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diff --git a/75407-h/75407-h.htm b/75407-h/75407-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8db1d28 --- /dev/null +++ b/75407-h/75407-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11731 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Tragedy at Ravensthorpe</title> +<link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> +<style> +body { + margin: 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; +} +p { + margin: 0; + text-indent: 1.5em; + text-align: justify; +} +hr { + width: 40%; + margin: 1em 30%; +} +h1 { + margin: 2em auto; + text-align: center; + text-transform: uppercase; +} +h2 { + margin: 2em auto; + text-align: center; +} +h2 + p { text-indent: 0 } +blockquote { margin: 1em 0; } +figure { text-align: center; } +img { max-width: 95%; } +#titlepage { padding: 20% 0; } +#disclaimer { padding: 30% 10%; } +.authorprefix { + font-style: italic; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + margin: 1em 0; +} +.author { + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: bold; + margin-bottom: 2em; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + text-transform: uppercase; +} +.publish1 { + font-size: small; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + text-transform: uppercase; +} +.publish2 { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + text-transform: uppercase; +} +.publish3 { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; +} +.copyright { + font-size: small; + font-style: italic; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; +} +.toc { margin: 0 auto; } +.toc .n { + padding-right: 0.5em; + text-align: right; + vertical-align: top; +} +.toc .t { font-variant: small-caps; } +#disclaimer p { text-indent: 0; } +#disclaimer .head { + font-style: italic; + letter-spacing: 0.1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + text-transform: uppercase; +} +.verse { + display: table; + margin: 1em auto; +} +.verse p { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 2em; +} +.verse .i1 { margin-left: 0; } +.verse .i2 { margin-left: 1em; } +.verse + p { text-indent: 0 } +.telegram { font-style: italic; } +.finis { + font-size: small; + margin-top: 3em; + text-align: center; + text-transform: uppercase; +} +div.chapter { page-break-before: always; } +div.section { page-break-before: always; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75407 ***</div> + +<figure> + <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book cover"> +</figure> + +<div class="section" id="titlepage"> + +<h1>Tragedy at Ravensthorpe</h1> +<p class="authorprefix">by</p> +<p class="author">J. J. Connington</p> + +<p class="publish1">New York</p> +<p class="publish2">Grosset & Dunlap</p> +<p class="publish3">Published February, 1928</p> +<p class="copyright">Copyright, 1927, 1928, by Little, Brown, and Company</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="section" id="contents"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table class="toc"> +<tr> + <td class="n">I</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch01">The Fairy Houses</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">II</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch02">Mr. Polegate’s Sense of Humour</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">III</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch03">The Theft at the Masked Ball</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">IV</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch04">The Chase in the Woods</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">V</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch05">Sir Clinton in the Museum</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">VI</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch06">Mr. Foss’s Explanation</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">VII</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch07">What Was in the Lake</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">VIII</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch08">The Murder in the Museum</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">IX</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch09">The Muramasa Sword</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">X</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch10">The Shot in the Clearing</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">XI</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch11">Underground Ravensthorpe</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">XII</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch12">Chuchundra’s Body</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">XIII</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch13">The Otophone</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">XIV</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch14">The Second Chase in the Woods</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="n">XV</td> + <td class="t"><a href="#ch15">Sir Clinton’s Solution</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="section" id="disclaimer"> + +<p class="head">Note</p> + +<p>The characters, places, and events described in this book +are entirely imaginary and have no connection, either direct +or indirect, with any real persons, places, or events.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch01"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I. <br> The Fairy Houses</h2> + +<p>“Got fixed up in your new house yet, Sir Clinton?” +asked Cecil Chacewater, as they sauntered together +up one of the paths in the Ravensthorpe grounds. +“It must be a bit of a change from South +Africa—settling down in this backwater.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton Driffield, the new Chief Constable of +the county, nodded affirmatively in reply to the +question.</p> + +<p>“One manages to be fairly comfortable; and it’s +certainly been less trouble to fit up than it would +have been if I’d taken a bigger place. Not that I +don’t envy you people at Ravensthorpe,” he added, +glancing round at the long front of the house +behind him. “You’ve plenty of elbow-room in that +castle of yours.”</p> + +<p>Cecil made no reply; and they paced on for a +minute or more before Sir Clinton again spoke.</p> + +<p>“It’s a curious thing, Cecil, that although I knew +your father so well, I never happened to come down +here to Ravensthorpe. He often asked me to stay; +and I wanted to see his collection; but somehow we +never seemed able to fix on a time that suited us both. +It was at the house in Onslow Square that I always +saw you, so this is all fresh ground to me. It’s rather +like the irony of fate that my first post since I came +home should be in the very district I couldn’t find +time to visit when your father was alive.”</p> + +<p>Cecil Chacewater agreed with a gesture.</p> + +<p>“I was very glad when I saw you’d been appointed. +I wondered if you’d know me again after all +that time; but I thought we’d better bring ourselves +to your notice in case we could be of any help +here—introduce you to people, and all that sort of thing, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“I hardly recognized you when you turned up the +other day,” Sir Clinton admitted frankly. “You +were a kiddie when I went off to take that police +post in South Africa; and somehow or other I never +seem to have run across you on any of my trips home +on leave. It must have been ten years since I’d seen +you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t wonder you didn’t place me at once. Ten +years makes a lot of difference at my advanced age. +But you don’t look a bit changed. I recognized you +straight off, as soon as I saw you.”</p> + +<p>“What age are you now?” asked Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“About twenty-three,” Cecil replied. “Maurice is +twenty-five, and Joan’s just on the edge of +twenty-one.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose she must be,” Sir Clinton confirmed.</p> + +<p>A thought seemed to cross his mind.</p> + +<p>“By the way, this masked ball, I take it, is for +Joan’s coming-of-age?”</p> + +<p>“You got an invitation? Right! I’ve nothing to do +with that part of the business.” Then, answering +Sir Clinton’s inquiry: “Yes, that’s so. She wanted +a spree of some sort; and she generally gets what +she wants, you know. You’ll hardly know <em>her</em> +when you see her. She’s shot up out of all recognition +from the kid you knew before you went away.”</p> + +<p>“She used to be pretty as a school-girl.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she hasn’t fallen off in that direction. You +must come to this show of hers. She’ll be awfully +pleased if you do. She looks on you as a kind of +unofficial uncle, you know.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s expression showed that he +appreciated the indirect compliment.</p> + +<p>“I’m highly flattered. She’s the only one of you +who took the trouble to write to me from time to +time when I was out yonder. All my Ravensthorpe +news came through her.”</p> + +<p>Cecil was rather discomfited by this reminder. He +changed the subject abruptly.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’ll come as Sherlock Holmes? +Joan’s laid down that every one must act up to their +costume, whatever it is; and Sherlock wouldn’t give +you much trouble after all your detective experience. +You’d only have to snoop round and pick up +clues and make people uncomfortable with +deductions.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed amused by the idea.</p> + +<p>“A pretty programme! Something like this, I +suppose?” he demanded, and gave a faintly caricatured +imitation of the Holmes mannerisms.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, you know, that’s awfully good!” Cecil +commented, rather taken aback by the complete +change in Sir Clinton’s voice and gait. “You ought +to do it. You’d get first prize easily.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head as he resumed his +natural guise.</p> + +<p>“The mask wouldn’t cover my moustache; and I +draw the line at shaving that off, even in a good +cause. Besides, a Chief Constable can’t go running +about disguised as Sherlock Holmes. Rather bad +taste, dragging one’s trade into one’s amusements. +No, I’ll come as something quite unostentatious: a +pillar-box or an Invisible Man, or a spook, +probably.”</p> + +<p>“I forgot,” Cecil hastened to say, apologetically, +“I shouldn’t have asked you about your costume. +Joan’s very strong on some fancy regulation she’s +made that no one is to know beforehand what anyone +else is wearing. She wants the prize awarding to +be absolutely unbiased. So you’d better not tell me +what you’re going to do.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced at him with a faint twinkle +in his eye.</p> + +<p>“That’s precisely what I’ve been doing for the +last minute or two,” he said, dryly.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” Cecil asked, looking +puzzled. “You haven’t told me anything.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly.”</p> + +<p>Cecil was forced to smile.</p> + +<p>“No harm done,” he admitted. “You gave nothing +away.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a very useful habit in my line of +business.”</p> + +<p>But Sir Clinton’s interest in the approaching +masked ball was apparently not yet exhausted.</p> + +<p>“Large crowd coming?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Fairish, I believe. Most of the neighbours, I +suppose. We’re putting up a few people for the night, +of course; and there are three or four visitors on the +premises already. It should be quite a decent show. +I can’t give you even rough numbers, for Joan’s +taken the invitation side of the thing entirely into +her own hands—most mysterious about it, too. +Hush! Hush! Very Secret! and all that kind of +thing. She won’t even let us see her lists for fear of +making it too easy to recognize people; so she’s had +to arrange the catering side of the thing on her own +as well.”</p> + +<p>“She always was an independent kind of person,” +Sir Clinton volunteered.</p> + +<p>Cecil took no notice of the interjection.</p> + +<p>“If you ask me,” he went on, “I think she’s a bit +besotted with this incognito notion. She doesn’t +realize that half the gang can be spotted at once by +their walk, and the other half will give themselves +away as soon as they get animated and begin to +jabber freely. But it’s her show, you know, so it’s no +use any one else butting in with criticisms and +spoiling her fun before it begins.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded his assent; but for a moment +or two he seemed to be preoccupied with some line +of thought which Cecil’s words had started in his +mind. Suddenly, however, something caught his eye +and diverted his attention to external things.</p> + +<p>“What’s that weird thing over there?” he asked. +As he spoke, he pointed to an object a little way off +the path on which they were standing. It was a tiny +building about a yard in height and a couple +of yards or more in length. At the first glance it +seemed like a bungalow reduced to the scale of a +large doll’s house; but closer inspection showed that +it was windowless, though ventilation of a sort +appeared to have been provided. A miniature door +closed the entrance, through which a full-grown +man could gain admittance only by lying flat on the +ground and wriggling with some difficulty through +the narrow opening provided.</p> + +<p>“That?” Cecil answered carelessly. “Oh, that’s +one of the Fairy Houses, you know. They’re a sort +of local curiosity. No matter where you are, you’ll +find one of them within a couple of hundred yards +of you, anywhere in the grounds.”</p> + +<p>“Only in the grounds? Aren’t there any outside +the estate?” inquired Sir Clinton. “At the first +glance I took it for some sort of archæological +affair.”</p> + +<p>“They’re old enough, I dare say,” Cecil admitted, +indifferently. “A century, or a century and a half, +or perhaps even more. They’re purely a Ravensthorpe +product. I’ve never seen one of them outside +the boundary.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton left the path and made a closer +examination of the tiny hut; but it presented very few +points of interest in itself. Out of curiosity, he +turned the handle of the door and found it moved +easily.</p> + +<p>“You seem to keep the locks and hinges oiled,” +he said, with some surprise.</p> + +<p>Pushing the door open, he stooped down and +glanced inside.</p> + +<p>“Very spic and span. You keep them in good +repair, evidently.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, one of the gardeners has the job of looking +after them,” Cecil explained, without showing much +interest.</p> + +<p>“I’ve never seen anything of the sort before. +They might be Picts’ dwellings, or something of +that kind; but why keep them in repair? And, of +course, they’re not prehistoric at all. They’re +comparatively modern, from the way they’re put +together. What are they?”</p> + +<p>“Ask me another,” said Cecil, who seemed bored +by the subject. “They’re an ancestral legacy, or an +heirloom, or a tenant’s improvement, or whatever +you like to call it. Clause in the will each time, to +provide for them being kept in good repair, and so +forth.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to prick up his ears when +he heard of this provision, though his tone showed +only languid interest when he put his next +inquiry.</p> + +<p>“Anything at the back of it all? It seems a rum +sort of business.”</p> + +<p>“The country-people round about here will supply +you with all the information you can believe +about it—and a lot you’re not likely to swallow, too. +By their way of it, Lavington Knoll up there”—he +pointed vaguely to indicate its position—“was the +last of the fairy strongholds hereabouts; and when +most of the fairies went away, a few stayed behind. +But these didn’t care much for the old Knoll +after that. Reminded them of past glories and +cheery company too much, I suppose; and so they +made a sort of treaty with an ancestor of ours. He +was to provide houses for them, and they were to +look after the general prosperity side of +Ravensthorpe.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed amused by Cecil’s somewhat +scornful summary.</p> + +<p>“A case of ‘Farewell rewards and fairies,’ it +seems, Cecil.”</p> + +<p>Then, half to himself, he hummed a few lines of +Corbet’s song:</p> + +<blockquote class="verse"> + + <p class="i1">Witness those rings and roundelayes</p> + <p class="i2">Of theirs, which yet remaine;</p> + <p class="i1">Were footed in queene Maries dayes</p> + <p class="i2">On many a grassy playne.</p> + <p class="i1">But since of late Elizabeth . . .</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>“Do you go as far back as Elizabeth, here at +Ravensthorpe, by any chance, Cecil?”</p> + +<p>“So far as the grounds go, yes. The house was +partly destroyed in Cromwell’s time; and some new +bits were built on in place of the old stuff. But +there’s a lot of the old part left yet, in quite good +repair.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton still seemed interested in the compact +with the Fairies.</p> + +<p>“Was there any penalty clause in the contract +about these Houses? There’s usually some drawback +to these affairs—like the Luck of Edenhall, for +instance.”</p> + +<p>“There used to be some legend or other that +unless the Fairies found their houses always in good +order, the Family Curse would come home to roost, +one-time. No one believes in that sort of stuff nowadays; +but it’s kept alive by this clause that’s put into +every will—a kind of a family custom, you know, +that no one cares to be the first to break. If you call it +a damned old wives’ tale, I shan’t blame you.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton could not be sure whether Cecil’s +indifference in the matter was natural or assumed; +but in any case he thought it tactful to pursue the +subject no further. Closing the door of the Fairy +House again, he made his way back to the path +where his companion was waiting for him.</p> + +<p>As the Chief Constable rejoined him, Cecil +looked round the horizon with feeble interest.</p> + +<p>“Not much else to show you, I’m afraid,” he said. +Then, with an after-thought: “Care to see rather a +good view? The best one hereabouts is just up above +us—through the wood here—if you think it worth +the trouble of the climb. It’s not very far. We’ve +plenty of time before lunch.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton acquiesced, and they began to mount +a further slope in the path which now led them up +through a sparse pine-wood.</p> + +<p>“There seems to be a good sound foundation to +this path,” the Chief Constable commented, as they +walked on.</p> + +<p>“There used to be a carriage-drive, at one time, +leading up to the top. I suppose the old birds used +to drive up here and sit out having tea and admiring +the view on fine days. But it’s been neglected for +long enough. Hardly any one goes up to the top now, +except once in a blue moon or else by accident.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton gave a nod of acquiescence.</p> + +<p>“Any one can see the path’s hardly ever used.”</p> + +<p>“Just beyond this brow,” Cecil explained as they +moved on, “there’s an old quarry cut in the further +side of the hill. It’s a very old place, rather +picturesque nowadays. Most of the stone for Ravensthorpe +came from it in the old days, and during the +rebuilding. After that, the quarry dropped out of use +gradually; and finally some one had the notion of +letting water in at the foot of it and having a sort of +model lake there, with the cliff of the quarry at one +end of it. We’re making for the top of the cliff by +going this way; and when you get out of the wood +into the open, you’ll find rather a good outlook over +the country.”</p> + +<p>A short walk took them through the rest of the +pine-wood. On the further side they came into a belt +of open ground beyond which, on a slight eminence, +a little spinney blocked part of the view.</p> + +<p>“That’s where we’re making for,” Cecil explained. +“The best view-point is on the other side of +these trees. The old birds, a century back, chose it +carefully and did some laying out at the top; so I +suppose they must have been keen on the place.”</p> + +<p>As they approached the spinney, Sir Clinton +noticed a fence running down from each side of it. +Cecil followed the direction of the Chief Constable’s +glance.</p> + +<p>“That’s barbed wire,” he pointed out. “The spinney’s +at the top of the quarry; but there’s a bad +drop down towards the hollow on either side—a +dangerous bit, practically precipitous—and so the +wire was put up to prevent any one wandering near +the edge and tripping over.”</p> + +<p>Cutting through the fringe of trees, they emerged +at the top of the cliff. Here the ground had been +levelled and paved. Along the precipice, a marble +balustrade had been erected as a safeguard. Further +back, a curved tier of marble seats faced the view; +and here and there in the line rose pedestals +carrying life-sized marble statues which faced out +towards the gulf.</p> + +<p>“This is really very elaborate,” Sir Clinton +commented. “Evidently your ancestors liked the view, +if they took so much trouble to put up this affair.”</p> + +<p>He moved across the paved space, leaned on the +balustrade, and looked down into the depths.</p> + +<p>“I don’t wonder you fenced that in with barbed +wire on each side,” he said. “It’s a nasty drop down +there—well over a fifty-foot fall at least.”</p> + +<p>“It’s nearer a hundred, really,” Cecil corrected +him. “The height’s a bit deceptive from here. And a +fall into that pool would be no joy, I can tell you! +It’s full of sharp spikes of rock jutting up from the +bottom. You’d get fairly well mauled if you +happened to drop on any of them. You can’t see them +for that green stuff in the water; but they’re all +present and correct under the surface.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton looked down at the weed-grown little +lakelet. The dense green fronds gave the water an +unpleasant appearance; and in some tiny backwaters +the surface was covered with a layer of scum.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you get all that stuff cleared out?” +he demanded. “It looks rather beastly. Once you +got rid of it you could stock the pool with trout or +perch, easily enough. I see there’s some flow of +water through it from a spring at the east end.”</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed to have no interest in the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“If you want some fishing,” he said, “we’ve got +quite a decent stream that runs through another +part of the grounds. This place used to be kept in +good order; but since the war and all that, you +know, the fine edge has been rather off things hereabouts. +It’s in a bad state, right enough. Just a +frog-pond.”</p> + +<p>“Is the water deep?” Sir Clinton inquired.</p> + +<p>“Oh, ten to fifteen feet in parts. Quite deep just +in front of the cave at the bottom of the cliff below +here. We used to have great times playing robbers +and so forth when we were kids. There’s our old +raft at the far end. It was well tarred and I see it’s +still afloat. It was the only way of getting at the +cave-mouth, you see.”</p> + +<p>He dismissed the subject.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we sit down for a while.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton followed him to one of the marble +benches. Before them, the view of the Ravensthorpe +grounds stretched out, closed on the horizon by a +line of woodland. In the foreground, beyond a fence +at the end of the lake, sheep were grazing on some +meadow-land.</p> + +<p>“One of your ancestors?” inquired Sir Clinton, +nodding towards the nearest statue. “Or merely +Phœbus Apollo?”</p> + +<p>Cecil turned to glance at the statue.</p> + +<p>“I think I’d back your second choice,” he said. +“If it was an ancestor, it must have been one of +the ancient Britons. It’s a bit short of clothes for +anything later than that; and even for an ancient +Briton it seems a trifle undressed. No woad, you +know.”</p> + +<p>He took out his cigarette-case, offered it to Sir +Clinton, and then began to smoke. Sir Clinton +seemed to be admiring the view in front of him for a +few minutes; but when he spoke again it was evident +that something more than scenery had been in +his mind.</p> + +<p>“I’m not altogether easy in my mind over this +masked ball of Joan’s. Speaking as a Chief +Constable responsible for the good behaviour of the +district, Cecil, it seems to me that you’re running +some risks over it. A dance is all very well. You +know all your guests by headmark and no one can +get in on false pretences. But once you start masks, +it’s a different state of affairs altogether.”</p> + +<p>Cecil made no comment; and Sir Clinton +smoked in silence for a time before continuing:</p> + +<p>“It’s this craze of Joan’s for anonymity that +seems to me to open the door to all sorts of things. +I take it that there’ll be no announcing of individual +guests, because of this incognito stunt of hers. But +unfortunately that means you’ll have to admit any +one who chooses to present himself as Winnie-the-Pooh +or Felix the Cat or Father Christmas. You +don’t know who he is. You can’t inquire at the +start. Anybody might get in. Considering the +amount of good portable stuff there is in the +collection at Ravensthorpe, do you think it’s quite +desirable to have no check whatever on your +guests?”</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed struck by this view of the case.</p> + +<p>“I never thought of that,” he said. “I suppose +we ought to have issued uniform entrance-tickets, +or something of that sort; but the thing never +crossed any of our minds. Somehow, it seems a bit +steep to take precautions against people when one’s +inviting them to one’s house.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not <em>invited</em> guests I’m thinking about,” Sir +Clinton hastened to explain more definitely. “This +affair must have been talked about all over the +countryside. What’s to hinder some enterprising +thief dressing up as a tramp and presenting himself +along with the rest? He’d get in all right. And +once he was inside, he might be tempted to forget +the laws of hospitality and help himself. Then, if +he made himself scarce before the unmasking at +midnight, he’d get clean away and leave no trace. +See it?”</p> + +<p>Cecil nodded affirmatively; but to Sir Clinton’s +slight surprise he did not appear to be much +perturbed on the subject. The Chief Constable seemed +to see an explanation of this attitude.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, of course, you’re shutting up the +collections for the evening.”</p> + +<p>Cecil shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No. Joan insists on having them on view—all +of them. It’s a state occasion for her, you know; +and she’s determined to have all the best of +Ravensthorpe for her guests. What she says goes, you +know. If she can’t get her own way by one road +she takes another. It’s always easier to give in to +her at once and be done with it. She has such a way +of making one feel a beast if one refuses her +anything; and yet she never seems to get spoiled with +it all.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed rather taken aback by the +news about the collections.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s your funeral, not mine, if anything +does happen,” he admitted.</p> + +<p>“Maurice’s—not mine,” Cecil corrected him +with a touch of bitterness which Sir Clinton failed +to understand at the moment.</p> + +<p>“I’ve nothing to do with Ravensthorpe nowadays,” +Cecil went on, after a pause. “I live there, +that’s all. The whole affair went to Maurice—lock, +stock, and barrel—when my father died. I’ve really +no more right in these grounds than you have. I +might be kicked out any day.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton was puzzled by Cecil’s tone. It was +only natural that Ravensthorpe should go down into +the hands of Maurice, since he was the elder +brother. There could be no particular grievance in +that. And yet Cecil’s voice had betrayed something +deeper than a mere mild resentment. The asperity +in his last remark had been unmistakable.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes Cecil remained silent, staring +moodily out at the landscape. Sir Clinton refrained +from interrupting his thoughts. The matter certainly +had excited his curiosity; but until Cecil chose +to say more, there seemed to be no reason for +intruding into the private affairs of the Ravensthorpe +household. Even the privileges of an old friend did +not seem to Sir Clinton a sufficient excuse for probing +into family matters.</p> + +<p>But the Chief Constable, without any voluntary +effort, had the gift of eliciting confidences without +soliciting them. Cecil’s brooding came to an end and +he turned round to face his companion.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I’ve said either too much or too little +already,” he began. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell +you about the affair. It’s nearly common talk as it +is, and you’re sure to hear something about it +sooner or later. You may as well get it first-hand and +be done with it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton, having solicited no confidence, contented +himself with merely listening, without +offering any vocal encouragement.</p> + +<p>“You knew my father well,” Cecil went on, after +a short pause in which he seemed to be arranging +his ideas in some definite order. “He was one of the +best, if you like. No one would say a word against +him—it’s the last thing I’d think of doing myself, +at any rate.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded approvingly.</p> + +<p>“The bother was,” Cecil continued, “that he +judged every one by himself. He couldn’t understand +that any one might not be as straight as he always +was. He never made an allowance for some kinds of +human nature, if you see what I mean. And, another +thing, he had a great notion of the duties of the +head of the family. He took them pretty seriously +and he looked after a lot of people who had no claim +on him, really, except that they belonged to the +clan.”</p> + +<p>“He was always generous, I know,” Sir Clinton +confirmed. “And he always trusted people. +Sometimes, perhaps, he overdid it.”</p> + +<p>Cecil made a gesture of agreement and +continued:</p> + +<p>“He overdid it when he drew up his will. Maurice, +of course, was bound to be the next head of the +family, once my father had gone; so my father took it +for granted that things would go on just the same. +The head of the family would run the show with an +eye to the interests of the rest of us, and all would +be right on the night. That was the theory of the +business, as my father saw it; and he drafted his +will on that basis.”</p> + +<p>Cecil sat up suddenly and flung away his cigarette +with a vehemence which betrayed the heat of his +feelings.</p> + +<p>“That was the theory of the business, as I said. +But the practice wasn’t quite so satisfactory. My +father left every penny he had to Maurice; he left +him absolutely every asset; and, of course, +Ravensthorpe’s entailed, so Maurice got that in the normal +course. Joan, my mother, and myself, were left without +a farthing to bless ourselves with. But there was +a suggestion in the will—not a legally binding thing, +but merely a sort of informal direction—that Maurice +was to look after us all and give us some sort of +income each. I suppose my father hardly thought it +worth while to do more than that. Being the sort of +man he was, he would rely implicitly on Maurice +playing the game, just as he’d have played the game +himself—had played it all his life, you know.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton showed no desire to offer any +comment; and in a moment or two Cecil went on once +more:</p> + +<p>“Last year, there was nothing to complain about. +Maurice footed our bills quite decently. He never +grumbled over our expenses. Everything seemed +quite sound. It never crossed my mind to get things +put on a business footing. In fact, you know, I’d +hardly have had the nerve to suggest anything of +the sort. It would have looked a bit grasping, +wouldn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Cecil glanced inquiringly at Sir Clinton, but the +Chief Constable seemed averse from making any +comment at this stage. Cecil took his case from his +pocket and lit a fresh cigarette before continuing +his story.</p> + +<p>“You don’t remember Una Rainhill, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“She’s a sort of second cousin of ours,” Cecil +explained. “Probably you never came across her. +Besides, she’d hardly be out of the nursery when you +went off to South Africa. Well, she’s grown up +now—just about a year or two younger than Joan. +You’ll see her for yourself. She’s staying with us +just now for this coming-of-age of Joan’s.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton had no great difficulty in guessing, +behind Cecil’s restraint, his actual feelings about the +girl. His voice gave him away if the words did not.</p> + +<p>“No use making a long story of it, is there?” Cecil +continued. “Both Maurice and I wanted Una. So +did a good many others. But she didn’t want +Maurice. She was quite nice about it. He’d nothing +to complain of in that way. He got no encouragement +from her at all. But he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for +an answer. He was really extra keen, and I think +he overdid it instead of making the best of a bad +business. And finally he realized that it was me that +he was up against. Una and I aren’t officially +engaged, or anything like that—you’ll see why in a +moment—but it’s a case of two’s company and +three’s none; and Maurice knows he’s Number +Three.”</p> + +<p>There was more than a tinge of rancour in Cecil’s +voice when he came to this last sentence. Sir Clinton +raised his eyebrows slightly. He did not quite +admire this malevolence on the part of the successful +lover against his defeated rival. Cecil apparently +noticed the slight change in the Chief Constable’s +expression.</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute,” he said. “You haven’t heard it +all yet. Before I go on, just bear in mind that there +was plenty of money for all of us in the family. My +father always took it for granted that I’d have +enough to keep me. He’d never thought of my going +into business. I’ve got some sort of turn for writing; +and I think he hoped that I’d make some kind of +name as an author. And, of course, with what I +supposed was an assured income behind me, I haven’t +hurried much in the way of publishing my stuff. I +could afford to let it lie—or so I thought.”</p> + +<p>A slight gesture of Sir Clinton showed his approval +of this outlook on authorship. It seemed to him that +Cecil at his age could hardly have much to tell the +world that it didn’t know already; but he had no +intention of expressing any such discouraging views.</p> + +<p>“You see how it is,” Cecil continued. “As things +stand, I haven’t the ghost of a chance of earning a +decent income for years and years. And that was +the weak joint that Maurice saw and went for—damn +him! He took it upon himself to tell me that +I was here more or less on sufferance. He’d been +generous in the past—he actually reminded me of +that!—but he didn’t see how he was to continue to +subsidize me indefinitely. You see his game? If he +couldn’t have Una himself, he’d take care that I +shouldn’t have her either. Damned dog-in-the-manger! +That’s a nice sort of brother for you! I +wonder what his father would think about him if +he knew of this trick.”</p> + +<p>He pitched away the stub of his unfinished cigarette +as though with it he could rid himself of some +of his feeling.</p> + +<p>“Of course there was friction—I’m putting it +mildly—but there was no open row. My mother’s +not in good health and I couldn’t afford to have her +worried over my affairs. So we settled down to +some sort of armed neutrality, although the thing’s +more or less evident to most people. That’s what I +meant when I said I might be kicked out any day. +It’s only a question of time, it seems to me. He still +thinks that if I were out of the way he’d have a +chance with Una; and sooner or later I expect him +to give me an express-ticket into the wide world. +I’m trying to get some sort of job; but so far +I haven’t succeeded in lighting on anything +that seems to offer the slightest prospects. It’s no +pleasure to stay here on sufferance, I can tell +you.”</p> + +<p>Now that Sir Clinton had received Cecil’s unsolicited +confidences, he hardly knew what to do with +them. After all, he reflected, he had heard only one +side of the story; and it was scarcely fair to judge +the case on the strength of an <i>ex-parte</i> statement. +It was not quite the Ravensthorpe which he had +expected, he admitted ruefully to himself as he +bent his efforts to bringing Cecil back to normal +again. Money and a girl: the two things that seemed +to lie behind most troubles—and even crimes, as +he knew from experience. It seemed an unkind +Fate that had forced these two factors to the front +in an environment where trouble of the kind was +the last that might have been expected. One never +knew what this sort of thing might lead to in the +end.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to have a look at your father’s collections +some time or other,” he said at last, to change +the subject, when he had succeeded in getting +Cecil into a somewhat cooler frame of mind. “I +saw a good many of the things in London from +time to time, as he bought them; but there must be +a lot here at Ravensthorpe that will be new to me. +Anything your father bought will be worth looking +at. He had wonderful taste.”</p> + +<p>Rather to his vexation, Sir Clinton found that +he had only shifted the conversation from one sore +point to another.</p> + +<p>“If you want to see anything,” Cecil snapped, +“you’d better pay your visit as soon as you can +arrange it. Maurice is going to sell the lot.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton was completely taken aback by this +news.</p> + +<p>“Sell the stuff? What on earth would he want to +do that for? He’s got all the money he needs, +surely.”</p> + +<p>Cecil dissociated himself from any connection +with the matter.</p> + +<p>“No business of mine, now. Maurice can do as he +likes. Of course, I hate the idea of all these things +of my father’s being sold off when there seems no +need for it; but it’s not my affair. The Maurice boy +isn’t all we thought him; and since he’s come into +Ravensthorpe, he seems to think of very little else +but money and how to get more of it. Anything for +the dibs, it appears.”</p> + +<p>“But surely he isn’t selling everything. He +might get rid of some minor things; but he’ll hardly +break up the whole collection.”</p> + +<p>“Every damned thing, Sir Clinton. Why at this +very moment he’s got a Yankee agent—a man +Foss—staying at Ravensthorpe and chaffering for the +star pieces of the collections: the Medusa +Medallions.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“They must be fresh acquisitions since my day. +I’ve never even heard of them.”</p> + +<p>“Ever see the picture of Medusa in the Uffizi +Gallery? It’s attributed to Leonardo da Vinci; but +some people say it’s only a student’s copy of the +original Leonardo which has disappeared. It seems +my father came across three medallions with almost +exactly the same Medusa on one side and a figure +of Perseus on the reverse. And what’s more, he was +able to get documentary proof that these things +were really Leonardo’s own work—strange as it +seems. The thing’s quite admitted by experts. So you +can imagine that these Medusas are quite the star +pieces in the museum. And Maurice calmly proposes +to sell them to Kessock, the Yank millionaire; and +Kessock has sent this man Foss over here to +negotiate for them.”</p> + +<p>“It seems rather a pity to part with them,” Sir +Clinton said, regretfully.</p> + +<p>“Maurice doesn’t feel it so,” Cecil retorted, rather +bitterly. “He got a friend of mine, Foxy Polegate, +to make him electrotypes of them in gold—Foxy’s +rather good at that sort of thing for an amateur—and +Maurice thinks that the electrotypes will look +just as well as the originals.”</p> + +<p>“H’m! Cenotaphs, I suppose,” Sir Clinton +commented.</p> + +<p>“Quite so. In Memoriam. The real things being +buried in the U.S.A.”</p> + +<p>Cecil paused for a moment and then +concluded:</p> + +<p>“You can imagine that none of us like this +damned chandlering with these things that my +father spent so much thought over. It’s enough to +make him turn in his grave to have all his favourites +scattered—and just for the sake of Maurice’s +infernal miserliness and greed for cash.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton rose from his seat and took a last +glance at the view before him.</p> + +<p>“What about moving on now?”</p> + +<p>Cecil agreed; and they retraced their steps +towards the pine-wood. As they entered the spinney, +Sir Clinton noticed another of the Fairy Houses set +back among the trees at a little distance from the +path.</p> + +<p>“Another of those things?”</p> + +<p>Rather to his surprise, Cecil moved over to examine +the little edifice, and bending down opened the +door and glanced inside.</p> + +<p>“The Fairy’s not at home at present,” he said, +standing aside to let Sir Clinton look in.</p> + +<p>Something in Cecil’s voice forced itself on the +attention of the Chief Constable. The words seemed +to be pointless; but in the tone there was an +ill-suppressed tinge of what might almost have been +malicious glee at some unexplained jest. Sir Clinton +was too wary to follow up this track, wherever it +might lead to. He did not quite like the expression +on Cecil’s face when the remark was made; and he +sought for some transition which would bring them +on to a fresh subject.</p> + +<p>“You must have some curiosities in Ravensthorpe +itself, if parts of it are as old as they seem to be. Any +priest’s holes, or secret passages, or things of that +sort?”</p> + +<p>“There are one or two,” Cecil admitted. “But we +don’t make a show of them. In fact, even Joan +doesn’t know how to get into them. There’s some +sort of ‘Mistletoe Bough’ story in the family: a girl +went into one of the passages, forgot how to work +the spring to get out again, lost her nerve apparently, +and stayed there till she died. It so happened +that she was the only one of the family in the house +at the time, so there was no one to help her out. Since +then, we’ve kept the secret of the springs from our +girls. No use running risks.”</p> + +<p>“And even Joan hasn’t wheedled it out of you?”</p> + +<p>“No, not even Joan. Maurice and I are the only +ones who can get into these places.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton evidently approved of this.</p> + +<p>“Short of opening the passages up altogether, +that seems the best thing to do. One never knows +one’s luck. By the way, in an old place like this you +ought to have a stock of family legends. You’ve got +these Fairy Houses. Is there anything else of +general interest?”</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed to have recovered something of his +normal good humour; and his face betrayed almost +a grin of amusement as he replied:</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! We’ve got a family ghost—or so the +country-folk say. I’ve never come across it myself; +but it’s common talk that the family spectre is a +White Man who walks in the woods just before the +head of the family dies. All rot, you know. Nobody +believes in it, really. But it’s quite an +old-established tradition round about here.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton laughed.</p> + +<p>“You certainly don’t seem to take him very seriously. +What about Family Curses? Are you well +supplied?”</p> + +<p>“You’d better apply to Maurice if you’re keen +on Family Curses. He seems to have specialized in +that branch, if you ask me.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch02"> + +<h2>CHAPTER II. <br> Mr. Polegate’s Sense of Humour</h2> + +<p>“How time flies!” said Joan Chacewater, in mock +despondency. “To-night I’m in my prime. To-morrow +I shall be twenty-one, with all my bright youth +behind me. Five years after that, I shall quite +possibly be married to Michael here, if I’m still alive +and he hasn’t died in the meantime. Then I shall +sit o’ nights darning his socks in horn-rimmed +spectacles, and sadly recalling those glad days when I +was young and still happy. It’s dreadful! I feel I +want to cry over it. Give me something to cry into, +Michael; I seem to have mislaid my bag.”</p> + +<p>Michael Clifton obligingly held out a +handkerchief. Joan looked at it disparagingly.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you anything smaller than that? It +discourages me. I’m not going to cry on a +manufacturing scale. It wouldn’t be becoming.”</p> + +<p>Una Rainhill laid her cigarette down on the +ash-tray beside her.</p> + +<p>“If you’re going to be as particular as that, Joan, +I think I’d be content with a gulp or two of +emotion or perhaps a lump in the throat. Cheer up! +You’ve one more night before the shadows fall.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, there it is!” said Joan, tragically. “You’re +young, Una, and you never had any foresight, anyway. +But I can see it all coming. I can see the fat +ankles”—she glanced down at her own slim +ones—“and the artificial silk stockings at +three-and-eleven the pair; because Michael’s business +will always be mismanaged, with him at the head +of it. And I’ll have that red nose that comes from +indigestion; because after Michael ends up in +bankruptcy, we won’t be able to keep a maid, and +I never could cook anything whatever. And then +Michael will grow fat, and short of breath and +bald . . .”</p> + +<p>“That’ll be quite enough for the present,” +interrupted the outraged Michael. “I’m not so sure +about letting you marry me at all, after that pleasant +little sketch.”</p> + +<p>“If you can’t drop those domineering ways of +yours, Michael, I shall withdraw,” Joan warned +him, coldly. “You can boss other people as much as +you choose; I rather like to see you doing it. But it +doesn’t go with me, remember. If you show these +distressing signs of wanting your own way, I shall +simply have to score you off my list of possibles. +And that would no doubt be painful to both of +us—to you, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, to both of us, to both of us, I’m sure. I +wouldn’t dream of contradicting you, Joan. Where +would you be, if the only serious candidate dropped +out? Anything rather than that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s a blessing that one man seems to have +some sense,” Joan admitted, turning to the others. +“One can’t help liking Michael, if it’s only for the +frank way he acknowledges when he’s in the wrong. +Skilful handling does a lot with the most +unpromising material, of course.”