as soon Blunt heard what I’ve got to say, -and he can check me up when I get off the track, if he wants to. I’ll -start at the beginning, and that’s about eight years ago when we went up -country in Burma.” - -“Who do you mean by we?” - -“My wife and me. I had been trading along the Irawadi, been there for -some years, when I heard there was good business to be done further up. -We were about ready to pull out, but I changed my plans. Ever been in -those parts?” - -Derrick shook his head. - -“Then don’t go, sir. It’s no place for a white man, and less for a white -woman. Folks seem to go mad there without knowing it, a sort of slow, -creeping madness that by and by gets them. It’s the jungle that does it, -with the smell of the orchids like a woman’s breast, air that thick and -heavy you could almost cut it with a knife like cheese, soft under your -foot with things dying and being born. There are butterflies as big as -your hat that go fluttering round as though they were drunk with the -smell of the flowers, as I guess they are; and the flowers are like -pulp, with nothing to touch a Lady Hillingdon in the whole country. It -seemed to me after a while that most every one is either mad or drunk in -the jungle, which is perhaps the same thing, but of course they don’t -know it. Anyway, it was eight years ago, no, seven, that Mr. Millicent -came along. He had traveled up river to see the country, being -interested in that sort of thing. I was away still further up at the -time, and when he got back on his way to Rangoon he stopped at my place -because there was nowhere else to stay. What happened there I didn’t -know at the time, but—” - -He broke off helplessly, locked and twisted his thick fingers together, -stared uncertainly at Derrick and then at Blunt. - -“Go on,” said the latter quietly. - -“It was nearly a year before I found out, but when I got back my wife -had gone, leaving no word. Then I went mad, too, blaming myself because -I had kept her so long in the jungle and she begging me to take her out. -Perhaps as I see it now she felt the madness coming on her, but trade -was so promising that I hung on. After a while the natives told me about -Mr. Millicent, but none of them knew his name, only that he had come -from up country, and there were queer stories about him. I started -tracing the thing back till I found a priest who told me that an -Englishman like him had robbed a temple up in the Mong Hills. Then I -sold my stuff and started for Rangoon. There was more of the story -there, and I got Mr. Millicent’s address from a clerk in the shipping -office. I took the first boat to England, came to Bamberley, and my wife -didn’t know me.” - -Martin stopped abruptly, and Derrick made a sudden gesture of sympathy. -Blunt’s face did not alter a fraction. This was but a tale to him, and -apparently not of great interest, a minor scene in the play. - -“Go on!” he said again. - -“Looking back at it now, I can see one reason for some of it. Soon after -we married she had a son, but he didn’t live only a few days. She was -never quite the same afterward, knowing she couldn’t have another. Maybe -that had a little to do with her going off after Mr. Millicent. You -can’t guess what it’s like to be hunting a wife who has gone in pursuit -of a man you never saw.” - -“No,” said Derrick slowly, “I can’t.” - -“Well, sir, that was my case, and when finally I found her I learned the -truth. It wasn’t Mr. Millicent himself at all, but that damned jade god -he had stolen, that and perhaps the jungle madness. Maybe Blunt here -will tell you more about the thing. Mind you, the natives believed in -it, and whatever it was that got into her blood made her believe in it, -too. At any rate, Mr. Millicent had the ungodly thing, though I suppose -he never knew just why he stole it, and that anchored her wherever he -happened to be, like a moth trying to get inside a lamp. She couldn’t -get away if she wanted to. Mr. Millicent himself never knew, I believe -that, and was always kind to her as he was to every one else, and -nothing more. Had I thought there was anything else I would have killed -him myself, and I don’t care if the sergeant hears me say so, either. So -my wife went into his family as a servant, just to be near him. Mad, -yes, she was mad enough. Did you never notice her eyes, sir?” - -“I think we all noticed them.” - -“Then I needn’t say much more about that. As I say, I got to Beech -Lodge, and she looked straight in my face and didn’t know me for her -husband. She knew that she had known me before, but that was all, if you -understand. I couldn’t force myself on her without destroying what -little comfort she got out of being near her master, though God knows -that was more pain than comfort. At the same time, I couldn’t leave her -without some kind of protection, for I had never wanted any woman but -her, so I applied for the job of gardener, and got it, perhaps because I -knew the country Mr. Millicent was thinking of most of the time. There I -was, working for the same people as my own wife, but no more a husband -of my wife’s than one of my own shrubs. The jade god had her for its -own, and it had Mr. Millicent, too. The fear was on him. I could see -that.” - -“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Millicent the truth as soon as you got to Beech -Lodge?” - -“Because my wife would have gone clean mad if I had, for he would have -tried to send her away. And back of all this I knew there were those in -the Mong Hills who would never rest or be content till they got the -damned thing back in their own hands. What’s more, they weren’t the sort -who cared much what they did to get it. Millicent’s life wouldn’t be -worth a snap of the finger when they found out where he was, if they -thought he had it. That was always in my head. And there was she, moving -further and further away from me, and more and more in love with him. -Can you see the sort of life I led? But the master was always straight -with me, and no man ever had a better boss.” - -“The night you applied to me for a job,” put in Derrick, “I asked her if -she thought under all the circumstances I would do well to take you on, -and she said yes, if I wanted a garden like Mr. Millicent’s. How do you -explain that?” - -“Simple enough, sir. She remembered me as a gardener for Mr. Millicent, -and that I was good with flowers, and nothing else.” He broke off in -distress and sent Blunt a pathetic glance. - -“You people are getting the truth,” said the latter, fingering his -handcuffs. “Go on, Martin.” - -“Well, I waited and waited, knowing that that lot in the Mong Hills -would never forget, or give the thing up, and the jade god was working -somewhere in the dark. Then came the night when it happened. I was out -behind the cottage when my wife came tearing down the drive like a crazy -woman, screaming that she had had a terrible dream and Mr. Millicent was -dead. She was only half dressed, with her hair down, and just for a -minute I thought the worst of them both, then saw that she was in a sort -of daze as she used to be when once or twice I caught her walking in her -sleep. The knife was in her hand. I guessed what had happened and got it -away from her, and wiped the blood from her fingers, and all the time -she kept on talking as though she didn’t see me. I told her it was only -a dream and went up to the house with her and found it was as she said.” - -Martin’s voice faltered here, and he looked beseechingly at Derrick. -“What would you have done, sir, if you’d been me?” - -“I think probably exactly the same.” - -“Yes, because no man could do anything else. Here was this poor woman -who did not know she had committed any crime, only that she had found -the man she loved better than anything on earth in a pool of his own -blood. I knew that I had to act quickly if I was going to save her and -got it into her head that she must break the news to Mrs. Millicent, who -would send her straight to the cottage again. Her mind was still dazed, -but she grasped that, and I sneaked back to my own place. And all this -I’ve told you is God’s truth, and it brings you up to the start of what -every one knows about the Millicent mystery. Since then I’ve kept my -mouth shut, but”—and here the man stared grimly at Burke—“I’d do the -same thing again for the same reason. I know I’m a perjurer and reckon -I’ll have to pay for that. But I’m ready to pay.” - -Derrick turned involuntarily to Burke, who had been sitting quite -motionless, slowly twisting a pencil between his broad finger-tips. The -big, strong face reflected nothing of his thoughts. The sergeant had -drunk in every word, his brain turned to detect any seeming flaw on -which he might fasten. But so far there was none, except that his stolid -British mind could not grasp the seeming potentiality that lay in a lump -of carved stone. Blunt did not stir a muscle and regarded his handcuffs -with a sort of quiet interest as though they were children’s toys. From -his expression Derrick knew what Blunt was thinking about. - -“Is there anything else, Martin?” - -“Only the inquest and all that part of it. After it was over I knew by -my wife’s face that her soul had gone wandering after Millicent and that -I was nothing to her and never could be. But she was my woman, and -nothing would alter that. I did not know where the image was, nor did -she, and right away it seemed clear that if I stayed I might let out -something. I told her I was going away, and she looked at me as though -she had never seen me before, so I knew that nothing would drive her -from Beech Lodge while that damned thing was hidden there. She wanted to -find it, too, but in a way was afraid to find it. So I hid the knife and -went off.” - -“Why hide the knife?” put in Derrick sharply. - -“So in case she should ever be charged with the murder I might come back -and the thing be found with me. That would let her out,” said Martin -steadily. - -Derrick caught his breath. He had a blinding glimpse of the unswerving -devotion hidden behind this formidable exterior. The sheer depth of it -seemed to dwarf all other kinds of worship. The gallows to save this -cold and repellent woman, this one woman of his heart. That was the -offering Martin stood ready to make. - -“Well,” continued the heavy voice, “I went back to Burma, and by that -time the story of the theft of the god was pretty much all over the Mong -Hills, not talked of openly, but going round in whispers, and I knew -that something else was bound to happen. I met Blunt there, and he knew -that I knew and followed me. He’ll tell you his own story about that if -you ask him. I stayed with my sister in America, but all the time -something was calling me back here, so I came, hotfoot. And the minute I -reached the house I knew the god was still there.” - -“And when you arrived you found you were no more to your wife than -before?” - -Martin pulled himself together. “That’s it,” he said, with a glance -almost of gratitude; “not even as much. And when Miss Millicent came in -I knew the infernal thing was at work again.” - -“I felt something of the kind, too.” - -Martin nodded. “I saw that, sir, though you were all in the dark. Then -Blunt got here, as I knew he would, and you can guess the rest. Last -night, when my woman came into the study and saw things just as they -once were, she thought she had waked up again, and I hadn’t time to stop -her. My God, Mr. Derrick, did you know what was coming?” - -“No, Martin, I didn’t, except that I frankly expected you might say -something. It was a jump in the dark.” - -“Then if I had said what she did, or something like it, she would be -alive now,” groaned the man bitterly. - -Derrick could not answer that, and there ensued a poignant moment which -he ended by turning suddenly to Burke. “Is there anything you want -cleared up, sergeant?” - -“No, sir”—the man’s voice was softer than usual—“but there’s one -thing, about Martin calling himself a perjurer. The law does not ask -that a man or woman give evidence against each other if they are man and -wife. Considering what we’ve heard, I think Martin can forget the -perjury part of it. I see now how the knife happened to be in the -cottage, for that did surprise me. I thought perhaps Blunt had put it -there for his own purpose. We might as well get on to what he has to -say.” - -“I’ll give you the rest of it,” began the peddler in a clear voice, “and -you can pick any holes in it you like. All that Martin says is true, -every word of it. I come from the Mong Hills and was born near there. My -father was English, and you might know his name, but he’s dead now, so -that end of it doesn’t matter. My mother was a Malay woman, and she’s -alive. I lived near a temple in the hills where the priests believed in -what they said and read, which isn’t always the case in that country. It -was a famous temple, and the more famous on account of what was in it, -this being a lot of images of Buddha, all the work of one man. The name -of the man was Lung Sen, and he had the blood of forefathers who were -the greatest artists of their time in wood and gold and jade. Most of -Lung’s work went to this temple, where it was very precious, but of the -man himself the priests knew nothing except that the faces he carved -were alive and something moved behind the eyes. One night I stayed with -Lung, and before morning came I knew the man as none other ever had. It -seemed that there were two men in him, one the carver of images, the -other with all the evil of the world wrapped up in his black heart. He -told me, perhaps because I had foreign blood and he thought I would -understand better, that he was tired of making flat-faced Buddhas and -had been tired for years, and that evil was more interesting than good, -and it was more difficult to carve evil than the other thing. Then he -looked at me for a quarter of an hour while he smoked, and took -something out of a roll of silk. It was the jade god.” - -He paused reflectively, his eyes cloudy with memories, and Derrick had a -glimpse of what he must have seen then. The half-light, the dark -sardonic face, the long, lean fingers, the obscurity of a riverside hut, -and all around it the ceaseless whisper of the jungle. - -“When I saw that,” went on Blunt presently, “I was frightened, for it -was the image of the soul that Lung Sen had hidden from the world. He -had spent years making it, putting in the hours when he wasn’t turning -out the standard article. And as he looked at the thing I saw that his -own face had become just like it. There was a sort of living devil -there, crammed with all the knowledge in hell and afraid of nothing in -the other place. And this was the man who had been carving Buddhas for -nearly fifty years according to his own account. I asked him what he was -going to do with it, and he said put it in the temple, where they let -him do pretty much as he liked, and after a while it would acquire and -soak in the power of the real thing, by which it would be surrounded, -but would lose nothing of what he had carved on it. That would make it a -god of evil, with the influence of the real gods behind it.” - -The man hesitated an instant and looked curiously at Derrick. “All this -may sound like a fairy-story to you, but if you and your people had -lived in the Mong Hills all your lives it wouldn’t seem like that.” - -“I think I understand.” - -“Well, when he finished it, working with sharp sand and thousands of -little wooden drills to cut the stone, he did put it in the temple. I -don’t know how long the job had taken, but probably not less than thirty -years. Then he sat tight, smiling to himself, till the priests found -out. They knew in a minute that if the thing ever got away from them it -would raise hell for whoever had it, so they guarded it day and night -till a year or so later Millicent came along. He heard of it; the -thought of the thing began to work in his brain; and, to make a long -story short, he bribed a young priest and got away with it. The first -thing that happened was that Lung Sen didn’t wake up one morning, and -his face was just like the