</p> + +<p>Cecil leaned over in his chair and peered athwart +the greenery which surrounded the nook in the +winter-garden in which they were sitting.</p> + +<p>“There’s Foxy wandering round.”</p> + +<p>He raised his voice:</p> + +<p>“Are you looking for us, Foxy? We’re over here.”</p> + +<p>Foxton Polegate’s freckled face, surmounted by +a shock of reddish hair, appeared at the entrance to +their recess.</p> + +<p>“Been hunting about for you,” he explained as he +sat down. “Couldn’t make out where you’d got to.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Joan.</p> + +<p>“Dropped across this evening on important business. +Fact is, I’ve lost my invitation-card and the +book of words. Didn’t read it carefully when +it came. So thought I’d drop over and hear what’s +what. Programme, I mean, and all that sort of +thing, so there’ll be no hitch.”</p> + +<p>Una leaned over and selected a fresh cigarette +from the box.</p> + +<p>“You’re hopeless, Foxy,” she pronounced. “One +of these memory courses is what you need badly. +Why not treat the thing as a practical joke instead +of in earnest? <em>Then</em> you’d have no difficulty. +Jokes are the only things you ever seem to take +seriously.”</p> + +<p>“Epigrams went completely out before you were +born, Una,” Foxy retorted. “Don’t drag ’em from +their graves at this hour of the century. And don’t +interrupt Joan in her instructions to the guest of +the evening. Don’t you see she’s saying ’em over +nervously to herself for fear she forgets ’em?”</p> + +<p>“There’s a bit too much of the harassed nursemaid +about you, Foxy, with all your ‘don’ts,’ ” Joan +broke in. “Now take your stylus and tablets and jot +this down carefully, for I won’t repeat it under a +shilling a page. Here’s the programme. Ten p.m.: +Arrival of distinguished guests. (They’re all +distinguished, except you, Foxy.) Brilliant and +animated conversation by those who can manage it; the +rest can listen intelligently. (You may try listening, +Foxy, if it isn’t too much of a strain.) The +cloak-room, picture-gallery, museum, and poultry-yard +will be thrown open for inspection by the public +absolutely free of charge. It won’t cost you a +cent. Bridge-tables will be provided for the curiosities +who don’t dance. Dancing will begin straightway +and will be continued up to 11.45, when the +judges will take their seats. As soon as they are +comfortable, the march-past will start. All guests must +present themselves at this without fail, Foxy. At +five minutes to twelve the identity of the prize-winners +will be disclosed. When midnight strikes, all +guests will remove their masks, even at the cost of +shocking the company in some cases. Dancing will +then be resumed and will continue into the dewy +dawn. And that’s how it will take place according +to plan.”</p> + +<p>“There’s just one point,” said Foxy, hesitatingly. +“Are the prizes portable things, or shall I have to +hire a van to take mine away with me?”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t worry a bit about that, Foxy,” said +Una, comfortingly. “We’ve decided to keep the +prizes in the family, you see. Joan gets one, because +it will be her birthday. I get the other for the best +female costume. Cecil, Maurice, and Michael are +going to toss odd-man for the two men’s prizes. So +you can come as a Teddy Bear without pockets if +you like. It won’t be of any consequence. You’ll have +nothing to carry away.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t say fairer than that,” Foxy admitted. “Always +liked that plain, straightforward way of doing +things myself.”</p> + +<p>A recollection of his talk with Sir Clinton passed +across Cecil Chacewater’s mind, and without +reflection he communicated it to the others:</p> + +<p>“By the way, Sir Clinton seemed a trifle worried +over this affair. He pointed out to me that some +scallywag might creep in amongst the guests and +play Old Harry in the museum if he got the +chance.”</p> + +<p>Just at this moment, Maurice Chacewater passed +along the alley in the winter-garden from which the +nook opened.</p> + +<p>“Maurice!” Joan called to her brother. “Come +here for a moment, please.”</p> + +<p>Maurice turned back and entered the recess. He +seemed tired; and there was a certain hesitancy in +his manner as though he were not quite sure of +himself. His sister made a gesture inviting him to sit +down, but he appeared disinclined to stay.</p> + +<p>“What’s the trouble?” he asked, with a weary air.</p> + +<p>“Cecil’s been suggesting that it’s hardly safe to +leave the collections open to-morrow night, in case a +stranger got in with a mask on. Hadn’t we better +have some one to stay in the museum and look after +them?”</p> + +<p>“Cecil needn’t worry his head,” Maurice returned, +ignoring his brother. “I’m putting one of the +keepers on to watch the museum.”</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel and went off along the +corridor. Foxy gazed after him with a peculiar +expression on his face.</p> + +<p>“Maurice looks a bit done-up, doesn’t he?” he +finally said, turning back towards the group about +him. “He hasn’t been quite all right for a while. +Seems almost as if he expected a thunderbolt to +strike him any minute, doesn’t he? A bit white +about the gills and holding himself in all the time.”</p> + +<p>Before any one could reply to this, Joan rose and +beckoned to Michael.</p> + +<p>“Come along, Michael. I’ll play you a hundred up, +if you like. There’ll be no one in the billiard-room.”</p> + +<p>Michael Clifton rose eagerly from his chair and +followed her out. Foxy looked after them.</p> + +<p>“As an old friend of the family, merely wanting +to know, <em>are</em> those two engaged or not? They go on +as if they were and as if they weren’t. It’s most +confusing to plain fellows like me.”</p> + +<p>“I doubt if they know themselves,” said Una, “so +I’d advise you not to waste too much brain-matter +over it, Foxy. What do boys of your age know +about such things?”</p> + +<p>“Not much, not much, I admit. Cupid seems to +pass me by on his rounds. Perhaps it’s the red hair. +Or maybe the freckles. Or because I’m not the +strong, talkative sort like Michael. Or just Fate, +or something.”</p> + +<p>“I expect it’s just Something, as you say,” Una +confirmed in a sympathetic tone. “That seems, +somehow, to explain everything, doesn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“As it were, yes,” retorted Foxy. “But don’t let +the fact that you’ve ensnared Cecil—poor +chap—lead you into putting on expert airs with me. +Betrays inexperience at once, that. Only the very +young do it.”</p> + +<p>His face lighted up.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just thought of something. What a joke! +Suppose we took the Chief Constable’s tip and +engineered a sham robbery to-morrow night? +Priceless, what? Carry it through in real good style. +Make Maurice sit up for a day or two, eh? Do his +liver good if he’d something to worry about.”</p> + +<p>Cecil’s face showed indecision.</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t mind giving Maurice a twinge or two +just to teach him manners,” he confessed. “But I +don’t see much in the notion as it stands, Foxy. +Maurice is posting a keeper in the museum, you +know; and that complicates things a bit. The +keeper would spot any of us tampering with things. +He knows us all as well as his own brother.”</p> + +<p>“Not in fancy dress, with a mask on, dear boy. +Don’t forget that part of it.</p> + +<blockquote class="verse"> + + <p class="i1">‘Fancy me in fancy dress,</p> + <p class="i1">Fancy me as Good Queen Bess!’ ”</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>he hummed softly. “Only I don’t think I’ll come as +Good Queen Bess, after all.”</p> + +<p>Cecil knitted his brows slightly and seemed to be +considering Foxy’s idea.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t mind giving Maurice a start,” he +admitted half-reluctantly. “And your notion might be +good enough if one could work it out properly. +Question is, can you? Suppose you suddenly make a +grab for some of the stuff. The keeper’ll be down on +you like a shot. He’ll yell for help; and you’ll be +pinched for a cert. before you could get away. +There doesn’t seem to be anything in it, Foxy.”</p> + +<p>“Hold on for a minute. I’ll see my way through +it.”</p> + +<p>Foxy took a cigarette, lighted it, and seemed to +cogitate deeply over the first few puffs.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it!” he announced. “It’s dead easy. +Suppose one of us grabs the keeper while the other +helps himself to the till? We could easily knock out +the keeper between us and get off all right without +an alarm being raised.”</p> + +<p>Cecil shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, I draw the line at using a sand-bag or +a knuckle-duster on our own keeper. That’s barred, +Foxy. Think again.”</p> + +<p>“There’s aye a way,” Foxy assured him sententiously. +“Give me another jiffy or two. This is how +it goes. We mustn’t knock out the keeper. We +mustn’t be recognized. We’ve got to get away +scot-free, or the joke would be on us. These the +conditions?”</p> + +<p>Cecil nodded.</p> + +<p>“This is where pure genius comes in,” Foxy +announced with pride. “How does one recognize +any one? By looking at ’em. So if the keeper can’t +look at us, he won’t recognize us. That’s as sound as +Euclid, if not sounder.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” asked Una, joining in the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Well, he won’t recognize us if the place is dark, +then,” explained Foxy, triumphantly. “All we have +to do is to get the light in the room switched off, and +the thing’s as good as done.”</p> + +<p>“That seems to hit the mark,” Cecil agreed. “But +that makes it a three-handed job, you know: one to +grab the keeper; one to snaffle the stuff; and one to +pull out the fuse of the museum light from the +fuse-box. Where’s our third man?”</p> + +<p>Una leaned forward eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that part for you! I’d like to make +Maurice sit up. He hasn’t been very nice to me +lately; and I want to pay him out just a little.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, Una,” Cecil interrupted. “You can’t +be mixed up in a joke of this sort. There’s almost +bound to be a row after it. It doesn’t matter in my +case; Maurice has his knife into me anyway, you +know. But there’s no need for you to be getting your +fingers nipped.”</p> + +<p>Una brushed the suggestion aside.</p> + +<p>“What can Maurice do to me even if he does find +out? I’ve nothing to do with him. And, besides, how +is he going to find out anything about it? I suppose +you’ll just keep the things for a day or two and then +return them by some way that he can’t trace. He’ll +never know who did it, unless we let it out +ourselves. And we mustn’t let it out, of course.”</p> + +<p>Foxy nodded his agreement. Cecil was longer in +his consideration; but at last he seemed to fall in +with the arrangement.</p> + +<p>“Well, so long as Una’s name isn’t mixed up in it, +Foxy, I’m your man. It’s a silly caper; but I’m not +above going into it for the sport of vexing my good +brother.”</p> + +<p>“Right!” said Foxy, with relief. “Now the next +article: What’s the best thing to go for? It must be +portable, of course.”</p> + +<p>Cecil pondered for a moment; then, as a thought +struck him, he laughed.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the game. It may be news to you, Foxy, +but my good brother is taking steps to sell off our +collections.”</p> + +<p>Foxy was quite plainly staggered by this news.</p> + +<p>“All the stuff your father got together? Surely +not! Well, that’s the limit!”</p> + +<p>“Quite,” confirmed Cecil. “I’d prevent it if I +could; but he’s got the whip-hand, and that’s +all there is to it.”</p> + +<p>Foxy seemed still slightly incredulous.</p> + +<p>“Why, your Governor loved that stuff as it were +a child! And Maurice doesn’t need the money he’ll +get for it. It’s . . . it’s shameful! My word! If I +were in your shoes, Cecil, I believe I’d really steal +the stuff instead of only pretending to grab it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorely tempted,” said Cecil, half-grimly. +“Now here’s the point. It seems Maurice has +got into touch with Kessock, the Yank millionaire. +Kessock wants to buy the Medusa Medallions—the +very thing my father set most store by in the whole +lot. Kessock’s sent over an agent of his—this fellow +Foss who’s staying here just now—to settle up the +business, see to the genuineness of the things, and +so forth. I’ve nothing against Foss. He’s only doing +his job and he seems all right. I don’t like some of +his American manners; but that’s neither here nor +there. The point is, the deal’s just going to be closed. +Now if we lift these medallions, won’t Maurice look +an extra-sized ass?”</p> + +<p>“Absoluto!” said Foxy. “I see what you’re after. +We lift ’em. Foss wants ’em at once. He can’t get +’em. P’raps the deal’s off—for the time at least. And +Maurice looks a prize ape.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Cecil snapped, angrily. “That’ll perhaps +teach him a lesson.”</p> + +<p>Una Rainhill had been thinking while this last +part of the conversation had been going on.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing you haven’t provided against, +Foxy,” she pointed out. “Suppose you manage +everything as you’ve arranged. Even if you get +clear away from the museum, there’s almost certain +to be some one in the passage outside who’ll see you +rush out. And then the game would be up. It’s not +enough to dowse the light in the museum. You’ll +need to put all the house lights out as well.”</p> + +<p>“That’s sound,” Foxy agreed at once. “That +means that you’ll need to pull out the main switch +instead of just the fuse of the museum. It’s an even +easier job, with no chance of a mistake in it. And +what a spree it’ll be. The whole shop will be buzzing +like an overturned hive! It’ll be great sport. And, +of course, there’ll be such a wild confusion before +they get the lights on again, that we’ll come out of +it absolutely O.K. All we have to do is to saunter +quietly out of the museum and help to restore order +among the rabble in the dark. By the time the lights +go on again, we’ll be anywhere it suits us to be. +That’s a master-stroke of yours, Una. Couldn’t be +bettered.”</p> + +<p>Cecil glanced at his wrist-watch.</p> + +<p>“Time’s getting on, Foxy. We’ve sketched the +general idea, but we must get this thing down to +dots now. Everything will depend on synchronizing +things exactly. We can’t afford to leave affairs to +the last moment; for we mustn’t be seen together, +you know, to-morrow night.”</p> + +<p>Foxy nodded assent and pulled out a notebook.</p> + +<p>“Here it is, then,” he declared. “I’ll make three +copies—one for each of us—and we can burn ’em +once we’ve memorized ’em later on. Now, first of +all, we can’t start our game too early. That’d be a +mistake. Let ’em all get well mixed up in dancing +and so forth, before we begin operations.”</p> + +<p>Cecil and Una assented to this at once.</p> + +<p>“Midnight’s the limit at the other end,” Foxy +pointed out. “Can’t afford to wait for the +unmasking, for then the keeper would know us and +remember we’d been in the museum when the thing +happened.”</p> + +<p>His fellow-conspirators made no objection.</p> + +<p>“In between those limits, I think this would be +about right,” Foxy proposed. “First of all, we set +our three watches to the same time. Better do it +now, for fear of forgetting.”</p> + +<p>When this had been done, he continued:</p> + +<p>“At 11.40 Una goes to the main switch. You’ll +have to show her where it is, Cecil, either to-night +or to-morrow morning. At 11.40, also, Cecil and I +wander independently into the museum. I remember +quite well where the medallions are kept.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment,” interrupted Cecil. “Just +remember that the three real medallions and your +three electrotypes are lying side by side in the glass +case. The real medallions are in the top row; your +electros are the bottom row.”</p> + +<p>Foxy made a note of this and then went on:</p> + +<p>“Your business, Cecil, will be to mark down the +keeper. Get so near him that you can jump on him +for certain the very instant the lights go out. Make +sure you can get his hands or his wrists at the first +grab. You mustn’t fumble it or you’ll shipwreck the +whole caboodle.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll manage it all right,” Cecil assured him.</p> + +<p>“In the meantime I’ll be stooping over the medallion +case, looking at the stuff, with something in my +hand to break the glass. I’ll have a thick glove, so +as not to get cut with the edges when I put my hand +in.”</p> + +<p>“That’s sound,” said Cecil, “I hadn’t thought of +the splinters.”</p> + +<p>“Blood would give us away at once,” Foxy pointed +out. “Now comes the real business. At a quarter +to twelve precisely Una pulls out the switch. As +soon as the light goes, Cecil jumps on the keeper +while I smash the glass of the case and grab the top +row of the medallions. After that, we both cut for +the door and mingle with the mob. And remember, +not a word said during the whole affair. Our voices +would give us away to the keeper.”</p> + +<p>He scribbled two extra copies of his time-table +and handed one of these to each of the other +conspirators.</p> + +<p>“Now, for my sake, don’t botch this business,” he +added. “I’ve played a joke or two in my time, but +this is the best I’ve ever done, and I don’t want it +spoiled by inattention to details. It’ll be worth all +the trouble to see Maurice’s face when he finds +what’s happened.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch03"> + +<h2>CHAPTER III. <br> The Theft at the Masked Ball</h2> + +<p>“I’m thankful I took my wings off,” said Ariel, leaning +back in her chair with a soft sigh of satisfaction. +“You’ve no notion how much you long to sit down +when you know you daren’t do it for fear of crushing +the frames of these things. It’s not tiredness; it’s +simply tantalization.”</p> + +<p>She turned her eyes inquisitively on the bearded +figure of her partner.</p> + +<p>“I wonder who you’re supposed to be?” she +mused. “You ought to have a ticket, with a costume +like that. I can’t guess who you imagine you +are—or who you really are, for that matter.”</p> + +<p>Her companion showed no desire to enlighten her +on the last point.</p> + +<p>“ ‘My quaint Ariel, hark in thine ear,’ ” he quoted, +but she failed to recognize the tones of his voice.</p> + +<p>“Oh, now I see! We did ‘The Tempest’ one year +at school. So you’re Prospero, are you? Well, don’t +let’s begin by any misunderstandings. If you think +you’re entitled to act your part by ordering me +about, you’re far mistaken. My trade union +positively refuses to permit any overtime.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve left my book and staff in the cloak-room,” +Prospero confessed, laughingly, “otherwise, +malignant spirit . . .”</p> + +<p>“ ‘That’s my noble master!’ ” quoted Ariel, ironically. +“Prospero was a cross old thing. I suppose +you couldn’t even throw in a bit of conjuring to keep +up appearances? It’s almost expected of you.”</p> + +<p>Prospero looked cautiously round the +winter-garden in which they were sitting.</p> + +<p>“Not much field here for my illimitable powers,” +he grumbled disparagingly, “unless you’d like me to +turn Falstaff over there into a white rabbit. And that +would startle his partner somewhat, I’m afraid, so +we’d better not risk it.”</p> + +<p>He pondered for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I hate to disappoint you, Ariel. What about a +turn at divination? Would it amuse you if I told your +fortune, revealed the secrets of your soul, and what +not? This is how I do it; it’s called Botanomancy, if +you desire to pursue your studies on a more +convenient occasion.”</p> + +<p>He stretched up his hand and plucked a leaf from +the tropical plant above his head. Ariel watched him +mischievously from behind her mask.</p> + +<p>“Well, Prospero, get along with it, will you? The +next dance will be starting sooner than immediately.”</p> + +<p>Prospero pretended to study the leaf minutely +before continuing.</p> + +<p>“I see a girl who likes to play at having her own +way . . . and isn’t too scrupulous in her methods +of getting it. She is very happy . . . happier, +perhaps, than she has ever been before. . . . I see two +Thresholds, one of which she has just crossed, the +other which she will cross after this next dance, I +think. Yes, that is correct. There’s some influence in +the background. . . .”</p> + +<p>He broke off and regarded Ariel blandly.</p> + +<p>“So much for the signs. Now for the interpretation. +You are obviously in the very early twenties; +so I infer that the Threshold you are about to cross +lies between your twentieth and twenty-first birthday. +Putting that along with the character which the +leaf revealed . . . Why, Ariel, you must be Miss +Joan Chacewater, and you’ve just got engaged!”</p> + +<p>“You seem to know me all right, Prospero,” Joan +admitted. “But how about the engagement? It’s too +dim in here for you to have seen my ring; and besides, +I’ve had my hand in the folds of my dress ever +since I sat down.”</p> + +<p>“Except for one moment when you settled the +band round your hair,” Prospero pointed out. “The +ring you’re wearing is more than a shade too large +for your finger—obviously it’s so new that you +haven’t had time to get it altered to fit, yet.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to notice things,” Joan admitted. “I +wonder who you are.”</p> + +<p>Prospero brushed her inquiry aside.</p> + +<p>“A little parlour conjuring to finish up the part in +due form?” he suggested. “It’s almost time for our +dance. Look!”</p> + +<p>He held out an empty hand for Joan’s inspection, +then made a slight snatch in the air as if seizing +something in flight. When he extended his hand +again, a small diamond star glittered in the palm.</p> + +<p>“Take it, Joan,” said Sir Clinton in his natural +voice. “I meant to send it to you to-morrow; but +at the last moment I thought I might as well bring it +with me and have the pleasure of giving it to you +myself. It’s your birthday present. I’m an old +enough friend to give you diamonds on a special +occasion like this.”</p> + +<p>“You took me in completely,” Joan admitted, after +she had thanked him. “I couldn’t make out who +you were; and I thought you were the limit in +insolence when you began talking about my private +affairs.”</p> + +<p>“It’s Michael Clifton, of course?” Sir Clinton +asked.</p> + +<p>“Why ‘of course’? One would think he’d been +my last chance, by the way you put it. This living on +a magic island has ruined your manners, my good +Prospero.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he won’t let you down, Joan. You—shall +I say, even you, to be tactful—couldn’t have done +better in the raffle.”</p> + +<p>Before Joan could reply, a girl in Egyptian costume +came past their chairs. Joan stopped her with a +gesture.</p> + +<p>“Pin this pretty thing in the front of my band, +please, Cleopatra. Be sure you get it in the right +place.”</p> + +<p>She held out the diamond star. Cleopatra took it +without comment and fastened it in position hastily.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” Joan invited, “your next partner will +find you here when he comes. Tell us about Cæsar +and Antony and all the rest of your disreputable past. +Make it exciting.”</p> + +<p>Cleopatra shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Sorry I can’t stop just now. Neither Julius nor +Antony put in an appearance to-night, so I’m spending +my arts on a mere centurion. He’s a stickler for +punctuality—being a Roman soldier.”</p> + +<p>She glanced at her wrist-watch.</p> + +<p>“I must fly at once. O reservoir! as we say in +Egypt, you know.”</p> + +<p>With a nod of farewell, she hastened along the +alley and out of the winter-garden.</p> + +<p>“She seems a trifle nervous about something,” Sir +Clinton commented, indifferently.</p> + +<p>Joan smoothed down her filmy tunic.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it time we moved?” she asked. “I see +Falstaff’s gone away, so you can’t turn him into a +white rabbit now; and there doesn’t seem to be +anything else you could enchant just at present. The +orchestra will be starting in a moment, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>She rose as she spoke. Sir Clinton followed her +example, and they made their way out of the +winter-garden.</p> + +<p>“What costume is Michael Clifton wearing to-night?” +asked Sir Clinton as the orchestra played +the opening bars of the dance. “I ought to +congratulate him; and it’s easier to pick him up at a +distance if I know how he’s dressed.”</p> + +<p>“Look for something in eighteenth-century clothes +and a large wig, then,” Joan directed. “He says +he’s Macheath out of the ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ I suppose +he’s quite as like that as anything else. You’ll perhaps +recognize him best by a large artificial mole at the +left corner of his mouth. I observed it particularly +myself.”</p> + +<p>She noticed that her partner seemed more on the +alert than the occasion required.</p> + +<p>“What are you worried about?” she demanded. +“You seem to be listening for something; and you +can’t hear anything, you know, even if you tried, +because of the orchestra.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook off his air of preoccupation.</p> + +<p>“The fact is, Joan, I’ve been worried all evening. +I’m really afraid of something happening to-night. I +don’t much like this mask business with all that stuff +in the collections. I’ve a feeling in my bones that +there might be trouble.”</p> + +<p>Joan laughed at his gloomy premonitions.</p> + +<p>“You won’t be kept on the rack much longer, +that’s one good thing. There’s just this dance, then +the march-past for judging the costumes, and then it +will be midnight when everybody must unmask. So +you’ll have to make the best of your fears in the next +half-hour. After that there’ll be no excuse for them.”</p> + +<p>“Meanwhile, on with the dance, eh?” said Sir +Clinton. “I see it’s no use trying to give you a +nightmare. You’re too poor a subject to repay the labour +and trouble. Besides, this music’s terribly straining +on the vocal cords if one tries to compete with it.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, however, the orchestra reached a +diminuendo in the score and sank to comparative +quietness. Joan looked here and there about the +room as they danced and at last detected the figure +for which she was searching.</p> + +<p>“That’s Michael over there,” she pointed out, “the +one dancing with the girl dressed as . . .”</p> + +<p>Across the sound of the music there cut the sharp +report of a small-calibre pistol fired in some adjacent +room. On the heels of it came the crash and tinkle of +falling glass, and, almost simultaneously, a cry for +help in a man’s voice.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton let Joan’s hand go and turned to the +door; but before he could take a step, the lights +above them vanished and the room was plunged in +darkness. Joan felt a hand come out and grip her arm.</p> + +<p>“That you, Joan?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve taken out the main switch,” Sir Clinton +said hurriedly. “Get hold of some man at once and +show him where it is. We want the lights as quick as +possible. I can trust you not to lose your head. Take +a man with you for fear of trouble. We don’t know +what’s happening.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” Joan assured him.</p> + +<p>“Hurry!” Sir Clinton urged.</p> + +<p>His hand dropped from her arm as he moved +invisibly away towards the door. In the darkness +around her she could hear movements and startled +exclamations. The orchestra, after mechanically playing +a couple of bars, had fallen to silence. Some one +blundered into her and passed on before she could +put out her hand.</p> + +<p>“Well, at least I know where the door is,” she +assured herself; and she began to move towards it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the cries for help continued to come +from the museum. Then, abruptly, they were hushed; +and she shuddered as she thought of what that +cessation might mean. She moved forward and came to +what seemed an unobstructed space on the floor, over +which she was able to advance freely.</p> + +<p>Her whole senses were concentrated on reaching +the exit; but her mind appeared to work independently +of her own volition and to conjure up the +possibilities behind this series of events. Sir Clinton +had evidently expected some criminal attempt that +night; and he had assumed that the museum would +be the objective. But suppose he were wrong. +Perhaps the affair in the museum was only a blind to +draw towards it all the men outside the ball-room. +Then, when they were disposed of, there might come +an incursion here. Most of the women had taken +advantage of their fancy dress to deck themselves out +with jewellery, and a few armed men could easily +reap a small fortune in a minute or two. Despite the +soundness of her nerves, she began to feel anxious, +and to conjure up still more appalling pictures.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her eyes were dazzled by a flash of light +as a man beside her struck a match. Almost at the +same moment she felt a hand on her shoulder and +she was pulled backwards so brusquely that she +almost lost her balance and slipped.</p> + +<p>“Put out that match, you fool!” said Michael’s +voice. “Do you want to have these girls’ dresses in +a blaze?”</p> + +<p>The flare of the match had revealed a circle of +startled faces. The room was filled with excited voices +and a sound of confused movements. Over at the +orchestra a music-stand fell with a clash of metal. +Then, close beside her in the darkness, Joan heard a +girl’s voice repeating monotonously in tones of acute +fear: “What does it mean? Oh, what does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“Much good <em>that</em> does any one,” Joan muttered, +contemptuously. Then, aloud, she called: “Michael!”</p> + +<p>Before he could reply, there came a sharp +exclamation in a man’s voice:</p> + +<p>“Stand back, there! My partner’s fainted.”</p> + +<p>The possibilities involved in a panic suddenly +became all too clear in Joan’s mind. If half a dozen +people lost their heads, the girl might be badly +hurt.</p> + +<p>Michael’s voice was lifted again, in a tone that +would have carried through a storm at sea:</p> + +<p>“Everybody stand fast! You’ll be trampling the +girl underfoot if you don’t take care. Stand still, +confound you! Pull the blinds up and throw back the +curtains. It’s a moonlight night.”</p> + +<p>There was a rustling as those nearest the windows +set about the execution of his orders. Light suddenly +appeared, revealing the strained faces and uneasy +attitudes of the company. Joan turned to Michael.</p> + +<p>“Come with me and put in the switch, Michael. +Sir Clinton’s gone to the museum. We must get the +lights on quick.”</p> + +<p>Michael, with a word to his partner, followed his +fiancée towards the door. A thought seemed to strike +him just as he was leaving the room:</p> + +<p>“Wait here, everybody, till we get the lights on +again. You’ll just run risks by moving about in the +dark outside. It’s nothing. Probably only a fuse +blown.”</p> + +<p>“Now then, Joan, where’s that switch?” he added +as they passed out of the door.</p> + +<p>It was pitch-dark in the rest of the house; but +Joan knew her way and was able to grope along the +corridors without much difficulty. As they came near +the switch-box, the lights flashed up again. One of +the servants appeared round a corner.</p> + +<p>“Some one had pulled out the switch, sir,” he +explained. “It took me some time to make my way to +it and put it in again.”</p> + +<p>“Stout fellow!” said Michael, approvingly.</p> + +<p>At that moment, a voice shouted above the +confused noises of the house:</p> + +<p>“Come on, you fellows! He’s got away. Lend hand +to chase him.”</p> + +<p>And a sound of running steps filled the hall, as +the male guests poured out in answer to the +summons.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need me any longer, Joan?” Michael +questioned. “Right! Then I’m off to lend a hand.”</p> + +<p>He ran to join the rest.</p> + +<p>Left alone, Joan retraced her steps to the ball-room; +but instead of re-entering it, she passed on in +the direction of the museum, whither a number of +the guests were making their way also.</p> + +<p>“I hope nobody’s got badly hurt,” she thought to +herself as she hurried along. “I do wish I’d taken +the hint and not asked to have that collection thrown +open to-night.”</p> + +<p>Much to her relief, she found Sir Clinton sitting on +a chair beside the museum door. In the doorway +stood the keeper, looking none the worse and busying +himself with fending off the more inquisitive among +the guests who wished to enter the room. Joan +noticed that the museum itself was in darkness +though the lights were burning in the rest of the +house.</p> + +<p>“You’re not hurt, are you, Sir Clinton?” she asked +as she came up to him.</p> + +<p>“Nothing to speak of. The fellow kicked me on +the ankle as he came out. I’m temporarily lamed, +that’s all. Nothing to worry about, I think.”</p> + +<p>He rubbed his ankle as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Are you all right, Mold?” Joan inquired.</p> + +<p>The keeper reassured her.</p> + +<p>“No harm done, Miss Joan. They didn’t hurt me. +But I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t manage to get hold +of them. They were on me before I could do anything, +me being so taken aback by the lights going +out.”</p> + +<p>“What’s happened?” Joan questioned Sir Clinton. +“Has anything been stolen?”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know yet what’s gone,” he replied, +answering her last question first. “The bulk of the +lamp’s smashed in there”—he nodded towards the +museum—“and until they bring a fresh one, we +can’t find out what damage has been done. As to +what happened, it seems rather confused at present; +but I expect we shall get it cleared up eventually. +There seems to have been a gang at work; and I’m +afraid some things may be missing when we begin to +look over the collection.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d taken your hint,” Joan admitted, +frankly. “It’s partly my blame, I feel, for neglecting +your advice. I was silly to laugh at you when you +spoke about it.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t worry about it, if I were you, Joan,” +Sir Clinton reassured her. “It was really only one +chance in a million that anything of the sort would +happen to-night. Besides, if we manage to nail this +fellow that they’re all after, we may be able to get +some clue to his confederates. Quite evidently there +was a gang at work, and he may be induced to split +on his friends if we can lay hands on him; and then +we’ll get the stuff back again without much trouble, +I hope.”</p> + +<p>He glanced at her, as though to see the effect of his +words; then, as his eyes caught her mask, he seemed +struck by another idea.</p> + +<p>“That reminds me,” he said, “we must get these +masks off. Send some one round at once, please, Joan, +to order every one to unmask now. And have all the +outer doors shut, too. It’s a futile precaution, I’m +afraid; because any one could slip out during the +confusion when there was no light: but we may as +well do what we can even at this stage.”</p> + +<p>He removed his own mask as he spoke, and pulled +away the false beard which he had worn as Prospero. +Joan loosened her mask and went off to give the +necessary orders. In a few moments she returned.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me what did happen,” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“There’s no one killed, or even hurt,” Sir Clinton +assured her. “This ankle of mine’s the only casualty, +so far as I know; and I expect I’ll be able to limp +about quite comfortably by to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I’m thankful it’s no worse,” said Joan, with relief.</p> + +<p>“All I know about the business comes from Mold, +here,” Sir Clinton went on. “It seems he was +patrolling the museum at the time the thing happened, +under your brother’s orders. Perhaps half a dozen +people—under a dozen, he says, at any rate—were in +the place then. Some of them were examining the +cases in the bays; some of them were looking at the +things in the big centre case. Mold doesn’t remember +what costumes they were wearing. I don’t blame +him. People had been passing in and out all through +the evening; and there was no reason why he should +take particular note of the guests at that special +moment.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced up at the keeper, who was +looking rather ashamed at his inability to furnish +better information.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry, Mold. I doubt if I’d have had +any more to tell, myself, if I’d been there. One can’t +be expected to remember everything.”</p> + +<p>He turned back to Joan.</p> + +<p>“The next thing that happened was a pistol-shot, +and the light went out. Some light filtered in from +the door of the room, for the lamps in the hall here +were still blazing; but before Mold could do +anything, some one gripped him from behind and got his +wrists twisted behind his back. In the struggle Mold +was swung round, so that he couldn’t see the central +case even in what light there was. Then the lights +outside were switched off and he heard a smashing of +glass. There was a bit of a struggle, apparently; and +then all at once he felt himself let loose. As soon as +he got free, he lit a match and posted himself at the +door to prevent any one getting away; and he stayed +there until the lights went on again. Then he made +all his prisoners unmask and those whom he didn’t +recognize himself he kept there until some one he +knew came to identify them. They’re all people you +know quite well, Joan. More than half of them were +girls, who seem rather unlikely people to go in for +robbery with violence, to put it mildly. Mold made +a list of them, if we happen to need it. But I don’t +think we’re likely to find the criminal amongst them. +This affair was too well planned for that. The real +gang have got clean away, I’m pretty sure.”</p> + +<p>“And what about your ankle?” demanded Joan.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that? I happened to arrive at the door fairly +quickly after the lights went out. Just as I got to it, +a fellow came dashing out; and I made a grab at him +as well as I could in the dark. But one can’t see +what one’s doing; and I didn’t get a decent grip on +him as he charged out on top of me. He landed me a +fairly effective kick—right on the ankle-bone, by +bad luck—and then, before I could get my hands on +him properly he tore himself clear and was off down +the hall towards the front door. I hobbled after him +as best I could; and there he was—a fellow dressed +in Pierrot costume—running quite leisurely over the +gravel sweep and making for the woods. I couldn’t +go after him; but he was quite clear in the moonlight +and he’d a long way to go before getting into cover; +so I raised a hue and cry at once, and quite a crowd +of stout fellows are after him. He’ll have to run a bit +faster than he was doing, if he expects to get off. +These pine-woods have no undergrowth to speak of; +and he’ll find it difficult to conceal himself in a +hurry.”</p> + +<p>As Sir Clinton ended his narrative a servant came +hurrying up the hall, bringing a tall pair of steps with +him.</p> + +<p>“Is that the new lamp?” Sir Clinton demanded. +“All right. Light a match or two, Mold, to let him +see where to put the steps. And don’t tramp about +too much while you’re fixing them up, please. I want +to see things undisturbed as far as possible.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch04"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV. <br> The Chase in the Woods</h2> + +<p>In earlier days, Michael Clifton had been reckoned +among the more creditable runners in the School +Mile; and he had never allowed himself to fall out of +training. Thus as he joined the throng of would-be +pursuers emerging from the house, he felt a certain +confidence that the fugitive would at any rate have +to put his best foot foremost if he was to avoid being +run down. Before he had covered twenty yards, +however, Michael found himself handicapped by his +costume. The full-bottomed wig dropped off almost +immediately, and the shoes were not so troublesome +as he had feared; but the sleeves of his coat +interfered with his movements, and the long skirts +hampered his legs.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if these coves in the eighteenth century +ever ran a step,” he grumbled. “If they did it in +this kit, they must have been wonders. I must get +rid of the truck.”</p> + +<p>He pulled up and stripped off the full-skirted coat; +then, as an after-thought, he removed the long +waistcoat as well. While doing this, he glanced ahead to +see how the chase was progressing. The light of the +full moon, now at its highest in the cloudless heavens, +lit up the whole landscape before him almost as +clearly as daylight. Far ahead, he could see the white +figure of the escaping thief as it ascended the long, +gentle slope towards the pine-woods.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what tempted the beggar to choose that +particular costume on a night like this,” Michael +speculated. “It’s the most conspicuous affair he could +have put on. Well, all the better for us.”</p> + +<p>The quarry had evidently secured a fair start, for +the nearest group of pursuers was still a considerable +distance behind him. The hunters were strung out +in an irregular file, knotted here and there with +groups of three or four runners; and the line +extended back almost to Michael’s position. Behind +him, he could hear fresh reinforcements emerging +from the house, shouting as they came.</p> + +<p>“They’d better save their breath,” Michael commented +critically to himself. “That long rise’ll take +it out of a good many of them.”</p> + +<p>He settled down to his favourite stride; and very +soon began to overtake the laggards at the tail of the +chase. In front of him he saw a Cardinal Richelieu +with kilted cassock; but the Cardinal found his +costume too much for him and pulled out of the race +as Michael passed him. Shortly after, Michael drew +level with an early nineteenth-century dandy and for +a few seconds they raced neck and neck. The dandy, +however, was unable to stay the pace.</p> + +<p>“It’s these damned Johnny Walker boots,” he +gasped, as he fell behind.</p> + +<p>Michael, running comfortably, began to take a +faint amusement in the misfortunes of his colleagues. +He could not help smiling as he passed a Minotaur, +sitting beside the track and making furious efforts +to disentangle himself from his pasteboard bull’s +head which seemed to have become clamped in +position. But as he found two more of the hunters +by the wayside, a fresh point of view occurred to +him.</p> + +<p>“If they’re going to drop out at this rate, there +won’t be many of us left at the finish to tackle the +beggar; and he’s armed. We’ll need all the men we +can scrape up, if we’re to make sure of him.”</p> + +<p>Glancing ahead again, he was relieved to see that +he had gained a fair amount of ground on the fugitive; +and now he began to pass runner after runner, +as the rising slope told on the weaker pursuers. He +reached the group at the head of the chase just as +the escaping burglar dashed into the shadow of the +woods a hundred yards in advance.</p> + +<p>“He’ll dodge us now, if he can,” Michael warned +his companions, who evidently were unacquainted +with the ground. “Keep your eyes on him at any +cost.”</p> + +<p>But as they entered the pine arcades, Michael +found that he was mistaken. The quarry maintained +his lead; but he made no effort to leave the beaten +track. Ahead of them they could see his white-clad +figure dappled with light and darkness as he sped up +the broad pathway.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, Michael remembered what lay beyond +the pine-wood. Without raising his voice, for fear +the runner in front should hear him, he explained +the situation.</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t know what he’s running into. There’s +a big quarry up there, with barbed wire fences on +each side. If we can keep him straight for it, we’ll +have him pinned.”</p> + +<p>On went the fugitive, still maintaining his lead and +glancing over his shoulder from time to time, as +though he were gauging the distance which separated +him from his closest pursuers.</p> + +<p>“The beggar can run, certainly,” Michael admitted +to himself. “But running isn’t going to help him much +in a minute or two. We have him on toast.”</p> + +<p>In a few moments the moon shone bright through +the trees ahead. As they reached the edge of the +wood, the white figure in front of them showed up +clearly as it sprinted across the strip of open ground, +straight for the spinney which bounded the quarry +cliff. With a gesture, Michael called his motley group +to a halt.</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute,” he ordered. “You, Mephistopheles, +get off to the left there, outside the spinney. +Go on until you strike barbed wire. Take this +Prehistoric Man—oh, it’s you, is it, Frankie? Well, both +of you get down there and act as stoppers, so that +he can’t sneak off along the fence. Oliver Cromwell +and you in the funny coat! You’re to do the same +over yonder on the right. Put some hurry into it, +now! And don’t move in towards him till you get +the word. The rest of you, extend a bit along the +near edge of the spinney. Not too close; give +yourselves a chance of spotting him if he breaks cover. +And don’t yell unless you actually see him. We’ve +got him shut in now, and we can afford to wait for +reinforcements. Here they come!”</p> + +<p>Two panting runners breasted the hill as he spoke. +At this moment there came from beyond the spinney +the sound of a splash. Michael was taken aback.</p> + +<p>“The beggar can’t have dived over, surely. It’s +full of rocks down below. We’ll have to hurry up. +He might get away, after all, if he’s extra lucky.”</p> + +<p>A fresh group of pursuers gave him the reinforcements +he needed; and he fed them into his cordon at +its weak points.</p> + +<p>“Pass the word for the whole line to close in!”</p> + +<p>The cordon began to contract around the spinney, +the wide gaps in it closing up as it advanced.</p> + +<p>“The beggar’s probably got a pistol; look out for +yourselves among the trees,” Michael cautioned them +as they reached the boundary of the plantation. +“Don’t hurry. And keep in touch, whatever you do.”</p> + +<p>He himself was at the centre of the line and was +the first to enter the tiny wood. The advance was +slow; for here there was some undergrowth which +might offer a hiding-place to the fugitive; and this +was carefully scrutinized, clump by clump, before +the line moved forward as a whole. Michael meant +to make certain of capturing the burglar; and he +could afford now to go about the matter deliberately. +Fresh reinforcements in twos and threes were still +streaming in from the pine-wood.