jade god’s. The priest was never seen again. -Then for some reason they sent for me and told me to go in search of it; -didn’t ask, but told me. And I knew enough to go. It took me years to -find Martin, and if you ask why I didn’t give it up long ago, I can’t -tell you, except that I knew another was coming after me, and then -another, but I would only see them once. When I got here, I knew by -Martin’s face that the god was not far off. So now”—here he glanced -dominantly at Derrick—“this thing must go back with me. The god of all -evil lives in it, and whoever keeps it will be cursed. Joy will die for -him, and fear will come, and love be changed to a dream of terror. God -hides in that stone, and sacrifices must be made in front of it. What -becomes of me does not matter. The woman killed the man, because the -image commanded her. She could not help it, her love being turned to -gall. And this is only the beginning of what must come if the image -stays in your keeping.” - -The voice lifted with a strange domination that brooked no interruption, -and the peddler’s features took on a look of exalted prophecy. “What do -the children of to-day know of the wisdom that dwelt in the hills of -Mong when England was peopled by half-naked savages? They are like -children with toys they do not understand. Gautama opened the books of -good and evil that all might read. You of the West have read not at all; -Lung Sen read only the evil, and he is dead; and this man from an -English village disobeyed the law and passed at the hand of one who -struck when her eyes were closed. When after two years they opened, she -struck again, but this time at herself. She was asleep, but the god -never sleeps. So if you do not give it to me, then make an end of me -quickly, and prepare for the next messenger, who is now on his way, and -will not ask, but take.” - -Silence descended in the cell. Burke’s eyes were half closed, as though -he peered at visions hitherto unguessed. A cart creaked in the distance -but did not break the spell. Derrick had an abiding sensation that from -the East a hand had reached out and touched the village of Bamberley -into a strange sleep. Martin sat motionless, reliving the past, while -the peddler clasped his lean fingers, a look of intense abstraction on -his dark smooth face. Derrick was aware that he felt amazingly impotent, -and with difficulty made an indefinite gesture. - -“Sergeant,” he said, after a long pause, “I make no charge against -Martin and will go bail for his appearance at the inquest when wanted.” - -The big man jerked himself together, stood up, groped in his pocket, and -produced a key. There was a click of steel. Martin was a free man. - -“You might go back to the cottage now,” said Derrick, looking him full -in the eye. - -The gardener nodded, shook himself like a wet dog, said one sibilant -word of farewell to the peddler, and vanished. His step was still -audible when Burke fastened an inquiring look on Blunt. - -“What about this man, sir? Are you going to let him down as easy as -that?” - -“I take it that the only charge is of attempted theft?” - -“That’s right, but I wouldn’t be so sure about bail in this case.” - -“And the only damage is to the French window?” - -“That’s for you to say, sir. It’s your house.” - -Derrick turned to Blunt. “You have come here in search of a certain -thing. In that I believe you have told the truth, but as to what may -follow if you don’t get it, that’s another story. I do accept what you -said about the image, and that it has for some reason an evil effect. It -is not necessary to go into that any further, but since the thing is -evil, it should no longer exist, and—” - -Blunt leaped to his feet. “What are you going to do?” - -“First leave it to the sergeant to decide whether he keeps you here till -the inquest, and—” - -“I’ll certainly do that,” put in Burke. - -“Well, after that’s over there will be no reason for you to stay in -England any longer. You can go back to the Mong Hills and tell them that -the image does not exist. It won’t.” - -“You’ll destroy it?” whispered Blunt, aghast. - -“Yes. If it’s the evil thing you say, and I believe you, it ought to be -destroyed. If it isn’t, you’ve been lying, which I don’t believe. I’ve -learned something from all this, Blunt,” he added thoughtfully, “and my -mind is made up. Good morning, sergeant.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - “I LOVE YOU!” - - -DERRICK got back to Beech Lodge in time for lunch and plunged at once -into a vastly different atmosphere. The house was servantless, and this -very fact had kept Edith too busy to indulge in any morbid reflections, -even had her resilient nature felt so inclined. She was moved by the -knowledge that her brother had been under a strain which, however -incomprehensible to herself, was nevertheless to him very real. It was -reflected in his eyes, his restless manner, and the notes that had lain -untouched for weeks. She wanted him to get back to his work, to be -normal, and above all things happy. She recognized and admired the -creative side of him, made allowances for what she considered the -essential vagaries of his temperament, and had long since decided to -sacrifice herself if necessary on so unusual an altar. She could feel -for him, if not with him. - -So, returning from the grim scene of Bamberley jail, he found an -energetic, practical young person, obviously full of work, and over whom -hung but little of the tragedy of the immediate past. She supplied the -touch that the moment demanded. He welcomed this, leaned on it far more -than he realized, and sat down at the table with a feeling of prodigious -relief. The hand of the domestic artist was visible here, and if at -times the diaphanous shape of the stiff figure of Perkins seemed to -stand close to his shoulder, the sensation did not oppress him. Edith -talked generalities till, nearly at the end of the meal, she sent him a -frank questioning look. - -“Of course I’m just dying to know if anything new came out this morning. -Martin turned up an hour ago. He seemed to me like another man, got out -his tools and went to work without a word, and it made me more curious -than ever. That queer puzzling expression has gone out of his eyes, and -I couldn’t help thinking he was something like a dog that had been -stolen and found his way back to his old home.” - -Derrick nodded cheerfully. “I rather fancy he feels like that, just for -the present, anyway, but we’ll probably have to find another gardener. -He won’t want to stay here.” - -“No, I suppose he couldn’t.” She hesitated a moment, then gave him the -straightforward glance he knew so well. “Do you know, Jack, I think -we’ve all been rather stupid about that poor woman; yes, I mean you, -too.” - -“It’s quite possible,” he admitted, “but why?” - -“Well, I suppose it’s easy to put things together, afterward; but, -looking back at everything, what happened seems in a way as natural as -it was dreadful. The poor soul had her terrible secret and took the only -way out of it, but couldn’t we have anticipated that somehow?” - -“It was the last thing one could imagine.” He went on, and told her some -of what had transpired that morning in Bamberley jail, but not all. She -listened silently, with little gestures of wonder, and a softened light -in her honest, brown eyes. At the story of Martin’s devotion they filled -with tears. - -“One has heard of men like that with one great passion in their lives -that no one else can understand because there seems nothing to bring it -to life. Perhaps women are apt to be hard on women, but it’s hard to see -how Perkins could have roused such a thing. After all, it may be the men -who are queer, and not us. I suppose this story will be all over England -in a few days?” - -He made a grimace. “I’m afraid so. The reporters will gather like a -flock of crows.” - -“But after that’s over will you be able to settle down to work, and—and -the other thing?” - -“What other thing?” - -“When do you go to see the Millicents?” she asked cheerfully. “It’s all -a frightful mixture, I know, and it seems rather appalling that you two -should have been brought together like this, but perhaps stranger things -have happened.” - -“Not much stranger,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m going there in an hour -or so. They’re expecting me.” - -“Well,” she went on with growing earnestness, “I know it’s your affair, -but I wouldn’t say a word more than necessary. The thing is done with, -Jack, all except this horrid inquest, at which you say Jean and I won’t -have to appear, and you don’t know how glad I am of that. I’ve a feeling -that you’ll have a good many years in which to tell her the rest of -it—I mean anything more you think she should know—but don’t burden her -with what is so grim, if you can help it. She’s too young. Girls like -her often seem to offer themselves unconsciously to wounds, but they -don’t find out till afterward how deep the thing has gone. As for Mrs. -Millicent, I wouldn’t attempt to say much to her. Let Jean do that in -her own way. Nothing can be as close as mother and daughter in a time -like this, and they can’t hurt each other. You’ll probably think me -dreadfully cheeky, but I rather feel that you and Jean have been -dwelling mentally far too long on things you both think I can’t -understand because I’m not occult, but I do understand them just enough -to feel that they’re neither cheerful nor in a queer way healthy for -people of your age. So please forgive all this, and give me a cigarette, -and help clear this table, and for goodness’ sake tell me where I can -get a cook and housemaid who won’t imagine Beech Lodge is full of -horrors.” - -He laughed outright, the first real laugh for weeks. “You’ve got my -future pretty well mapped out, but I think you’re right about the -Millicents. Been in the study this morning?” - -“Yes, and the room is just as it was when we came here. But that desk -was a fearful weight.” - -“You moved it yourself?” - -“Of course, seeing there was no one else, and all the time I had an odd -feeling that the things were glad to be moved back. Is that sort of -feeling accounted for in your philosophy?” - -“It is now, thanks to you.” - -“I’ve been wondering what you’re going to do with that jade image. I -couldn’t find the panel this morning.” - -Derrick told her. - -“But have you the right? It isn’t yours.” - -“I’ll chance that.” - -“But, Jack, if it was included in the inventory you can’t destroy it -without all kinds of dilapidations to the Thursbys. Isn’t it supposed to -be valuable?” - -“It may be, but most decidedly it was not in the inventory, therefore it -was not sold to the Thursbys, and consequently I needn’t answer to them, -but only to the Millicents. And I fancy I know what they’ll say.” - -“Well, you ought to by this time, and, speaking of the Thursbys, I’ve an -idea that if everything that has taken place since we came had happened -eighteen months ago they wouldn’t have let this house when you came -along and fell in love with it.” - -“But they weren’t in it then.” - -“No, but they would have been; at least, something suggests they would.” - -“Why do you say that?” he asked curiously. - -“Because she’s not the kind of woman to be afraid of anything obvious, -anything she can see and even partly understand. If poor Perkins had -done away with herself then, I rather think Mrs. Thursby would have been -as much fascinated as horrified. Don’t you know that sort? It would have -given her something to talk about for the rest of her life with no one -to interrupt; something infinitely more intriguing than her husband’s -grenades, or whatever they are. How do you feel yourself about that?” - -“I’m not quite sure,” he said candidly. “What I did feel about the house -until yesterday seems to have gone this morning, as though a wind had -blown through it with all the windows open. But I wouldn’t mind -subletting now, if there were any chance of it, which there isn’t at -this time of year. So we have it for another nine months anyway.” - -“You couldn’t very well bring Jean back here,” she murmured -thoughtfully. - -He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.” - -Edith got up with the sudden remembrance that her hands were very full. - -“Well, I suppose there’s time enough for that, and anyway you have to -marry her first. Wouldn’t it be queer if—” She broke off with a little -laugh. - -“If what?” - -“Nothing, I’m only wandering, and of course just when there’s no time -for it. Please put these things on that tray and open the pantry door. I -won’t expect you for tea.” - -He went off a little later, passing Martin, who only touched his cap. He -did look like another man, but neither of them spoke. The shadow of -despair seemed to have left his face and to be replaced by a gravity -that was new and dignified. Derrick strode on with the consciousness -that the wind had blown through himself as well as Beech Lodge. He -admitted his debt to Edith and now saw her cheerful sanity in a fresh -light. It was strange to have leaned on a person, however dear, because -they were incapable of being torn by one’s own reactions. How bright she -was! How helpful and practical! What a standby! - -But he never knew what the past hour or two had cost her—she was too -good an actor for that; nor did he guess that she had watched him to the -gate, her eyes dim, feeling more lonely than ever before in her life. -She admitted there was much she did not understand, or even want to -understand, but he did not perceive how often she had come nearly to the -breaking-point. With Edith it was as with many another woman, the cost -of whose sacrifice is hidden too deep for discovery, and only the beauty -of it revealed. - -Jean and her mother were together, and Mrs. Millicent greeted him with a -quiet affection that touched him deeply. It meant that not only had Jean -told her of the tragedy of the night before but also that she saw in him -more than the man who had solved the mystery of her husband’s death. -Jean’s eyes met his own as she gave him her hand, and they carried a -message that needed no speech. Mrs. Millicent regarded them both with a -gentle pleasure in which there was no surprise, then waited a little -nervously. The picture of the study of Beech Lodge and what had happened -there still haunted her brain. - -“Jean told me you were to have a talk with Martin and the peddler this -morning,” she said. “Did you see them?” - -“Yes,” he said quietly. - -“Did they tell you anything new about my—my husband?” She had summoned -all her courage for this question and wanted it over. - -Derrick shook his head. “There was very little about that and nothing of -real importance. It was mostly about the image he found in Burma which -Blunt says has a good deal of past history that makes it of special -interest to certain people there. Both men agreed that it carried bad -luck, and sometimes danger, wherever it went. It’s quite obvious that in -some way it fascinated Mr. Millicent; and”—here he hesitated an -instant—“it seems to have exercised later on the same influence over -Perkins; and,” he concluded slowly, “the thing worked in her brain till -finally she did what she did.” - -Mrs. Millicent shivered. “I know it impressed him tremendously. That was -clear from the day he got back from Burma. He once told me he thought it -was valuable, but it always frightened me because of its effect on him. -It seemed to carry some dreadful secret with it. I asked him to destroy -it several times, but that rather shocked him. He never let it out of -his own hands and always hid it where you found it.” - -“Do you feel that way about it now?” - -“Yes, more than ever.” - -“Then may I destroy it?” he asked quickly. - -“I should be very glad and feel happier than in a long time if you did.” - -“I will, and I think others may be happier, too, in the long run.” - -She nodded. “Isn’t it strange?” - -“What?” he asked curiously. - -Her eyes rested a moment on Jean’s lovely face, then turned back to him. - -“My dear boy,” she said with a sort of soft impulsiveness, “do you think -I can’t see