</p> + +<p>It took only a few minutes, however, to draw his +screen through the spinney; for the belt of trees was +a narrow one. Every instant he expected to hear a +shout indicating that the quarry had been run to +earth; but none came. His line emerged intact from +the trees, forming an arc of which the cliff-face was +the chord; and as his men came out into the +moonlight Michael had to admit to himself that no +one could well have crept through any gap in the +cordon.</p> + +<p>“He must be out here, hiding among these seats,” +he shouted. “Don’t break your line any more than +you can help. Advance to that balustrade in front. +Rush him, if he shows up.”</p> + +<p>Now that he was sure of his quarry, Michael at +last had leisure to note the tincture of the bizarre in +the scene before him. The high-riding moon whitened +the terrace and touched with glamour the motley +costumes of the hunters preparing for their final +swoop. Here Robin Hood and a hatless Flying Dutchman +were stooping to peer below one of the marble +seats. Farther along the line Lohengrin and a +Milkman discussed something eagerly in whispers. On +the left the Prehistoric Man loomed up like a +Troglodyte emerging from his cave; while beyond +him Mephistopheles leaned upon the railing, scanning +the water below. From the inky shadow of the +spinney Felix the Cat stole softly out to join the +cordon.</p> + +<p>“A weird-looking gang we are,” Michael +commented to himself as he gazed about him.</p> + +<p>Only a few steps separated the hunters from the +clear floor of the terrace. In a second or two at most, +the man they were chasing must break cover and +make a dash for liberty or else tamely surrender. +Slowly the line crept forward.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got him now!” a voice cried, exultantly.</p> + +<p>But the living net swept on past the marble tier +without catching anything in its meshes. Between it +and the balustrade was nothing but the untenanted +paving of the terrace.</p> + +<p>“He’s got away!” ejaculated some one in tones of +complete amazement. “Well, I’m damned if I see +how he managed it.”</p> + +<p>The chain broke up into individuals, who hurried +hither and thither on the esplanade searching even +in the most unlikely spots for the missing fugitive. +All at once Michael’s eye caught something which +had been concealed in the shadows thrown by the +moon.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a rope, you fellows! He’s gone down the +face of the cliff. Swum the lake, probably.”</p> + +<p>Mephistopheles dissented in a languid drawl.</p> + +<p>“Not he, Clifton. I’ve had my eye on the water +ever since I got up to the barbed wire. You could +spot the faintest ripple in this moonshine. He didn’t +get off that way.”</p> + +<p>“Sure of that?” demanded Michael.</p> + +<p>“Dead sure. I watched specially.”</p> + +<p>Michael hesitated for a moment or two, +considering the situation. Then his face cleared.</p> + +<p>“I see it! I remember there’s a cave right below +here, in the cliff-face. He’s gone to ground there. +Half of you get through the barbed wire on the right; +the rest take the left side. Line up on the banks when +you get down to the water. He may swim for it yet +if we don’t hurry.”</p> + +<p>They raced off to carry out his instructions, while +Michael pulled up the rope and flung it on the +terrace.</p> + +<p>“That cuts off his escape in this direction,” he +said to himself. “Now we can dig him out at leisure.”</p> + +<p>Without hurrying, he made his way down to the +water.</p> + +<p>“There used to be a raft of sorts here,” he explained. +“If we can rout it out, we’ll be able to ferry +across to the cave-mouth without much bother. I +doubt if he’ll show fight once we lay our hands on +him; for he hasn’t an earthly chance of getting +away.”</p> + +<p>He poked about among the sedge on the rim of +the lakelet and at last discovered the decrepit raft.</p> + +<p>“This thing’ll just bear two of us. Do we dig the +beggar out or starve him out? Dig him out, eh? +Well, I want some one to go with me. Here, you, +Frankie”—he turned to the Prehistoric Man—“you’d +better come along. If it comes to a ducking, +you’ve got fewer clothes to spoil than the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>Nothing loath, the Prehistoric Man scrambled +aboard the raft, which sank ominously under the +extra weight.</p> + +<p>“I can’t find anything to pole with,” grumbled +Michael. “Paddle with your flippers, Frankie. It’s +the only thing to do. Get busy with it.”</p> + +<p>Under this primitive method of propulsion, the +progress of the raft was slow; but at last they succeeded +in bringing it under the cliff-face, after which +they were able to work it along by hand. Gradually +they manœuvred it into position in front of the +cave-mouth, which stood only a yard or so above +water-level. Michael leaned forward to the +entrance.</p> + +<p>“You may as well come out quietly,” he warned +the inmate. “It’s no good trying to put up a fight. You +haven’t a dog’s chance.”</p> + +<p>There was no reply of any sort.</p> + +<p>“Hold the damned raft steady, Frankie! You +nearly had me overboard,” expostulated Michael. +“I’m going to light a match. The cave’s as black as +the pit, and I can see nothing.”</p> + +<p>He pulled a silver match-box from his trousers +pocket.</p> + +<p>“Lucky I hadn’t this in my coat; for you don’t +look as if you had a pocket of any sort on you, +Frankie.”</p> + +<p>The first match, damped by the moisture on his +hands, sputtered and died out.</p> + +<p>“<em>Hurry</em> up, Guvnor,” shouted Mephistopheles, +cheerfully, from the bank. “Don’t keep us up +all night with your firework display. It’s getting +a bit chilly, paddling about amongst this sedge. +Not at all the temperature I’m accustomed to at +home.”</p> + +<p>Michael felt for another match and lighted it +successfully. Standing up on the raft, he held the light +above his head and peered into the cavity in the rock. +The Prehistoric Man heard him exclaim in +amazement.</p> + +<p>“Damnation, Frankie! He’s not here! It’s hardly +a cave at all.”</p> + +<p>He put his hands on the cave floor.</p> + +<p>“Hold tight with the raft. I’m going in to make +sure.”</p> + +<p>He scrambled up into the hollow; but almost +immediately his face appeared again in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>“Nothing here. The hole’s barely big enough to +take me in.”</p> + +<p>“Then where’s he gone?” demanded the Prehistoric +Man, who was a creature of few words.</p> + +<p>“I dunno! Must have given us the slip somehow. +If he isn’t here, he must be somewhere else. No +getting round that.”</p> + +<p>He shouted the news to the watchers on the banks; +and a confused sound of argument rose from amongst +the sedge.</p> + +<p>“Not much use hanging round the old home, +Frankie. Pull for shore, sailor. We’d best manhandle +her along the face of the cliff. I’ve had enough +of that paddling.”</p> + +<p>When they touched firm ground again they were +surrounded by their friends, most of whom seemed to +doubt whether the search of the cave had been +properly carried out.</p> + +<p>“I tell you,” declaimed the exasperated Michael, +“I got right into the damned hole! It’s so small that +I nearly broke my nose against the back wall as I +heaved myself inside. It would have been a tight fit +for me and a squirrel together. He’s not there, +whether you like it or not. . . . I can’t help your +troubles, Tommy; you can go and look for yourself, +if you like the job of lying on your tummy on a raft +that’s awash. I shan’t interfere with your simple +pleasures.”</p> + +<p>“But . . .”</p> + +<p>“We’ve lost him. Is that plain enough? There’s +nothing to be done but go home again with our tails +between our legs. I’m going now.”</p> + +<p>He accompanied his friends to the top of the cliff +again; but when he reached the terrace a fresh +thought struck him, and he loitered behind while the +others, soaked and disconsolate, made their way down +into the pine-wood. When the last of them had +disappeared, Michael retraced his steps to the edge of +the cliff.</p> + +<p>“He reached here all right,” he assured himself. +“And he didn’t break back through the cordon.”</p> + +<p>He stooped down, picked up the rope, and +refastened it round one of the pillars of the +balustrade.</p> + +<p>“Every one knows there are secret passages about +Ravensthorpe,” he mused. “Perhaps this beggar has +got on to one of them. And quite possibly the end +of the passage is in that cave down there. That would +explain the rope. I’ll slide down and have another +look round.”</p> + +<p>He got into the cave-mouth without difficulty and +used up the remainder of his matches in a close +examination of the interior of the cavity; but even the +closest scrutiny failed to reveal anything to his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Nothing there but plain rock, so far as I can +see,” he had to admit to himself as the last match +burned out. “That’s a blank end in more senses than +one.”</p> + +<p>Without much difficulty he swarmed up the rope +again, untied it from the balustrade, and coiled it +over his arm.</p> + +<p>“A nice little clue for Sir Clinton Driffield to puzzle +over,” he assured himself. “Sherlock Holmes would +have been on to it at once; found where it was sold +in no time; discovered who bought it before five +minutes had passed; and paralysed Watson with the +whole story that same evening over a pipeful of shag. +We shall see.”</p> + +<p>He threw a last glance round the empty terrace +and then moved off into the spinney. As he passed +into the shadow of the trees he saw, a few yards to +one side, the outline of the Fairy House dappled in +the moonshine which filtered through the leaves +overhead. Half-unconsciously, Michael halted and +looked at the little building.</p> + +<p>“They could never have overlooked that in the +hunt, surely. Well, no harm in having a peep to +make certain.”</p> + +<p>He dropped his coil of rope, stepped across to the +house, and, stooping down, flung open the door. +Inside, he caught a flash of some white fabric.</p> + +<p>“It’s the beggar after all! Here! Come out of +that!”</p> + +<p>He gripped the inmate roughly and hauled him by +main force out of his retreat.</p> + +<p>“Pierrot costume, right enough!” he said to himself +as he extracted the man little by little from his +refuge. Then, having got his victim into the open:</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll turn you over and have a look at your +face . . . Good God! Maurice!”</p> + +<p>For as he turned the man on his back, it was the +face of Maurice Chacewater that met his eyes. But +it was not a normal Maurice whom he saw. The +features were contorted by some excessive emotion +the like of which Michael had never seen.</p> + +<p>“Let me alone, damn you,” Maurice gasped, and +turned over once more on his face, resting his brow +on his arm as though to shut out the spectacle of +Michael’s astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Are you ill?” Michael inquired, solicitously.</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake leave me alone. Don’t stand there +gaping. Clear out, I tell you.”</p> + +<p>Michael looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to have a cheerful kind of brother-in-law +before all’s done, it seems,” he thought to +himself.</p> + +<p>“Can I do anything for you, Maurice?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, go to hell!”</p> + +<p>Michael turned away.</p> + +<p>“It’s fairly clear he doesn’t like my company,” he +reflected, as he stepped across and picked up his coil +of rope from the ground. “But I’ve known politer +ways of showing it, I must say.”</p> + +<p>With a final glance at the prostrate figure of +Maurice, he walked on and took the road back to +Ravensthorpe. But as he went a vision of Maurice’s +face kept passing before his mind’s eye.</p> + +<p>“There’s something damned far wrong with that +beggar, whether it’s an evil conscience or cramp in +the tummy. It might be either of them, by the look +of him. He didn’t seem to want any assistance from +me. That looks more like the evil conscience theory.”</p> + +<p>He dismissed this with a laugh; but gradually he +grew troubled.</p> + +<p>“There he was, in white—same as the burglar. +He’s in a bit of a bate at being discovered, that’s +clear enough. He didn’t half like it, to judge by his +chat.”</p> + +<p>A discomforting hypothesis began to frame itself +in his mind despite his efforts to stifle it.</p> + +<p>“He’s the fellow, if there is one, who would know +all these secret passages about here. Suppose there +really is one leading out of that cave. He could have +swarmed down the rope, got into the cave, sneaked +up the subterranean passage, and got behind us that +way.”</p> + +<p>A fresh fact fitted suddenly in.</p> + +<p>“And of course the other end of the passage may +be in that Fairy House! That would explain his +being there. He’d be waiting to see us off the premises +before he could venture out in his white costume.”</p> + +<p>He pondered over the problem as he hurried with +long strides towards the house.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he concluded, “I’m taking no further +steps in the business. It’s no concern of mine to go +probing into the private affairs of the family I’m +going to marry into. And that’s that.”</p> + +<p>Then, as a fresh aspect of the matter came to his +mind, he gave a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“I must be a stricken idiot! No man would ever +dream of burgling his own house. What would he +gain by it, if he did? The thing’s ridiculous.”</p> + +<p>And the comfort which this view brought him was +sufficient to lighten his steps for the rest of his way.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch05"> + +<h2>CHAPTER V. <br> Sir Clinton in the Museum</h2> + +<p>“There’s the light on again in the museum,” Sir +Clinton observed. “I think we’ll go in and have a +look round, now, to see if the place suggests +anything.”</p> + +<p>Mold stood aside to let them pass, and then resumed +his watch at the door to prevent any one else +from entering the room. The servant had just +finished fitting the new globe in its place and was +preparing to remove the steps which he had used, +when Sir Clinton ordered him to leave them in +position and to await further instructions.</p> + +<p>The museum was a room about forty feet square, +with a lofty ceiling. To judge by the panelling of +the walls, it belonged to the older part of +Ravensthorpe; but the parquet of the floor seemed to be +much more modern. Round the sides were placed +exhibition cases about six feet high; and others of +the same kind jutted out at intervals to form a +series of shallow bays. In the centre of the room, +directly under the lamp, stood a long, flat-topped +case; and the floor beside it was littered with broken +glass.</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll begin at the beginning,” said Sir +Clinton.</p> + +<p>He turned to the servant who stood waiting +beside the steps.</p> + +<p>“Have you got the remains of the broken lamp +there?</p> + +<p>“You can go now,” he added. “We shan’t need you +further.”</p> + +<p>When he had received the smashed lamp, he +examined it.</p> + +<p>“Not much to be made out of that,” he admitted. +“It’s been one of these thousand candle-power gas-filled +things; and there’s practically nothing left of +it but the metal base and a few splinters of glass +sticking to it.”</p> + +<p>He looked up at the fresh lamp hanging above +them.</p> + +<p>“It’s thirty feet or so above the floor. Nothing +short of a fishing-rod would reach it. Evidently they +didn’t smash it by hand.”</p> + +<p>He stooped down and sorted out one or two +small fragments of glass from the debris at his +feet.</p> + +<p>“These are more bits of the lamp, Joan,” he said, +holding them out for her to look at. “You see the +curve of the glass; and you’ll notice that the whole +affair seems to have been smashed almost to smithereens. +There doesn’t seem to be a decent-sized +fragment in the whole lot.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll shut the door, Mold. We’d better +conduct the rest of this business in private.”</p> + +<p>The keeper closed the door of the museum, much +to the disappointment of the group of people who had +clustered about the entrance and were watching the +proceedings with interest.</p> + +<p>“Now, Joan, would you mind going round the +wall-cases and seeing if anything has been taken from +them?”</p> + +<p>Joan obediently paced round the room and soon +came back to report that nothing seemed to have +been removed.</p> + +<p>“All the cases were locked, you know,” she +explained. “And there’s no glass broken in any of +them. So far as I can see, nothing’s missing from the +shelves.”</p> + +<p>“What about that safe let into the wall over +yonder?” Sir Clinton inquired.</p> + +<p>“It’s used to house one or two extra valuable +things from time to time,” Joan explained. “But +to-night everything was put on show, and the safe’s +empty.”</p> + +<p>She went over and swung the door open, showing +the vacant shelves within.</p> + +<p>“We do take precautions usually,” she pointed +out. “The museum door itself is iron-plated and has +a special lock. It was only to-night that we had +everything out in the show-cases.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton refrained from comment, as he knew +the girl was still blaming herself for her share in the +catastrophe. He turned to examine the rifled section +of the central case.</p> + +<p>“What’s missing here, Joan, can you make out?”</p> + +<p>Obediently, Joan came to his side and ran her eye +over the remaining articles in the compartment.</p> + +<p>“They’ve taken the Medusa Medallions!” she +exclaimed, turning pale as she realized the magnitude +of the calamity. “They’ve got the very pick of the +collection, Sir Clinton. My father would have parted +with all the rest rather than with these, I know.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing else gone?”</p> + +<p>Joan looked again at the case.</p> + +<p>“No, nothing else, so far as I can see. Wait a bit, +though! They’ve taken the electrotype copies as +well. There were three of each: three medallions +and an electrotype from each that Foxton Polegate +made for us. The whole six are gone.”</p> + +<p>She cast a final glance at the compartment.</p> + +<p>“No, there’s nothing else missing, so far as I can +see. Some of the things are displaced a bit; but +everything except the medallions and the electros +seems to be here.”</p> + +<p>“You’re quite sure?”</p> + +<p>“Certain.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed satisfied.</p> + +<p>“Of course we’ll have to check the stuff by the +catalogue to make sure,” he said, “but I expect you’re +right. The medallions alone would be quite a good +enough haul for a minute or two’s work; and probably +they had their eyes on the things as the best +paying proposition of the lot.”</p> + +<p>“But why did they take the electros as well?” +Joan demanded.</p> + +<p>Then a possible explanation occurred to her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, they wouldn’t know which was +which, so they took the lot in order to make sure.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly,” Sir Clinton admitted. “But don’t let’s +be going too fast, Joan. We’d better not get ideas +into our minds till we’ve got all the evidence, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see,” said Joan, with a faint return of her +normal spirits, “I’m to be Watson, am I? And +you’ll prove in a minute or two what an ass I’ve made +of myself. Is that the idea?”</p> + +<p>“Not altogether,” Sir Clinton returned, with a +smile. “But let’s have the facts before the theories.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll take your story, Mold; but give us +the things in the exact order in which they happened, +if you can. And don’t be worried if I break in with +questions.”</p> + +<p>Mold thought for a moment or two before +beginning his tale.</p> + +<p>“I’m trying to remember how many people there +were in the room just before the lights went out,” he +explained at last, “but somehow I don’t quite seem +able to put a figure on it, Sir Clinton. I’ve a sort of +feeling that some of ’em must ha’ got away before I +stopped the door—sneaked off in the dark. At least +I know I felt surprised when I saw how few I’d got +left when they began to come up to me to be let out. +But that’s all I can really say, sir.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton evidently approved of the keeper’s +caution.</p> + +<p>“Now tell us exactly what happened when the +light went out. This is the bit where I want you to be +careful. Tell us everything you can remember.”</p> + +<p>Mold fixed his eye on the corner of the room near +the safe.</p> + +<p>“I was patrollin’ round the room, sir, most of the +night. I didn’t stand in one place all the time. Now +just when the light was about to go out, I was walkin’ +away from this case here”—he nodded towards the +rifled central case—“and as near as may be, I’d got to +the entrance to that second-last bay, just before you +come to the safe. I just turned round to come back, +when I heard a pistol goin’ off.”</p> + +<p>“That was the first thing that attracted your +attention?” questioned Sir Clinton. “It’s an important +point, Mold.”</p> + +<p>“That was the first thing out o’ the common that +happened,” Mold asserted. “The pistol went bang, +and out went the light, and I heard glass tinkling +all over the place.”</p> + +<p>“Shot the light out, did they?” Sir Clinton +mused.</p> + +<p>He glanced up at the carved wooden ceiling, but +evidently failed to find what he was looking for.</p> + +<p>“Have you a pair of race-glasses, Joan? Prismatics, +or even opera-glasses? Tell Mold where he +can get them, please.”</p> + +<p>Joan gave the keeper instructions and he left the +room.</p> + +<p>“Knock when you come back again,” Sir Clinton +ordered. “I’m going to lock the door to keep out +the inquisitive.”</p> + +<p>As soon as the keeper was out of earshot, Sir +Clinton turned to Joan.</p> + +<p>“This fellow Mold, is he a reliable man? Do you +know anything about him, Joan?”</p> + +<p>“He’s our head keeper. We’ve always trusted him +completely.”</p> + +<p>She glanced at Sir Clinton, trying to read the +expression on his face.</p> + +<p>“You don’t think <em>he’s</em> at the bottom of the business, +do you? I never thought of that!”</p> + +<p>“I’m only collecting facts at present. All I want +to know is whether you know Mold to be reliable.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve always found him so.”</p> + +<p>“Good. We’ll make a note of that; and if we get +the thing cleared up, then we’ll perhaps be able to +confirm that opinion of yours.”</p> + +<p>In a few minutes a knock came at the door and +Sir Clinton admitted the keeper.</p> + +<p>“Prismatics?” he said, taking the glasses from +Mold. “They’ll do quite well.”</p> + +<p>Adjusting the focus, he subjected the ceiling of the +room to a minute scrutiny. At last he handed the +glasses to Joan.</p> + +<p>“Look up there,” he said, indicating the position.</p> + +<p>Joan swept the place with the glasses for a +moment.</p> + +<p>“I see,” she said. “That’s a bullet-hole in the +wood, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton confirmed her guess.</p> + +<p>“That’s evidently where the bullet went after +knocking the lamp to pieces. Pull the steps over +there, Mold. I want to have a closer look at the +thing.”</p> + +<p>With some difficulty, owing to his injured ankle, +he ascended the steps and inspected the tiny cavity.</p> + +<p>“It looks like a .22 calibre. One could carry a +Colt pistol of that size in one’s pocket and no one +would notice it.”</p> + +<p>His eye traced out the line joining the bullet-mark +and the lamp.</p> + +<p>“The shot was evidently fired by some one in that +bay over there,” he inferred. “Just go to where you +were standing when the light went out, Mold. Can +you see into this bay here?”</p> + +<p>Mold looked around and discovered that a show-case +interposed between him and the point from +which the pistol had been fired.</p> + +<p>“They evidently thought of everything,” Sir Clinton +said, when he heard Mold’s report. “If a man +had brandished his pistol in front of Mold, there was +always a chance that Mold might have remembered +his costume. Firing from that hiding-place, he was +quite safe, and could take time over his aim if he +wanted to.”</p> + +<p>He climbed down the steps and verified the matter +by going to the position from which the shot had been +fired. It was evident that the shooter was out of +sight of the keeper at the actual moment of the +discharge.</p> + +<p>“Now what happened after that, Mold?” Sir +Clinton demanded, coming back to the central case +again.</p> + +<p>Mold scratched his ear as though reflecting, then +hurriedly took his hand down again.</p> + +<p>“This pistol went off, sir; and the lamp-glass +tinkled all over the place. I got a start—who +wouldn’t?—with the light going out, and all. Before +I could move an inch, some one got a grip of my +wrists and swung me round. He twisted my arms +behind my back and I couldn’t do anything but +kick—and not much kickin’ even, or I’d have gone down +on my face.”</p> + +<p>“Did you manage to get home on him at all?”</p> + +<p>“I think I kicked him once, sir; but it was only a +graze.”</p> + +<p>“Pity,” Sir Clinton said. “It would have always +been something gained if you’d marked him with a +good bruise.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’ll be a mark, if that’s all you want, sir. +But it wouldn’t prevent him runnin’ at all.”</p> + +<p>“And then?” Sir Clinton brought Mold back to +his story.</p> + +<p>“Then, almost at once when the lights went out, I +heard glass breakin’—just as if you’d heaved a stone +through a window. It seemed to me—but I couldn’t +take my oath on it—as if there was two smashes, one +after t’other. I couldn’t be sure. Then there was a +lot of scufflin’ in the dark; but who did it, I couldn’t +rightly say. I was busy tryin’ to get free from the +man who was holdin’ me then.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton moved over to the rifled compartment +and inspected the broken glass thoughtfully for a +moment or two.</p> + +<p>“Are you looking for finger-marks?” asked Joan, +as she came to his side.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Not much use hunting for finger-marks round +here. Remember how many people must have leaned +on this case at one time or other during the evening, +when they were looking at the collection before the +robbery. Finger-prints would prove nothing against +any one in particular, I’m afraid, Joan. What I’m +really trying to find is some evidence confirming +Mold’s notion that he heard two smashes after the +light went out. It certainly looks as if he were right. +If you look at the way that bit of glass there is +cracked, you’ll see two series of lines in it. It might +have been cracked here”—he pointed with his +finger—“first of all: long cracks radiating from a smash +over in this direction. Then there was a second +blow—about here—which snapped off the apices of the +spears of glass left after the first smash. But that +really proves nothing. The same man might easily +have hit the pane twice.”</p> + +<p>He turned back to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“Can you give me an estimate, Mold, of how long +it was between the two crashes you heard?”</p> + +<p>Mold considered carefully before replying.</p> + +<p>“So far’s I can remember, Sir Clinton, it was about +five seconds. But I’ll not take my oath on it.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you could be surer,” said the Chief Constable. +“If it really was five seconds, it certainly +looks like two separate affairs. A man smashing glass +with repeated blows wouldn’t wait five seconds +between them.”</p> + +<p>He scanned the broken glass again.</p> + +<p>“There’s a lot of jagged stuff round the edge of +the hole but no blood, so far as I can see. The fellow +must have worn a thick glove if he got his hand in +there in the dark without cutting himself in the +hurry.”</p> + +<p>He turned back to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“You can go outside, Mold, and keep people off +the doorstep for a minute or two. Perhaps we shall +have news of the man-hunt soon. If any one wants +to see me on business; let him in; but keep off casual +inquirers for the present.”</p> + +<p>Obediently Mold unlocked the door and took his +stand on the threshold outside, shutting the door +behind him as he went. When he had gone, Sir +Clinton turned to Joan.</p> + +<p>“Were these medallions insured, do you know?”</p> + +<p>Fortunately, Joan was able to supply some +information.</p> + +<p>“Maurice insured them, I know. But I’ve heard +him say that he wasn’t content with the valuation +put on them by the company. It seems they wouldn’t +take his word for the value of the things—they +thought it was a speculative one or something—and +in case of a loss they weren’t prepared to go beyond +a figure which Maurice thought too small.”</p> + +<p>“The electros weren’t insured for any great +amount, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think they were specially insured. They +were just put under the ordinary house policy, I +think. But you’d better ask Maurice. He knows all +about it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced round the room once more.</p> + +<p>“I doubt if there’s much more to find out here,” +he concluded. “It doesn’t give us much to go on, does +it? Perhaps we’ll have better luck when these fellows +come in from their hunt. They may have some news +for us. But as things stand, we can’t even be sure +whether it was two men or two gangs that were at +work. One can’t blame Mold for not giving us better +information; but what he gave us doesn’t seem to +amount to very much at present.”</p> + +<p>He turned, as though to leave the room; but at +that moment the door opened and Mold appeared.</p> + +<p>“There’s a Mr. Foss wants to see you, sir. He +says he’s got something to tell you that won’t wait. +He’s been looking for you all over the house.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the American, isn’t it?” Sir Clinton asked +Joan in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes. He’s been here for a day or two, +consulting with Maurice about these medallions.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if he can throw any light on this business, +I suppose we’d better let him in and see what he has +to say. You needn’t go, Joan. You may as well hear +his story, whatever it may be.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“Let Mr. Foss in, Mold; and wait outside the +door yourself.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch06"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI. <br> Mr. Foss’s Explanation</h2> + +<p>Mr. Foss had nothing distinctively American in +his appearance, Sir Clinton noted; and when he +spoke, his accent was so faint as to be hardly detectable. +He was a stout man of about fifty, with a clean-shaven +face and more than a trace of a double chin: +the kind of man who might readily be chosen as an +unofficial uncle by children. Sir Clinton’s first glance +showed him that the American was troubled about +something.</p> + +<p>Foss seemed surprised to find the Chief Constable +in the guise of Prospero. He himself, in preparation +for an official interview, had exchanged his +masquerade costume for ordinary evening clothes.</p> + +<p>“We haven’t met before, Sir Clinton,” he explained, +rather unnecessarily, “but I’ve something to +tell you”—his face clouded slightly—“which I felt +you ought to know before you go any further in this +business. I’ve been hunting all over the house for +you; and it was only a minute or two ago that I got +directed in here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Sir Clinton, interrogatively.</p> + +<p>Foss glanced at Joan and seemed to find some +difficulty in opening the subject.</p> + +<p>“It’s a strictly private matter,” he explained.</p> + +<p>Joan refused to take the implied hint.</p> + +<p>“If it has any connection with this burglary, Mr. +Foss, I see no reason why I should not hear what you +have to say. It’s a matter that concerns me as one of +the family, you know.”</p> + +<p>Foss seemed taken aback and quite evidently he +would have preferred to make his confidence to Sir +Clinton alone.</p> + +<p>“It’s rather a difficult matter,” he said, with a +feeble endeavour to deflect Joan from her purpose.</p> + +<p>Joan, however, took no notice of his diffidence.</p> + +<p>“Come, Mr. Foss,” she said. “If it’s really important, +the sooner Sir Clinton hears of it the better. +Begin.”</p> + +<p>Foss glanced appealingly at Sir Clinton; but +apparently the Chief Constable took Joan’s view of the +matter.</p> + +<p>“I’m rather busy at present, Mr. Foss,” he said, +dryly. “Perhaps you’ll give us your information as +concisely as possible.”</p> + +<p>Having failed in his attempt, Foss made the best +of it; though it was with obvious reluctance that he +launched into his subject.</p> + +<p>“Last night after dinner,” he began, “I went into +the winter-garden to smoke a cigar. I had some +business affairs which I wanted to put straight in my +mind; and I thought I could stow myself away in a +corner there and be free from interruption. So I sat +down at one side of the winter-garden behind a large +clump of palms where no one was likely to see me; +and I began to think over the points I had in mind.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” prompted Sir Clinton, who seemed anxious +to cut Foss’s narrative down to essentials.</p> + +<p>“While I was sitting there,” the American +continued, “some of the young people came into the +winter-garden and sat down in a recess on the side +opposite to where I was. At first they didn’t disturb +me. I thought they’d be almost out of earshot, on the +other side of the dome. I think you were one of them, +Miss Chacewater: you, and your brother, and Miss +Rainhill, and some one else whom I didn’t +recognize.”</p> + +<p>“I was there,” Joan confirmed, looking rather +puzzled as to what might come next.</p> + +<p>“You may not know, Miss Chacewater,” Foss +continued, “that your winter-garden is a sort of +whispering-gallery. Although I was quite a long way +off from your party, your voices came quite clearly +across to where I was sitting. They didn’t disturb +me at all—I’ve got the knack of concentration when +I’m thinking about business affairs. But although I +wasn’t listening intentionally, the whole conversation +was getting in at my ear while I was thinking about +other things. I suppose I ought to have gone away or +let you know I was there; but the fact is, I’d just +got to a point where I was seeing my way through a +rather knotty tangle, and I didn’t want to break my +chain of thought. I wasn’t eavesdropping, you +understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” repeated Sir Clinton, with a slight acidity +in his tone. “And then?”</p> + +<p>But the American failed to take the hint. Evidently +he laid great stress on explaining exactly how +things had fallen out.</p> + +<p>“After a while,” he went on, with an evident effort +to be accurate, “Miss Chacewater and some one else +left the party.”</p> + +<p>“Quite true,” Joan confirmed. “We went to play +billiards.”</p> + +<p>The American nodded.</p> + +<p>“When you had gone,” he continued, “some one +else joined the party—a red-haired young man whom +they called Foxy.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced at Joan.</p> + +<p>“That’s Foxton Polegate,” Joan explained. “He’s +a neighbour of ours. He made these electrotypes of +the medallions for us.”</p> + +<p>Foss waited patiently till she had finished her +interjection. Then he resumed his narrative.</p> + +<p>“Shortly after that, my ear caught the sound of +my own name. Naturally my attention was attracted, +quite without any intention on my part. It’s +only natural to prick up your ears when you hear +your own name mentioned.”</p> + +<p>He looked apologetically at them both as if asking +them to condone his conduct.</p> + +<p>“The next thing I heard—without listening +intentionally, you understand?—was ‘Medusa +Medallions.’ Now, as you know, I’ve been sent over here +by Mr. Kessock to see if I can arrange to buy these +medallions from Mr. Chacewater. It’s my duty to +my employer to get to know all I can about them. +I wouldn’t be earning my money if I spared any +trouble in the work which has been put into my +hands. So when I heard the name of the medallions +mentioned, I . . . frankly, I listened with both ears. +It seemed to me my duty to Mr. Kessock to do so.”</p> + +<p>He looked appealingly at their faces as though to +plead for a favourable verdict on his conduct.</p> + +<p>“Go on, please,” Sir Clinton requested.</p> + +<p>“I hardly expected you’d look on it as I do,” Foss +confessed rather shamefacedly. “Of course, it was +just plain eavesdropping on my part by that time. +But I felt Mr. Kessock would have expected me to +find out all I could about these medallions. To be +candid, I’d do the same again; though I didn’t like +doing it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to feel that he had been rather +discouraging.</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t make too much of it, Mr. Foss. What +happened next?”</p> + +<p>Foss’s face showed that he was at last coming to +a matter of real difficulty.</p> + +<p>“It’s rather unfortunate that I came to be mixed +up in the thing at all,” he said, with obvious chagrin. +“I can assure you, Miss Chacewater, that I don’t like +doing it. I only made up my mind to tell you about +it because it seems to me to give a chance of hushing +this supposed burglary up quietly before there’s any +talk goes round.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Supposed</em> burglary,” exclaimed Joan. “What’s +your idea of a real burglary, if this sort of thing is +only a supposed one?”</p> + +<p>She indicated the shattered show-case and the +litter of glass on the floor.</p> + +<p>Foss evidently decided to take the rest of his +narrative in a rush.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” he said. “The next thing I +overheard was a complete plan for a fake burglary—a +practical joke—to be carried out to-night. The light +in here was to be put out; the house-lights were to +be extinguished: and in the darkness, your brother +and this Mr. Foxy How-d’you-call-him were to get +away with the medallions.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Mr. Foss, now you become interesting,” Sir +Clinton acknowledged.</p> + +<p>“I heard all the details,” Foss went on. “How Miss +Rainhill was to see to extinguishing the lights; how +Mr. Chacewater was to secure the keeper; and how +meanwhile his friend was to put on a thick glove +and take the medallions out of the case there. And +it seems to me that it was a matter that interested me +directly,” he added, dropping his air of apology, +“for I gathered that the whole affair was planned +with some idea of making this sale to Mr. Kessock +fall through at the last moment.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s face showed that at last he saw +something more clearly than before.</p> + +<p>“That was the motive,” Foss continued. “Now +the whole thing put me in a most awkward +position.”</p> + +<p>“I think I see your difficulty,” Sir Clinton assured +him, with more geniality than he had hitherto +shown.</p> + +<p>“It was very hard to make up my mind what to +do,” Foss went on. “I’m a guest here. This was a +family joke, apparently—one brother taking a rise +out of another. It was hardly for me to step in and +perhaps cause bad feelings between them. I thought +the whole thing was perhaps just talk—not meant +seriously in the end. A kind of +‘how-would-we-do-it-if-we-set-about-it’ discussion, you understand.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded understandingly.</p> + +<p>“Difficult to know what to do, in your shoes, +undoubtedly.”</p> + +<p>Foss was obviously relieved by the Chief +Constable’s comprehension.</p> + +<p>“I thought it over,” he continued, with a less +defensive tone in his voice, “and it seemed to me that +the soundest course was to let sleeping dogs lie—to +let them lie, at any rate, until they woke up and bit +somebody. I made up my mind I’d say nothing about +the matter at all, unless something really did +happen.”</p> + +<p>“Very judicious,” Sir Clinton acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“Then came to-night,” Foss resumed. “Their plan +went through. I don’t know what success they had—the +house is full of all sorts of rumours. But I heard +that the Chief Constable was on the spot and was +taking up the case himself; and as soon as I heard +that, I felt I ought to tell what I knew. So I hunted +you out, so as to avoid your taking any steps before +you knew just how the land lay. It’s only a practical +joke and not a crime at all. I don’t know anything +about your English laws, and I was afraid you might +be taking some steps, doing something or other that +would make it impossible to stop short of the whole +affair coming out in public. I’m sure the family +wouldn’t like that.”</p> + +<p>He glanced at Joan’s face, but evidently found +nothing very encouraging in her expression.</p> + +<p>“It’s been a most unfortunate position for me,” he +complained.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton took pity on him.</p> + +<p>“It was very good of you to give me these facts,” +he said with more cordiality than he had hitherto +shown. “You’ve cleared up the thing and saved us +from putting our foot in it badly, perhaps. Thanks +very much for your trouble, Mr. Foss. You’ve been +of great assistance.”</p> + +<p>His tone showed that the interview was at an end; +but, tactfully, as though to spare the obviously ruffled +feelings of the American, he accompanied him to the +door. When Foss had left the room, Sir Clinton +turned back to Joan.</p> + +<p>“Well, Joan, what about it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it sounds accurate enough,” Joan admitted, +though there was an undercurrent of resentment in +her tone. “Foss couldn’t have known what sort of +person Foxy is; and it’s as clear as daylight that +Foxy was at the bottom of this. He’s a silly ass who’s +always playing practical jokes.”</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment. Then relief showed +itself in her voice as she added:</p> + +<p>“It’s rather a blessing to know the whole affair has +been just spoof, isn’t it? You can hush it up easily +enough, can’t you? Nobody need know exactly what +happened; and then we’ll be all right. If this story +comes out, all our little family bickerings will be +common talk; and one doesn’t want that. I’m not exactly +proud of the way Maurice has been treating Cecil.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s face showed that he understood her +position; but, rather to her surprise, he gave no +verbal assurance.</p> + +<p>“It <em>is</em> all right!” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll interview your friend Foxy first of +all,” Sir Clinton proposed, taking no notice of her +inquiry.</p> + +<p>Going to the door, he gave some orders to the +keeper.</p> + +<p>“You were rather stiff with our good Mr. Foss,” +he said, turning to Joan as he closed the door again. +“What would you have done yourself, if you’d been +in his position?”</p> + +<p>Joan had her answer ready.</p> + +<p>“I suppose he couldn’t help overhearing things; +but when this affair came to light, I think if I’d been +in his shoes I’d have gone to Cecil instead of coming +to us with the tale. Once Cecil found the game +was up, he’d have been able to return the +medallions in some way or other, without raising any +dust.”</p> + +<p>“That was one way, certainly.”</p> + +<p>“What I object to is Foss coming to you,” Joan +explained. “He didn’t know you’re an old friend of +ours. All he knew was that you were the Chief Constable. +So off he hies to you, post-haste, to give the +whole show away; when he might quite well have +come to me or gone to Cecil. I don’t like this way of +doing things—no tact at all.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t conceive how Cecil came to take up a silly +prank like this,” said Sir Clinton. “It’s a schoolboy’s +trick.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know everything,” said Joan, in +defence of her brother.</p> + +<p>“I know a good deal, Joan,” Sir Clinton retorted in +a decisive tone. “Perhaps I know more than you +think about this business.”</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the keeper knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded Sir Clinton, opening it.</p> + +<p>“I can’t find Mr. Polegate anywhere, sir,” Mold +reported. “No one’s seen him; and he’s not in the +house.”</p> + +<p>“He was here to-night,” Joan declared. “I recognized +him when I was dancing with him. You can’t +mistake that shock of hair; and of course his voice +gave him away when he spoke.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton did not seem perturbed.</p> + +<p>“Bring Mr. Cecil, Mold,” he ordered, and locked +the door again as the keeper went off on his fresh +errand.</p> + +<p>This task Mold completed in a very short time. +Sir Clinton opened at his knock and Cecil +Chacewater came into the museum. He was dressed as a +Swiss admiral and behind him came Una Rainhill +in the costume of Cleopatra.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton wasted no time in preliminaries.</p> + +<p>“I’ve sent for you, Cecil, because I want to know +exactly what part you played in this business +to-night.”</p> + +<p>Cecil Chacewater opened his eyes in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“You seem to be a bit of a super-sleuth! How did +you spot us so quickly?”</p> + +<p>Quite obviously Cecil was not greatly perturbed at +being found out, as Sir Clinton noted with a certain +relief. So far as he was concerned, the thing had been +only a prank.</p> + +<p>“Tell me exactly what happened after you came in +here before the lights went out,” the Chief +Constable demanded in a curt tone.</p> + +<p>Cecil glanced at Una. Sir Clinton caught the look.</p> + +<p>“We know all about Miss Rainhill’s part in the +affair,” he explained bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, in that case,” said Cecil, “there’s no +particular reason why I should keep back anything. +Una, Foxy, and I planned it between us. I take full +responsibility for that. I wanted to upset this sale, if +I could. I’m not ashamed of that.”</p> + +<p>“I know all about that,” Sir Clinton pointed out, +coldly. “What I wish to know is exactly what +happened after you came in here to steal these +medallions.”</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed impressed by the Chief Constable’s +tone.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you, then. We’ve nothing to conceal. I +came in here at about twenty to twelve and sauntered +about the room, pretending to look at the cases as if +I’d never seen them before. My part was to mark +down Mold and prevent him interfering.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded to show that he knew all +this.