how it is between you two? The strange part is that the last -three months should have resulted in this, that out of shadows and -uncertainty should come something so different. I’m afraid I have not -understood much of all you’ve done at Beech Lodge, but I remember so -distinctly the day when Jean said she must go in and tell you what had -happened there. I can’t say anything more about it now, for I’m too -conscious of the effect of it all on this child of mine, but soon you -and I must have a long talk. How is your sister?” she added unsteadily. - -“All right, I think. Her hands are rather full now till she gets some -help.” He knew that Jean’s eyes were fixed on him and found it hard to -speak. - -“I’m sure of that. She’s splendid, and something tells me we’re going to -be great friends. You’ll stay for tea, won’t you?” - -After that she got up, put her hand on his shoulder for an understanding -instant, and went out. She felt as though a new grasp, young and strong, -had laid hold of the wheel of life, and was comforted. They heard her -step on the stair. Derrick, his breath coming faster, crossed the room, -stood for a moment beside Jean’s chair, and put out his arms. - -“I love you,” he whispered; “I love you!” - -She gazed at him, her cheeks pale, then flooding with an exquisite -color, and came to him with a quick little sigh of happiness. It was not -thus they had clung together the evening before. Now there was joy in -the clinging, and the sweet promise of more joy that awaited them. - -“Do you remember that first morning we met?” he whispered again. - -“I don’t know why I went to Beech Lodge. I think I had to.” - -“Yes, that was it. I thought you were so wonderful and brave. The house -was never quite the same after that.” - -“Do you think I was wise to come?” she smiled. - -He answered with a kiss, and she stirred in his arms, only to be drawn -closer. - -“I was tremendously interested in you, even then,” she confided, “and -rather frightened. I hope I didn’t show it. Did Edith think I was very -bold?” - -“Edith thinks no end of you. She’s a trump.” - -Jean nodded happily. “You and I need some one like that near us, Jack.” - -“I don’t want any one near us for a while,” he protested. “How did your -mother know?” - -“I’m afraid she must have gathered something from me. Does Edith know?” - -“I began to think she knew as soon as I did, if not before. She’s -awfully pleased about it.” - -The girl was silent for a moment. “Jack, dearest.” - -“Yes?” - -“Is there much you didn’t tell mother; I mean about this morning?” - -“I tried just to say what would help her. The rest can keep.” - -“And there was nothing that could make any difference to—to us?” - -“I don’t quite understand.” - -“There was something I always felt, but I couldn’t make myself tell you. -It was the sensation that whatever had descended on father would also -involve me in the same way. I can’t really explain beyond that, but it -meant that I couldn’t surrender and let myself love you till all this -had been lifted away. Last night, when I saw what happened, and in spite -of the dreadfulness of it, the strangest feeling came that it had been -lifted in that moment. When you were trying to help Perkins, I couldn’t -avoid staring at the jade god, because I knew he had something to do -with it. He stared back, and for the very first time I was not afraid of -him. It was just as though Perkins had paid for everything and set me -free. Tell me that nothing was said this morning by either of those men -to upset that; but you must tell me on your honor.” She shivered -involuntarily, but gradually her tremor ceased under his nearness and -strength. - -“All that was said, and I’ll tell you all of it some day, points to the -same thing. There is absolutely nothing to fear. We’ll prove that very -soon, you and I, and there will be no longer a jade god to work -mischief. Don’t you realize, darling, those days are all past?” - -Her arms tightened round his neck. “Why do you love me, Jack?” - -“I’ve been waiting for you all my life.” - -Then, slowly, she raised her lips to his. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - THE SACRIFICE - - -THREE DAYS later Mrs. Millicent and Jean turned in at the gate of Beech -Lodge. It was the first time in more than two years they had been there -together. Half-way up the drive they were met by Edith, who came out -anxious to do what she could to help in what she knew was a trying -moment. She kissed Jean affectionately. - -“I’m so glad to see you both. You’ll find the house at loose ends, for -it isn’t actually running, but just moving, so please forgive that. Our -temporary servants are very temporary, I’m afraid.” - -Mrs. Millicent nodded. She had dreaded the visit and somehow felt more -at peace than she had expected. But her heart sank a little when she -entered the house. In the hall she looked mutely about and hesitated as -Edith led the way to the study. - -“Jack doesn’t know you’re here yet,” said the latter cheerfully. “I’m -rather pleased with him to-day.” - -“Why?” smiled Jean. - -“He’s actually got to work again, more like the old Jack than for -months. I hope you’ll keep him at it when your turn comes.” - -She opened the door as she spoke. Derrick, who was behind a litter of -manuscript, jumped up, thrilled at the sight of his visitor. Mrs. -Millicent’s eyes swept the familiar room, fighting lest she see what she -feared to see. She noted that the big desk was now covered with baize, -the rugs differently arranged, the prints rehung, and a flower-box in -the window. Photographs were on the table, another lamp on the desk, new -ornaments on the narrow shelf above the dark wainscoting. She recognized -the thought that lay behind all this, and it touched her deeply. Then -her glance was drawn to the portrait, and she sat down, overcome for the -moment. - -“Please don’t mind me,” she said valiantly. “I’ll be all right in a -second, and it’s quite right I should come here first.” She looked -gratefully at Edith, “I’ll be able to say ‘Thank you’ presently. Somehow -you’ve made the room seem ever so much bigger.” - -Edith filled the gap of her brother’s silence. His eyes were dwelling on -Jean’s lovely face, with its smooth oval and the delicate lips. Her -throat was very white and perfectly molded, while neck and shoulder -joined in a lissom curve he found amazingly attractive. There was -strength in the slim straightness of her body, and grace in every -gesture; but her chief allure lay in her eyes. These, full of changing -light, seemed like calm, deep pools in the shadows of her dark brows, -reflecting mood and thought with a sweet and rare fidelity. They held a -soft luster all their own. For an instant Derrick stood quite -motionless, a little blinded by it all. Then he heard Edith’s voice and -responded to a note in it that was meant for him, though she spoke to -Mrs. Millicent. - -“I thought perhaps you’d sooner come in here at once, and it won’t be so -hard the next time.” - -Mrs. Millicent nodded, but her lips were trembling. - -“Have you been very much bothered by strangers?” asked Jean quickly. -“I’ve seen so many in the village, and most of them seemed on their way -out here.” - -“It was appalling till yesterday; then Sergeant Burke put a man on the -gate, and that stopped it.” - -“Where is Martin?” asked Mrs. Millicent. She had looked for him among -the rose-trees and been relieved not to see him. - -“He left yesterday,” said Derrick. - -“Where did he go?” - -“He didn’t say. In fact, I didn’t even see him, or know he was going. I -noticed that he wasn’t in the garden at noon, and the tool-shed was -closed; so I went to the cottage and found a note addressed to myself. -It was rather pathetic. He just wrote that since there was nothing to -keep him here now, he was going back. He didn’t say where, but it was -probably to the Orient. There was a month’s wages due to him to-day, and -he didn’t want them. Then he thanked me for treating him decently, said -he was glad I was going to do what I told Blunt I proposed to do, and -that was