</p> + +<p>“Rather before I expected it, the light went out. +Oh, there was a shot fired just then. I didn’t +understand that part of it, but I supposed that Foxy had +brought a pistol with him and fired a blank cartridge +just to add a touch of interest to the affair. It wasn’t +on the bill of fare, so I imagine it must have been +one of these last-minute improvements. Anyhow, I +did my part of the business: jumped on Mold and +held him while Foxy got away with the stuff. Then, +when he’d had time to get away, I let Mold go and +made a bee-line for the door myself. I could swear no +one spotted me in the dark, and I was well mixed up +in the mob before the lights went on again.”</p> + +<p>“Did you pay particular attention to what +Polegate was doing while you were busy with the +keeper?”</p> + +<p>“No. Mold gave me all I wanted in the way of +trouble.”</p> + +<p>“You’re sure it was Mold you got hold of? You +didn’t make any mistake?”</p> + +<p>Cecil reflected for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how I could have gripped the wrong +man. I’d marked him down while the light was on.”</p> + +<p>“Can you remember anything about sounds of +breaking glass?”</p> + +<p>Cecil pondered before replying.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to me that there was a lot of +glass-breaking—more than I’d expected. The light was +hardly out before there was a smash and tinkle all +over the place. Foxy must have got to work quicker +than I’d allowed for. And I remember hearing quite +a lot of hammering and smashing going on after that, +as if he’d found it difficult to make a big enough +hole in the glass of the case. I thought he’d bungled +the business, and it was all I could do to keep my +grip on Mold long enough to get the thing safely +through.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton dismissed that part of the subject. He +turned to Una.</p> + +<p>“Now, Miss Rainhill, I believe your part in the +affair was to pull out the main switch of the house?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Una admitted, looking rather surprised at +the extent of his knowledge.</p> + +<p>“Did you carry out your part of the arrangement +punctually, or were you late in getting the current +off?”</p> + +<p>“I pulled out the switch to the very second. I had +my hand on it and my eye on my wrist-watch; and +when it came to 11.45 I jerked it out and the lights +went off. I was absolutely right to a second, I’m +sure.”</p> + +<p>“And you thought Miss Rainhill had been a shade +before her time, Cecil?”</p> + +<p>“So it seemed to me. I hadn’t a chance of looking +at my watch; and of course after the lights went off I +couldn’t spare time to look.”</p> + +<p>At this moment another knock came to the door +and Foxy Polegate burst into the museum. Sir +Clinton noticed that he was masquerading as a +Harlequin.</p> + +<p>“Heard you’d been asking for me, Sir Clinton,” he +broke out as he came into the room. “Seems the +keeper had been inquiring for me. So I came along +as soon as I heard about it.”</p> + +<p>He glanced inquisitively at Cecil and Una, as +though wondering what they were doing there.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton wasted no words.</p> + +<p>“The medallions, Mr. Polegate, please.”</p> + +<p>Foxy made a very good pretence of astonishment +at the demand; but Cecil cut him short.</p> + +<p>“You may as well hand them over, Foxy. They +seem to know all about the joke.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they do, do they?” Foxy exclaimed. “They +seem to have been mighty swift about it. That little +joke’s gone astray, evidently.”</p> + +<p>He seemed completely taken aback by the +exposure.</p> + +<p>“The medallions?” he repeated. “I’ll get ’em for +you in a jiffy.”</p> + +<p>He walked across to the show-case, fumbled for +a moment at the flat base near one of the legs, and +from below this he drew out three medallions.</p> + +<p>“Stuck ’em there with plasticine as soon as I’d got +’em. After that any one would have turned out my +pockets if they’d wanted, see?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton held out his hand and took the +medallions from Foxy. For a moment or two he examined +them, then he passed them to Cecil.</p> + +<p>“Have you any way of telling easily whether these +are the real things or the replicas?”</p> + +<p>Cecil inspected them one by one with minute care.</p> + +<p>“These are the real things,” he announced. “What +else could they be?”</p> + +<p>“You’ve no doubt about it?” questioned Sir +Clinton.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit,” Cecil assured him. “When Foxy +made the replicas, my father had a tiny hole—just a +dot—drilled in the edge of each electrotype so as to +distinguish the real things from the sham. There are +no holes here; so these are the real Leonardos.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton swung round suddenly on Foxy.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mr. Polegate,” he said, sternly, “you’ve +given a lot of trouble with this silly joke of yours. +I’m not concerned with your taste in humour, or I +might say a few things you wouldn’t care to hear. +But you can repair the damage to some extent if you +give me a frank account of your doings in here +to-night. I want the whole story, please.”</p> + +<p>Foxy was evidently completely taken aback by Sir +Clinton’s tone.</p> + +<p>“Come, we’re waiting. There’s no time to lose,” +Sir Clinton said, curtly, as Foxy seemed to hesitate. +Joan and the others showed by their faces that they +could not quite understand the reason for the Chief +Constable’s asperity.</p> + +<p>“We planned that . . .”</p> + +<p>“I know all about that,” said Sir Clinton, +brusquely. “Begin at the point where you came in +here at twenty to twelve or so.”</p> + +<p>Foxy pulled himself together. The Chief +Constable’s manner was not encouraging.</p> + +<p>“I came in here as arranged, and worked my way +over to the central case there—slowly, so as not to +attract the keeper’s attention. One or two other +people were hanging round it then, too. I remember +noticing a chap in a white Pierrot costume alongside +me. Suddenly there was a pistol-shot and the light +went out according to plan.”</p> + +<p>“How do you account for the pistol-shot?” +demanded Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“Try next door,” said Foxy. “I thought it was a +fancy tip that Cecil had thrown in at the last +moment. It wasn’t in the book of words.”</p> + +<p>“You were ready to get to work when the light +went out?” inquired Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>Foxy considered for a moment.</p> + +<p>“It took me rather by surprise,” he admitted. “I’d +counted on having at least another minute, +according to the time-table.”</p> + +<p>“What happened next? Be careful now.”</p> + +<p>“As soon as the light went out, I pulled on a thick +pair of gloves and got a bit of lead pipe out of my +slapstick. But there was a bit of a scuffle in the dark +round the show-case, and some one must have put +their elbow through the glass. I heard it go crash in +the dark. I shoved along till I was opposite the +medallion section of the case—luckily some one made +way for me just then—and I got to work with my +lead pipe. The glass smashed easily—it must have +been cracked before. So I put my hand in and groped +about. I could find only three medallions instead of +six; but I hooked them out, slabbed on some plasticine, +stuck them under the case for future reference, +and cut my stick for the door. Some one was ahead +of me there, and I heard some sort of mix-up in the +dark. Then I wandered out into the garden by the +east door, as soon as I could find it in the dark. And +I’ve been out there having a smoke till now. When I +came in again, I heard you’d been asking for me, +so I came along.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton considered for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I want to be quite clear on one point,” he said +with no relaxation of his manner. “You say that you +heard the glass crack before you began your work. +Are you certain of that?”</p> + +<p>“Quite,” said Foxy.</p> + +<p>“And when you got your hand into the case you +could find only three medallions?”</p> + +<p>“That was all. I was groping for the top row of +the six; and naturally it surprised me when I felt +only three altogether. I’m quite certain about it.”</p> + +<p>“So you were evidently the second thief at the case +to-night?” Sir Clinton concluded.</p> + +<p>Foxy flushed at the word “thief” but a glance at +the face of the Chief Constable evidently persuaded +him that it would be best not to argue on philology at +that moment. He contented himself with nodding +sullenly in response to Sir Clinton’s remark.</p> + +<p>Joan relieved the tension.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, we’ve got the medallions safe, and that’s +all that really matters,” she pointed out. “Let’s have +a look at them, Cecil.”</p> + +<p>She took them from his hand and scrutinized them +carefully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, these are the real Leonardos,” she affirmed, +without hesitation. “That’s all right.”</p> + +<p>“Quite all right,” admitted Sir Clinton, with a wry +smile, “except for one point: Why were the replicas +stolen and the real things left untouched?”</p> + +<p>“That certainly seems to need explaining,” Una +admitted. “Can you throw any light on it, Foxy? +You’re the only one of us who was near the case.”</p> + +<p>There was no hint of accusation in her tone; but +Foxy seemed to read an insinuation into her remark.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t got the replicas, if that’s what you +mean, Una,” he protested angrily. “I just took what +was left—and it turns out to be the real things. +Whoever was ahead of me took the duds.”</p> + +<p>Cecil considered the point, and then appealed to Sir +Clinton.</p> + +<p>“Doesn’t that seem to show that an outsider’s been +at work—some one who knew a certain amount +about the collection, but not quite enough? An +outsider wouldn’t know we had the replicas in the case +alongside the real things. He’d just grab three +medallions and think he’d got away with it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Your hypothetical outsider, Cecil, must have had +a preliminary look at the case before the lights went +out—just to make sure of getting to the right spot +in the dark. Therefore he must have seen the six +medallions there; and he’d have taken the lot +instead of only three, when he had his chance.”</p> + +<p>“That upsets your applecart, Cecil,” said Joan. +“It’s obvious Sir Clinton’s right. Unless”—a fresh +idea seemed to strike her—“unless the thief knew of +the replicas and had wrong information, so that he +imagined he was taking the Leonardos when he really +was grabbing the replicas. I mean he may have +thought that the replicas were in the top row instead +of the lower one.”</p> + +<p>She glanced at Sir Clinton’s face to see what +he thought of her suggestion; but he betrayed +nothing.</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t you have taken the whole six, Joan, if +you had been in his shoes?”</p> + +<p>Joan had to admit that she would have made +certain by snatching the complete set.</p> + +<p>“There’s more in it than that,” was all that Sir +Clinton could be induced to say.</p> + +<p>Before any more could be said, the door opened +again. This time it was Michael Clifton who entered +the museum.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got him, Michael?” cried Joan. “Who +was he?”</p> + +<p>Michael shook his head.</p> + +<p>“He got away from us. It’s a damned mysterious +business how he managed it; but he slipped through +our fingers, Joan.”</p> + +<p>“Well, tell us what happened—quick!” Joan +ordered. “I didn’t think you’d botch it, +Michael.”</p> + +<p>Michael obeyed her at once and launched into an +account of the moonlight chase of the fugitive. Sir +Clinton listened attentively, but interposed no +questions until Michael had finished his story.</p> + +<p>“Let’s have this quite clear,” the Chief Constable +said, when the tale had been completed. “You had +him hemmed in at the cliff top; you heard a splash, +but there was no sign of any one swimming in the +lake; you discovered a rope tied to the balustrade +and lying down the cliff-face to the cave-mouth; he +wasn’t in the cave when you looked for him there. Is +that correct?”</p> + +<p>“That’s how it happened.”</p> + +<p>“You’re sure he didn’t break back through your +cordon?”</p> + +<p>“Certain.”</p> + +<p>“And you found Maurice in one of the Fairy +Houses in the spinney?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. He seemed in a queer state.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton, glancing at Cecil’s face, was surprised +to see on it the same expression of almost malicious +glee which he had surprised on the day when they +examined that very Fairy House during their walk. +Quite obviously Cecil knew something more than the +Chief Constable did.</p> + +<p>“Does that suggest anything to you, Cecil?” he +demanded point-blank.</p> + +<p>At the query, Cecil’s face came back to normal +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“To me? No, why should it?”</p> + +<p>“I merely wondered,” said Sir Clinton, without +seeming to notice anything.</p> + +<p>It was clear that whatever Cecil knew, it was +something which he was not prepared to tell.</p> + +<p>Foxy had listened intently to Michael’s narrative, +and as the Chief Constable seemed to have come to +the end of his interrogations, Foxy put a question of +his own.</p> + +<p>“You say Maurice was wearing a white Pierrot +costume? So was the fellow you were chasing. So +was the man next me at the case when the lights +went out.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’re suggesting that Maurice is at +the bottom of the business, Foxy,” Michael replied at +once. “I’ll swallow that if you’ll answer one question. +Why should a man burgle his own house?”</p> + +<p>“Lord alone knows,” Foxy admitted humbly. “I’ve +no brain-wave on the subject.”</p> + +<p>“It seems rather improbable,” observed Sir Clinton. +“I think you’ll have to produce a motive before +that idea could be accepted.”</p> + +<p>He glanced round at the door as he spoke and +added:</p> + +<p>“Here’s Maurice himself.”</p> + +<p>Maurice Chacewater had entered the room while +the Chief Constable was speaking. He had discarded +his fancy costume and wore ordinary evening-dress, +against the black of which his face looked white and +drawn. He came up to the group and leaned on the +show-case as if for support.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve muddled it, Michael,” he commented, +after a pause. “You didn’t get your hands on the +fellow, after all?”</p> + +<p>Dismissing Michael with almost open contempt, +he turned to Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“What’s the damage? Did the fellow get away +with anything of value?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing much: only your three replicas of the +Leonardo medallions, so far as we can see.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, his glance telegraphed a warning to +the rest of the group. It seemed unnecessary that +Maurice should know all the ins and outs of the +night’s doings.</p> + +<p>But Foxy evidently failed to grasp the meaning of +the Chief Constable’s look.</p> + +<p>“We saved the real medallions for you, Maurice. +Vote of thanks to us, eh?”</p> + +<p>“How did you manage that?” Maurice demanded, +with no sign of gratitude in his voice.</p> + +<p>Quite oblivious of the warning looks thrown at +him by the rest of the group, Foxy launched at once +into a detailed account of the whole practical joke +and its sequel. Maurice listened frowningly to the +story. When it was completed, he made no direct +comment.</p> + +<p>“Who’s got the medallions? You, Joan? I’ll take +them.”</p> + +<p>When she had handed them over, he scrutinized +them carefully.</p> + +<p>“These seem to be the Leonardo ones,” he +confirmed.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton interposed a question.</p> + +<p>“Were the medallions and the replicas in their +usual places to-night, Maurice? I mean, were the real +things in the top row and the electros down below?”</p> + +<p>Maurice gave a curt nod of assent. He weighed +the three medallions unconsciously in his hand for a +moment, then moved over to the safe in the wall of +the museum.</p> + +<p>“These things will be safer under lock and key, +now,” he said.</p> + +<p>He opened the safe, inserted the medallions, closed +the safe-door with a clang, and busied himself with +the combination of the lock.</p> + +<p>Before saying anything further, Sir Clinton waited +until Maurice had returned to the group.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing,” he said. “I shall have to look +into this affair officially now. It’s essential that things +shall be left as they are. Especially the place where +that fellow gave you the slip, Clifton. Nobody must +be wandering about there, up at the spinney, until +I’ve done with the ground. There may be clues left, +for all one can tell; and we can’t run the risk of +their being destroyed.”</p> + +<p>Maurice looked up gloomily.</p> + +<p>“Very well. I’ll give orders to the keepers to patrol +the wood and turn every one back. That do?”</p> + +<p>“So long as no one sets foot on anything beyond +the wood, I’ll be quite satisfied. But it’s important, +Maurice. Impress that on your keepers, please.”</p> + +<p>Maurice indicated his comprehension with a nod.</p> + +<p>“I’ll begin dragging the lakelet up there to-morrow +morning,” Sir Clinton added. “Something must have +gone into the water to make the splash that was +heard; and perhaps we shall find it. I don’t mind +any one going down by the lake side. It’s the top of +the cliff that I want kept intact.”</p> + +<p>He looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>“You’re on the ’phone here? I must ring up the +police in Hincheldene now and make arrangements +for to-morrow. Show me your ’phone, please, Joan. +And as I must get some sleep to-night, I’ll say +good-bye to the rest of you now. Come along, Ariel. Lead +the way.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch07"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII. <br> What Was in the Lake</h2> + +<p>“I was afraid of it,” Sir Clinton observed, as he +lifted the dripping pole with which he had been +sounding the water of the lakelet. “The net will be +no good, Inspector. With these spikes of rock jutting +up from the bottom all over the place, you couldn’t +get a clean sweep; and if there’s anything here at all, +it’s pretty sure to have lodged in one of the cavities +between the spikes.”</p> + +<p>It was the morning after the masked ball at +Ravensthorpe. The Chief Constable had made all his +arrangements overnight, so that when he reached the +shore of the artificial lake, everything was in +readiness. The decrepit raft had been strengthened; a +large net had been brought for the purpose of +dragging the pool; and several grapnels had been +procured, in case the net turned out to be useless. Sir +Clinton had gone out on the raft to sound the water +and discover whether the net could be utilized; but +the results had not been encouraging.</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale listened to the verdict with a +rather gloomy face.</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity,” he commented regretfully. “Dragging +with the grapnel is a kind of hit-or-miss job, +Sir Clinton; and it’ll take far longer than working +with the net.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton acquiesced with a gesture.</p> + +<p>“We’d better start close in under the cliff-face,” +he said. “If anything came down from the top, it +can’t have gone far before it sank. One of the people +last night was watching the pool and he saw nothing +on the surface after the splash, so it ought to be +somewhere near the cave-mouth. You can pole over +to the shore now, Constable; we’ve done with this +part of the business.”</p> + +<p>The constable obeyed the order and soon Sir +Clinton rejoined the Inspector on the bank.</p> + +<p>“It’s likely to be a troublesome business,” the +Chief Constable admitted as his subordinate came +up. “The bottom’s very irregular and the chances +are that the grapnel will stick, two times out of +three. However, the sooner we get to work, the +better.”</p> + +<p>He considered for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“Tack a light line to the grapnel as well as the +rope. Get the raft out past the cave and let a +constable pitch the grapnel in there. Then when you’ve +dragged, or if the grapnel sticks, he can pull +the hook back again with the light line and start +afresh alongside the place where he made the last +cast. But it’s likely to be a slow business, as you +say.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector agreed and set his constables to +work at once. Sir Clinton withdrew to a little +distance, sat down on a small hillock from which he +could oversee the dragging operations, and patiently +awaited the start of the search. His eyes, wandering +with apparent incuriosity over the group at the +water’s edge, noted with approval that Armadale was +wasting no time.</p> + +<p>Having made his instructions clear, the Inspector +came over to where the Chief Constable was posted.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Inspector,” Sir Clinton invited. “This +may take all day, you know, and it’s as cheap sitting +as standing.”</p> + +<p>When the Inspector had seated himself, the Chief +Constable turned to him with a question.</p> + +<p>“You’ve seen to it that no one has gone up on to +the terrace?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale nodded affirmatively.</p> + +<p>“No one’s been up on top,” he explained, “I’d like +to go and have a look round myself; but since you +were so clear about it, I haven’t gone.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t go,” Sir Clinton reiterated his order. “I’ve +a sound reason for letting no one up there.”</p> + +<p>He glanced for a moment at the group of +constables.</p> + +<p>“Another thing, Inspector,” he continued. +“There’s no secrecy about that matter. In fact, it +might be useful if you’d let it leak out to the public +that no one has been up above there and that no +one will be allowed to go until I give the word. +Spread it round, you understand?”</p> + +<p>Slightly mystified, apparently, the Inspector +acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“Do you see your way through the case, Sir +Clinton?” he demanded. “You’ve given me the facts, +but we’ll need a good deal more, it seems to me.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton pulled out his cigarette-case and +thoughtfully began to smoke before answering the +question. When he spoke again, his reply was an +indirect one.</p> + +<p>“There’s an old jurist’s saying that I always keep +in mind,” he said. “It helps to clarify one’s ideas in +a case:</p> + +<blockquote class="verse"> + + <p>Quis, quid, ubi, quibus auxiliis, cur, quomodo, quando?</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>That puts our whole business into a nutshell.” He +glanced at the Inspector’s face. “Your Latin’s as +feeble as my own, perhaps? There’s an English +equivalent:</p> + +<blockquote class="verse"> + + <p class="i1">What was the crime, who did it, when was it done, and where,</p> + <p class="i1">How done, and with what motive, who in the deed did share?</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>How many of these questions can you answer now, +offhand, Inspector? The rest of them will tell you +what you’ve still got to ferret out.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale pulled out a notebook and +pencil.</p> + +<p>“Would you mind repeating it, Sir Clinton? I’d see +through it better if I had it down in black and white.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable repeated the doggerel and +Armadale jotted it down under his dictation.</p> + +<p>“That seems fairly searching,” he admitted, +re-reading it as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Quite enough for present purposes. Now, +Inspector, how much do you really know? I mean, how +many answers can you give? There are only seven +questions in all. Take them one by one and let’s hear +your answers.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a pretty stiff catechism,” said the Inspector, +looking again at his notebook. “I’ll have a try, +though, if you give me time to think over it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton smiled at the qualification.</p> + +<p>“Think it over, then, Inspector,” he said. “I’ll just +go and set them to work with the dragging. They +seem to be ready to make a start.”</p> + +<p>He rose and walked down to the group at the +edge of the pool.</p> + +<p>“You know what’s wanted?” he asked. “Well, suppose +we make a start. Get the raft out to about ten +yards or so beyond the cave-mouth and begin by +flinging the grapnel in as near the cliff-edge as you +can. Then work gradually outwards. If it sticks, try +again very slightly off the line of the last cast.”</p> + +<p>He watched one or two attempts which gave no +result and then turned back to the hillock again.</p> + +<p>“Well, Inspector?” he demanded as he sat down +and turned his eyes on the group engaged with the +dragging operations. “What do you make of it?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale looked up from his +notebook.</p> + +<p>“That’s a sound little rhyme,” he admitted. “It +lets you see what you don’t know and what you do +know.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton suppressed a smile successfully.</p> + +<p>“Or what you think you know, perhaps, +Inspector?”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you like to put it that way, sir. But some +things I think one can be sure of.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s face showed nothing of his views on +this question.</p> + +<p>“Let’s begin at the beginning,” he suggested. +“ ‘What was the crime?’ ”</p> + +<p>“That’s clear enough,” the Inspector affirmed without +hesitation. “These three electrotypes have been +stolen. That’s the crime.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to be engrossed in the dragging +which was going on methodically below them.</p> + +<p>“You think so?” he said at length. “H’m! I’m not +so sure.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale corrected himself.</p> + +<p>“I meant that I’d charge the man with stealing the +replicas. You couldn’t charge him with anything else, +since nothing else is missing. At least, that’s what +you told me. He wanted the real medallions, but he +didn’t pull that off.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton refused to be drawn. He resorted to +one of his indirect replies.</p> + +<p>“ ‘What was the crime?’ ” he repeated. “Now, I’ll +put a case to you, Inspector. Suppose that you saw +two men in the distance and that you could make +out that one of them was struggling and the second +man was beating him on the head. What crime would +you call that? Assault and battery?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” Armadale admitted.</p> + +<p>“But suppose, further, that when you reached +them, you found the victim dead of his injuries, +what would you call the crime then?”</p> + +<p>“Murder, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“So your view of the crime would depend upon the +stage at which you witnessed it, eh? That’s just my +position in this Ravensthorpe affair. You’ve been +looking at it from yesterday’s standpoint, and you +call it a theft of three replicas. But I wonder what +you’ll call it when we know the whole of the facts.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector declined to follow his chief to this +extent.</p> + +<p>“All the evidence we’ve got, so far, points to theft, +sir. I’ve no fresh data that would let me put a new +name to it.”</p> + +<p>“Then you regard it as a completed crime which +has partly failed in its object?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector gave his acquiescence with a nod.</p> + +<p>“You think it’s something else, Sir Clinton?” he +inquired.</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable refused to be explicit.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got all the evidence, Inspector. Do you +really think a gang would take the trouble to steal +replicas when they could just as easily have taken +the three originals—that’s the point. The replicas +have no intrinsic value beyond the gold in them, +and that can’t be worth more than twenty or thirty +pounds at the very outside. A mediocre haul for a +smart gang, isn’t it? Hardly Trade Union wages, I +should think.”</p> + +<p>“It seems queer at first sight, sir,” he admitted, +“but I think I can account for that all right when you +come to the rest of your rhyme.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton showed his interest.</p> + +<p>“Then let’s go on,” he suggested. “The next question +is: ‘Who did it?’ What’s your answer to that, +Inspector?”</p> + +<p>“To my mind, there seems to be only one possible +thief.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p>“You mean it was a single-handed job? Who was +the man, then?”</p> + +<p>“Foxton Polegate,” asserted the Inspector.</p> + +<p>He watched Sir Clinton’s face narrowly as he +brought out the name, but the Chief Constable might +have been wearing a mask for all the change there +was in his features as he listened to the Inspector’s +suggestion. As if he felt that he had overstepped the +bounds of prudence, Armadale added hastily:</p> + +<p>“I said ‘possible thief,’ sir. I don’t claim to be able +to bring it home to him yet.”</p> + +<p>“But you think it might even be ‘probable’ instead +of only ‘possible,’ Inspector? Let’s hear the evidence, +please.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale turned over the leaves of his +notebook until he reached some entries which he had +previously made.</p> + +<p>“First of all, sir, Polegate must have known the +value of these medallions—the originals, I mean. +Second, he learned that they would be on show last +night; and he knew where they’d be placed in the +museum. Third, it was after Polegate came by this +knowledge that the practical joke was planned. +Fourth, who suggested the sham burglary? Polegate. +Then fifth, who gave himself the job of actually +taking the medallions? Polegate again. Sixth, where +was Polegate immediately after the robbery? We’ve +only his own word for it that he was strolling about, +having a smoke. He might have been elsewhere, +easily enough. Seventh, he was dressed up as a +Harlequin when you saw him: but he might quite easily +have slipped on a white jacket and a pair of Pierrot’s +trousers over his Harlequin costume. He could +disguise himself as a Pierrot in a couple of ticks and +come out as a Harlequin again just as quick. So he +might quite well have been the man in white that +they were all busy chasing last night. Eighth, he +knows the ground thoroughly and could give strangers +the slip easily enough at the end of the chase. +And, ninth, he didn’t appear when you wanted him +last night. He only turned up when he’d had plenty +of time to get home again, even if he’d been the man +in white. That’s a set of nine points that need looking +into. <i>Prima facie</i>, there’s a case for suspicion, if +there’s no more. And there isn’t anything like so +strong a case against any one else, Sir Clinton.”</p> + +<p>“Well, let’s take the rest of the first line,” said the +Chief Constable, without offering any criticism of the +Inspector’s statement of the case. “ ‘When was it +done, and where?’ ”</p> + +<p>“At 11.45 p.m. and in the museum,” retorted +Armadale. “That’s beyond dispute. It’s the clearest +thing in the whole evidence.”</p> + +<p>“I should be inclined to put it at 11.44 p.m. at the +latest, or perhaps 11.43 p.m.,” said Sir Clinton, with +an air of fastidiousness.</p> + +<p>The Inspector looked at him suspiciously, evidently +feeling that he was being laughed at for his +display of accuracy.</p> + +<p>“I go by Miss Rainhill’s evidence,” he declared. +“She was the only one who had her eye on her watch, +and she said she pulled out the switch at 11.45 +precisely.”</p> + +<p>“I go by the evidence of Polegate and young +Chacewater,” said Sir Clinton, with a faint parody +of the Inspector’s manner. “They were taken by surprise +when the light went out, although they expected +it to be extinguished at 11.45 p.m.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, have it your own way, sir, if you lay any +stress on the point,” conceded the Inspector. “Make +it 11.44 or 11.45; it’s all the same, so far as I’m +concerned.”</p> + +<p>Armadale seemed slightly ruffled by his chief’s +method of approaching the subject. Sir Clinton +turned to another side of the matter.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you say the crime has been committed +in the museum?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>The Inspector looked at him suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“You’re trying to pull my leg, sir. Of course, it +was committed in the museum.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s tone became apologetic.</p> + +<p>“I keep forgetting that we’re not talking about the +same thing, perhaps. Of course, the theft of the +replicas was committed in the museum. We’re quite in +agreement there.”</p> + +<p>He threw away his cigarette, selected a fresh one, +and lighted it before continuing.</p> + +<p>“And on that basis, I suppose there’s no mystery +about the next query in the rhyme: ‘How done?’ ”</p> + +<p>“None whatever, in my mind,” the Inspector +affirmed. “Polegate could take what he wanted, once +the light was out.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton did not dispute this point.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he said. “And now for the next +query: ‘With what motive?’ Where do you stand in +that matter, Inspector?”</p> + +<p>But here Armadale evidently felt himself on sure +ground.</p> + +<p>“Polegate’s a rackety young fool, sir. This is where +local knowledge comes in. He’s got no common +sense—always playing practical jokes. He’s been +steadily muddling away the money his father left +him. I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s hard up. That’s +the motive.”</p> + +<p>“And you think he’d steal from his oldest +friends?”</p> + +<p>“Every man has his price,” retorted the Inspector, +bluntly. “Put on the screw hard enough in the way of +temptation, and any man’ll fall for it.”</p> + +<p>“Rather a hard saying that, Inspector; and +perhaps a trifle too sweeping.” Sir Clinton turned +on Armadale suddenly. “What would be <em>your</em> +price, now, if I asked you to hush up this case +against young Polegate? Put a figure on it, will +you?”</p> + +<p>Armadale flushed angrily at the suggestion; then, +seeing that he had been trapped, he laughed +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“Nobody knows even their own price till it’s put +on the table, Sir Clinton,” he countered, with a +certain acuteness.</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable turned away from the +subject.</p> + +<p>“You’re depending on there being a fair chance of +Polegate getting away with the medallions without +being suspected. But when young Chacewater and +Miss Rainhill were in the scheme as well as Polegate, +suspicion was sure to light on him when the medallions +vanished. The other two were certain to tell +what they knew about the business.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale glanced once more at his notebook +in order to refresh his memory of the rhyme.</p> + +<p>“That really comes under the final head: ‘Who in +the deed did share?’ ” he pointed out.</p> + +<p>“Pass along to the next caravan, then, if you +wish,” Sir Clinton suggested. “What animals have +you in the final cage?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector seemed to deprecate his flippancy.</p> + +<p>“It’s been very cleverly done,” he said, seriously. +“You objected that suspicion was bound to fall on +young Polegate; and so it would have done, if he +hadn’t covered his tracks so neatly. He’s set every +one on the hunt for a gang at work, or at least for an +outside criminal. Now I believe it was a one-man +show from the start, worked from the inside. +Polegate planned the practical joke—that gave him his +chance. Then he forced himself forward as the fellow +who was to do the actual stealing—and that let him +get his hands on the medallions while young +Chacewater held the keeper up for him. Without the +hold-up of the keeper, the thing was a wash-out. The +joke helped young Polegate to enlist innocent +assistance.”</p> + +<p>“But still suspicion would attach to him,” Sir +Clinton objected.</p> + +<p>“Yes, except for a false trail,” the Inspector +agreed. “But he laid a false trail. Instead of waiting +for the switch to be pulled out, he fired his shot from +the bay, extinguished the light and then rushed out +of the bay and went for the medallions.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Sir Clinton in an encouraging tone.</p> + +<p>“When he’d smashed the glass of the case, he took +out the whole six medallions, and not merely three +of them as he told you he’d done.”</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>“He pocketed the replicas and stuck the real things +under the case with plasticine. Then he continued the +false trail by bolting out of the house. He was the +man in white. When he got clear of the people who +were chasing him, he came back to the house again, +ready to play his part as an innocent practical joker. +And he had his tale ready, of how some one was beside +him at the case, wearing a Pierrot costume. That +stamped the notion of an outside gang on everybody’s +mind. Both sets of medallions had gone. He—the +innocent practical joker—could have produced +the replicas from his pocket and sworn they were +all that the gang had left in the case by the time he +got to it.”</p> + +<p>“And . . . ?”</p> + +<p>“And then, a few days later, he’d have managed +to get into the museum on some excuse—he’s a +friend of the family—and he’d have had no difficulty +in taking the real medallions from under the case +where he’d left them. He’d have to take the chance +that they’d been overlooked. The false trail would +help in that. He’d hardly expect a close search of the +museum after the man in white had got clear away. +And by running the business on these lines, he’d +avoid any chance of being caught with the stuff +actually in his pocket at any time.”</p> + +<p>“But in that case, why did he hand over the real +things to me like a lamb as soon as I challenged +him?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector was ready for this.</p> + +<p>“Because as soon as he came into the museum last +night, he found that you apparently knew +everything—or a good deal more than he’d counted on. +Anyhow, he didn’t know how much you knew; and he +felt he’d got into a tight corner. He just let the whole +thing slide and made up his mind to get out before +things got too hot. So he pretended that so far as he +was concerned, the practical joke was the thing; and +he gave up the real medallions and kept the replicas +in his pocket.”</p> + +<p>“Why? He might as well have given up the lot.”</p> + +<p>“No,” the Inspector contradicted. “He’d got to +keep the false trail going, for otherwise there would +have been awkward questions as to why he diverged +from the prearranged programme. I mean the shooting +out of the light, the lies about the man in white, +and so forth. So he stuck to the replicas and made +out that there was an outsider mixed up in the +affair. But thanks to the practical joke, the outsider +had missed the real stuff; and Polegate was really +the saviour of the Leonardo set.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to be pondering over Armadale’s +version of the affair. At last he gave his own +view.</p> + +<p>“A jury wouldn’t look at that evidence,” he +pointed out.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose they would,” Armadale admitted. +“But there may be more to come yet.”</p> + +<p>“I expect so,” Sir Clinton agreed.</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke, and, followed by the +Inspector, went down to the edge of the lakelet.</p> + +<p>“No luck yet?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“None, sir. It’s a very difficult bottom to work a +grapnel over. It sticks three times out of four.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton watched the line of the drag which they +were making.</p> + +<p>“It’ll take a while to cover the ground at this rate,” +he commented, noting the smallness of the area they +had searched up to that moment.</p> + +<p>As he turned away from the water-side, he noticed +Cecil Chacewater approaching round the edge of the +lakelet, and leaving the Inspector to superintend the +dragging, he walked over to meet the newcomer. As +he came near, he could see that Cecil’s face was +sullen and downcast.</p> + +<p>“ ’Morning, Sir Clinton. I heard you were here, +so I came across to say good-bye before I clear +out.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton could hardly pretend astonishment in +view of what he knew about the state of affairs at +Ravensthorpe; but he did not conceal his regret at +the news.</p> + +<p>“There was a row-royal between Maurice and me +this morning,” Cecil explained, gloomily. “Of course +this medallion business gave him his chance, and he +jumped in with both feet, you know. He abused me +like a fish-wife and finally gave me permission to do +anything except stay at Ravensthorpe after to-night. +So I’m off.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you hadn’t got mixed up with that silly +practical joke,” Sir Clinton said in some concern. “I +can’t forgive that young blighter for luring you into +it.”</p> + +<p>Cecil’s resentment against his brother was evidently +too deep to let him look on the matter from +this point of view.</p> + +<p>“If it hadn’t been that, it would have been something +else. Any excuse would have served his turn, +you know. He’d have flung me out sooner or later—probably +sooner. I’ve felt for long enough that he was +itching to clear me off the premises. Foxy’s little +show only precipitated things. The root of the trouble +was there long before.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s a sad business.” Sir Clinton saw that it +was useless to dwell on the subject. “You’re going +up to town? Any address you can give me?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll probably put up with a man for a day or two. +He’s been inviting me to his place once or twice +lately, but I’ve never been able to fit it in; so I may +as well take him at his word now. I’ve got to look +round for something to do, you know.”</p> + +<p>“If you want some one to speak for you, Cecil, +refer them to me when you apply for anything. And, +by the way, if you happen to run short, you know my +address. A letter will always find me.”</p> + +<p>Cecil thanked him rather awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“I hope it won’t come to that,” he wound up. +“Something may turn up sooner than one hopes.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton thought it well to change the subject +again.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Cecil,” he asked, “do you know +anything about this man Foss? What sort of person is +he?”</p> + +<p>It seemed an unfortunate topic. Cecil’s manner +was anything but gracious as he replied:</p> + +<p>“Foss? Oh, you know what sort of a fellow he is +already. A damned eavesdropper on his hosts and a +beggar with a tongue hinged in the middle so that he +can talk with both ends at once. I’d like to wring his +neck for him! What do they call the breed that runs +off and splits to the police? Copper’s narks, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t exactly that side of him that I wanted +to hear about, Cecil. I’m quite fully acquainted with +his informative temperament already. What I want +to know is the sort of man he is socially and so +forth.”</p> + +<p>Cecil curbed his vexation with an effort.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he seems to have decent enough manners—a +bit Yankee, perhaps, in some things. He must do +well enough out of this agent business of his, acting +for Kessock and the like, you know. He arrived here +with a big car, a chauffeur, and a man. Except for +his infernal tale-bearing, I can’t say he’s anything +out of the ordinary.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton, apparently feeling that he had struck +the wrong vein in the conversational strata, contented +himself with a nod of comprehension and let Cecil +choose his own subject for the next stage in their talk. +He was somewhat surprised when it came.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard the latest from the village?” +Cecil demanded.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I’ve had very little time to collect local gossip this +morning, Cecil. I’ve been busy getting things started +for this bit of work in the lake, you see.”</p> + +<p>“If you’d been down in Hincheldene village you +could hardly have missed it. I went down this morning +to get some tobacco and I found the whole place +buzzing with it. That was before I’d seen Maurice, +luckily.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you tell me what it is,” Sir Clinton +suggested, drily.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember my telling you about the family +spectre, the White Man?” Cecil asked. “Well, it +seems that the village drunkard, old Groby, was +taking a short cut through our woods last night—or +rather this morning, for he’s a bit of a late +going-to-rooster—and he got the shock of his life in one of +the glades. He swears he saw the White Man stealing +about from tree to tree. By his way of it, he was +near enough to see the thing clearly—all white, even +the face. What a lark!”</p> + +<p>“You certainly seem to take your family spectre +a bit lightly, Cecil. What’s the cream of the +jest?”</p> + +<p>Cecil’s face took on a vindictive expression.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it gave me a chance of getting home on +Maurice, after he’d given me the key of the street. I +told him all about it and I rubbed in the old story. +You know what I mean? The White Man never appears +except when the head of the family’s on his +last legs. Maurice didn’t like it a bit. He looked a +bit squeamish over it; and I came away leaving that +sticking in his gills.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton hardly concealed his distaste for this +kind of thing.</p> + +<p>“You flatter yourself, I expect. Maurice is hardly +likely to waste any thought over superstitions of that +sort.”</p> + +<p>Cecil’s expression still showed a tinge of malice.</p> + +<p>“You’d wonder,” he said. “It’s all very well for +you to sneer at these affairs; but it looks a bit +different when you yourself happen to be the object of +them, I guess. It’s easy to say ‘Superstition’ in a +high-minded way; but if there’s one per cent. chance that +the superstition’s going to hit you personally, then, +you know, it rankles a bit. Anything to give pain is +my motto where Maurice is concerned.”