all, except a postscript about the Lady Hillingdons.” - -“Poor Martin!” said Jean under her breath. - -“And that other man?” added her mother. - -“He will be free to-morrow, and he also will go.” - -“To Burma?” - -“I think so. He’s being detained till then on a technical charge only. -He looks different now, with none of his former spring and activity. -That’s because he knows what is going to be done. He seems dazed, and in -a queer way almost horrified, as though it were sacrilege. It was the -same way with him at the inquest, which was very short, considering -everything. Burke, on the other hand, is like another man and bursting -with importance. He expects to be regarded as an authority on unusual -cases, and probably will be. There’s a great demand for his photograph -already.” - -“And what did the inquest result in?” she asked timidly. - -“Only that the poor woman died at her own hands while under temporary -insanity. There could be no other conclusion. Martin was not charged -with anything before, so there was really nothing he needed to be -cleared of. His evidence, as well as that of Blunt, was taken and -accepted, and a statement will most likely be issued about what took -place here two years ago. Martin was afraid he would be prosecuted for -perjury, but the fact that it was his own wife gets him free of that. So -really the matter is closed now, and it’s just a case of living down -what is always bound to continue for a little while after a thing of -this sort. If I were you I wouldn’t read the papers for a few days, and -then it will be replaced by something else.” - -He broke off, pitched his mind as far as possible from the subject, then -remembered that there was one duty still to perform to close the affair -for all time. - -“I had a note from Mrs. Thursby this morning,” said Edith musingly. “She -wrote that they would be passing this afternoon, and might they come -in.” - -Jean looked up. “She must be tremendously curious.” - -“I expect so. She’s rather that sort of woman. I haven’t seen them for -about three months.” - -Mrs. Millicent smiled a little. “She’s a great believer in the power of -money and even thought I’d sell my husband’s portrait, to which she took -a great fancy. I couldn’t have it with me, as there’s no room for a big -picture in our cottage. There are some more things up-stairs, too, that -are ours; but I sold everything else in this room.” - -Derrick shot a swift inquiring glance at Jean and made a slight gesture -toward the mantel. She looked puzzled for a minute, then nodded. - -“You didn’t sell this, Mrs. Millicent?” He touched the panel, and the -jade god gleamed from its wooden prison. - -She put her hand to her breast. “So that is where it was kept! I never -knew till Jean told me. No, I didn’t sell it. I never thought of that.” - -“It’s hard to say just what it suggests to me now,” he began slowly, -“and still more what it may really mean to a man like Blunt. It’s one of -those things to which there’s no straight answer. But if there had been -no jade god here”—he paused, then added with a brilliant smile—“I -wouldn’t have found Jean. Edith doesn’t believe in all this, but—” - -“I didn’t say that,” interrupted his sister, “but just that I didn’t -understand, and”—she shook her head decisively—“I didn’t want to.” - -“Perhaps you were the most right,” he chuckled, “when you suggested that -the thing wasn’t somehow healthy.” - -“If I did, I stick to it. It’s beastly.” - -Mrs. Millicent put out a hand as though to touch it, but withdrew at the -stare of the tiny basilisk eyes. It seemed to her that this fragment of -carved stone, glimmering opaquely as the rays of the level sun filtered -through it, still threatened her, and she felt grateful for the -steadiness of the hand that held it. Youth was about to dissipate the -nightmare of the past. But somehow she did not want to see the thing -done. - -“I think,” she said, with a glance at Edith, “that you and I might let -these two perform the ceremony by themselves.” - -Edith laughed and nodded. “Jack will certainly smash the end of a finger -before it’s over, and I can see by his face that he’s in tune for a -regular oblation. It’s that sacrificial look.” - -Derrick grinned cheerfully but did not speak. When they were alone he -put the image on the mantel and took his girl in his arms. - -“It’s years since I saw you.” - -She smiled back, her face very close to his. “Dearest, it’s only three -days.” - -“Which is three too many. What an inspiration of your mother’s! Do you -know what smashing that thing will be like with you here?” - -“What, Jack?” - -“Like gathering up all that is dark and ominous and deadly in the world, -and obliterating it in front of everything that is sweet and lovely and -desirable. You never knew that the first one to go was the one who made -it, and then fear of it began to spread. I’ll tell you about it some -day—the whole story. But now it’s all ended and done with.” - -“Where will you break it, Jack?” - -He stole a glance at Millicent’s portrait. “Here, on the hearth, under -that. I think he’ll know about it and be glad. It won’t burn, but I’ve -got a wax duplicate that ought to make a pillar of flame.” - -Opening a drawer in the desk, he took out a hammer and the model, then -laid the image on the tile hearth. - -“There is proof, at any rate for you and me,” he said thoughtfully, -“that this exercised a strange influence over the minds of many persons. -It is the object of fear among thousands we shall never see, and the -story of it has run through valleys and hills on the other side of the -earth where the brown people talk of it in whispers. It has brought men -round the world, and there are others who are waiting for the word that -will bring them, too. Just so long as it exists there will be pain and -theft and crime and fear. And this is the finish of all that, darling.” - -He raised the hammer. Driven with all the strength of his wrist, it fell -fair on the malignant head. There was a shivering sound as of tinkling -glass, and the jade god dissolved into mottled green fragments. He felt -a sharp pang in his thumb. An emerald splinter quivered there, like a -miniature javelin beaded with blood. - -“Evil to the very end,” he grunted, then struck again. - -The god’s head dwindled to powder. He swept back the wreckage and -dropped the wax model into the smoldering embers. Flame shot up, -leaping, sputtering, and hissing. They stood staring at it, their cheeks -touching. It was in Derrick’s mind that in this flame the dross of life -was being burned away. Jean did not move till the fiery pyramid -subsided. And as it died there came the sound of a horn from the drive. - -“The Thursbys,” he said disgustedly. “Do you want to see them?” - -“Please, no. What had I better do?” - -“I’d go to your mother, and please ask Edith to join me here.” He gave a -sudden little smile. “I’ve a sort of foolish idea that—” He stopped, -glanced at the hearth, and shook his head. “No, it’s too foolish.” - -“Tell me quickly.” - -“Wait till Thursby has gone. Kiss me quickly instead.” - -She vanished, her cheeks glowing. A moment later Edith came in. - -“Well, our friends are here, but why couldn’t they be content with -what’s in the papers?” - -He had no time to answer, for the Thursbys were already in the hall. -Mrs. Thursby swept in like a fresh breeze, followed by her husband. -Derrick thought the latter looked a little sheepish. - -“My dear,” said the stout woman explosively to Edith, “what a perfectly -awful time you must have had! We were over in France when we read of it, -and even now when I think of that woman Perkins it gives me the shivers. -I’ve blamed myself so much for not telling your brother everything the -first time he came here.” - -“Matter of fact,” chimed in Thursby, with a sidelong glance at the -portrait, “I didn’t say anything because it didn’t seem necessary. I -reckoned that ignorance was bliss so far as you were concerned, and we’d -had rather a dose of it ourselves. The agents thought so, too.” - -“Perhaps it was,” said Derrick dryly, “and there’s no real harm done. -The thing is finally cleared up.” - -“As I said before, I could never understand that woman,” went on Mrs. -Thursby, “but of course I do now. She must have been disappointed in -love early in life, and married Martin to get even with some one else. -Women often do that and pay for it afterward. But fancy living with her -as we both did! Fancy a mad housemaid at your bedside saying the tea is -ready, and thinking, perhaps, about killing one all the time. I wonder -what sent her mad, Mr. Derrick. Didn’t you hear that?” - -“There was insanity in her family.” - -“Had she been like that for long?” - -“A good many years, it seems.” - -Mrs. Thursby took a deep breath. “Well, that was the only thing the -matter with Beech Lodge.” - -“What?” asked Edith curiously. - -“A crazy housemaid. I felt that as soon as we left the place. Of -course,” she continued reflectively, “you’ll think I must have been a -bit crazy myself for not discharging her. I did make up my mind to that -a good many times, but when it came to looking her in the face and -saying she wouldn’t be wanted any more, I—well, I just couldn’t. Silly, -wasn’t it?” - -“I can almost understand that.” - -“Glad you can. I couldn’t. Was she nice to you?” - -“She was a wonderful servant.” - -“Well, you see she liked you, but gave me the creeps. And the funny -thing was that I couldn’t imagine the house without her, though it seems -perfectly natural now, and this room is ever so much brighter.” - -Thursby nodded. “It’s rather a pity you couldn’t imagine it.” - -The stout woman laughed. “James has never quite forgiven me.” - -“For what?” asked Derrick. His eyes were keen. - -“For letting the place at all. We took another, stayed in it a month, -then gave that up, and have been living in hotels ever since. I hate -living in my trunks.” - -“You don’t happen to be in the market for Beech Lodge, do you?” - -She sent him a swift look of intelligence. “Whatever made you think of -that? Are we, James? If I do the letting, you generally do the renting.” - -Light began to dawn on the Derricks, and Edith made a cautious little -signal. - -“My brother is only joking, of course. The idea is too funny. We’ve just -had all the expense and trouble of moving in, and it’s foolish to dream -of anything but staying here. Don’t mind what he says.” - -Thursby pushed out his lips. “Oh, I don’t know that it’s so foolish. If -circumstances, I mean business ones, are satisfactory, nothing is -foolish. I learned long ago that when my wife gets a premonition that -we’re going to do something, we most always do. For instance,” he -blurted, “if she were to say she had a feeling we were going to move -back to Beech Lodge I’d bet on it. It’s safe money.” - -Derrick laughed. “Aren’t you reckoning a little without your host?” - -“I know it sounds like that. I say, I wonder what Mrs. Millicent thought -of all this.” - -“She probably thinks it’s a sort of release for that woman and every one -else,” put in his wife hastily; “and that’s the only way to look at it. -A sort of a general clean-up, I call it. Fancy that gardener coming -back, too. He must have been the only person in the world who wasn’t -frightened of his wife.” - -“Where do you think you’ll be this summer?” interposed Edith. - -Mrs. Thursby folded her plump hands. “I shouldn’t be surprised if that -depended on you,” she said calmly. - -“Oh!” - -The other woman nodded and went on with a kind of placid deliberation. -“My dear, it’s no earthly use beating about the bush any longer, and I’m -going to come straight out with it. Very soon after we let this place to -you, we took another, didn’t like it, and then I knew we’d been too -impulsive about letting Beech Lodge, and I wanted to come back to it, -Perkins or no Perkins. I never gave the dreadful woman a thought, -because she didn’t seem to matter nearly so much when one had not to -look at her. I told my husband about it, but he only laughed, said I had -changed my mind too late in the day and the idea was absurd. Later we -went over to France for a while.” - -“Were you there long?” asked Derrick curiously. - -“No, only a few weeks. I couldn’t settle down somehow. Then we read -about what happened here, and I knew what was the matter with me. It was -just as though that woman had telegraphed me that she was out of the way -now, and I might come back.” She paused, with an odd expression on her -round face, and glanced approvingly round the room. “So now, if it is -possible to arrange it, I want to come. If you’re agreeable, then it’s -up to your brother and my husband. So far as I’m concerned, it’s not a -matter of money, and James knows that.” - -She leaned back with a nod which announced that on this subject she had -now emptied her mind, and there was no chance of misunderstanding it on -the part of her husband. He was the means to the end. Thursby’s hands -were deep in his pockets, and he stared out over the lawn, his brows -puckered, as though he were adding up figures, which indeed he was. -Edith’s eyes caught those of her brother, and she signaled a message -that left no possibility of doubt in his mind. At that he turned to -Thursby: - -“Shall we have a stroll? I’ve put in quite a lot of new roses, and -there’ll be something of a show here next summer.” - -The little man nodded jerkily, and they went out. Mrs. Thursby sat up -straight and heaved a contented sigh. - -“Then, that’ll be all right, if it suits you. Isn’t it all queer?” - -“I think every one feels that.” - -“Well, of course I don’t know the ins and outs of it, only what’s in the -papers, and I suppose there’s a lot more, but I felt that neither you -nor I had much to do with that woman staying on here. However, I’ve my -eye on a jewel of a girl now who will go anywhere. Do you suppose if -those men agree there’ll have to be another inventory?” - -“I’m afraid so, though we haven’t had time yet to do much damage. That -French window was broken, but it’s been repaired.” She paused, while -something drew her eyes to the hearth. “And there’s that jade image,” -she added uncertainly; “but that’s Mrs. Millicent’s.” - -“What jade image? I never saw one here. Where is it?” - -“What’s left of it is in the fireplace.” - -The stout little woman stooped and picked out an emerald splinter. - -“My dear, what perfectly lovely stuff! Were you going to throw it away?” - -“It’s Mrs. Millicent’s, and she asked to have the image destroyed.” - -“And jade, too! How queer some people are! It’s very fashionable now, -and there’s enough here to make some gorgeous ear-rings.” - -The thought of the remodeled god with his cold fingers at her throat -gave Edith an involuntary chill. - -“I really don’t want it, and am sure Mrs. Millicent doesn’t, so please -take it if you wish.” - -Mrs. Thursby dropped the splinter into her bag, got on her knees, and -poked about among the ashes. - -“I’m afraid the rest is all dust. What a pity! I’ve been trying to -mesmerize James for years into buying me something of jade, but he -simply won’t. Now I’m going to give him a surprise, so please don’t say -a thing about it. Here they come now, and I think it’s all arranged. -James is pretty quick in business matters.” - -The Thursbys’ car rolled away a few minutes later, and Derrick darted -up-stairs. He found Jean and her mother in Edith’s room and, linking -arms, marched them cheerily back to the study, where Edith waited with a -patience in which there was no virtue whatever. Then he put his arm -round Jean. - -“Thursby,” he said contentedly, “was like clay in the hands of the -potter. I began by reminding him that not only had we the lease till -next winter, but also the right of extension for another three years on -the same terms. He pretended to have forgotten that, but of course he -hadn’t. Then I hinted that I’d get into frightful trouble with Edith if -I upset all her plans, and that helped a good deal. It was quite clear -from his manner that he had his orders. I dwelt as much as I dared on -the discomfort of moving and all that, and the more I said the more -anxious he got. He must have the highest regard for his wife’s wishes. -Anyway, it’s arranged. He makes good the cost of our moving here, gives -five hundred for the cancellation of the lease, and also meets the cost -of our moving out. And I think that’s about all.” - -“How perfectly wonderful!” said Jean. “Aren’t you glad?” - -“Glad is no word for it.” - -“Jack,” put in Edith, “I never knew before you were such a business -man.” She paused and glanced at him suspiciously. “Just when have you -committed us to that move?” - -“A month from to-day. I thought it over carefully and decided that ought -to suit every one.” - -“What!” - -Derrick’s eyes grew soft. He leaned over to Mrs. Millicent and took both -her hands in his. - -“May I have Jean a month from to-day?” he said very gently. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - A BROKEN TILE - - -ALMOST exactly four months after he had completed his second inventory -of the contents of Beech Lodge, Mr. Jarrad, again accompanied by Mr. -Dawkins, stood once more in the paneled study. He had come to the house -with his admirable manner, in which was blended this time a rather full -knowledge of what had recently happened. Mr. Dawkins, who also read the -papers, and was, as well, impressed by the air of the older man, seemed -rather taciturn. There had been opportunity to say a good deal on the -way down from London, and he was distinctly thrilled when they turned in -at the white gate. Now the inventory book was opened and laid on -Millicent’s desk. Mr. Jarrad then took out a large handkerchief and blew -his nose with a trumpet-like sound as though he enjoyed it. He had -ascertained that the Derricks were in the garden, and both servants back -in the kitchen. The morning was fine and clear. - -“I don’t know,” he said with a touch of unction, “when I’ve heard of a -case just exactly like this. Here we are, paid to do precisely the same -thing over again simply because a foolish woman killed herself. We’ve -both seen houses that were enough to make any really sensitive person -commit suicide, but”—he glanced round with open approval—“they were -not houses like this. It all brings back to me the great truth that the -foundation of our business is the undeniable suspicion that well-bred -people have of each other. There’s practically no inventory connection -with the lower and lower middle classes. Do you happen to remember a -remark I made about ‘things’ when we were here last?” - -“I do,” replied Dawkins; “and, what’s more, I’ve been thinking about it -ever since.” - -“Well, these are not the kind of things to make one tired of life. -There’s another point. I expressed my conclusions about the manner in -which ‘things’ occupy the greater part of the time of so many women.” - -“You did,” said Dawkins soberly, “and I said it wasn’t that way with us -because we hadn’t any. But my young woman has started since then.” - -Mr. Jarrad smiled. “Quite so; that was inevitable; and now that Mrs. -Millicent has disposed of hers to Mr. Thursby, Miss Millicent, who will -marry Mr. Derrick next week, is already starting another collection. I -hope she may do as well as this. She can’t do better. I don’t know when -I’ve seen a room I like more. Her mother’s work, of course, all of it.” - -“Why do you suppose that woman killed Mr. Millicent?” asked Dawkins -thoughtfully. “I read it all several times over in several papers, but -it always struck me there was a good deal that didn’t meet the eye.” - -Mr. Jarrad smiled again. “Why, do you suppose, does a woman do -anything?” - -“I don’t know yet. I’ve only been married a year.” - -“Then you know more now than you will in ten. The appearance of Perkins -suggested that she might do anything at any moment, if you remember. If -the cause was what it usually is with a woman—jealousy, or, in other -words, love that has grown the wrong way—I can only wonder why she -waited so many years. There are a good many queer things about the case; -for instance, that foreigner who shammed dead when he was under arrest, -then slid out of the station.” - -“I wonder what he was doing here?” - -“Might as well ask why Mr. Millicent’s old gardener came back as though -he wanted to stick his head into the noose,” said Mr. Jarrad -sententiously. “Might as well ask why my client is willing to pay -through the nose to get this house back just after letting it for a term -of years—though I suspect there’s a woman in that, too. Might as well -ask why your client began by trying to hunt out Mr. Millicent’s murderer -and finished by finding his daughter. Might as well ask a heap of things -that will never be answered, and perhaps in the long run it’s just as -well they’re not. We know as much as is good for us as it is, and what -we don’t know can’t hurt us much as long as we keep on not knowing it. -Now what about the contents of this room?” - -“The stuff seems the same with a few additions, but a little differently -arranged; that’s all.” - -Mr. Jarrad strolled about, his sharp eyes very active, returned to the -desk, leaned over, then adjusted his glasses. He peered for a moment and -frowned. - -“That’s really very odd.” - -“What is?” - -“You remember we didn’t agree about a stain here, and returned so that I -could satisfy you on the point? It was a little difficult to detect.” - -Dawkins wetted his thumb and turned a few leaves in the big book. - -“Yes, here it is, a post entry, and initialed by both of us. ‘Large, -irregular stain on near left-hand corner of leather-desk top, nearly -effaced.’ Right ho! let’s have a look!” - -He came over, stared hard, and straightened up with an exclamation. “You -must have mesmerized me into seeing that before. It’s certainly not -there now, and the light is excellent. What do you make of it?” - -“What we don’t know won’t hurt us,” said Jarrad with a slow shake of the -head. “Initial this erasure, will you. What’s next?” - -Dawkins looked troubled, and a little anxious. “But I say—” - -“I began just the way you’re going on now, but I got over it. I suggest -that so far as this room is concerned we just count the books and -articles of furniture, pass on their general condition, and call the -thing a go. Your clients are not the kind who give me any worry.” - -Dawkins nodded and began the recital, reading from the book in a rapid -and level singsong as though he were chanting the creed of his -profession. - -“General condition excellent,” he concluded, and shut the book. - -Mr. Jarrad shook his head. “I can’t agree to that now. The maintenance -is not what it was. Quite obvious that the housemaid is untrained or -lazy; possibly both. Look at this mantel.” - -He drew a finger across the top of the mantel behind the clock, and left -a faint trail where the dust had been displaced. - -“Couldn’t do that the last time we were here. No, the upkeep is not as -good. Condition fair, I should say, at the most. See for yourself.” - -Dawkins sniffed and investigated. “Perhaps you’re right. I suppose my -client is a little short of help. All right, ‘condition fair.’ Anything -else?” - -Mr. Jarrad glanced at the hearth. “Yes, one thing. One fireplace tile -split. You have no note of that, I think, and it’s the only real damage -we’ve seen.” - -“No, I’ve nothing here. Let me see it.” - -He was bending over the hearth when Derrick came in. Jarrad made his -well-known bow. - -“We have just completed this room, sir, and the only real dilapidation -we find is in this hearth. It’s a small matter, but nothing is too small -for us to note. Perhaps you may remember when it happened, as it’s -evidently quite recent.” - -Derrick stared at the cracked tile. - -“Yes,” he said slowly, “I remember that very distinctly.” - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - -Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple -spellings occur, majority use has been employed. - -Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors -occur. - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JADE GOD *** - -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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