</p> + +<p>Quite oblivious of Sir Clinton’s rather disgusted +expression, he laughed softly to himself for a moment +or two.</p> + +<p>“And the funniest thing in the whole affair,” he +went on, “is that I know all about this White Man. +Can’t you guess what it was?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Why, don’t you see?” Cecil demanded, still +laughing. “What old Groby came across must obviously +have been Maurice himself in his white Pierrot +dress, coming back from the burglar-hunt! That’s +what makes it so damned funny. Fancy Maurice getting +the creeps on account of himself! It’s as good a +joke as I’ve heard for a while.”</p> + +<p>He laughed harshly.</p> + +<p>“You don’t seem to see it. Well, well. Perhaps +you’re right. And now I must be getting back to the +house. I’ve a lot of stuff to collect before I go off.”</p> + +<p>He shook hands with Sir Clinton and moved off +towards Ravensthorpe. The Chief Constable gazed +after him for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“That young man’s in a most unpleasant frame of +mind,” he commented to himself. “He’s obviously +quite off his normal balance when he’d make a point +of that kind of thing. I can’t say I take much stock +in brotherly love; but this is really overdoing the +business. Both of them seem to have taken leave of +ordinary feelings. It’s just as well they’re parting, +perhaps.”</p> + +<p>Rather moodily he retraced his steps to where the +Inspector was directing the operations by the bank +of the lakelet; but by the time he reached the group +his face had taken on its normal expression.</p> + +<p>“Fishing still poor?” he demanded, as he came up.</p> + +<p>“Nothing so far, sir,” the Inspector confessed. +“These rocks are the very deuce to work amongst. +I’ve been running the grapnel over the same track +two or three times, just in case we miss the thing the +first shot. We’ve had no luck at all—unless you +count this as a valuable find: a bit of limestone or +something like that.”</p> + +<p>He kicked a shapeless mass of white stone as he +spoke. Sir Clinton stooped over it: a dripping mass +about the size of a man’s fist. The Inspector watched +him as he examined it; but Sir Clinton’s face +suggested neither interest nor satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Might be a bit of marble that got swept over the +top when they were putting up the balustrade in the +old days,” the Inspector hazarded.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton looked at it again and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I doubt it,” he said. “However, since it’s the only +thing you’ve fished up, you’d better keep it, +Inspector. One never knows what may be useful. I might +make a paper-weight out of it as a souvenir.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector failed to see the point of the joke, +but he laughed as politely as he could.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Sir Clinton, I’ll see that it’s put aside.”</p> + +<p>He glanced over the Chief Constable’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Mr. Clifton coming, sir.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton turned round to find that Michael +Clifton had approached while he was engaged with +the dragging operations. Leaving the group by the +bank, he walked slowly to meet the advancing figure.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Clifton. Come up to see how +we’re getting on, I suppose. There’s nothing to +report, I’m afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Drawn blank?” Michael inquired, needlessly. +“There ought to be something there, all the same.”</p> + +<p>“It may have been only a stone,” Sir Clinton +pointed out. “You heard a splash; that’s all we have +to go on. And a stone would make that as well as +anything else.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” Michael admitted. “None of us saw +the thing hit the water, so we’ve no notion what it +was like. It might have been a stone for all we can +tell. But why should the fellow pitch a brick into the +water? That’s what puzzles me.”</p> + +<p>Before Sir Clinton could reply, a shout came from +the bank, and the Inspector waved to them to come +down.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got something, sir,” he called, as they drew +nearer.</p> + +<p>Followed by Michael, Sir Clinton hurried up to the +group at the water’s edge. The Inspector was kneeling +down, carefully disentangling the grapnel from +something white. At last he rose and held out his +capture. Michael gave an exclamation.</p> + +<p>“A white jacket!”</p> + +<p>A little further shaking of the material showed +that it was a complete white Pierrot costume, except +for the cap and shoes. The Inspector spread it out +on the grass to dry, after holding the jacket outspread +in the air so that they could gauge its size by +comparison with his own body.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I’ve been hoping to get hold of, +Inspector,” Sir Clinton said. “I doubt if you’ll find +much more in the pool. But perhaps you’d better go +on dragging for a while yet. Something else might +turn up.”</p> + +<p>He examined the costume carefully; but it was +quite evident that there were no identifying marks on +it. During the inspection, Michael showed signs of +impatience; and as soon as he could he +unostentatiously drew Sir Clinton away from the group.</p> + +<p>“Come up here, Mr. Clifton,” the Chief Constable +suggested, as he turned towards the hillock he had +chosen earlier in the morning. “We can keep an eye +on things from this place.”</p> + +<p>He sat down and Michael, after a glance to see +that they were out of earshot of the dragging party, +followed his example.</p> + +<p>“What do you make of that?” he demanded +eagerly.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to have little desire to discuss +the matter.</p> + +<p>“Let’s be quite clear on one point before we +begin,” he reminded Michael. “I’m a Chief Constable, +not a broadcasting station. My business is to collect +information, not to throw it abroad before the proper +time comes. You understand?”</p> + +<p>Rather dashed, Michael admitted the justice of +this.</p> + +<p>“I’m a public servant, Mr. Clifton,” Sir Clinton +pointed out, his manner taking the edge off the +directness of his remarks, “and I get my information +officially. Obviously it wouldn’t be playing the game +if I scattered that information around before the +public service has had the use of it.”</p> + +<p>“I see that well enough,” Michael protested. “All +I asked was what your own views are.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton smiled and there was a touch of +mischief in his eye as he replied.</p> + +<p>“Seeing that my conclusions are based on the +evidence—at least I like to think so, you +know—they’re obviously part and parcel of my official +knowledge. Hence I don’t divulge them till the right +moment comes.”</p> + +<p>He paused to let this sink in, then added lightly:</p> + +<p>“That’s a most useful principle, I find. One often +makes mistakes, and of course one never divulges +them either, until the right time comes. It’s curious, +but I’ve never been able yet to satisfy myself that +the right time has come in any case of the sort.”</p> + +<p>Michael smiled in his turn; and Sir Clinton went +on:</p> + +<p>“But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t draw +your own conclusions and give me the benefit of +them. I’m not too proud to be helped, you know.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Michael kept silence, as if considering +what his next move should be. Sir Clinton had +given him what might have looked like a snub; but +Michael had acuteness enough to tell him that the +matter was one of principle with the Chief Constable +and not merely a pretext devised on the spur +of the moment to suppress inconvenient curiosity.</p> + +<p>“It just occurred to me,” he confessed, “that +there’s a possible explanation of that thing they’ve +fished up. Do you remember that I found Maurice in +the Fairy House up above there”—he indicated the +cliff-top with a gesture—“and when I left him there +he was still wearing a white costume like this one?”</p> + +<p>“So you told us last night,” Sir Clinton confirmed.</p> + +<p>“Now when Maurice turned up in the museum +later on,” Michael continued, “he was wearing +ordinary evening clothes. He’d got rid of the Pierrot +dress in the meantime.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” Sir Clinton agreed.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it possible,” Michael went on, “that after I +left him, Maurice got over his troubles, whatever +they were, and pitched his disguise over the edge +here. This may quite well be it.”</p> + +<p>“Rather a rum proceeding, surely,” was Sir Clinton’s +comment. “Can you suggest any earthly reason +why he should do a thing like that?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” Michael admitted, frankly. “But the +whole affair last night seemed to have neither rhyme +nor reason in it; and after swallowing the escape of +that beggar we were after, I’m almost prepared for +anything in this neighbourhood. I just put the matter +before you. I can’t fake up any likely explanation +to account for it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to be reflecting before he spoke +again.</p> + +<p>“To tell you the truth, I was rather disappointed +with the result of that drag. Quite obviously—this +isn’t official information, for you can see it with your +own eyes—quite obviously that Pierrot costume must +have been wrapped round some weight or other, or it +wouldn’t have sunk to the bottom. And in the dragging +the weight fell out. I could make a guess at what +the weight was; but I wish we’d fished it up. It +doesn’t matter much, really; but one likes to get +everything one can.”</p> + +<p>Michael, unable to guess what lay behind this, +kept silent in the hope that there was more to come; +but the Chief Constable swung off to a fresh subject.</p> + +<p>“Did you take a careful note of the costumes of +the gang who helped you in the attempt to round the +beggar up? Could you make a list of them if it +became necessary?”</p> + +<p>Michael considered for the best part of a minute +before answering.</p> + +<p>“Some of them I could remember easily enough; +but not all, I’m sure. It was a bit confused, you +know; and some of the crew turned up pretty late, +when all my attention was focused on the final +round-up. I really couldn’t guarantee to give you an +accurate list.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s nod indicated approval.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I like,” he said. “I’d rather have a +definite No than a faked-up list that might mean +nothing at all. But there’s one point that’s really +important. Did you notice, among your assistants, +anybody in white like the man you were hunting?”</p> + +<p>Michael apparently had no need to pause before +replying.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said definitely, “I saw nobody of that +sort. I suppose you mean Maurice. He certainly +wasn’t in the cordon when it went into the spinney +or when it came out on the terrace. I’m absolutely +sure of my ground there. But of course he may have +been one of the late-comers. Almost as soon as we got +to the terrace we had to sprint off down to the lake +side, you see; and he might quite well have been a +bit slow in the chase and have reached the top only +after we’d come down here.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all I wanted to know,” said Sir Clinton, +with a finality which prevented any angling for +further information.</p> + +<p>Michael evidently had no desire to outstay his +welcome, for in a few minutes he rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>“I think I’ll go over to Ravensthorpe now,” he +said. “I suppose you’re not going to leave here for a +while?”</p> + +<p>The words recalled to Sir Clinton the fact that he +had not yet congratulated Michael on his +engagement. He hastened to repair the oversight.</p> + +<p>“I was looking for you at the dance last night,” he +explained, after Michael had thanked him, “but before +I got hold of you, this burglary business cropped +up, and I’ve had hardly a minute to spare since then. +By the way, if you’re going over to the house, you +might tell Joan that I shall probably have to pay +them a visit shortly, but I’ll ring up and let them +know when I’m coming.”</p> + +<p>Michael nodded and turned away, skirting the +lakelet on his way to Ravensthorpe. Sir Clinton +sauntered over to the waterside and watched the +dragging operations which were still going on. When +he made his way back to the hillock again, Inspector +Armadale followed him.</p> + +<p>“There’s another point that occurred to me, sir,” +he explained. “I think you told me that Polegate was +wearing a Harlequin’s costume last night?”</p> + +<p>“That’s correct,” Sir Clinton confirmed. “And +what then?”</p> + +<p>“One difficulty I’ve had,” the Inspector went on, +“was to explain how the fellow in white got away +from them all so neatly. I think I see now how it was +done.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton made no effort to conceal his interest.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Inspector?”</p> + +<p>Armadale obviously took this as complimentary.</p> + +<p>“This is how I figure it out, sir. Polegate had a +white jacket and Pierrot trousers on over his Harlequin +costume. At the end of the chase he bolted into +the spinney and out on to the terrace above here. +That gave him a breathing-space. It took Mr. Clifton +a minute or two to organize his cordon; and during +that time the thief was hidden from them by the +trees.”</p> + +<p>“That’s obviously true,” Sir Clinton admitted. “If +he did change his costume, it must have been at that +moment.”</p> + +<p>“I expect he had a weight of some sort ready on +the terrace,” the Inspector continued. “When +he’d stripped off his jacket and trousers, he wrapped +them round the weight and pitched them over into +the pool. That would make the splash they all +heard.”</p> + +<p>“And after that?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector was evidently delighted with his +idea.</p> + +<p>“That leaves us with Polegate in Harlequin dress +on the terrace, with a minute or two to spare before +the cordon was ready to move forward into the +spinney.”</p> + +<p>“Admitted.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember the camouflaged ships in the +War, Sir Clinton?”</p> + +<p>“I sailed in one, if that’s what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you know what they were like: all sorts +of cock-eyed streaks and colours mixed up in a regular +tangle to destroy their real outlines. And what’s +a Harlequin’s costume? Isn’t it the very same +thing?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton confirmed this with an historical +allusion.</p> + +<p>“You’re quite correct, Inspector. As a matter of +fact, the Harlequin’s dress was originally designed +to represent Invisibility. Nobody except Columbine +was supposed to be able to see Harlequin, you +know.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale hurried to his conclusion.</p> + +<p>“What was to hinder Polegate, during that +breathing-space, getting back into the spinney? It was a +moonlight night. You know what the spinney would +be like under a full moon: it would be all dappled +with spots of moonlight coming through the trees. +And against a setting of that sort the Harlequin +costume would be next door to invisible. He’d only +have to stand still in some chequered spot and no +one would detect him. They were all hunting for a +man dressed in white. None of them noticed him. +None of them saw him, I guess.”</p> + +<p>Much to the Inspector’s surprise, Sir Clinton shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“I’d be prepared to bet pretty heavily that +someone saw him,” he affirmed.</p> + +<p>The Inspector looked at his Chief for a moment, +obviously taken aback.</p> + +<p>“You think some one saw him?”</p> + +<p>Then a flood of light from a fresh angle in his mind +seemed to illuminate the question.</p> + +<p>“You mean he had a confederate in the cordon? +Some one who let him through and kept it dark? I +never thought of that! You had me beaten there, +Sir Clinton. And of course, now I see it, that’s the +simplest solution of the whole affair. If we can get a +list of the people in the cordon, we’ll be able to pick +out the confederate before long.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton damped his enthusiasm slightly.</p> + +<p>“It won’t be so easy to get that list, Inspector. +Remember the confusion of the whole business: the +hurry, the effect of moonlight, the masks, the +costumes, and all the rest of it. You may be able to put +a list together; but you’ll have some difficulty +yourself in believing that you’ve tracked down every +possible person who was in the line. And if you miss +one . . .”</p> + +<p>“He may be the man, you mean? Well, there’s +no harm in trying. I’ll turn a sergeant on to gather +all the news he can get.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll be a good test of his capacity, then, even if +nothing else comes out of it,” Sir Clinton certified, +carelessly.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch08"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII. <br> The Murder in the Museum</h2> + +<p>Sir Clinton cut short the shrill ringing of his desk +telephone by picking up the receiver.</p> + +<p>“The Chief Constable speaking,” he informed his +inquirer.</p> + +<p>Michael Clifton’s voice sounded over the wire.</p> + +<p>“Can you come up to Ravensthorpe at once, Sir +Clinton, or send Inspector Armadale? There’s a bad +business here. Mr. Foss has been murdered. I’ve +taken care that no one has got off the premises; and +I’ve seen to it that his body has been left as it was +found.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced at his wrist-watch.</p> + +<p>“I’ll drive across as soon as possible. See that +things are left undisturbed, please. And collect all +the people who can give any evidence, so that we +needn’t waste time hunting for them. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>He shifted the switch of his telephone and spoke +again.</p> + +<p>“Is Inspector Armadale here just now?” he asked +the constable who answered his call. “Tell him I +wish to see him in my room immediately.”</p> + +<p>While waiting for Armadale, Sir Clinton had a few +moments in which to consider the information he had +just received.</p> + +<p>“This looks like Part II of the Ravensthorpe +affair,” he reflected. “Foss’s only connection with +Ravensthorpe was the business of these Medusa +Medallions. First one has the theft of the replicas; now +comes the murder of this American agent. It’s highly +improbable that two things like that could be +completely independent.”</p> + +<p>His cogitation was interrupted by the entry of +Armadale, and in a few words Sir Clinton gave him +the fresh information which had come to hand.</p> + +<p>“We’ll go up there at once in my car, Inspector. +Get the necessary things together, please. Don’t +forget the big camera. We may need it. And the +constable who does photography for us had better come +along also.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale wasted no time. In a very few +minutes they were on the road. As he drove, Sir +Clinton was silent; and Armadale’s attempt to extract +further information from him was a complete failure.</p> + +<p>“You know as much as I do, Inspector,” the Chief +Constable pointed out. “Let’s keep clear of any +preconceived ideas until we see how the land lies up +yonder.”</p> + +<p>When they reached Ravensthorpe, they found +Michael Clifton waiting for them at the door.</p> + +<p>“There are only two people who seem to know anything +definite about things,” he replied to the Chief +Constable’s first inquiry. “Joan’s one of them, but +she really knows nothing to speak of. The other +witness is Foss’s man—Marden’s his name. Will you +have a look at the body first of all, and then see Joan +and this fellow?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded his acquiescence and the party +followed Michael to the museum. Mold, the keeper, +was again on guard at the door of the room, and Sir +Clinton made a gesture of recognition as he passed +in, followed by Armadale.</p> + +<p>A cursory glance showed Foss’s body lying in one +of the bays formed by the show-cases round the wall. +The Inspector went forward, knelt down, and held a +pocket-mirror to the dead man’s lips.</p> + +<p>“Quite dead, sir,” he reported after a short time.</p> + +<p>“The police surgeon will be here shortly,” Sir +Clinton intimated. “If he’s dead, we can postpone the +examination of the body for a short time. Everything’s +to be left as it is until we come back. Turn the +constable on to photograph the body’s position in +case we need it, though I don’t think we shall. Now +where’s Miss Chacewater? We’d better get her version +of the affair first. Then we can question the +valet.”</p> + +<p>Without being acutely sensitive to atmosphere, +Michael Clifton could not help noticing a fresh +characteristic which had come into the Chief Constable’s +manner. This was not the Sir Clinton with whom he +was acquainted: the old friend of the Chacewater +family, with his faintly whimsical outlook on things. +Instead, Michael was now confronted by the head of +the police in the district, engaged in a piece of official +work and carrying it through in a methodical fashion, +as though nothing mattered but the end in view.</p> + +<p>Followed by the two officials, Michael led the way +to the room where Joan was waiting. The Chief +Constable wasted no time in unnecessary talk. In fact, +he plunged straight into business in a manner which +suggested more than a touch of callousness. Only +later on did Michael realize that in this, perhaps, Sir +Clinton displayed more tact than was apparent at the +moment. By his manner, he suggested that a murder +was merely an event like any other—rather +uncommon, perhaps, but not a thing which called for +any particular excitement; and this almost indifferent +attitude tended to relax Joan’s overstrained nerves.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t see the crime actually committed, of +course?”</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Shall I begin at the beginning?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton, by a gesture, invited her to sit down. +He took a chair himself and pulled out a notebook. +Inspector Armadale copied him in this. Michael +remained standing near Joan’s chair, as though to lend +her his moral support.</p> + +<p>After thinking for a moment or two, Joan began +her story.</p> + +<p>“Some time after lunch, I was sitting on the terrace +with Mr. Foss. I forget what we were talking +about—nothing of any importance. Soon after that, Maurice +came out of the house and sat down. I was surprised +to see him, for he’d arranged to play golf this +afternoon. But he’d sprained his right wrist badly +after lunch, it seems, and had ’phoned to put off his +match. He sat nursing his wrist, and we began to +speak of one thing and another. Then, I remember, +Mr. Foss somehow turned the talk on to some of the +things we have. It was mostly about Japanese things +that they spoke; and Mr. Foss seemed chiefly +interested in some of the weapons my father had +collected. I remember they talked about a Sukesada +sword we have and about the Muramasa short sword. +Mr. Foss said that he would like to see them some +time. He thought that Mr. Kessock would be +interested to hear about them.”</p> + +<p>She broke off and seemed to be trying to remember +the transitions of the conversation. Sir Clinton waited +patiently; but at last she evidently found herself unable +to recall any details of the next stage in the talk.</p> + +<p>“I can’t remember how it came up. It was just +general talk about things in our collection and things +Mr. Foss had seen elsewhere, but finally they got on +to the Medusa Medallions somehow. Mr. Foss was +telling Maurice how tantalizing it was to buy these +things and pass them on to collectors when he’d like +to keep them for himself if only he could afford it. +Then it came out that he always took a rubbing of +all the coins and medals he came across. I remember +he made some little joke about his ‘poor man’s +collection’ or something like that. I forget exactly how +it came about, but either he asked Maurice to let +him have another look at the Leonardo medallions or +Maurice volunteered to let him take rubbings there +and then. I can’t recall the exact way in which the +suggestion was made. I wasn’t paying much +attention at the time.”</p> + +<p>She looked up to see if Sir Clinton showed any +sign of annoyance at incomplete information; but his +face betrayed neither dissatisfaction nor approval. +Inspector Armadale, though following the evidence +keenly and making frequent notes, seemed to think +that very little of her information was to the point.</p> + +<p>“Then,” Joan went on, “I remember Mr. Foss getting +up from his chair and saying: ‘If you’ll wait a +moment, I’ll get the things.’ And he went away and +left Maurice and me together. I said: ‘What’s he +gone for?’ And Maurice said: ‘Some paper to take +rubbings of the medallions and some stuff he uses +for that, dubbin or something.’ In a few minutes, +Mr. Foss came back again with some sheets of paper +and some black stuff in his hand. I was interested in +seeing how he did his rubbing or whatever you call +it, so I went with them to the museum.”</p> + +<p>“And then?” Sir Clinton prompted. As they were +evidently coming near the moment of the murder in +Joan’s narrative, it was clear that he wished to leave +her no time to think of the crime itself.</p> + +<p>“We went into the museum. Since that night of the +masked ball, Maurice has removed most of the +smaller articles of value from the cases and put them +into the safe; so in order to get the medallions he had +to open the safe. It’s a combination lock, you know; +and as I knew Maurice wouldn’t like us to be at his +elbow while he was setting the combination, I took +Mr. Foss under my wing and led him over to where +the Sukesada sword is hung on the wall. We looked +at it for a few moments. I remember taking it out of +its sheath to show the blade to Mr. Foss. Then I +heard Maurice slamming the door of the safe; and +when we went into the bay where it is, Maurice was +there with the Leonardo medallions in his hand.”</p> + +<p>“One moment,” Sir Clinton interrupted. “You said +it was a combination lock on the safe. Do you +happen to know the combination?”</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Maurice is the only one who knows that. He +never told it to any of us.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton invited her to continue.</p> + +<p>“Maurice handed Mr. Foss one of the medallions +and Mr. Foss took it over to the big central +case—the one with the flat top. Then he began to take +a rubbing of the medallion with his paper and black +stuff. He didn’t seem quite satisfied with his first +attempt, so he had a second try at it. As we were +watching him, he seemed to prick up his ears, and +then he said: ‘There’s some one calling for you, Miss +Chacewater.’ I couldn’t hear anything myself; but he +explained that the voice was pretty far off. He had +extra good hearing, I remember he said. He seemed +very positive about it, so I went off to see what it +was all about.”</p> + +<p>“Was that the last time you saw him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Joan, but she had obviously more to +tell.</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>“As I was going away from the museum door, I +met Mr. Foss’s man, Marden. He had a small brown-paper +parcel in his hand. He stopped me and asked +me if I knew where Mr. Foss was. Something about +the parcel, I gathered, though I didn’t stop to listen +to him. I told him Mr. Foss was in the museum; and +I went on to see if I could find who was calling. I +searched about and came across Mr. Clifton; but I +didn’t hear any one calling my name. Mr. Foss must +have been mistaken.”</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>Michael Clifton evidently thought it unnecessary +that Joan should bear the whole burden of giving +evidence. At this point he broke in.</p> + +<p>“Miss Chacewater and I were together in the +winter-garden when I heard a shout of ‘Murder!’ I +didn’t recognize the voice at the time. I left Miss +Chacewater where she was and made my way as +quick as I could towards the voice. It came from the +museum, so I hurried there. I found Foss on the +floor with a dagger of some sort in his chest. He was +gone, so far as I could see, before I came on the +scene at all. The man Marden was in the room, +tying up his hand. It was bleeding badly and he said +he’d cut it on the glass of a case. I kept him under +my eye till I could get a couple of keepers; and then +I rang you up at the station.”</p> + +<p>“What had become of Mr. Chacewater?” Sir Clinton +asked, without showing that he attached more +than a casual interest to the question.</p> + +<p>“That’s the puzzle,” Michael admitted. “I didn’t +see him anywhere in the museum at the moment and +I’ve been hunting for him everywhere since then: +but he’s not turned up. He may have gone out into +the grounds, of course, and left Foss alone in the +museum; and possibly he had got out of earshot before +the cry of ‘Murder!’ was raised by the valet. I don’t +know.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton saw that the Inspector wished to ask a +question, but he silenced him by a glance.</p> + +<p>“One more point, and we’re done, I think,” he +said, turning to Joan. “Can you give me a rough +idea of the time when the cry of ‘Murder!’ was +raised? I mean, how long was it after you had left +the museum yourself?”</p> + +<p>Joan thought for a few seconds.</p> + +<p>“It took me three or four minutes before I came +across Mr. Clifton, and we were together—how long +would you say, Michael?—before we heard the +shout?”</p> + +<p>“Not more than five minutes,” Michael suggested.</p> + +<p>“That’s about it,” Joan confirmed. “That would +make it about eight or nine minutes, roughly, between +the time I left the museum and the time we heard the +shout.”</p> + +<p>“About that,” Michael agreed.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton rose and closed his notebook.</p> + +<p>“That’s all you have to tell us? Everything that +bears on the matter, so far as you know?”</p> + +<p>Joan paused for a moment or two before replying.</p> + +<p>“That’s all that I can remember,” she said at last, +after an evident effort to recall any fresh details. “I +can’t think of anything else that would be of use.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve no idea where your brother is?”</p> + +<p>“None at all,” Joan answered. Then a thought +seemed to strike her. “You don’t think Maurice had +anything to do with this?” she demanded, anxiously.</p> + +<p>“He’ll turn up shortly to speak for himself, I’ve no +doubt,” Sir Clinton said, as though to reassure her. +“Now that’s all we need just now, so far as you’re +concerned. I’m going to take Mr. Clifton away for a +few minutes, but he’ll be back again almost +immediately.”</p> + +<p>With a reassuring smile, the Chief Constable excused +himself and led the way to the door, followed +by Michael and the Inspector. As soon as he was out +of the room, he turned to Michael.</p> + +<p>“You’re quite sure that Mr. Chacewater wasn’t in +the museum when you reached it?”</p> + +<p>Michael considered carefully before replying.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how he could have been. I glanced +into all the bays; and you know there isn’t cover +enough for a cat in the place.”</p> + +<p>“Was the safe door open or shut, did you notice?”</p> + +<p>Michael again reflected before replying.</p> + +<p>“Shut, I’m almost certain.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton in his turn seemed to reflect for a +moment or two.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have a look at this fellow Marden, now, I +think, Inspector, if you’ll bring him along to +the museum. We’d better hear his tale on the +spot. It’ll save explanations about the positions of +things.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale departed on his quest while +Michael and the Chief Constable made their way to +the scene of the crime. Suddenly Sir Clinton turned +and confronted Michael.</p> + +<p>“Have you any notion whatever as to where +Maurice has gone? I want the truth.”</p> + +<p>Michael was manifestly taken aback by the direct +demand.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t a notion,” he declared. “He wasn’t in +the museum when I got there, so far as I know. You +can put me on my oath over that, if you like.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable scanned his face keenly, but +made no comment on his statement. He led the way +to the museum; and they had hardly passed through +the door before Inspector Armadale returned with +the valet.</p> + +<p>Marden appeared to be a man of about thirty years +of age. Sir Clinton noticed that he carried himself +well and did not seem to have lost his head in the +excitement of the past hour. When he spoke, it was +without any appreciable accent; and he seemed to +take pains to be perfectly clear in his evidence. Sir +Clinton, by an almost imperceptible gesture, handed +over the examination of the valet to the Inspector. +Armadale pulled out his notebook once more.</p> + +<p>“What’s your name?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Thomas Marden.”</p> + +<p>“How long have you been in Mr. Foss’s service?”</p> + +<p>“Since he arrived here from America, about three +months ago.”</p> + +<p>“How did he come to engage you?”</p> + +<p>“Advertisement.”</p> + +<p>“You knew nothing about him before that?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Where was he living then?”</p> + +<p>“At 474a Gunner’s Mansions, S.W. It’s a service +flat.”</p> + +<p>“He still has that flat?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“How did he spend his time?”</p> + +<p>The valet seemed astonished by the question.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. None of my business.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale was not to be turned aside.</p> + +<p>“You must have known whether he stayed in the +flat or went out regularly at fixed times.”</p> + +<p>Marden seemed to see what was wanted.</p> + +<p>“You mean, did he go out to an office every day? +No, he came and went just when it suited him.”</p> + +<p>“Had he much correspondence?”</p> + +<p>“Letters? Just about what one might expect.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector looked up gloomily. So far, he had +not got much to go upon.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by: ‘Just what one might +expect?’ ”</p> + +<p>“He got some letters every day, sometimes one or +two, sometimes half a dozen. Just what one might +expect.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea whether they were business +letters or merely private correspondence?”</p> + +<p>Marden seemed annoyed by the question.</p> + +<p>“How should I know?” he demanded, stiffly. +“It’s not my business to pry into my employer’s +affairs.”</p> + +<p>“It’s your business to read the addresses on the +envelopes to see that the postman hasn’t left wrong +letters. Did you notice nothing when you did that? +Were the addresses mainly typewritten or written by +hand?”</p> + +<p>“He got bills and advertisements with the address +typewritten—like most of us. And one or two letters +came addressed by hand.”</p> + +<p>“Did you notice the stamps?”</p> + +<p>“Some were American, of course.”</p> + +<p>“So it comes to this,” Inspector Armadale concluded, +“he was not carrying on a big business from +the flat; most of his letters were ordinary bills and +so forth; but he had some private correspondence as +well; and part of his correspondence was with +America? Why couldn’t you tell us that straight off, +instead of having it dragged out of you?”</p> + +<p>The valet was quite unruffled by the Inspector’s +tone.</p> + +<p>“I hadn’t put two and two together the way you do. +They were just letters to me. I didn’t think anything +about them.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale showed no appreciation of this +indirect tribute to his powers.</p> + +<p>“Had he many visitors?”</p> + +<p>“Not at the flat. He may have met his friends in +the restaurant downstairs for all I know.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember any visitors at the flat?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector seemed to recollect something he +had missed.</p> + +<p>“Did he get any telegrams?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Frequently?”</p> + +<p>“Fairly often.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve no idea of the contents of these wires?”</p> + +<p>Marden obviously took offence at this.</p> + +<p>“You asked me before if I pried into his affairs; +and I told you I didn’t.”</p> + +<p>“How often did these wires arrive?” the Inspector +demanded, taking no notice of Marden’s annoyance.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps once or twice a week.”</p> + +<p>“Did he bet?” the Inspector inquired, as though it +had just struck him that the telegrams might thus be +explained.</p> + +<p>“I know nothing about that.”</p> + +<p>Armadale went off on a fresh tack.</p> + +<p>“Did he seem to be well off for money?”</p> + +<p>“He paid me regularly, if that’s what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“He had a car and a chauffeur, hadn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Were they his own or simply hired?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Not my business.”</p> + +<p>“The Gunner’s Mansions flats are expensive?”</p> + +<p>“They get the name of it. I don’t know what he +paid.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t seem to have had much curiosity, +Marden.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not paid for being curious.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector put down his pencil and reflected for +a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea of his address in America?”</p> + +<p>“Not my business.”</p> + +<p>“Did he write many letters?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say. None of my business.”</p> + +<p>“You can at least say whether he gave you any to +post.”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Have you anything else you can tell us about +him?”</p> + +<p>Marden seemed to think carefully before he +replied.</p> + +<p>“All his clothes were split new.”</p> + +<p>“Anything else?”</p> + +<p>“He carried a revolver—I mean an automatic.”</p> + +<p>“What size was it?”</p> + +<p>“About that length.”</p> + +<p>The valet indicated the length approximately with +his hands, and winced slightly as he moved the +bandaged one.</p> + +<p>“H’m! A .38 or a .45,” Armadale commented. +“Too big for a .22, anyway.”</p> + +<p>He took up his pencil again.</p> + +<p>“Now come to this afternoon. Begin at lunchtime +and go on.”</p> + +<p>Marden reflected for a moment, as though testing +his memory.</p> + +<p>“I’d better begin before lunch. Mr. Foss came to +me with a parcel in his hand and asked me to take it +over to Hincheldene post office. He wanted it registered. +He offered to let me take the car if I wished; +but I preferred to walk over. I like the fresh air.”</p> + +<p>“And then?” demanded the Inspector with an +unconscious plagiarism of his Chief.</p> + +<p>“Immediately after lunch, I set out and walked +through the grounds towards Hincheldene village. I +didn’t hurry. It was a nice afternoon for a walk. By +and by I met a keeper, and he told me I couldn’t go +any farther in that direction. He’d orders to turn +back any one, he said. I talked to him for a minute +or two, and explained where I was going; and I +pulled the parcel out of my pocket as a guarantee of +good faith. He didn’t know me, you see. And when I +got the parcel out, I noticed the label quite by +chance.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, you do look at addresses after all!” +interjected the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“Quite by chance,” Marden went on, without taking +any notice of the thrust. “And I saw that Mr. +Foss had made a mistake.”</p> + +<p>“How did you know that,” Inspector Armadale +demanded, with the air of a cat pouncing on a mouse. +“You said you’d taken no interest in his correspondence +and yet you knew this parcel was directed to a +wrong address. Curious, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Marden did not even permit himself to smile as he +discomfited the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“He’d left out the name of the town. An obvious +oversight when he was writing the label.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go on,” growled the Inspector, evidently +displeased at losing his score.</p> + +<p>“As soon as I saw that, I knew it was no good taking +the thing to the post office as it was. So I asked +the keeper a question or two about the shortest way +to Hincheldene without getting on to the barred +ground. Then I turned and came home again, intending +to ask Mr. Foss to complete the address on the +parcel.”</p> + +<p>“What time was it when you reached here again?”</p> + +<p>Marden considered for a while.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say precisely. Sometime round about +half-past three or a bit later. I didn’t look at the +time.”</p> + +<p>“What did you do then?”</p> + +<p>“I hunted about for Mr. Foss, but he didn’t seem +to be in the house. At last, when I was just giving it +up, I met Miss Chacewater coming away from this +room, and she told me that Mr. Foss was inside. She +went away, and I came to the door. It was half-open +and I could hear voices inside: Mr. Foss and Mr. +Chacewater from the sound. I thought they’d soon +be coming out and that I’d get Mr. Foss as he passed +me; so I waited, instead of interrupting them.”</p> + +<p>“How long did you wait?”</p> + +<p>“Only a minute or two, so far as I can remember.”</p> + +<p>“You could hear them talking?”</p> + +<p>“I could hear the sound of their voices. I couldn’t +hear what they said. There’s an echo or something in +this room and all I heard was the tone they were +speaking in.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of tone do you mean?”</p> + +<p>Marden paused as though searching for an +adjective.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to me an angry tone. They raised their +voices.”</p> + +<p>“As if they were quarrelling?”</p> + +<p>“Like that. And then I heard Mr. Chacewater say: +‘So that’s what you’re after?’ Then I heard what +sounded like a scuffle and a gasp. I was taken aback, +of course. Who wouldn’t be? I stood stock still with +the parcel in my hand for a moment or two. Then I +got my head back and I pushed open the door and +rushed into the room.”</p> + +<p>“Be careful here,” Sir Clinton interrupted. “Don’t +try to force your memory. Tell us exactly what comes +back into your mind.”</p> + +<p>Marden nodded.</p> + +<p>“When I got into the room here,” he went on, “the +first thing I saw was Mr. Chacewater. He had his +back to me and was just turning the corner here.”</p> + +<p>Marden walked across and indicated the end of +the bay beyond the one which contained the safe, the +last recess in the room at the end opposite from the +door.</p> + +<p>“He went round this corner in a hurry. That’s the +last I saw of him.”</p> + +<p>Marden’s face betrayed his amazement even at the +recollection.</p> + +<p>“Never mind that just now,” said Sir Clinton. +“Tell us what you did yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t see Mr. Foss at the first glance; but +when I got near the corner where I’d seen Mr. +Chacewater, I saw Mr. Foss lying on the floor. I thought +he’d slipped or something; and I went over to give +him a hand up. Then I saw a big knife or a dagger +through his chest and some blood on his mouth. As I +was hurrying over to his side, I slipped on the +parquet—it’s very slippery—and down I came. I put +out my hand to save myself and my fist broke the +glass in one of these cases. When I got up again, my +hand was streaming with blood. It’s a nasty gash. So +I pulled out my handkerchief and wrapped it around +my hand before I did anything else. It was simply +gushing with blood and I thought of it first of +all.”</p> + +<p>Marden held up his roughly swathed hand in +proof.</p> + +<p>“I got to my feet again and went over to Mr. +Foss. By that time he was either dead or next door +to it. He didn’t move. I didn’t touch him, for I saw +well enough he was done for. Then I went to the door +and shouted ‘Murder!’ as hard as I could. Then while +I was shouting, it struck me as queer that Mr. +Chacewater had disappeared.”</p> + +<p>“It didn’t occur to you that he might have slipped +out of the room while your back was turned—when +you were busy over Mr. Foss?” demanded Inspector +Armadale in a hostile tone.</p> + +<p>Marden shook his head.</p> + +<p>“It didn’t occur to me at all, because I knew it +hadn’t happened. No one could have got out of the +room without my seeing him.”</p> + +<p>“Go on with your story, please,” Sir Clinton +requested.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing more to tell. I kept shouting +‘Murder!’ and I searched the room here while I was +doing it. I found nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Was the safe door closed when you saw it first?” +Sir Clinton inquired.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was. I thought perhaps Mr. Chacewater +might be inside, with the door pulled to; so I tried +the handle. It was locked.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton put a further inquiry.</p> + +<p>“You heard only two voices in the room before you +burst in?”</p> + +<p>A new light seemed to be thrown by this question +across Marden’s mind.</p> + +<p>“I heard only two people speaking: Mr. Foss and +Mr. Chacewater; but of course I couldn’t swear that +only two people were in the room. That’s what you +meant, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale caught the drift of the inquiry.</p> + +<p>“I suppose if one man can disappear in a mysterious +way, there’s nothing against two men vanishing +in the same way,” he hazarded. “So all you can +really tell us is that Mr. Foss and Mr. Chacewater +were here at any rate, and possibly there were other +people as well?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t swear to any one except these two,” +Marden was careful to state.</p> + +<p>“Another point,” Sir Clinton went on. “Have you +any idea whether Mr. Foss came into contact with +a person or persons outside the house during his stay +here? I mean people known to him before he came to +Ravensthorpe?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say.”</p> + +<p>“None of your business, I suppose?” Inspector +Armadale put in, with an obvious sneer.</p> + +<p>“None of my business, as you say,” Marden returned, +equably. “I wasn’t engaged as a detective.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this question falls into your department,” +Sir Clinton intervened, as Armadale showed signs of +losing his temper. “What costume was Mr. Foss +wearing on the night of the masked ball? You must +know that.”</p> + +<p>Marden replied without hesitation.</p> + +<p>“He was got up as a cow-puncher. He hired the +costume from London when he heard about the fancy +dress. It was a pair of cow-boy trousers, big heavy +things with fringes on them; a leather belt with a +pistol-holster on it; a coloured shirt; a neck-cloth; +and a flappy cow-boy hat.”</p> + +<p>“Rather a clumsy rig-out, then?”</p> + +<p>Marden seemed to find difficulty in repressing a +smile.</p> + +<p>“It was as much as he could do to walk at all, until +he got accustomed to the things. He told me it gave +him a good excuse for not dancing. He wasn’t a +dancing man, he said.”</p> + +<p>“He carried a revolver, you say. Did you ever see +any sign that he was afraid of anything of this sort +happening to him?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand. How could I know what he +was afraid of or what he wasn’t? It was none of my +business.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s smile took the edge off Marden’s +reply.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I think one might make a guess,” he said, +“if one kept one’s eyes open. A terrified man would +give himself away somehow or other.”</p> + +<p>“Then either he wasn’t afraid or else I don’t keep +my eyes open. I saw nothing of the sort.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton reflected for a moment or two. He +glanced at Armadale.</p> + +<p>“Any more questions you’d like to put? No? Then +that will do, Marden. Of course there’ll be an inquest +and your evidence will be required at it. You can +stay on here until you’re needed. I’ll see Miss +Chacewater about it. But for the present you’ve given us +all the help you can?”</p> + +<p>“Unless you’ve any more questions you want to +ask,” Marden suggested.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, I think I’ve got all I need for the present, +thanks. I may want you again later on, of course.”</p> + +<p>Marden waited for nothing further, but left the +room pursued by a slightly vindictive glance from +Inspector Armadale. When he had disappeared, Sir +Clinton turned to Michael Clifton.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better go back to Joan, now? She +must be rather nervous after this shock.”</p> + +<p>Michael came to himself with a slight start when +the Chief Constable addressed him. Hitherto his +rôle had been purely that of a spectator; and he had +been so wrapped up in it that it came as a faint +surprise to find himself directly addressed. Throughout +the proceedings he had been semi-hypnotized by the +deadly matter-of-fact way in which the police were +going about their work. When he had first heard of +the murder, he had felt as though something unheard-of +had invaded Ravensthorpe. Of course murders did +take place: one read about them in the newspapers. +But the idea that murder could actually be done in his +own familiar environment had come to him with more +than a slight shock. The normal course of things +seemed suddenly diverted.</p> + +<p>But during the last ten minutes he had been a +witness of the beginning of the police investigation; +and the invincible impression of ordinariness had +begun to replace the earlier nightmare quality in his +mind. Here were a couple of men going about the +business as though it were of no more tragic character +than a search for a lost dog. It was part of their +work to hunt out a solution of the affair. They were +no more excited over it than a chess-player looking +for the key-move in a problem. The cool, +dispassionate way in which the Chief Constable had +handled the affair seemed to strike a fresh note and +to efface the suggestions of the macabre side of +things which had been Michael’s first impression of +the matter. The Dance of Death retreated gradually +into the background in the face of all the minute +questionings about letters, and visits, and +parcels—these commonplace things of everyday life.</p> + +<p>“If I can be of no use here,” he said, “I think I’d +better go.”</p> + +<p>He hesitated for a moment as a fresh thought +struck him.</p> + +<p>“By the way, how much of this is confidential?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton looked at him with an expressionless +face.</p> + +<p>“I think I may leave that to your discretion. It’s +not for broadcasting, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“What about Maurice?” Michael persisted.</p> + +<p>“I’d leave Maurice out of it as far as possible,” +said Sir Clinton, in obvious dismissal. “Now, +Inspector, I think we’d better have a look at the late +Mr. Foss.”</p> + +<p>Michael retreated from the room as they turned +towards the body on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Leave Maurice out of it!” he thought, as he +walked at a snail’s pace towards the room where he +had left Joan. “That’s a nice bit of advice! If you +leave Maurice out of it, there seems to be nothing +left in it. Now what the devil am I to say to her? If +I say nothing, she’ll jump to the worst conclusion; +and if I say anything at all, she’ll jump to the same.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch09"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX. <br> The Muramasa Sword</h2> + +<p>As the door closed behind Michael Clifton, the +Chief Constable turned to the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“Now we can get to business, Inspector. Let’s +have a look round the place at leisure, and perhaps +the surgeon will turn up before we reach the body +itself.”</p> + +<p>Followed by Armadale, he stepped over to the bay +containing the corpse of Foss and began methodically +to inspect the surroundings.</p> + +<p>“This must have been the case that Marden slipped +against when he cut his hand,” the Inspector pointed +out. “There’s a big hole in the glass and some blood +on the broken edges of the gap.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, there’s blood enough to suit most +people,” Sir Clinton admitted, with a glance towards +the shattered case. But he seemed less interested in +the glass than in the floor surface; for he moved +slowly to and fro, evidently trying to place himself so +that the sunlight from the window was reflected up +to him from the parquet. After a moment or two, he +seemed satisfied.</p> + +<p>“That part of Marden’s story seems true enough. +He did slip here. If you come across, you’ll see a line +where the polish of the parquet has been taken off +by some hard part of his shoe. You won’t be able to +spot it unless you make a mirror of the floor.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector in his turn moved over and satisfied +himself of the existence of the faint mark.</p> + +<p>“That confirms part of his story,” he admitted, +grudgingly. “There’s a lot of blood about, quite +apart from the stuff from the body. One might make +something out of that.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose we try,” Sir Clinton suggested. “Assume +that he cut his hand here on the glass. He’d be all +asprawl on the floor; and the first thing he’d do +would be to put his hands down to help himself up. +That would account for these biggish patches here, +under the case. Then a foot or so away you see those +round marks of droplets with tiny splashes radiating +from them with a fair regularity all round. These +must have been made by drops falling from his hand +while he stood still—no doubt while he was feeling +with the other hand for his handkerchief to stanch +the bleeding.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector indicated his agreement.</p> + +<p>“After he’d got it fixed up, one might expect him +to go over and look at Foss. He’d gone down on the +floor, you remember, while he was hurrying to Foss’s +assistance.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no sign of that,” Armadale hastened to +point out. “I can’t see any blood-drops round about +the body.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t be in too much of a hurry, Inspector. +Perhaps they fell in the pool of Foss’s own blood or, +more probably, his handkerchief soaked up any blood +that flowed just then.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton, still with his eyes on the ground, +began to cast about in search of further traces.</p> + +<p>“Ah, here are a couple of drops at the end of the +bay. Have a look at them, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Armadale knelt down and examined the clots.</p> + +<p>“Made on his way to the door, probably,” he +suggested.</p> + +<p>“They might have been, if he was swinging his +arms as one does when one walks freely; but one +doesn’t usually swing the arm when there’s a fresh +wound in the hand, I think. These aren’t round +blobs like the others; they’re elongated, and all the +splashing from them is at one end—the end towards +the safe. His hand, when they were made, was moving +towards the safe’s bay, whatever his body was +doing.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton made a rough measurement of the +distance between the two drops.</p> + +<p>“If they’d been nearer together or further apart, +then each of them might have been made while his +arm was going backwards in its natural swing while +he was walking towards the door. But the distance +between them won’t fit that. You’ll see at once if you +try walking over the ground yourself, Inspector; for +you’re just about Marden’s height and your stride +must be nearly the same as his.”</p> + +<p>“He said something about going to the safe +and trying the handle,” the Inspector admitted, +grudgingly. “So far, his tale’s got some +support.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton smiled covertly at Armadale’s obvious +desire to pick holes in the valet’s narrative.</p> + +<p>“Well, let’s find out how it happened,” Sir Clinton +suggested. “He evidently passed this bay and went +on towards the next one, where the safe is. We’ll +follow his example.”</p> + +<p>They turned the corner of the show-case and +stepped over to the safe door.</p> + +<p>“There’s a trace of blood on the handle, true +enough,” the Inspector admitted. “But I’m not sure +he told the truth about why he came to the safe.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton inspected the smear of blood on the +handle, but he seemed to attach very little +importance to it.</p> + +<p>“I suppose one mustn’t jump to conclusions and +assume that everything’s all above-board,” he +conceded. “But even if we keep open minds, wouldn’t +it be the most natural thing in the world for Marden +to try the safe door? Remember what had happened +according to his story. Mr. Chacewater was in the +room, for Marden saw him with his own eyes. Mr. +Chacewater turned the corner of a bay—the one next +this; and then Marden lost him for good. If you’d +been in Marden’s place, wouldn’t you have searched +about, and then, finding no trace of the missing +man, wouldn’t you have jumped to the conclusion +that he might be hidden in the safe? And wouldn’t +you have given the handle a pull, just to make sure +the safe was really locked and that Mr. Chacewater +wasn’t hiding inside it?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” conceded the Inspector, evidently +dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>“I expect his tale isn’t complete, of course. He +could hardly give every detail. It would be a bit +suspicious if he had, I think. If his tale had been +absolutely complete in every detail, I’d be inclined +to suspect a previously prepared recitation rather +than an account of the facts. In a case of this sort, +one could hardly expect a water-tight narrative, could +one?”</p> + +<p>He continued his examination of the floor; but +there seemed to be no other blood-stains of any +importance.</p> + +<p>“Now let’s have a glance at the body,” he suggested. +“We needn’t shift it till the surgeon comes; +but we can see what’s to be seen without altering its +position in the meanwhile.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector was the first to reach the spot, and +as he knelt down beside the corpse he gave an +exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>“Here’s an automatic pistol, sir. It’s lying almost +under the body, but I can see the muzzle. It looks +like a .38 calibre.”</p> + +<p>“Leave it there. We’ll get at it later.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton examined the body itself. The cause of +death seemed obvious enough, for the weapon still +remained in the wound. A glance at it set the Chief +Constable’s eye ranging over the museum cases. He +retreated from the bay and searched for a time until +he found what he was looking for: an empty sheath +in an unlocked case. Without touching the sheath, he +scanned the Japanese inscription on its surface.</p> + +<p>“So that’s the thing?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector had come across to his side and +stood looking at the sheath.</p> + +<p>“So the thing’s one of the specimens?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Don’t touch it, Inspector. We may as well +see whose finger-prints are on it, though it’s quite +on the cards that it’s been handled by other people +lately as well as the murderer. It’s rather a show +specimen, you see—one of Muramasa’s making. This +was the sword they were discussing when they were +out on the terrace. Muramasa’s weapons have the +name of being unlucky; and this one seems to bear +out the legend.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector looked at the sheath with apparent +care, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.</p> + +<p>“Nobody could have got away from here through +the windows,” he observed, rather irrelevantly. +“They’re all barred outside, and the catches are fast +on the sashes.”</p> + +<p>Evidently Sir Clinton had noticed this in the course +of his previous search, for he gave a tacit assent to +the Inspector’s statement without even glancing up at +the windows.</p> + +<p>“Here are the sheets of rubbing-paper that Foss +was using,” the Inspector went on, picking them up +as he spoke. “They’ll have his finger-prints on them, +so I’ll stow them away. We might need them. One +never knows.”</p> + +<p>“We can get actual prints from the body if we +need them,” Sir Clinton pointed out. “You don’t +suppose it’s a suicide case, do you?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector was too wary to throw himself open +to attack. He contented himself with putting the +papers away carefully in his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>“Finger-prints will be useful, though,” Sir Clinton +went on. “At the earliest possible moment, Inspector, +I want you to get prints from the fingers of every +one in the house. Start with Miss Chacewater. She’ll +agree to let you take hers without any trouble; and +after that you can go on to Mr. Clifton and so down +the scale. We’ve no authority for insisting, of course; +but you can make a note if any one objects. I expect +you’ll get the lot without difficulty.”</p> + +<p>At this moment Mold opened the door to admit the +police surgeon; and Sir Clinton broke off in order to +explain the state of affairs to him. Dr. Greenlaw was +a business-like person who wasted no time. While +Sir Clinton was speaking, he knelt down beside the +corpse and made a cursory examination of it. When +he rose to his feet again, he seemed satisfied.</p> + +<p>“That sword appears to have entered the thorax +between the fifth and sixth ribs,” he pointed out. +“It’s pierced the left lung, evidently; you notice the +blood-foam on his lips? And most probably it’s penetrated +right into the heart as well. It looks as if it +had; but of course I’ll need to carry out a P.M. +before I can give you exact details.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose we can take out the sword before we +shift the body?” asked the Inspector. “We want to +examine it before any one else touches it.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” Greenlaw replied. “You can see for +yourselves what happened. He was struck from the +front by a right-handed man—a fairly heavy blow, I +should judge from the depth to which that sword has +buried itself. There’s no sign of a twist in the wound, +which looks as though he went down under it at once. +Quite possibly the base of the skull may have been +fractured on the floor by the force of his fall. We’ll +see when we come to the P.M. But in any case that +wound alone would be quite sufficient to cause almost +immediate death. It’s a blade almost as broad as a +bayonet, as you can see. I’ll go into the whole thing +carefully when I can make a thorough examination. +You’ll have him sent down to the mortuary, of +course?”</p> + +<p>“As soon as we’ve finished our work here.”</p> + +<p>“Good. I’ll make a note or two now, if you don’t +mind. Then I’ll leave you to get on. As things are, +there’s nothing there which you couldn’t see for +yourselves.”</p> + +<p>He took out a pocket-book and began to jot down +his notes.</p> + +<p>“Just a moment, doctor,” Sir Clinton interposed. +“I’ve got a patient for you here. I’d like you to have +a look at his hand and bandage up some cuts before +you go.”</p> + +<p>Greenlaw nodded in agreement and went on with +his note-taking.</p> + +<p>“Now, Inspector,” Sir Clinton continued, “we’d +better get this sword out. Be sure to take all the care +you can not to rub out any finger-prints.”</p> + +<p>Armadale obeyed, and after some cautious +manœuvres he succeeded in withdrawing the weapon, +which he laid carefully on the top of the central +show-case.</p> + +<p>“Now we can have a look at him,” Sir Clinton +said. “You don’t mind our shifting the position of +the body, doctor?”</p> + +<p>Greenlaw closed his note-book and prepared to +assist them if necessary.</p> + +<p>“Begin with the contents of his pockets, +Inspector,” Sir Clinton suggested.</p> + +<p>“The blade’s gone clean through his left breast +pocket,” the Inspector pointed out. He felt the +outside of the pocket gingerly with his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Nothing there except his handkerchief, so far as +I can feel. It’s all soaked with his blood. I’ll leave +that to the last. I want to keep my hands clean while +I go over the rest.”</p> + +<p>He wiped his finger-tips carefully on his own +handkerchief and continued his search.</p> + +<p>“Right-hand breast pocket: a note-case.”</p> + +<p>He drew it out and handed it to Sir Clinton, who +opened it and counted the contents.</p> + +<p>“Three hundred and fifty-seven pounds in notes,” +he announced at length. “That’s a fair sum to be +carrying about with one. Ten visiting cards: ‘J. B. +Foss,’ with no address.”</p> + +<p>He crossed over to the central case and put down +the note-case thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“The left-hand waistcoat pockets are saturated +with blood,” Armadale continued. “I’ll leave them +over for the present. Top right-hand waistcoat +pocket, empty. Lower right-hand waistcoat pocket: +a small penknife and a tooth-pick. Not much blood +here; he was lying slightly on his left side and it +must have flowed in that direction, I suppose. +Right-hand jacket pocket, outside: nothing. I’ll take the +trousers now. Right-hand pocket: key-ring and a +purse.”</p> + +<p>He handed them to Sir Clinton, who examined +them in turn before putting them on the central +case.</p> + +<p>“Only keys of suit-cases here,” the Chief Constable +reported. “We haven’t come across the +latch-key of his flat, if you notice.”</p> + +<p>He counted the contents of the purse.</p> + +<p>“Eight and sixpence and one ten-shilling note.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector proceeded with his examination.</p> + +<p>“Here’s something funny! He’s got a smallish +pocket over his hip, just below the trouser button. +That’s unusual. But it’s empty,” he added, after an +eager search.</p> + +<p>“Let me look at that,” Sir Clinton demanded.</p> + +<p>He stooped down and inspected the pocket closely, +then stood up and passed his hand across the +corresponding spot on his own clothes. As he did so, +Armadale noticed a peculiar expression pass across +the Chief Constable’s face, as though some new idea +had dawned upon him and had cleared up a difficulty. +But Sir Clinton divulged nothing of what was +passing in his mind.</p> + +<p>“Make quite sure it’s empty,” he said.</p> + +<p>Armadale turned the little pocket inside out.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing there,” he pointed out. “It +wouldn’t hold much—it’s hardly bigger than a ticket +pocket.”</p> + +<p>He looked at the pocket again, evidently puzzled +by the importance which the Chief Constable +attached to it.</p> + +<p>“It’s a silly place to have a pocket,” he said at +last. “It’s not like the old-fashioned fob. That was +kept tight shut by the pressure of your body. This +thing’s mouth is loose and it’s simply a gift to a +pickpocket.”</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll probably find another of the same +kind on the other side,” Sir Clinton contented himself +with saying. “Let’s get on with the rest of them.”</p> + +<p>Armadale turned the body slightly and put his +hand into the hip pocket.</p> + +<p>“It’s empty, too,” he announced. “It’s a very loose +pocket with no flap on it. I expect he carried his +pistol there and he had the pocket built for easy +handling of his gun.”</p> + +<p>He looked at the .38 automatic which had been +disclosed as he turned the body.</p> + +<p>“That wouldn’t have fitted into the little pocket,” +he pointed out. “The pistol’s far too big for the +opening.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded his agreement with this view.</p> + +<p>“He didn’t use it for his pistol. Now, the left-hand +pockets, please. You can wash your hands as +soon as you’ve gone through them.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale stolidly continued his +investigation.</p> + +<p>“Left-hand breast pocket in jacket,” he announced. +“Nothing but his handkerchief, saturated with +blood.”</p> + +<p>He handed it to Sir Clinton, who inspected it carefully +before putting it with the rest of the collection.</p> + +<p>“No marks on it, either initials or laundry-mark,” +he said. “Evidently been bought and used without +marking.”</p> + +<p>“Ticket pocket, empty,” the Inspector went on, +withdrawing his fingers from it. “Top left waistcoat +pocket: a self-filling Swan pen and a metal holder for +same. Lower left waistcoat pocket: an amber +cigarette-holder. Not much to go on there.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the trousers.</p> + +<p>“Left-hand trouser pocket: five coppers.”</p> + +<p>Handing them over, he proceeded.</p> + +<p>“Your notion’s quite right, sir. There’s another of +these side pockets here. But it’s empty like the other +one.”</p> + +<p>Instead of replying, Sir Clinton gingerly picked up +the automatic pistol from the floor and placed it +along with the other objects on the central case.</p> + +<p>“You’d better examine that for finger-prints, +Inspector,” he suggested. “I leave you to make the +arrangements about taking the body down to the +mortuary. The sooner the better. Now, doctor, we’ll +get your patient for you, if the Inspector will be +good enough to bring him to the lavatory near by, +where you can get his wounds patched up.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale soon produced Marden, who +seemed rather surprised at being summoned again.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, Marden,” Sir Clinton assured him. +“It merely struck me that when there was a doctor +on the premises you ought to have these cuts of yours +properly fixed up.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Greenlaw speedily removed the temporary +bandage which the valet had improvised.</p> + +<p>“I’ll need to put some stitches into this,” he said, +as the extent of the injury became evident. “Luckily +these glass cuts are clean-edged. You’ll hardly see +the scar after a time.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton inspected the wounds sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“You’ve made a bit of a mess of your hand, Marden,” +he commented. “It’s just as well I thought of +getting Dr. Greenlaw to look after you.”</p> + +<p>Marden seemed to have been looking for an +opening.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you called me up again, sir,” he explained. +“I’ve just thought of two other points about +this affair.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>While the doctor was cleaning and disinfecting the +wounds, Marden addressed himself to the Chief +Constable.</p> + +<p>“I forgot to say, sir, that when I got back to the +house I found Mr. Foss’s car waiting for him. I said +a word or two to the chauffeur as I passed. It only +struck me afterwards that this might be important. +I forgot about it at the time.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right to tell us,” Sir Clinton confirmed.</p> + +<p>“The second thing was what the chauffeur told me. +He’d been ordered to wait for Mr. Foss, it seems; +and he got the idea that Mr. Foss was leaving +Ravensthorpe this afternoon for good. I was surprised +by that; for I’d heard nothing about it from Mr. +Foss.”</p> + +<p>He flinched slightly with the smart of his wounds, +as Greenlaw washed them carefully.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed to be struck by a fresh idea.</p> + +<p>“Before the doctor bandages you up, would you +mind if we took your finger-prints, Marden? I’m +asking every one to let us take theirs, and this seems +to be the best chance we shall have of getting yours, +you see? Of course, if you object, I’ve no power to +insist on it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve no objections, sir. Why should I have?”</p> + +<p>“Then you might take impressions of the lot, +Inspector,” Sir Clinton suggested. “Don’t spend too +much time over it. We must get the bandages on this +hand as quick as possible.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale hurried away for his outfit and +soon set to work to take the valet’s finger-prints. +While he was thus engaged a fresh suggestion seemed +to occur to Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Marden, you have that parcel which +Mr. Foss sent to the post?”</p> + +<p>“I can give you it in a moment, sir, once the doctor +has finished with my hand.”</p> + +<p>“Very good. I’d like to see it.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable waited patiently until +Marden’s hand was completely bandaged; then he +dispatched the valet for the parcel. When it was +forthcoming, he dismissed Marden again. The doctor +took his leave, and Armadale was left alone with Sir +Clinton.</p> + +<p>“Now let’s see what Foss was sending off, +Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Cutting the string, Sir Clinton unwrapped the +paper and disclosed a small cardboard box. Inside +on a layer of cotton-wool, was a wrist-watch. +Further search failed to bring to light any enclosed +note.</p> + +<p>“I suppose he was sending it to be cleaned,” the +Inspector hazarded. “Probably he wrote a letter by +the same post.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s have a look at it, Inspector. Be careful not +to mark it with your fingers.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton took the watch up and examined it +closely.</p> + +<p>“It looks fairly new to need repair.”</p> + +<p>He held it to his ear.</p> + +<p>“It’s going. Not much sign of damage there.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it needed regulating,” Armadale +suggested.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” Sir Clinton’s tone was noncommittal. +“Take a note of the time as compared with your own +watch, Inspector; and just check whether it’s going +fast or slow in a few hours. Try it for finger-prints +along with the rest of the stuff.”</p> + +<p>He replaced it gently in its bed of cotton-wool and +closed the box, taking care not to finger the +cardboard.</p> + +<p>“Now, if you’ll send for the chauffeur, we may get +something from him.”</p> + +<p>But the chauffeur proved a most unsatisfactory +witness. He admitted that Foss had ordered him to +bring round the car at 3.15 and wait for further +orders; but he was unable to give any clear account +of the talk he had with his employer when the order +was given.</p> + +<p>“I can’t remember what he said exactly; but I got +the notion he was leaving here to-day. I’m dead sure +of that; for I packed up my own stuff and had it +ready to go off at a moment’s notice. It’s on the grid +of the car now. I was so taken aback that I haven’t +thought of unpacking it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton could get nothing further out of the +man, and he was eventually dismissed.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll have a run over the late Mr. Foss’s +goods,” the Chief Constable proposed, when they had +dismissed the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>But the search of Foss’s bedroom yielded at first +nothing of much interest.</p> + +<p>“This doesn’t look as if that chauffeur had been +telling the truth,” Armadale pointed out, when they +found all Foss’s clothes arranged quite normally in +wardrobe and drawers. “Foss himself had made no +preparations for moving, that’s evident. I’ll see that +chauffeur again and go into the matter more +carefully.”</p> + +<p>“You might as well,” Sir Clinton concurred. “But +I doubt if you’ll get him to shift from his story. He +seemed to be very clear about the main point, though +he was weak in details.”</p> + +<p>They subjected all Foss’s belongings to a careful +scrutiny.</p> + +<p>“No name marked on any of the linen; no tags on +any of the suits; no labels inside the jacket pockets,” +Inspector Armadale pointed out. “He seems to have +been very anxious not to advertise his identity. And +no papers of any sort. It looks a bit queer, doesn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he noticed a small leather case +standing in a corner.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, here’s an attaché case. Perhaps his papers +are in it.”</p> + +<p>He crossed over and picked up the case, but as +he did so an expression of surprise crossed his +face.</p> + +<p>“This thing’s as heavy as lead! It must weigh ten +or twelve pounds at least!”</p> + +<p>“It’s not an attaché case,” Sir Clinton pointed out. +“Look at the ends of it.”</p> + +<p>Armadale turned the case round in his hand. At +the upper part of one end the leather had been cut +away, disclosing a small ebonite disc rather more +than an inch in diameter and pierced with a pattern +of tiny holes. At the opposite end of the case there +were two small holes side by side and a larger one +above; and examination showed brass sockets inside +which seemed meant for the reception of plugs.</p> + +<p>“You’d better get his keys, Inspector. Probably +the key of this thing will be on the ring.”</p> + +<p>With his curiosity raised to an acute pitch, Armadale +went off in search of the key-ring; and was soon +back again with it in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll see what it is,” he said, as he turned +the key in the case’s lock and pressed the opening +spring.</p> + +<p>The lifting of the lid disclosed a wooden casing +fitted with a couple of hinged doors, an open recess +in which were two levers, and a hinged metal plate, +on which was an inscription. Armadale read it aloud +uncomprehendingly:</p> + +<p>“ ‘Marconi Otophone. Inst. No. S/O 1164.’ What +the deuce is this?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton put out his hand and lifted the hinged +metal plate, disclosing below two wireless valves in +their sockets.</p> + +<p>“Some wireless gadget,” the Inspector ejaculated. +“Now what could he possibly have wanted with a +thing like that?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton examined the instrument with interest, +then he closed the case.</p> + +<p>“We’ll take this along with us, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Then, with a sudden change of mind, he +contradicted himself.</p> + +<p>“No, we’ll leave it here for the present. That will +be much better.”</p> + +<p>Somewhat mystified by this change of intention, +the Inspector agreed. Sir Clinton’s manner did not +invite questions.</p> + +<p>“I think we had better see Miss Chacewater again. +There are one or two questions I’d like to put to her, +Inspector; and you had better be there.”</p> + +<p>In a minute or two, Joan was found, with Michael +Clifton in attendance. Sir Clinton did not think it +worth while to sit down.</p> + +<p>“Just a couple of points I want to ask about. First +of all, is there any record of the combination which +opens the lock of the safe in the museum?”</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Maurice was the only one of us who knew it. My +father did leave a note of it; but I remember that +Maurice destroyed that. He specially wished to keep +it to himself.”</p> + +<p>“Another point,” Sir Clinton went on. “Did Foss +know, on the night of the burglary, which of the rows +contained the real medallions and which row the +replicas were in?”</p> + +<p>Joan reflected for a moment or two before replying.</p> + +<p>“He must have known. Maurice had shown him +the things once at least, if not oftener; and I know +there was no secret as to which were the real things +and which were the counterfeits.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed satisfied with this information.</p> + +<p>“One last thing,” he continued. “I suppose you +could show me where your brother keeps his +correspondence. We must get hold of Kessock’s address +and notify him about Foss’s death; and there seems +no way of doing it as quick as this one. If the papers +aren’t locked up, perhaps I could see them now?”</p> + +<p>It appeared that the letters were available and Sir +Clinton turned them over rapidly.</p> + +<p>“Fifth Avenue? That’s satisfactory.”</p> + +<p>He put the papers back in their place.</p> + +<p>“There’s just one thing more. I’m going to put a +constable on guard at the door of the museum for a +while—day and night for a day or two, perhaps. You +won’t mind?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. Do as you wish.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton acknowledged the permission. Then, +as though struck by an after-thought, he inquired:</p> + +<p>“Have you Cecil’s address?”</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>“He said he’d let me know where he was staying, +but he hasn’t written. Perhaps he hasn’t settled down +yet. He may be staying at an hotel for a day or two.”</p> + +<p>“Please ring me up as soon as he sends word.”</p> + +<p>Joan promised to do this, and Sir Clinton +continued:</p> + +<p>“By the way, Inspector Armadale wishes to take +the finger-prints of every one in the house. Would +you mind setting an example and having yours taken +along with the rest? If you do it, then it will be easier +for us to get the others. They won’t be suspicious +when they hear that it’s a general inquisition.”</p> + +<p>Both Joan and Michael consented without ado.</p> + +<p>“The Inspector will be with you in a moment or +two,” Sir Clinton said, as he took his leave. “Just a +word with you, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Armadale followed him from the room.</p> + +<p>“Now, Inspector, there’s a lot for you to do yet. +First of all, get these finger-prints. Then telephone +to London and get Kessock’s business address. As +soon as you get it, let me know.”</p> + +<p>“But you got his address from the correspondence, +sir, surely. It’s in Fifth Avenue.”</p> + +<p>“I want his other address—his office in New York, +you understand?”</p> + +<p>“His office will be shut by now, if you’re going to +cable,” the Inspector pointed out, thoughtlessly.</p> + +<p>“No, it won’t. You forget that their time is some +hours behind ours. We’ll catch him in office hours if +you hurry. Then when you’ve done that, get Foss’s +face photographed; and arrange for a constable and +reliefs to be posted at the museum door till further +orders. The museum door is to be left open and the +light is to be left burning at night, so that he can +keep his eye on things.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale jotted some notes in his +pocket-book. As he closed this, he seemed to think of +something.</p> + +<p>“There’s just one thing, sir. You want to get into +the safe? Couldn’t we get the number of the lock +combination from the makers? They must know it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately the safe has no maker’s name-plate +on it, Inspector. I looked at the time we examined +it. It’s a fairly old pattern, though, I noticed; and if +it hasn’t got a balanced fence arbour, I think I can +guarantee to find the combination of it with a little +assistance.”</p> + +<p>Armadale looked rather blank.</p> + +<p>“I thought these things were too stiff to tackle,” +he said.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton suppressed a smile.</p> + +<p>“You ought to read Edgar Allan Poe, Inspector. +‘Human ingenuity cannot concoct a cipher which +human ingenuity cannot resolve,’ was a dictum of +his. If I’m not mistaken about that safe, I think I +could guarantee to open it in less than ten minutes. +The resources of science, and all that, you know. But +I think it would be better to wait a while and see if +Mr. Chacewater turns up to open it for us himself.”</p> + +<p>“But perhaps Mr. Chacewater’s body is inside it +now,” the Inspector suggested. “There may have +been a double murder, for all we know.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, we shall find him when we open it,” +Sir Clinton assured him lightly. “If he’s inside, he’ll +hardly be likely to shift his quarters.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch10"> + +<h2>CHAPTER X. <br> The Shot in the Clearing</h2> + +<p>When Sir Clinton reached his office on the morning +after the murder at Ravensthorpe, he found Inspector +Armadale awaiting him with a number of exhibits.</p> + +<p>“I’ve brought everything that seemed worth while,” +Armadale explained. “I thought you might care to +look at some of the things again, although you’ve +seen them already.”</p> + +<p>“That’s very good of you, Inspector. I should like +to see some of them, as a matter of fact. Now +suppose we begin with the finger-prints. They might +suggest a few fresh ideas.”</p> + +<p>“They seem to suggest more notions than I have +room for in my head,” the Inspector confessed +ruefully. “It’s a most tangled case, to my mind.”</p> + +<p>“Then let’s start with the finger-prints,” the Chief +Constable proposed. “At least they’ll settle some +points, I hope.”</p> + +<p>Armadale unwrapped a large brown-paper parcel.</p> + +<p>“I got the lot without any difficulty; and last night +we photographed them all and enlarged the pictures. +They’re all here.”</p> + +<p>“You took Foss’s, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I managed to find some of Maurice +Chacewater’s too.”</p> + +<p>“That’s pretty sharp work,” Sir Clinton +complimented his subordinate. “How did you manage to +make sure they were his?”</p> + +<p>“I asked for his set of razors, sir, and took them +from the blades. He’d left prints here and there of +his finger and thumb, either on the blade or on the +handle. Of course I couldn’t get anything else very +sharp; but there are quite enough for the purpose, as +you’ll see.”</p> + +<p>He laid out three enlarged photographs on the desk +before Sir Clinton; then, below each of the first two, +he put down a second print.</p> + +<p>“This first print,” he said, pointing to it, +“represents the finger-prints we found on the automatic +pistol. You can see that it’s the arch pattern on the +thumb. Now here”—he indicated the companion +print—“is Foss’s thumb-print; and if you look at it, +you’ll see almost at a glance that it’s identical with +the print on the pistol. They’re identical. I’ve +measured them. And there are no other prints except +Foss’s on the pistol.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Sir Clinton. “ ‘And that, said John, +is that.’ We know where we are so far as the pistol’s +concerned. Pass along, please.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve examined the pistol,” the Inspector continued. +“It’s fully loaded in the magazine and has an +extra cartridge in the barrel; but it hasn’t been fired +recently so far as I can see.”</p> + +<p>“Now for the next pair of prints,” Sir Clinton +suggested.</p> + +<p>“This represents the thumb-print from the sword, +or whatever you call it,” said the Inspector. “Also +prints of the two middle fingers of the right hand, +found on the weapon. The second print of the pair +shows identical finger-prints from a different source. +The thumb-prints in the two cases are not exactly +alike, because you get only the edge of the thumb +marked in the grip of a sword, whereas the other +specimen gives a full imprint. But I think you’ll find +they’re the same. I’ve measured them, too. You can +see that the thumb pattern is a loop type, quite +different from Foss’s prints; and there’s a trace of a +tiny scar at the edge of the thumb in both these +prints. I’d like you to compare them carefully, sir.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton took up the two prints and scanned +them with care, comparing the images point by point.</p> + +<p>“There’s no mistake possible,” he said. “The two +sets are identical, so far as I can see; and the scar +on the thumb is a clinching bit of evidence.”</p> + +<p>“You admit they’re from the same hand?” asked +the Inspector, with a peculiar look at Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly. Now whose are the second set?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector continued to look at his superior +with something out of the common in his expression.</p> + +<p>“The second set of prints came from Maurice +Chacewater’s razors,” he said.</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable’s lips set tightly and a touch +of grimness showed in his face.</p> + +<p>“I see we shall have to be quite clear about this, +Inspector,” he said, bluntly. “By the look of you, +you seemed to think I’d be taken aback by this +evidence, because Mr. Chacewater is a friend of mine. I +was taken aback—naturally enough. But if you think +it’s going to make any difference to the conduct of +this case—and I seemed to see something of the sort +in your face—you can put that out of your mind once +for all. The business of the police is to get hold of the +murderer, whoever he may be. Friendship doesn’t +come into these affairs, Inspector. So kindly don’t +suspect me of anything of that kind in future. +You know what I mean; I needn’t put it into +words.”</p> + +<p>Without giving Armadale time for reply, he picked +up the last print.</p> + +<p>“What’s this?”</p> + +<p>“It’s the set of prints I took from the valet’s +fingers,” the Inspector hastened to explain. “It +corresponds to nothing I’ve found anywhere else. You +can see it’s a whorl type on the thumb.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton examined the print for a moment or +two, then put it down.</p> + +<p>“What about the box and the wrist-watch?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale’s face showed that here he was +puzzled.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing on either of them—not a recent +mark of any description. And yet the man who +packed them up must have fingered both things.”</p> + +<p>“With gloves on, evidently.”</p> + +<p>“But why gloves?” the Inspector demanded.</p> + +<p>“Why gloves?” Sir Clinton echoed, rather sarcastically. +“To avoid leaving finger-prints, of course. +That’s obvious.”</p> + +<p>“But why avoid leaving finger-prints on a thing +that you’re sending to a jeweller for repair?”</p> + +<p>“Think it over, Inspector. I won’t insult you by +telling you my solution. Let’s take another point. +Have you the watch itself here?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector produced it and handed it over. Sir +Clinton took out a pocket-knife and opened the back +of the case.</p> + +<p>“No use,” he announced, after examining the back +cover carefully. “It’s never been repaired. There +are no reference marks scratched on the inside of +the back as there usually are when a watch has gone +back to the watch-makers. If there had been, we +might have found out something about Foss in that +way, by getting hold of the watch-makers. By the +way, have you timed this thing as I asked you to +do?”</p> + +<p>“It’s running on time,” Armadale answered. “It +hasn’t varied a rap in the last twelve hours.”</p> + +<p>“A practically new watch; running to time; never +needed repair so far; dispatched by post with no +finger-marks of the dispatcher: surely you can see +what that means?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale shook his head.</p> + +<p>“It might be a secret message,” he hazarded, +though without much confidence. “I mean a +prearranged code.”</p> + +<p>“So it might,” Sir Clinton agreed. “The only +thing against that in my mind is that I’m perfectly +sure that it wasn’t.”</p> + +<p>Armadale looked sulky.</p> + +<p>“I’m hardly clever enough to follow you, sir, I’m +afraid.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s expression grew momentarily stern; +but the shade passed from his face almost instantly.</p> + +<p>“This is one of these cases, Inspector, where I +think that two heads are better than one. Now if I +tell you what’s in my mind, it might tempt you to +look at things exactly as I do; and then we’d have +lost the advantage of having two brains at work on +the business independently. We’re more likely to be +usefully employed if we pool the facts and keep our +interpretations separate from each other.”</p> + +<p>The tone of the Chief Constable’s voice went a +good way towards soothing the Inspector’s ruffled +feelings, the more so since he saw the weight of Sir +Clinton’s reasoning.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry, sir. I quite see your point now.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton had the knack of leaving no ill-feelings +in his subordinates. By an almost imperceptible +change of manner, he dismissed the whole matter and +restored cordiality again.</p> + +<p>“Let’s get back to the pure facts, Inspector. Each +of us must look at them in his own way; but we can +at least examine some of them without biasing each +other. Did you get any more information out of +that chauffeur?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale seemed glad enough to forget +the slight friction between himself and his Chief, as +the tone of his voice showed when he replied.</p> + +<p>“I could get nothing out of him at all, sir. He +seems a stupid sort of fellow. But it was quite clear +that somehow or other he’d picked up the idea that +Foss meant to leave Ravensthorpe for good yesterday +afternoon. He stuck to that definitely; and the +packing up of his traps shows that he believed it.”</p> + +<p>“We can take it, then, that Foss gave reason for +the man thinking that he was going away. Put your +own interpretation on that, Inspector; but you +needn’t tell me what you make of it.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector’s smile showed that ill-feeling had +gone.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Sir Clinton. And I’ll admit that I had +my suspicions of the valet. He seems to have a clear +bill now in the matter of the finger-prints on the +weapon. Perhaps I was a bit rough on the man; but +he annoyed me—a cheeky fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t let’s use hard words about him,” Sir +Clinton suggested chaffingly. “Let’s call him cool, +simply.”</p> + +<p>“Well, his finger-prints weren’t on the handle of +the sword, anyhow,” the Inspector admitted.</p> + +<p>“I hardly expected them to be,” was all the comment +Sir Clinton saw fit to make. “Now what about +friend Foss? By the way, I don’t mind saying that I +still think these two affairs at Ravensthorpe are +interconnected. And one thing’s clear at any rate: Foss +wasn’t the man in white. You remember he was +wearing a cow-boy costume according to the valet’s +evidence; and we found that costume in his +wardrobe, which confirms Marden.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector seemed to be taking a leaf out of Sir +Clinton’s book. He refrained from either acquiescing +in or contradicting the Chief Constable’s statement +that the two cases were linked.</p> + +<p>“Foss had more ready money in his pocket than +most people carry; he was in a position to clear out +of Ravensthorpe at any moment without needing to +go back to his flat or even to a bank. I think these +facts are plain enough,” he pointed out. “And they +fit in with the chauffeur’s evidence, such as it is.”</p> + +<p>“And he had no latch-key of his flat with him,” Sir +Clinton supplemented. “Of course it was a service +flat and he may have left the key behind him instead +of carrying it with him. One could find that out if it +were worth while.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a good deal that needs explaining about +Foss,” the Inspector observed. “I’ve got his +photograph here, taken from the body yesterday.”</p> + +<p>He produced it as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Send a copy to Scotland Yard, Inspector, please, +and ask if they have any information about him. +Considering everything, it’s quite likely we might learn +something. You might send his finger-prints also, to +see if they have them indexed there.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll send Marden’s too, when I’m at it,” the +Inspector volunteered, “and the chauffeur’s. We might +as well be complete when we’re at it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton indicated his agreement without saying +anything. He changed the subject when he next +spoke.</p> + +<p>“We’ve agreed to pool the facts, Inspector, and +I’ve got a contribution—two contributions in +fact—towards the common stock. Here’s the first.”</p> + +<p>He laid a telegraph form on the desk before +Armadale, and the Inspector read the wording:</p> + +<blockquote class="telegram"> + + <p>Have no agent named Foss am not negotiating for + Leonardo medallions. Kessock.</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>“Well, that’s a bit of a surprise!” ejaculated the +Inspector. “It was obvious that there was something +fishy; but I hadn’t imagined it was as fishy as all +that. Kessock knows nothing about him, then?”</p> + +<p>“My cable was fairly explicit. It’s clear that friend +Foss had no authority from Kessock.”</p> + +<p>“But what about all that correspondence between +Maurice Chacewater and Kessock that we saw?”</p> + +<p>“Forgeries, so far as the Kessock letters were +concerned, obviously. One of Kessock’s household must +have been in league with Foss and intercepted Maurice +Chacewater’s letters. Then replies were forged +and dispatched. I’ve cabled Kessock about it this +morning, so as to get the news in at once. The +confederate may hear of Foss’s murder through the +newspapers in four or five days when our papers get +across there. He might bolt when he got the news. +I’ve given Kessock a chance to forestall that if he +wants to.”</p> + +<p>“That puts a new light on things, certainly,” +Armadale said when he had considered the new facts. +“Foss was a wrong ’un masquerading here for some +purpose or other—the medallions, probably. That +fits in with all the unmarked linen and the rest of it. +But why was he murdered?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton disregarded the question.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got another fact to contribute,” he went on. +“You remember that Marconi Otophone in Foss’s +room? I’ve made some inquiries about it. It’s a thing +they make for the use of deaf people—a modern +substitute for the ear-trumpet.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector made a gesture of bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“But Foss wasn’t deaf! He admitted to you that +he had good enough hearing, when he was telling you +about overhearing Foxton Polegate in the +winter-garden.”</p> + +<p>“That’s quite true,” Sir Clinton rejoined. “But he +evidently needed an Otophone for all that.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector pondered for a few moments before +speaking.</p> + +<p>“It beats me,” he said at last.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton dismissed the subject without further +discussion.</p> + +<p>“Now what about Maurice Chacewater?” he inquired. +“There’s no great difficulty in suggesting +<em>how</em> he disappeared from the museum. It’s common +talk hereabout that Ravensthorpe has secret passages; +and one of them may end up in the wall of the +museum.”</p> + +<p>It was the turn of Armadale to contribute a fresh +fact.</p> + +<p>“He didn’t appear at any local station yesterday +or this morning; and he didn’t use a motor of any +sort that I’ve been able to trace. I’ve had men on that +job and it’s been thoroughly done.”</p> + +<p>“Congratulations, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>“If he hasn’t got away, then he must be somewhere +in the neighborhood still.”</p> + +<p>“I should say that was indisputable, if not +certain,” commented Sir Clinton, with a return of his +faintly chaffing manner. “A man can only be in one +place at once, if you follow me. And if he’s not there, +then he must be here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. But where is ‘here,’ in this particular case?” +inquired Armadale, following his Chief’s mood. “I +expect he’s hiding somewhere around. It’s what any +one might do if they found themselves up to the hilt +in a case of murder”—he paused for an instant—“or +manslaughter, and got into a panic over it.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton ignored the Inspector’s last sentence.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could get into touch with Cecil +Chacewater. He ought to be at home just now. He’s the +only man in the family now, and he ought to take +charge of things up there.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t got his address yet, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Not yet.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton put the subject aside.</p> + +<p>“Now, Inspector, let me remind you of what’s +wanted:</p> + +<blockquote class="verse"> + + <p class="i1">What was the crime, who did it, when was it done, and where,</p> + <p class="i1">How done, and with what motive, who in the deed did share?</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>You put it down as murder?”</p> + +<p>“Or manslaughter,” corrected Armadale. “And we +know When, How, and Where, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“Do we?” Sir Clinton rejoined. “Speak for +yourself. I’m not so sure about When and Where yet, +and How is still a dark mystery so far as I’m +concerned. I mean,” he added, “so far as legal proof +goes.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector was about to say something further +when a knock at the door was heard and a constable +appeared in answer to Sir Clinton’s summons.</p> + +<p>“The Ravensthorpe head keeper wants to see you, +Sir Clinton, if you can spare him a moment. He says +it’s important.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable ordered the keeper to be +admitted.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mold, what’s your trouble?” he inquired, +when the man appeared.</p> + +<p>“It’s this way, Sir Clinton,” Mold began. “Seein’ +the queer sort o’ things we’ve seen lately, it seemed +to me that maybe another queer thing that’s happened +might be important. So I thought it over, and +I made bold to come and tell you about it.”</p> + +<p>He seemed to lose confidence a little at this point; +but Sir Clinton encouraged him by a show of interest.</p> + +<p>“Last night,” he went on, “I was goin’ through the +wood at the back o’ the house—about eleven o’clock +it was, as near as I can make it. At the back o’ the +house there’s a strip of woodland, then a little bit of +a clearin’, and then the rest of the wood. I’d come +out o’ the bigger bit o’ the wood and got most o’ the +way across the clearin’ when it happened. I can tell +you just where it was, for I was passin’ the old ruin +there—the Knight’s Tower they call it.”</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment or two, evidently finding +continuous narrative rather a strain.</p> + +<p>“The moon was well up by that time. It’s just +past the full these days; and the place was as clear +as day. Everythin’ was quiet, except an old owl that +lives in a hollow tree up by there. I could hear the +swish of my feet in the grass and mighty little else; +for the grass was dewy and made a lot o’ noise with +my stepping through it. Well, as I was goin’ along, +all of a sudden I heard a shot. It sounded close by +me; an’ I turned at once. There’s a poachin’ chap +that’s given me a lot o’ trouble, an’ I didn’t put it past +him to think he might be tryin’ to give me a scare. +But when I turned round there was nothin’ to be seen. +There was nothin’ there at all; an’ yet that shot had +come from quite close by.”</p> + +<p>“Did it sound like the report of a shot-gun?” Sir +Clinton asked.</p> + +<p>Mold seemed to be in a difficulty.</p> + +<p>“Shot-gun sounds I know fairly well. ’T weren’t +from a shot-gun. More like a pistol-shot it sounded, +when I’d had time to think over it. An’ yet it weren’t +altogether like a pistol-shot, neither. That’s a sharp +sound. This was more booming-like, if you +understand me.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I don’t quite see it yet, Mold,” Sir +Clinton admitted. “I know how difficult it is to +describe sounds, though. Have another try. Did it +remind you of anything?”</p> + +<p>A light seemed to flicker for a moment in Mold’s +memory.</p> + +<p>“I know!” he exclaimed. “It was like this. I’ve +got it! Did you ever stand at the door of our Morris-tube +range in the village while there was firin’ goin’ +on inside? Well, this was somethin’ like that, only +more so. I mean as if they’d fired somethin’ a bit +heavier than a miniature rifle. That’s it! That’s just +how it sounded.”</p> + +<p>He was evidently relieved by having found what he +considered an apt simile.</p> + +<p>“What happened after that?” Sir Clinton +demanded.</p> + +<p>“When I saw nobody near me I’ll admit I felt a +bit funny. Here was a shot comin’, so it seemed, out +o’ the empty air, with nothin’ to account for it. +Straight away, I’ll admit, sir, I began thinkin’ of that +Black Man that little Jennie Hitchin has been +spreadin’ the story about lately . . .”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p>“We’ll hear about the Black Man later on, Mold, +if you please. Tell us what you did at that moment.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, I searched about. The moon was clear +of clouds and the place was just an open glade. The +shot had come from quite near by, as I said. But +when I hunted I could find nothing. There wasn’t a +track in the dew on the grass. My own tracks showed +up in the moonlight as clear as clear. There wasn’t +any one hiding in the old ruin; I went through and +around it twice. There wasn’t a sound; for the shot +had frightened the owl. I found nothing. And yet I’d +take my oath that shot was fired not more than ten +or a dozen yards away from me.”</p> + +<p>“Did you hear any whistle of shot or a bullet?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“H’m! That’s the whole story? Now, tell us +about this Black Man you mentioned.”</p> + +<p>Mold seemed rather ashamed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s just child’s chatter, Sir Clinton. I +oughtn’t to have mentioned it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m quite willing to listen to ‘child’s chatter,’ +Mold, if it happens to be unusual.”</p> + +<p>Mold evidently decided to take the plunge, though +obviously he regretted having mentioned the matter +at all.</p> + +<p>“This Jennie Hitchin’s a child that lives with her +grandmother on the estate. The girl’s there at night +in case anything goes wrong with the old woman. +Old Mrs. Hitchin was taken ill one night lately, about +the middle of the night. Pretty bad she seemed; and +Jennie had to dress and go off for the doctor in a +hurry. That took her through the woods—it’s a short +cut that way and the moonlight was bright. An’ as +she was goin’ along . . .”</p> + +<p>“What night was this,” Sir Clinton interrupted.</p> + +<p>The keeper thought for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“Now I come to think of it,” he said, “ ’t was the +night of that robbery up at Ravensthorpe. So it was. +An’ as Jennie was goin’ along through the woods she +saw—so she says—a Black Man slippin’ about from +tree to tree.”</p> + +<p>“A man in dark clothes?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. If I understood rightly, ’t was a black +man. I mean a naked man with a black skin, black +all over.”</p> + +<p>“Did he molest the child?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. He seemed to be tryin’ to keep out of +her road if anythin’. But o’ course it gave her a +start. She took and ran—and small blame to her, I +think. She’s only eleven or so, an’ it gave her a +dreadful fright. An’ of course next day this tale was +all over the country-side. I wonder if you didn’t hear +it yourself, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It’s news to me, Mold, I’m afraid. Even the +police can’t know everything, you see. Now before +you go I want something more from you. That night +when you were on guard in the museum, you remember. +Do you recall seeing any one there at any +time during the evening dressed in cow-boy clothes? +You know, the kind of thing in the Wild West films.”</p> + +<p>Mold pondered for a time, evidently racking his +memory.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I remember nobody like that. I think +I’d have recalled it if I had. I’m rather keen on films +about cow-boys myself, and if I’d seen a cow-boy I’d +have had a good look at him, just out o’ curiosity.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton had apparently got all he needed from +Mold just then; and he sent him away quite reassured +that his visit had not been wasted.</p> + +<p>“What do you make of all that, Inspector?” he +inquired with a faintly quizzical expression on his +face, as soon as the door had closed behind the +keeper.</p> + +<p>Armadale shook his head. Then, seeing a chance +of scoring, he smiled openly.</p> + +<p>“I was to keep my ideas to myself, you remember, +Sir Clinton.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable gave him smile for smile.</p> + +<p>“That arrangement must be especially useful when +you’ve no ideas at all, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Armadale took the thrust with good humour.</p> + +<p>“Give me time to think, Sir Clinton. You know +I’ve only a slow mind, and perhaps this isn’t one of +my bright days.”</p> + +<p>Before Sir Clinton could retort the desk telephone +rang and the Chief Constable lifted the receiver.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am . . . Thanks very much. I’ll take down +the address if you’ll read it to me.”</p> + +<p>He jotted something down on a sheet of paper.</p> + +<p>“Thanks. Good-bye, Joan.”</p> + +<p>He flicked the note over to Armadale.</p> + +<p>“Would you mind seeing if we can get on to that +house by ’phone, Inspector? Hunt up the London +Directory for it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s Cecil Chacewater’s address?” said Armadale, +glancing at the slip.</p> + +<p>“Yes. The man he’s staying with may be on the +’phone.”</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the Inspector came back with the +number and Sir Clinton rang up. After a short talk +he put down the receiver and turned to Armadale.</p> + +<p>“He says he can’t come to-day. You heard me +explaining that we want that secret passage opened, if +there is one. But he doesn’t seem to think there’s any +hurry. He has some business which will keep him till +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I heard you tell him that his brother’s disappeared,” +the Inspector commented. “I’d have thought +that would have brought him back quick enough.”</p> + +<p>“It hasn’t, evidently,” was all that Sir Clinton +thought it necessary to say. There seemed to be no +reason for admitting the Inspector into the secret of +the Ravensthorpe quarrels.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch11"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI. <br> Underground Ravensthorpe</h2> + +<p>When Inspector Armadale presented himself at +the Chief Constable’s office next morning he found +Sir Clinton still faithful to his proposed policy of +pooling all the facts of the case.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just been in communication with the coroner,” +Sir Clinton explained. “I’ve pointed out to him +that possibly we may have further evidence for the +inquest on Foss; and I suggested that he might confine +himself to formalities as far as possible and then +adjourn for a day or two. It means keeping Marden +and the chauffeur here for a little longer; but they +can stay at Ravensthorpe. Miss Chacewater has no +objections to that. She agreed at once when I asked +her.”</p> + +<p>“The jury will have enough before them to bring +in a verdict of murder against some one unknown,” +the Inspector pointed out. “Do you want to make it +more definite while we’re in the middle of the case?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton made a noncommittal gesture as he +replied:</p> + +<p>“Let’s give ourselves the chance, at least, of +putting a name on the criminal. If we don’t succeed +there’s no harm done. Now here’s another point. +I’ve had a telephone message from Scotland Yard. +They’ve nothing on record corresponding to the +finger-prints of Marden or the chauffeur. Foss was a +wrong ’un. They’ve identified his finger-prints; and +his photograph seems to have been easily recognizable +by some of the Yard people who had dealings +with him before. He went by the name of Cocoa +Tom among his intimates; but his real name was +Thomas Pailton. He’d been convicted a couple of +times, though not recently.”</p> + +<p>“What was his line?” the Inspector inquired.</p> + +<p>“Confidence trick in one form or another, they say. +Very plausible tongue, apparently.”</p> + +<p>“Did they say anything more about him?” asked +the Inspector. “Anything about working with a gang +usually, or something like that? If he did, then we +might get a clue or two from his associates.”</p> + +<p>“He usually played a lone hand, it seems,” Sir +Clinton answered. “Apparently he used to be on the +Halls—the cheaper kind. ‘The Wonderful Wizard +of Woz’ he called himself then. But somehow they +made the business too hot for him and he cleared out +into swindling.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” Armadale evidently saw something which +had not occurred to him before. “Those pockets of +his—the ones that puzzled me. They might have +been useful to a man who could do a bit of +sleight-of-hand. I never thought of that at the time.”</p> + +<p>He looked accusingly at Sir Clinton, who laughed +at the expression in the Inspector’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Of course I admit I saw the use of the pockets +almost at once,” he said. “But that’s not a breach of +our bargain, Inspector. The facts are all that we are +pooling, remember; and the fact that Foss had these +peculiar pockets was as well known to you as to +myself. This notion about sleight-of-hand is an +interpretation of the facts, remember; and we weren’t to +share our inferences.”</p> + +<p>“I knew pretty well at the time that you’d spotted +something,” Armadale contented himself with saying. +“But since you put it in that way I’ll admit you were +quite justified in keeping it to yourself as special +information, sir. I take it that it’s a race between us +now; and the one that hits on the solution first is the +winner. I don’t mind.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s one other bit of information needed +to bring us level. I’ve just had a message over the +’phone from Mr. Cecil Chacewater. It appears he’s +just got home again; came by the first train in the +morning from town, apparently. He’s waiting for us +now, so we’d better go up to Ravensthorpe. I have an +idea that he may be able to throw some light on his +brother’s disappearance. At least he may be able to +show us how that disappearing trick was done; and +that would always be a step forward.”</p> + +<p>When they reached Ravensthorpe Cecil was awaiting +them. The inspector noticed that he seemed tired +and had a weary look in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Been out on the spree,” was Armadale’s silent +inference; for the Inspector was inclined to take a +low view of humanity in general, and he put his own +interpretation on Cecil’s looks.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton, in a few rapid sentences, apprised +Cecil of the facts of the case.</p> + +<p>“I’d heard some of that before, you know,” Cecil +admitted. “Maurice’s disappearance seems to have +caused a bit of a stir. I can’t say he’s greatly missed +for the sake of his personality; but naturally it’s +disturbing to have a brother mislaid about the place.”</p> + +<p>“Very irksome, of course,” agreed Sir Clinton, with +a faint parody of Cecil’s detached air.</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed to think that the conversation had +come to a deadlock, since the Chief Constable made +no effort to continue.</p> + +<p>“Well, what about it?” he demanded. “I haven’t +got Maurice concealed anywhere about my person, +you know.”</p> + +<p>He elaborately felt in an empty jacket pocket, +ending by turning it inside out.</p> + +<p>“No,” he pointed out, “he isn’t there. In fact, I’m +almost certain I haven’t got him anywhere in this +suit.”</p> + +<p>Cecil’s studied insolence seemed to escape Sir +Clinton’s notice.</p> + +<p>“There was a celebrated historical character who +said something of the same sort once upon a time. +‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ you remember that?”</p> + +<p>“Good old Cain? So he did. And his name begins +with a C, just like mine, too! Any other points of +resemblance you’d like to suggest?”</p> + +<p>“Not just now,” Sir Clinton responded. “Information +would be more to the purpose at present. Let’s +go along to the museum, please. There are one or +two points which need to be cleared up as soon as +possible.”</p> + +<p>Cecil made no open demur; but his manner continued +to be obviously hostile as they made their way +along the passages. At the museum door the +constable on guard stood aside in order to let them +pass in.</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment,” Sir Clinton ordered, as his +companions were about to enter the room. “I want to try +an experiment before we go any further.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Cecil.</p> + +<p>“Will you go across and stand in front of the case +in which the Muramasa sword used to be kept? +You’ll find the sheath still in the case. And you, +Inspector, go to the spot where we found Foss’s body.”</p> + +<p>When they had obeyed him he swung the door +round on its hinges until it was almost closed, and +then looked through the remaining opening.</p> + +<p>“Say a few words in an ordinary tone, Inspector. A +string of addresses or something of that sort.”</p> + +<p>“William Jones, Park Place, Amersley Royal,” +began the Inspector, obediently; “Henry Blenkinsop, +18 Skeening Road, Hinchley; John Orran Gordon, 88 +Bolsover Lane . . .”</p> + +<p>“That will be enough, thanks. I can hear you +quite well. Now lower your voice a trifle and say +‘Muramasa,’ ‘Japanese,’ and ‘sword,’ please. And +mix them into the middle of some more addresses.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector’s tone as he spoke showed plainly +that he was a trifle bewildered by his instructions.</p> + +<p>“Fred Hall, Muramasa, Endelmere; Harry Bell, +15 Elm Japanese Avenue, Stonyton; J. Hicky, sword, +The Cottage, Apperley . . . Will that do?”</p> + +<p>“Quite well, Inspector. Many thanks. Think I’m +mad? All I wanted was to find out how much a man +in this position could see and hear. Contributions +to the pool. First, I can see the case where the +Muramasa sword used to lie. Second, I can hear quite +plainly what you’re saying. The slight echo in the +room doesn’t hinder that.”</p> + +<p>He swung the door open and came into the +museum.</p> + +<p>“Now, Cecil,” he said—and the Inspector noticed +that all sign of lightness had gone out of his tone, +“you know that Maurice disappeared rather mysteriously +from this room? He was in it with Foss; there +was a man at the door; Foss was murdered in that +bay over there; and Maurice didn’t leave the room +by the door. How did he leave?”</p> + +<p>“How should I know?” demanded Cecil, sullenly. +“You’d better ask him when he turns up again. I’m +not Maurice’s nursemaid.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s eyes grew hard.</p> + +<p>“I’ll put it plainer for you. I’ve reason to believe +that there’s an entrance to a secret passage somewhere +in that bay beyond the safe. It’s the only way +in which Maurice could have left this room. You’ll +have to show it to us.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” Cecil’s voice betrayed nothing but +contempt for the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“It’s for your own benefit that I make the proposal,” +Sir Clinton pointed out. “Refuse if you like. +But if you do I’ve a search-warrant in my pocket and +I mean to find that entrance even if I have to root +out most of the panelling and gut the room. You +won’t avert the discovery by this attitude of yours. +You’ll merely make the whole business public. It +would be far more sensible to recognize the inevitable +and show us the place yourself. I don’t want to +damage things any more than is necessary. But if I’m +put to it I’ll be thorough, I warn you.”</p> + +<p>Cecil favoured the Chief Constable with an angry +look; but the expression on Sir Clinton’s face +convinced him that it was useless to offer any further +opposition.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he snarled. “I’ll open the thing, since +I must.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton took no notice of his anger.</p> + +<p>“So long as you open it the rest doesn’t matter. +I’ve no desire to pry into things that don’t concern +me. I don’t wish to know how the panel opens. +Inspector, I think we’ll turn our backs while Mr. +Chacewater works the mechanism.”</p> + +<p>They faced about. Cecil took a few steps into the +bay. There was a sharp snap; and when they turned +round again a door gaped in the panelling at the end +of the room.</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said Sir Clinton. “Most ingenious.”</p> + +<p>His voice had regained its normal easy tone; and +now he seemed anxious to smooth over the ill-feeling +which had come to so acute a pitch in the last few +minutes.</p> + +<p>“Will you go first, Cecil, and show us the way? I +expect it’s difficult for a stranger. I’ve brought an +electric torch. Here, you’d better take it.”</p> + +<p>Now that he had failed in his attempt, Cecil seemed +to recover his temper again. He took the torch from +the Chief Constable and, pressing the spring to light +it, stepped through the open panel.</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll lock the museum door before we +go down,” Sir Clinton suggested. “There’s no need +to expose this entrance to any one who happens to +come in.”</p> + +<p>He walked across the museum, turned the key in +the lock, and then rejoined his companions.</p> + +<p>“Now, Cecil, if you please.”</p> + +<p>Cecil Chacewater led the way; Sir Clinton motioned +to the Inspector to follow him, and brought up +the rear himself.</p> + +<p>“Look out, here,” Cecil warned them. “There’s a +flight of steps almost at once.”</p> + +<p>They made their way down a spiral staircase which +seemed to lead deep into the foundations of Ravensthorpe. +At last it came to an end, and a narrow +tunnel gaped before them.</p> + +<p>“Nothing here, you see,” Cecil pointed out, flashing +the torch in various directions. “This passage is +the only outlet.”</p> + +<p>He led the way into the tunnel, followed by the +Inspector. Sir Clinton lagged behind them for a +moment or two, and then showed no signs of haste, so +that they had to pause in order to let him catch up.</p> + +<p>The tunnel led them in a straight line for a time, +then bent in a fresh direction.</p> + +<p>“It’s getting narrower,” the Inspector pointed out.</p> + +<p>“It gets narrower still before you’re done with it,” +Cecil vouchsafed in reply.</p> + +<p>As the passage turned again Sir Clinton halted.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to have a look at these walls,” he said.</p> + +<p>Cecil turned back and threw the light of the torch +over the sides and roof of the tunnel.</p> + +<p>“It’s very old masonry,” he pointed out.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded.</p> + +<p>“This is a bit of old Ravensthorpe, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“It’s older than the modern parts of the building,” +Cecil agreed. He seemed to have overcome his +ill-humour and to be making the best of things.</p> + +<p>“Let’s push on, then,” Sir Clinton suggested. “I’ve +seen all I wanted to see, thanks.”</p> + +<p>As they proceeded, the tunnel walls drew nearer +together and the roof grew lower. Before long the +passage was barely large enough to let them walk +along it without brushing the stones on either +side.</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment,” Sir Clinton suggested, as they +reached a fresh turning. “Inspector, would you mind +making a rough measurement of the dimensions +here?”</p> + +<p>Somewhat mystified, Inspector Armadale did as he +was bidden, entering the figures up in his note-book +while Cecil stood back, evidently equally puzzled by +these manœuvres.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, that will do nicely,” Sir Clinton assured +him when the task had been completed. “Suppose +we continue?”</p> + +<p>Cecil advanced a few steps. Then a thought seemed +to strike him.</p> + +<p>“It gets narrower farther on. We’ll have to go on +hands and knees, and there won’t be room to pass +one another. Perhaps one of you should go first with +the torch. There’s nothing in the road.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton agreed to this.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go first, then. You can follow on, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale looked suspicious at this +suggestion.</p> + +<p>“He might get away back and shut us in,” he +murmured in Sir Clinton’s ear.</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable took the simplest way of +reassuring the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“That’s an ingenious bit of mechanism in the +panel, up above,” he said to Cecil. “I had a glance +at it as I passed, since it’s all in plain sight. From this +side, you’ve only to lift a bar to open it, haven’t +you?”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” Cecil confirmed.</p> + +<p>Armadale was evidently satisfied by the information +which Sir Clinton had thus conveyed to him +indirectly. He squeezed himself against the wall +and allowed the Chief Constable to come up to the +head of the party. Sir Clinton threw his light down +the passage in front of them.</p> + +<p>“It looks like all-fours, now,” he commented, as +the lamp revealed a steadily diminishing tunnel. “We +may as well begin now and save ourselves the chance +of knocking our heads against the roof.”</p> + +<p>Suiting the action to the word, he got down on +hands and knees and began to creep along the +passage.</p> + +<p>“At least we may be thankful it’s dry,” he pointed +out.</p> + +<p>The tunnel grew still smaller until they found +more than a little difficulty in making their way +along it.</p> + +<p>“Have we much farther to go?” asked the Inspector, +who seemed to have little liking for the business.</p> + +<p>“The end’s round the next corner,” Cecil +explained.</p> + +<p>They soon reached the last bend in the passage, +and as he turned it Sir Clinton found himself at the +entrance to a tiny space. The roof was even lower +than that of the tunnel, and the floor area was hardly +more than a dozen square feet. A stone slab, raised a +few inches from the ground, seemed like a bed fitted +into a niche.</p> + +<p>“A bit wet in this part,” Sir Clinton remarked. +“If I’d known that we were in for this sort of thing +I think I’d have put on an old suit this morning. +Mind your knees on the floor, Inspector. It’s fairly +moist.”</p> + +<p>He climbed into the niche, which was no bigger +than the bunk of a steamer, and began to examine his +surroundings with his torch. Inspector Armadale, +taking advantage of the space thus made clear, crept +into the tiny chamber.</p> + +<p>“This place looks as if it had been washed out, +lately,” he said, examining the smooth flagstones +which formed the floor. He turned his attention to +the roof, evidently in search of dripping water; but +he could find none, though the walls were moist.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Sir Clinton bent forward and brought +his lamp near something on the side of the niche.</p> + +<p>The Inspector, seeing something in the patch of +light, craned forward to look also, and as he did so +he seemed to recognize what he saw.</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s . . .” he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s lamp went out abruptly, and Inspector +Armadale felt his arm gripped warningly in +the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” the Chief Constable apologized. “My +finger must have shifted the switch on the torch. Out +of the way, Inspector, please. There’s nothing more +to be seen here.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale wriggled back into the passage +again as Sir Clinton made a movement as though +to come out of his perch in the recess.</p> + +<p>“So this is where Maurice got to when he left the +museum?” the Chief Constable said, reflectively. +“Well, he isn’t here now, that’s plain. We’ll need to +look elsewhere, Inspector, according to your scheme. +If he wasn’t elsewhere he was to be here. But as he +isn’t here he’s obviously elsewhere. And now I +think we’ll make our way up to the museum again. +Wait a moment! We’ve got to get back into that +passage with our heads in the right direction. Once +we’re into the tunnel there won’t be room to turn +round.”</p> + +<p>It took some manœuvring to arrange this, for the +tiny chamber was a tight fit for even three men; but +at last they succeeded in getting back into the tunnel +in a position which permitted them to creep forwards +instead of backwards. They finally accomplished +the long journey without incident, and emerged +through the gaping panel into the museum once +more.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll turn our backs again, Inspector, and +let Mr. Chacewater close the panel.”</p> + +<p>Again the sharp click notified them that they +could turn round. The panelling seemed completely +solid.</p> + +<p>“There are just a couple of points I’d like to know +about,” Sir Clinton said, turning to Cecil. “You don’t +know the combination that opens the safe over there, +I believe?”</p> + +<p>Cecil Chacewater seemed both surprised and +relieved to hear this question.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said. “Maurice kept the combination +to himself.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded as though he had expected this +answer.</p> + +<p>“Just another point,” he continued. “You may +not be able to remember this. At any time after you +and Foxton Polegate had planned that practical joke +of yours, did Foss ask you the time?”</p> + +<p>Cecil was obviously completely taken aback by this +query.</p> + +<p>“Did he ask me the time? Not that I know of. I +can’t remember his ever doing that. Wait a bit, +though. No, he didn’t.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton seemed disappointed for a moment. +Then, evidently, a fresh idea occurred to him.</p> + +<p>“On the night of the masked ball, did any one ask +you the time?”</p> + +<p>Cecil considered for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“Now I come to think of it, a fellow dressed as a +cow-boy came up and said his watch had stopped.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! I thought so,” was all Sir Clinton replied, +much to the vexation of Inspector Armadale.</p> + +<p>“By the way,” the Chief Constable went on, “I’d +rather like to get to the top of one of those turrets +up above.” He made a gesture indicating the roof. +“There’s a stair, isn’t there?”</p> + +<p>Armadale had difficulty in concealing his surprise +at this unexpected demand. Cecil Chacewater made +no difficulties, but led them upstairs and opened the +door of the entrance to a turret. When they reached +an open space at the summit, Sir Clinton leaned on +the parapet and gazed over the surrounding country +with interest. As the space was restricted, Cecil +remained within the turret, at the top of the stair; +but the Inspector joined his Chief on the +platform.</p> + +<p>“Splendid view, isn’t it, Inspector?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. Very fine.”</p> + +<p>Armadale was evidently puzzled by this turn of +affairs. He could not see why Sir Clinton should +have come up to admire the view instead of getting +on with the investigation. The Chief Constable did +not seem to notice his subordinate’s perplexity.</p> + +<p>“There’s Hincheldene,” Sir Clinton pointed out. +“With a decent pair of glasses one could read the +time on the clock-tower on a clear day. These woods +round about give a restful look to things. Soothing, +that greenery. Ah! Just follow my finger, Inspector. +See that white thing over yonder? That’s one of +these Fairy Houses.”</p> + +<p>He searched here and there in the landscape for a +moment.</p> + +<p>“There’s another of them, just where you see that +stream running across the opening between the two +spinneys—yonder. And there’s a third one, not far +off that ruined tower. See it? I wonder if we could +pick up any more. They seem to be thick enough on +the ground. Yes, see that one in the glade over there? +Not see it? Look at that grey cottage with the +creeper on it; two o’clock; three fingers. See it now?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t quite make it out, sir,” the Inspector +confessed.</p> + +<p>He seemed bored by Sir Clinton’s insistence on the +matter; but he held up his hand and tried to discover +the object. After a moment or two he gave up the +attempt and, turning round, he noticed his Chief +slipping a small compass into his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Quite worth seeing, that view,” Sir Clinton +remarked, imperturbably, as he made his way towards +the turret stair. “Thanks very much, Cecil. I don’t +think we need trouble you any more for the present; +but I’d like to see your sister, if she’s available. I +want to ask her a question.”</p> + +<p>Cecil Chacewater went in search of Joan, and after +a few minutes she met them at the foot of the stair.</p> + +<p>“There’s just one point that occurred to me since +you told us about that interview you and Maurice +had with Foss before you went to the museum. You +were sitting on the terrace, weren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Joan confirmed.</p> + +<p>“Then you must have seen Foss’s car drive up +when it came to wait at the front door for him?”</p> + +<p>“I remember seeing it come up just before we +went to the museum. I didn’t say anything about it +before. It didn’t seem to matter much.”</p> + +<p>“That was quite natural,” Sir Clinton reassured +her. “In fact, I’m not sure that it matters much even +yet. I’m just trying for any evidence I can get. Tell +me anything whatever that you noticed, no matter +whether it seems important or not.”</p> + +<p>Joan thought for almost a minute before replying.</p> + +<p>“I did notice the chauffeur putting the hood up, +and I wondered what on earth he was doing that for +on a blazing day.”</p> + +<p>“Anything else?”</p> + +<p>“He had his tool-kit out and seemed to be going +to do some repair or other.”</p> + +<p>“At the moment when he’d brought the car round +for Foss?” demanded the Inspector, rather incredulously. +“Surely he’d have everything spick and span +before he left the garage?”</p> + +<p>“You’d better ask him about it, himself, Inspector,” +said Joan, tartly. “I’m merely telling what I +saw; and I saw that plain enough. Besides, he may +have known he’d plenty of time. Mr. Foss was going +away with us and obviously he wasn’t in a hurry to +use the car.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton ignored the Inspector’s interruption.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got my own car at the door,” he observed. +“Perhaps you could go out on to the terrace and direct +me while I bring it into the same position as you +saw Foss’s car that afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Joan agreed; and they went down together.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Sir Clinton as he started the engine, +“would you mind directing me?”</p> + +<p>Joan, from the terrace, indicated how he was to +manœuvre until he had brought his own car into a +position as near as possible to that occupied by Foss’s +car on the afternoon of the murder.</p> + +<p>“That’s as near as I can get it,” she said at last.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton turned in his seat and scanned the +front of Ravensthorpe.</p> + +<p>“What window is this that I’m opposite?” he +inquired.</p> + +<p>“That’s the window of the museum,” Joan explained. +“But you can’t see into the room, can you? +You’re too low down there.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing more than the tops of the cases,” Sir +Clinton said. “You’d better get aboard, Inspector. +There’s nothing more to do here.”</p> + +<p>He waved good-bye to Joan as Armadale stepped +into the car, and then drove down the avenue. The +Inspector said nothing until they had passed out of +the Ravensthorpe grounds and were on the high +road again. Then he turned eagerly to the Chief +Constable.</p> + +<p>“That was a splash of blood you found on the wall +of the underground room, wasn’t it? I recognized it +at once.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get excited about it, Inspector,” said Sir +Clinton soothingly. “Of course it was blood; but we +needn’t shout about it from the house-tops, need +we?”</p> + +<p>Armadale thought he detected a tacit reproof for +his exclamation at the time the discovery was made.</p> + +<p>“You covered up that word or two of mine very +neatly, sir,” he admitted frankly. “I was startled +when I saw that spot of blood on the wall, and I +nearly blurted it out. Silly of me to do it, I suppose. +But you managed to smother it up with that bungling +with your lamp before I’d given anything away. I’d +no notion you wanted to keep the thing quiet.”</p> + +<p>“No harm done,” Sir Clinton reassured him. “But +be careful another time. One needn’t show all one’s +cards.”</p> + +<p>“You certainly don’t,” Armadale retorted.</p> + +<p>“Well, you have all the facts, Inspector. What +more do you expect?”</p> + +<p>Armadale thought it best to change the subject.</p> + +<p>“That water that we saw down there,” he went +on. “That never leaked in through the roof. The +masonry overhead was as tight as a drum and there +wasn’t a sign of drip-marks anywhere. That water +came from somewhere else. Some one had been washing +up in that cellar. There had been more blood +there—lots of it; and they’d washed it away. That +tiny patch was a bit they’d overlooked. Isn’t that so, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“That’s an inference and not a fact, Inspector,” +Sir Clinton pointed out, with an expression approaching +to a grin on his face. “I don’t say you’re wrong. +In fact, I’m sure you’re right. But only facts are +supposed to go into the common stock, remember.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> + +<p>But the Inspector had something in reserve.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you a fact now,” he said with +ill-suppressed triumph. “As you came away, you +happened to ask Mr. Chacewater if he’d come by the +first train this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And he said he did?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Armadale, with a tinge of derision in +his voice, “he took you in, there; but he didn’t come +over me with that tale. He didn’t come by the first +train; he wasn’t in it! And what’s more, he didn’t +come by train to our station at all, for I happened to +make inquiries. I knew you were anxious for him +to come back, and I thought I’d ask whether he’d +come.”</p> + +<p>“That’s very interesting,” said Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>He made no further remark until they reached the +police station. Then, as they got out of the car, he +turned to the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“Care to see me do a little map-drawing, +Inspector? It might amuse you.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch12"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII. <br> Chuchundra’s Body</h2> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s map-drawing, however, was destined +to be postponed. Hardly had they entered his office +when the telephone bell rang. After a few moments’ +conversation he put down the receiver and turned to +Armadale.</p> + +<p>“That’s Mold, the keeper. He’s found Maurice +Chacewater’s body. He’s telephoning from his own +cottage, so I told him to wait there and we’ll go up in +the car. The body’s in the woods and we’ll save time +by getting Mold to guide us to it instead of hunting +round for the place.”</p> + +<p>It did not take long to reach the head keeper’s +cottage, where they found Mold in a state of +perturbation.</p> + +<p>“Where is this body?” Sir Clinton demanded, cutting +short Mold’s rather confused attempts to explain +matters. “Take us to it first of all and then I’ll +ask what I want to know.”</p> + +<p>Under the keeper’s guidance they made their way +through the woods, and at last emerged into a small +clearing in the centre of which rose a few ruined +walls.</p> + +<p>“This is what they call the Knight’s Tower,” +Armadale explained.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton nodded.</p> + +<p>“I expected something of the sort. Now, Mold, +where’s Mr. Chacewater’s body?”</p> + +<p>The keeper led them round the Tower, and as they +turned the corner of a wall they came upon the body +stretched at full length on the grass.</p> + +<p>“The turf’s short,” said Armadale, with some +disappointment. “There’s no track on it round about +here.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” said Sir Clinton. “We’ll have to do +without that help.”</p> + +<p>He walked over to where Maurice Chacewater was +lying. The body was on its back; and a glance at the +head was enough to show that life must be extinct.</p> + +<p>“It’s not pretty,” Sir Clinton said as he pulled +out his handkerchief and covered the dead face. +“Shot at close range, evidently. I don’t wonder you +were a bit upset, Mold.”</p> + +<p>He glanced round the little glade, then turned +again to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“When did you find him?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Just before I rang you up, sir. As soon as I came +across him, I ran off to my cottage and telephoned to +you.”</p> + +<p>“When were you over this ground last?—before +you found him, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Just before dusk, last night, sir. He wasn’t there, +then.”</p> + +<p>“You’re sure?”</p> + +<p>“Certain, sir. I couldn’t have missed seeing him.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t touched the body?”</p> + +<p>Mold shuddered slightly.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I went off at once and rang you up.”</p> + +<p>“You met no one hereabouts this morning?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And you saw no one last night, either?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“It was somewhere round about here, wasn’t it, +that you heard that mysterious shot you told us +about?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. I was just here at the time.”</p> + +<p>Mold walked about twenty yards past the tower, +to show the exact position. Sir Clinton studied the +lie of the land for a moment.</p> + +<p>“H’m! Have you any questions you want to ask, +Inspector?”</p> + +<p>Armadale considered for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure you haven’t moved this body in any +way?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I never put a finger on it,” Mold asserted.</p> + +<p>“And it’s lying just as it was when you saw it +first?” Armadale pursued.</p> + +<p>“As near as I can remember,” Mold replied, cautiously. +“I didn’t wait long after I saw it. I went off +almost at once to ring up the police.”</p> + +<p>Armadale seemed to have got all the information +he expected. Sir Clinton, seeing that no more +questions were to come, turned to the keeper.</p> + +<p>“Go off to the house and tell Mr. Cecil Chacewater +that his brother’s found and that he’s to come here at +once. You needn’t say anything about the matter to +any one else. They’ll hear soon enough. And when +you’ve done that, ring up the police station and tell +them to send up a sergeant and a couple of constables +to me here. Hurry, now.”</p> + +<p>Mold went without a word. Sir Clinton waited till +he was out of earshot and then glanced at Armadale.</p> + +<p>“One thing stares you in the face,” the Inspector +said in answer to the look. “He wasn’t shot here. +That wound would mean any amount of blood; and +there’s hardly any blood on the grass.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s face showed his agreement. He looked +down at the body.</p> + +<p>“He’s lying on his back now; but after he was shot +he lay on his left side till <i>rigor mortis</i> set in,” he +pointed out.</p> + +<p>The Inspector examined the body carefully.</p> + +<p>“I think I see how you get that,” he said. “This +left arm’s off the ground a trifle. If he’d been shot +here and fell in this position, the arm would have +relaxed and followed the lie of the ground. Is that +it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that and the hypostases. You see the marks +on the left side of the face.”</p> + +<p>“A dead man doesn’t shift himself,” the Inspector +observed with an oracular air. “Some one else must +have had a motive for dragging him about.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s a revolver,” Sir Clinton pointed out, picking +it up gingerly to avoid marking it with finger-prints. +“You can see, later on, if anything’s to be +made out from it.”</p> + +<p>He put the revolver carefully down on a part of +the ruined wall near at hand and then returned to the +body.</p> + +<p>“To judge by the <i>rigor mortis</i>,” he said, after +making a test, “he must have been dead for a good +while—a dozen hours or more.”</p> + +<p>“What about that shot that the keeper said he +heard?” queried Armadale.</p> + +<p>“The time might fit well enough. But <i>rigor mortis</i> +is no real criterion, you know, Inspector. It varies +too much from case to case.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale pulled out a small magnifying +glass and examined the dead man’s hand +carefully.</p> + +<p>“Those were his finger-prints on that Japanese +sword right enough, sir,” he pointed out. “You can +see that tiny scar on the thumb quite plainly if you +look.”</p> + +<p>He held out the glass, and Sir Clinton inspected +the right thumb of the body minutely.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t doubt it from the evidence you had before, +Inspector; but this certainly clinches it. The +scar’s quite clear.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I go through the pockets now?” Armadale +asked.</p> + +<p>“You may as well,” Sir Clinton agreed.</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale began by putting his fingers +into the body’s waistcoat pocket. As he did so his +face showed his surprise.</p> + +<p>“Hullo! Here’s something!”</p> + +<p>He pulled out the object and held it up for Sir +Clinton’s inspection.</p> + +<p>“One of the Leonardo medallions,” Sir Clinton +said, as soon as he had identified the thing. “Let me +have a closer look at it, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>He examined the edge with care.</p> + +<p>“This seems to be the genuine article, Inspector. +I can’t see any hole in the edge, which they told me +was drilled to distinguish the replicas from the real +thing. No, there’s no mark of any sort here.”</p> + +<p>He handed it back to the Inspector, who examined +it in his turn. Sir Clinton took it back when the +Inspector had done with it, and placed it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“I think, Inspector, we’ll say nothing about this +find for the present. I’ve an idea it may be a useful +thing to have up our sleeve before we’ve done. By +the way, do you still connect Foxton Polegate with +this case?”</p> + +<p>Armadale looked the Chief Constable in the eye as +he replied.</p> + +<p>“I’m more inclined to connect Cecil Chacewater +with it, just now, sir. Look at the facts. It’s been +common talk that there was ill-feeling between those +two brothers. Servants talk; and other people repeat +it. And the business that ended in the final row +between the two of them was centred in these Leonardo +medallions. That’s worth thinking over. Then, +again, Cecil Chacewater disappeared for a short +while. You couldn’t get in touch with him. And it was +just at that time that queer things began to happen +here at Ravensthorpe. Where was he then? It seems +a bit suggestive, doesn’t it? And where was he last +night? If you looked at him this morning, you +couldn’t help seeing he’d spent a queer night, +wherever he spent it. That was the night when this body +was brought here from wherever the shooting was +done. And when you asked Cecil Chacewater how +he’d come home, he said he’d arrived by the first +train this morning. That was a lie. He didn’t come +by that train. He’d been here before that.”</p> + +<p>To the Inspector’s amazement and disgust Sir +Clinton laughed unaffectedly at this exposition.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing to laugh at, sir. You can’t deny these +things. I don’t say they prove anything; but you +can’t brush them aside by merely laughing at them. +They’ve got to be explained. And until they’ve been +explained in some satisfactory way things will look +very fishy.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton recovered his serious mask.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I laughed a little too soon, Inspector. I +apologize. I’m not absolutely certain of my ground; +I quite admit that. But I’ll just give you one hint. +Sometimes one case looks as if it were two independent +affairs. Sometimes two independent affairs get +interlocked and look like one case. Now just think +that over carefully. It’s perhaps got the germ of +something in it, if you care to fish it out.”</p> + +<p>“Half of what you’ve said already sounds like +riddles to me, sir,” Armadale protested, fretfully. +“I’m never sure when you’re serious and when +you’re pulling my leg.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton was saved from the embarrassment of +a reply by the arrival of Cecil Chacewater. He +nodded curtly to the two officials as he came up. The +Inspector stepped forward to meet him.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to put one or two questions to you, Mr. +Chacewater,” he said, ignoring the look on Sir +Clinton’s face.</p> + +<p>Cecil looked Armadale up and down before +replying.</p> + +<p>“Well, go on,” he said, shortly.</p> + +<p>“First of all, Mr. Chacewater,” the Inspector began, +“I want to know when you last saw your brother +alive.”</p> + +<p>Cecil replied without the slightest hesitation:</p> + +<p>“On the morning I left Ravensthorpe. We’d had +a disagreement and I left the house.”</p> + +<p>“That was the last time you saw him?”</p> + +<p>“No. I see him now.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector looked up angrily from his +notebook.</p> + +<p>“You’re giving the impression of quibbling, Mr. +Chacewater.”</p> + +<p>“I’m answering your questions, Inspector, to the +best of my ability.”</p> + +<p>Armadale made a fresh cast.</p> + +<p>“Where did you go when you left Ravensthorpe?”</p> + +<p>“To London.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been in London, then, until this +morning?”</p> + +<p>Cecil paused for a moment or two before +answering.</p> + +<p>“May I ask, Inspector, whether you’re bringing +any charge against me? If you are, then I believe +you ought to caution me. If you aren’t, then I don’t +propose to answer your questions. Now, what are +you going to do about it?”</p> + +<p>Armadale was hardly prepared for this move.</p> + +<p>“I think you’re injudicious, Mr. Chacewater,” he +said in a tone which he was evidently striving not to +make threatening. “I know you didn’t arrive by the +first train this morning, though you told us you did. +Your position’s rather an awkward one, if you think +about it.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t bluff me, Inspector,” Cecil returned. +“Make your charge, and I’ll know how to answer it. +If you won’t make a charge, I don’t propose to help +you with a fishing inquiry.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector glanced at Sir Clinton’s face, and +on it he read quite plainly the Chief Constable’s +disapproval of his proceedings. He decided to go no +further for the moment. Sir Clinton intervened to +make the situation less strained.</p> + +<p>“Would you mind looking at him, Cecil, and +formally identifying him?”</p> + +<p>Cecil came forward rather reluctantly, knelt down +beside his brother’s body, examined the clothes, and +finally, removing the handkerchief, gazed for a +moment or two at the shattered face. The shot had +entered the right side of the head and had done enough +damage to show that it had been fired almost in +contact with the skin.</p> + +<p>Cecil replaced the handkerchief and rose to his +feet. For a few moments he stood looking down at +the body. Then he turned away.</p> + +<p>“That’s my brother, undoubtedly.”</p> + +<p>Then, as if speaking to himself, he added in a +regretful tone:</p> + +<p>“Poor old Chuchundra!”</p> + +<p>To the Inspector’s amazement Sir Clinton started +a little at the word.</p> + +<p>“Was that a nickname, Cecil?”</p> + +<p>Cecil looked up, and the Inspector could see that +he was more than a little moved.</p> + +<p>“We used to call him that when we were +kids.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton’s next question left the Inspector still +further bemused.</p> + +<p>“Out of ‘The Jungle Book’ by any chance?”</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed to see the drift of the inquiry, for he +replied at once:</p> + +<p>“Yes. <i>Rikki-tikki-tavi</i>, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I was almost certain of it,” said Sir Clinton. “I +can put a name to the trouble, I think. It begins +with A.”</p> + +<p>Cecil reflected for a moment before replying.</p> + +<p>“Yes. You’re right. It does begin with A.”</p> + +<p>“That saves a lot of bother,” said Sir Clinton, +thankfully. “I was just going to fish in a fresh +direction to get that bit of information. I’m quite +satisfied now.”</p> + +<p>Cecil seemed to pay little attention to the Chief +Constable’s last remark. His eyes went round to the +shattered thing that had been his brother.</p> + +<p>“I’d no notion it was as bad as all this,” he said, +more to himself than to the others. “If I’d known, I +wouldn’t have been so bitter about things.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant and constables appeared at the edge +of the clearing.</p> + +<p>“Seen all you want to see, Inspector?” asked Sir +Clinton. “Then in that case we can leave the body +in charge of the sergeant. I see they’ve got a stretcher +with them. They can take it down to Ravensthorpe.”</p> + +<p>Armadale rapidly gave the necessary orders to his +subordinates.</p> + +<p>“Now, Inspector, I think we’ll go over to Ravensthorpe +ourselves. I want to see that chauffeur again. +Something’s occurred to me.”</p> + +<p>As the three men walked through the belt of +woodland Sir Clinton turned to Cecil.</p> + +<p>“There’s one point I’d like to have cleared up. Do +you know if Maurice had any visitors in the last +three months or so—people who wanted to see the +collection?”</p> + +<p>Cecil reflected for a time before he could recall +the facts.</p> + +<p>“Now you mention it, I remember hearing Maurice +say something about a fellow—a Yankee—who +was writing a book on Leonardo. That chap certainly +came here one day and Maurice showed him the +stuff. The medallions were what he chiefly wanted +to look at, of course.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t see him?”</p> + +<p>“No. None of us saw him except Maurice.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton made no comment; and they walked +on in silence till they came to the house. +Inspector Armadale was by this time completely at +sea.</p> + +<p>“Find that chauffeur, Inspector, please; and bring +him along. I’ve got one or two points which need +clearing up.”</p> + +<p>When the chauffeur arrived it was evident that +Armadale had not been mistaken when he described +him as stupid-looking. Information had to be dragged +out of him by minute questioning.</p> + +<p>“Your name’s Brackley, isn’t it?” Sir Clinton +began.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. Joe Brackley.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Brackley, don’t be in a hurry with your replies. +I want you to think carefully. First of all, on +the day that Mr. Foss was murdered, he ordered you +to bring the car round to the front door.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. I was to wait for him if he wasn’t +there.”</p> + +<p>“You pulled up the car here, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton indicated the position in front of the +house.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. It was there or thereabouts.”</p> + +<p>“Then you put up the hood?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What possessed you to do that on a sunny day?”</p> + +<p>“One of the fastenings was a bit loose and I +wanted to make it right before going out.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t think of doing that in the garage?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t notice it, sir, until I’d brought the car +round. My eye happened to fall on it. And just then +I saw Mr. Foss going off into the house with some +people. He didn’t seem in a hurry, so I thought I’d +just time to make the repair before he came out.”</p> + +<p>“You got on to the running-board to reach the +hood, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Which running-board? The one nearest the +house?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. The other one.”</p> + +<p>“So you could see the front of the house as you +were working?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see anything—anything whatever—while +you were at work? You must have raised your +eyes occasionally.”</p> + +<p>“I could see the window opposite me.”</p> + +<p>“By and by, I think, Marden, the valet, came up +and spoke to you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, he did. He’d been going to the post, he +said, but there had been some mistake or other and +he’d come back.”</p> + +<p>“He left you and went into the house?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“After that, did you see Marden again—I mean +within, say, twenty minutes or so?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you see him, if you can remember?”</p> + +<p>“Up there, sir, at that window. He was talking to +Mr. Foss.”</p> + +<p>“When you were up on the running-board, you +could just see into the room?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What happened after that?”</p> + +<p>“I finished the repair; so I came down off the +running-board and let down the hood again.”</p> + +<p>“Anything else you can remember, Brackley?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. That will do. By the way, Inspector,” +Sir Clinton turned round, preventing the Inspector +from making any comments while the chauffeur was +standing by, “I’d clean forgotten the patrolling of +the place up yonder. I’ve never found time to go up +there; but it’s really a bit out of date now. I think +we can dispense with the patrol after to-night. And +the same holds for that guard on the museum. There’s +no need for either of them.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir,” Armadale responded, +mechanically.</p> + +<p>The Inspector was engaged in condemning his own +stupidity. Why had he not seen the possibilities +involved in that repair of the hood? With the extra +foot of elevation of course the chauffeur could see +further into the museum than a man standing on the +ground. And here was the damning evidence that +Marden’s story was a lie. And the Inspector had +missed it. He almost gritted his teeth in vexation as +he thought of it. The keystone of the case: and the +Chief Constable had taken it under his nose!</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton turned to Cecil as the chauffeur retired.</p> + +<p>“I shall be here about one o’clock in the morning, +Cecil,” he said, lowering his voice. “I want you to be +on the watch and let me in without any one getting +wind of my visit. Can you manage it?”</p> + +<p>“Easily enough.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. I’ll be at the door at one o’clock +sharp. But remember, it’s an absolutely hush-hush +affair. There must be no noise of any sort.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see to that,” Cecil assured him.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton turned to the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“Now I think we’ll go across to where we left my +car.”</p> + +<p>On the way to the police station Sir Clinton’s +manner did not encourage conversation; but as they +got out of the car he turned to Armadale.</p> + +<p>“Map-drawing’s a bit late in the day now, Inspector; +but we may as well carry on for the sake of +completeness.”</p> + +<p>He led the way to his office, took a ruler and +protractor from his desk, and set to work on a sheet of +paper.</p> + +<p>“Take this point as the museum,” he said. “This +line represents the beginning of the tunnel. I took +the bearing that time when I lagged behind you. At +the next turn—this one here—I made a pretence of +examining the walls and took the bearing as we +were standing there. I got the third bearing when I +asked you to measure the dimensions of the tunnel. +As it has turned out, secrecy wasn’t really necessary; +but it seemed just as well to keep the survey to +ourselves. I got the distances by pacing, except the +last bit. There I had to estimate it, since we were +crawling on all fours; but I think I got it near +enough.”</p> + +<p>“And you carried all the figures in your memory?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I’ve a fairly good memory when I’m put +to it.”</p> + +<p>“You must have,” said Armadale, frankly.</p> + +<p>“Now,” Sir Clinton went on. “By drawing in these +lines we get the position of that underground room. +It’s here, you see. The next thing is to find out where +it lies, relative to the ground surface. I had a fair +notion; so when I got to the top of the turret I took +the bearing of the Knight’s Tower. I’ll just rule +it in. You see the two lines cut quite near the cell. +My notion is that there’s a second entrance into that +tunnel from that ruined tower. In the old days it +may have been a secret road into the outpost tower +when a siege was going on.”</p> + +<p>“I see what you’re getting at now,” Armadale +interrupted. “You mean that Maurice Chacewater’s body +was in the cell and that it was shifted from there up +the other secret passage—the one we didn’t +see—and left alongside the tower this morning?”</p> + +<p>“Something of that sort.”</p> + +<p>“And now we’ve got to find who killed Maurice +Chacewater down there, underground?”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing in that, Inspector. He killed +himself. It’s a fairly plain case of suicide.”</p> + +<p>“But why did he commit suicide?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton appeared suddenly smitten with +deafness. He ignored the Inspector’s last inquiry +completely.</p> + +<p>“I shall want you to-night, Inspector. Come to +my house at about half-past twelve. And you had +better wear rubber-soled boots or tennis shoes if you +have them. We’ll go up to Ravensthorpe in my car.”</p> + +<p>“You’re going to arrest Marden, sir?”</p> + +<p>“No,” was Sir Clinton’s reply, which took the +Inspector completely aback. “I’m not going to arrest +anybody. I’m going to show you what Foss was going +to do with his otophone; that’s all.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch13"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII. <br> The Otophone</h2> + +<p>Punctually at half-past twelve the Inspector arrived +at Sir Clinton’s house. The Chief Constable’s +first glance was at the feet of his subordinate.</p> + +<p>“Tennis shoes? That’s right. Now, Inspector, I +want you to understand clearly that silence is +absolutely essential when we get to work. We’ll need to +take a leaf out of the book of the ‘Pirates of +Penzance’:</p> + +<blockquote class="verse"> + + <p class="i1">With cat-like tread</p> + <p class="i1">Upon our prey we steal.</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p>That’s our model, if you please. The car’s outside. +We’ll go at once.”</p> + +<p>As preparations for an important raid, these +remarks seemed to Armadale hardly adequate; but as +Sir Clinton showed no desire to amplify them, the +Inspector was left to puzzle over the immediate +future without assistance. The hint about the otophone +had roused his curiosity.</p> + +<p>“Foss’s hearing was quite normal,” he said to +himself, turning the evidence over in his mind. “He +heard that conversation in the winter-garden quite +clearly enough. So quite evidently one couldn’t call +him deaf. And yet he was dragging an otophone +about with him. I don’t see it.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable pulled up the car in the +avenue at a considerable distance from the house.</p> + +<p>“Change here for Ravensthorpe,” he explained, +opening the door beside him. “I can’t take the motor +nearer for fear of the engine’s noise giving us away.”</p> + +<p>He glanced at the illuminated clock on the +dashboard.</p> + +<p>“We’re in nice time,” he commented. “Come +along, Inspector; and the less said the better.”</p> + +<p>They reached the door of Ravensthorpe exactly at +one o’clock. Cecil was waiting for them on the +threshold.</p> + +<p>“Switch off those lights,” Sir Clinton said in a +whisper, pointing to the hall lights which Cecil had +left burning. “We mustn’t give the show away if we +can help it. Some one might be looking out of a +window and be tempted to come down and turn them +out. You’re supposed to be in bed, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>Cecil nodded without speaking, and, crossing the +hall, he extinguished the lamps. Sir Clinton pulled +an electric torch from his pocket.</p> + +<p>“There’s a staircase giving access to the servant’s +quarters, isn’t there?”</p> + +<p>Cecil confirmed this, and Sir Clinton turned to +the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“Which of your men is on duty at the museum door +to-night?”</p> + +<p>“Froggatt,” the Inspector answered.</p> + +<p>“We’ll go along to him,” said Sir Clinton. “I want +you, Cecil, to take the constable and post him at +the bottom of that stair. Here’s the flash-lamp.”</p> + +<p>Froggatt was surprised to see the party.</p> + +<p>“Now, Froggatt,” the Chief Constable directed. +“You’re to go with Mr. Chacewater. He’ll show you +where to stand. All you have to do is to stick to your +post there until you’re relieved. It’ll only be a matter +of ten minutes or so. Don’t make the slightest sound +unless anything goes wrong. Your business is to +prevent any one getting down the stair. There’ll be +no trouble. If you see any one, just shout: ‘Who’s +there?’ That’ll be quite enough.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector and Sir Clinton waited on the +threshold of the museum until Cecil came back.</p> + +<p>“Very convenient having these museum lights on +all night,” Sir Clinton remarked. “We don’t need +to muddle about with the flash-lamp. Now just wait +here for a moment, and don’t speak a word. I’m +going upstairs.”</p> + +<p>He ascended to the first floor, entered Foss’s room +and picked up the otophone, with which he returned +to his companions.</p> + +<p>“Now we can get to work,” he whispered, leading +the way into the museum. “Just lock that door +behind us, Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Followed by the other two he stepped across the +museum to the bay containing the safe. There he put +the otophone on the floor and opened the case of the +instrument. From one compartment he took an +ear-phone with its head-band. A moment’s search +revealed the position of the connection, and he plugged +the ear-phone wire into place in sockets let into the +outside of the attaché case. A little further examination +revealed a stud beside the leather handle, and +this Sir Clinton pressed.</p> + +<p>“That should start the thing,” he commented.</p> + +<p>He lifted the hinged metal plate slightly +and peered into the cavity which contained the +valves.</p> + +<p>“That seems all right,” he said, as his eye caught +the faint glow of the dull emitters.</p> + +<p>Shutting down the plate again, the Chief Constable +put his finger into the compartment from which he +had taken the ear-phone, pressed a concealed spring, +and pulled up the floor of the compartment.</p> + +<p>“This is the microphone,” he explained, drawing +out a thick ebonite disk mounted on the false bottom +of the compartment. “It’s attached to a longish wire +so that you can take it out and put it on a table while +the case with the valves and batteries lies on the floor +out of the way. Now we’ll tune up.”</p> + +<p>He brought microphone and ear-phone together, +when a faint musical note made itself heard. Then he +handed the microphone to Cecil.</p> + +<p>“Hold that tight against the safe door, Cecil. Get +the base in contact with the metal of the safe and +keep the microphone face downwards. It’s essential +to hold it absolutely steady, for the slightest vibration +will put me off.”</p> + +<p>He fitted on the head-band and moved the two +tiny levers of the otophone until the adjustment of +the instrument seemed to satisfy him. Then, very +cautiously, he began to work the mechanism of the +combination lock. For some time he seemed unable to +get what he wanted; but suddenly he made a slight +gesture of triumph.</p> + +<p>“It’s an old pattern, as I thought. There’s no +balanced fence arbour. This is going to be an easy +business.”</p> + +<p>Easy or not, it took him nearly a quarter of an +hour to accomplish his task; for at times he obviously +went astray in the work.</p> + +<p>“Try to keep your feet still,” he said. “Every +movement you make is magnified up to the noise of +a pocket avalanche.”</p> + +<p>At last the thing was done. The safe door swung +open. Sir Clinton took off the head-band, received +the microphone from Cecil, and packed it away in +the case of the otophone along with the ear-phone.</p> + +<p>“You’d better jot down the number of the combination, +Cecil,” he suggested. “It’s on the dial at +present.”</p> + +<p>While Cecil was busy with this, the Chief Constable +switched off the otophone and put it in a place +of safety.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll see what’s inside the safe,” he said.</p> + +<p>He swung the door full open and disclosed a +cavity more like a strong-room than a safe.</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea where the medallions were +usually kept?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>Cecil went over to one of the shelves and searched +rapidly.</p> + +<p>“Why, there are only two of them here!” he +exclaimed in dismay.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” Sir Clinton warned him sharply. “Don’t +make a row. Have a good look at the things.”</p> + +<p>Cecil picked up the medallions and scanned them +minutely. His face showed his amazement as he +turned from one to another.</p> + +<p>“These are the replicas! Where have the genuine +Leonardos gone?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind that for the present. Put these things +back again. I’m going to close the safe. We mustn’t +risk talking too much here; and the sooner we’re gone +the better.”</p> + +<p>He picked up the otophone and led the way out +of the museum.</p> + +<p>“You might bring Froggatt back to his post here,” +he said. “We don’t need him at the stair any longer. +I must go upstairs again for a moment with this +machine.”</p> + +<p>Cecil piloted Froggatt back to his original post +just as the Chief Constable rejoined them.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to talk here,” Sir Clinton said to +Cecil. “Get a coat and walk with us down to the +car. We’ve done our work for the night.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable waited until they were well +away from the house before beginning his +explanation.</p> + +<p>“That otophone is—as I expect you saw—simply a +microphone for picking up sound, plus a two-valve +amplifier for magnifying it. The sounds that reach +the microphone are amplified by the valves set to +any extent, within limits, that you like to set it for. +You can make the crumpling of a piece of paper +sound like a small thunderstorm if you choose; and +it’s especially sensitive to clicks and sounds of that +sort. The mere involuntary shifting of your feet on +that parquet floor made a lot of disturbance.</p> + +<p>“Now in the older type of combination locks, if the +dial was carefully manipulated, a person with sharp +hearing might just be able to detect a faint click +when a tumbler fell into place in the course of a +circuit; and by making a note of the state of the +dial corresponding to each click the combination +could finally be discovered. In the modern patterns +of locks this has been got round. They’ve introduced +a thing called a balanced fence arbour, which is lifted +away from the tumblers as soon as the lock spindle +is revolved; so in this new pattern there’s no clicking +such as the older locks give.”</p> + +<p>“I see now,” said the Inspector. “That’s an old +pattern lock; and you were using the otophone to +magnify the sound of the clicks?”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” Sir Clinton agreed. “It made the thing +mere child’s play. Each click sounded like a +whip-crack, almost.”</p> + +<p>“So that’s why Foss brought the otophone along? +He meant to pick the lock of the safe and get the +medallions out of it?”</p> + +<p>“That was one possibility, of course,” Sir Clinton +said, with a grave face. “But I shouldn’t like to say +that it was the only possibility.”</p> + +<p>He smoked for a few moments in silence, then he +turned to Cecil.</p> + +<p>“Now I’ve a piece of work for you to do; and I +want you to do it convincingly. First thing +to-morrow morning you’re to find some way of spreading +the news that you’ve recovered all the genuine +medallions and that they’re in the safe. Don’t +give any details; but see that the yarn gets well +abroad.”</p> + +<p>“But all the real medallions are gone!” said Cecil +in disgust. “And whoever’s got them must know +they’re gone.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing like a good authoritative lie for +shaking confidence,” Sir Clinton observed, mildly. +“That’s your share in the business. You’d better +mention it at breakfast time to as many people as +you can; and you can telephone the glad news to +me, with the door of the telephone box open so that +any one can hear it. Yell as loud as you please, or +louder if possible. It won’t hurt me at the other end. +In any case, see that the happy tidings wash the +most distant shores.”</p> + +<p>“Well, since you say so, I’ll do it. But it’s sure to +be found out, you know, sooner or later.”</p> + +<p>“All I want is a single day’s run of it. My impression +is that, if things go well, I’ll have the whole +Ravensthorpe affair cleared up by this time +to-morrow. But I don’t promise that as a certainty.”</p> + +<p>“And this yarn is part of your scheme?”</p> + +<p>“I’m setting a trap,” Sir Clinton assured them. +“And that lie is the bait I’m offering.”</p> + +<p>As they reached the car, he added:</p> + +<p>“See that your constable doesn’t say a word about +this affair to-night—to any one. That’s important, +Inspector.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch14"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV. <br> The Second Chase in the Woods</h2> + +<p>“I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, sir,” +Inspector Armadale reported to the Chief Constable +on the following evening. “A dozen constables—two +with rubber-soled shoes—and a couple of +sergeants. They’re to be at the Ravensthorpe gate +immediately it’s dark enough. The sergeants have the +instructions; the constables don’t even know where +they’re going when they leave here.”</p> + +<p>“That’s correct,” Sir Clinton confirmed. “Let’s see. +That’s fourteen altogether. Less two, twelve. Plus +you and myself, fourteen. I think we’ll add to our +number. Nothing like being on the safe side. Mr. +Chacewater’s personally interested in the affair; I +think we’ll take him in also. And Mr. Clifton might +reasonably claim some share in the business. That +makes sixteen. You’re detaching two constables to +watch that lakelet. Well, surely fourteen of us ought +to be able to pick up the scoundrel without +difficulty.”</p> + +<p>“You’re sure that he’ll make for the terrace over +the pool, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing’s sure in this world, Inspector. But I +think there’s a fair chance that he’ll make in that +direction. And if he doesn’t, why, then, we can run +him down wherever he goes.”</p> + +<p>“If he goes up there, we’ll have him,” the Inspector +affirmed. “There’ll be no amateur bungling this +time, like the last affair. I’ll see to that myself. He +won’t slip through a constabulary cordon as he did +when he’d only a lot of excited youngsters to deal +with.”</p> + +<p>“I leave that part of the business entirely in your +hands, Inspector,” the Chief Constable assured him.</p> + +<p>“What I can’t see,” the Inspector continued, with +a faint querulousness in his tone, “is why you’re +going about the thing in this elaborate way. Why not +arrest him straight off and be done with it?”</p> + +<p>“Because there’s one little party you’ve omitted +to take into your calculations, Inspector—and that’s +the jury. Suspicion’s not good enough for us at this +stage. Criminal trials aren’t conducted on romantic +lines. Everything’s got to be proved up to the hilt. +Frankly, in this case, you’ve been scattering your +suspicions over a fairly wide field, haven’t you?”</p> + +<p>“It’s our business to be suspicious of everybody,” +the Inspector pleaded in extenuation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, within limits, within limits, Inspector. You +started by suspecting Foxton Polegate; then you +branched off to Marden; after that you hovered a bit +round Maurice Chacewater; and at the end you were +hot on Cecil Chacewater’s heels. There’s too much +of the smart reader of detective stories about that. +He suspects about six of the characters without having +any real proof at all; and then when the criminal +turns up clearly in the last chapter he says: ‘Well, +that fellow was on my list of suspects.’ That style +of thing’s no use in real criminal work, where you’ve +got to produce evidence and not merely some vague +suspicions.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a bit hard, sir,” the Inspector protested.</p> + +<p>“Well, you criticized my methods, remember. If +I were to arrest the fellow just now, I doubt if I +could convince a jury of his guilt. And they’d be +quite right. It’s their business to be sceptical and +insist on definite proof. It’s that proof that I expect +to get out of to-night’s work.”</p> + +<p>“It will be very instructive for me, sir,” Inspector +Armadale commented, with heavy irony.</p> + +<p>“You take things too seriously,” Sir Clinton retorted, +with an evident double meaning in the phrase. +“What you need, Inspector, is a touch of fantasy. +You’ll get a taste of it to-night, perhaps, unless my +calculations go far astray. Now I’m going to ring +up Mr. Chacewater and make arrangements for +to-night.”</p> + +<p>And with that he dismissed the Inspector.</p> + +<p>Armadale retired with a grave face; but when he +closed the door behind him his expression changed +considerably.</p> + +<p>“There he was, pulling my leg again, confound +him!” he reflected. “A touch of fantasy, indeed! +What’s he getting at now? And the worst of it is I +haven’t got to the bottom of the business yet myself. +He’s been quite straight in giving me all the facts. +I’m sure of that. But they seem to me just a jumble. +They don’t fit together anyhow. And yet he’s not the +bluffing kind; he’s got it all fixed up in his mind; +I’m sure of that, whether he’s right or wrong. Well, +we’ll see before many hours are over.”</p> + +<p>And with reflections like these Inspector Armadale +had to content himself until nightfall.</p> + +<p>As they drove up to the Ravensthorpe gates the +Inspector found Sir Clinton in one of his +uncommunicative moods. He seemed abstracted, and even, +as the Inspector noted with faint malice, a little +anxious about the business before them. When they +reached the gates they found the constabulary squad +awaiting them. Sir Clinton got out of the car, after +running it a little way up the avenue.</p> + +<p>“Now, the first thing you’ve got to remember,” he +said, addressing the squad, “is that in no circumstances +are you to make the slightest noise until you +hear my second whistle. You know what you’re to +do? Get up behind the house at the end opposite to +the servants’ wing and stay there till you get my +signal. Then you’re to come out and chase the man +whom the Inspector will show you. You’re not to try +to catch him. Keep a hundred yards behind him all +the time; but don’t lose sight of him. The Inspector +will give you instructions after you’ve chased for a +while. Now which of you are the two with tennis +shoes?”</p> + +<p>Two constables stepped out of the ranks. Sir +Clinton took them aside and gave them some special +instructions.</p> + +<p>“Now, you’d better get to your places,” he said, +turning to the squad again. “Remember, not a sound. +I’m afraid you’ll have a long wait, but we must take +things as they come.”</p> + +<p>As the squad was led off into the night, he moved +over to where the Inspector was standing.</p> + +<p>“I want something out of the car,” he said. The +Inspector followed him and waited while Sir Clinton +switched off the headlights and the tail lamp. The +Chief Constable felt in a locker and handed +something to Armadale.</p> + +<p>“A pair of night-glasses, Inspector. You’ll need +them. And that’s the lot. We’d better get to our +position. There’s no saying when the fellow may +begin his work.”</p> + +<p>Rather to the mystification of the Inspector, Sir +Clinton struck across the grass instead of following +the avenue up to the house. After a fairly long walk +they halted under a large tree.</p> + +<p>“A touch of fantasy was what I recommended to +you, Inspector. I think a little tree-climbing is +indicated. Sling these glasses round your neck as I’m +doing and follow on.”</p> + +<p>“Quite mad!” was the Inspector’s involuntary +comment to himself. “I suppose, once we get up +there, he’ll come down again and tell me I needed +exercise.”</p> + +<p>He followed the Chief Constable, however; and +was at last directed to a branch on which he could +find a safe seat.</p> + +<p>“Think I’m demented, Inspector?” Sir Clinton +demanded with the accuracy of a thought-reader. “It’s +not quite so bad as that, you’ll be glad to hear. Turn +your glasses through that rift in the leaves. I was +at special pains to cut it yesterday evening, in +preparation for you. What do you see?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector focused his glasses and scanned the +scene visible through the fissure in the foliage.</p> + +<p>“The front of Ravensthorpe,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Some windows?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, one of them’s the window of the museum; +and this happens to be one of the few points from +which you can see right into the room. If the lights +were on there, you’d find that we’re looking squarely +on to the door of the safe.”</p> + +<p>With this help the Inspector was able to pick out +the window which evidently he was expected to +watch.</p> + +<p>“It’ll be a slow business,” Sir Clinton said in a +bored tone. “But one of us has got to keep an eye +on that window for the next hour or two at least. +We can take it in turn.”</p> + +<p>They settled down to their vigil, which proved to +be a prolonged one. The Inspector found his +perch upon the branch anything but comfortable; +and it grew more wearisome as the time slipped +past.</p> + +<p>“Fantasy!” he commented bitterly to himself as +he shifted his position for the twentieth time. +“Cramp’s more likely.”</p> + +<p>But at last their tenacity was rewarded. It was +during one of the Inspector’s spells of watching. +Suddenly the dark rectangle of the window flashed into +momentary illumination and faded again.</p> + +<p>“There he is!” exclaimed the Inspector. “He’s +carrying a flash-lamp.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton lifted his glasses and examined the +place in his turn.</p> + +<p>“I can see him moving about in the room,” the +Inspector reported excitedly. “Now he’s going over +towards the safe. Can you see him, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Fairly well. What do you make of him?”</p> + +<p>The Inspector studied his quarry intently for a +while.</p> + +<p>“That’s the otophone, isn’t it, sir? I can’t see his +face; it seems as if he’d blackened it. . . . No, he’s +wearing a big mask. It looks like . . .”</p> + +<p>His voice rose sharply.</p> + +<p>“It’s Marden! I recognize that water-proof of +his; I could swear to it anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“That’s quite correct, Inspector. Now I think +we’ll get down from this tree as quick as we can +and I’ll blow my whistle. That ought to startle him. +And I’ve arranged for that to be the signal for a +considerable amount of noise in the house, which +ought to give the effect we want.”</p> + +<p>He slipped lightly down the branches, waited for +the slower-moving Inspector, and then blew a single +shrill blast on his whistle.</p> + +<p>“That’s roused them,” he said, with satisfaction, +as some lights flashed up in windows on the front +of Ravensthorpe. “I guess that amount of stir +about the place will flush our friend without any +trouble.”</p> + +<p>He gazed through his glasses at the main door.</p> + +<p>“There he goes, Inspector!”</p> + +<p>A dark figure emerged suddenly on the threshold, +hesitated for a moment, and then ran down the steps. +Armadale instinctively started forward; but the cool +voice of the Chief Constable recalled him.</p> + +<p>“There’s no hurry, Inspector! You’d better hang +your glasses on the tree here. They’ll only hamper +you in running.”</p> + +<p>Hurriedly the Inspector obeyed; and Sir Clinton +leisurely hung up his own pair. Armadale turned +again and followed the burglar with his eyes.</p> + +<p>“He’s making for the old quarry, sir.”</p> + +<p>“So I see,” Sir Clinton assured him. “I want the +fellow to have a good start, remember. I don’t wish +him to be pressed. Now we may as well get the chase +organized.”</p> + +<p>Followed by the Inspector, he hurried towards the +front of Ravensthorpe.</p> + +<p>“I think that’s a fair start to give him,” he +estimated aloud. Then, lifting his whistle, he blew a +second blast.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately the figures of Cecil Chacewater +and Michael Clifton emerged from the main +door, while a few seconds later the police squad +rounded the corner of the house.</p> + +<p>“Carry on, Inspector!” Sir Clinton advised. “I +leave the rest of the round-up to you. But keep +exactly to what I told you.”</p> + +<p>Armadale hurried off, and within a few seconds the +chase had been set afoot.</p> + +<p>“We must see if we can wipe your eye this time, +Mr. Clifton,” the Chief Constable observed. “It’s +a run over the old ground, you notice.”</p> + +<p>Michael Clifton nodded in answer.</p> + +<p>“If you’d let me run him down I’d be obliged to +you,” he suggested. “You’ve given him a longish +start, certainly; but I think I could pull him in.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton made a gesture of dissent.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no. We must give him a run for his money. +Besides, it wouldn’t suit my book to have him run +down too early in the game.”</p> + +<p>The fugitive had reached the edge of the pine-wood +as they were speaking, and now he disappeared from +their sight among the arcades of the trees.</p> + +<p>“The moon will be down in no time,” Cecil pointed +out as they ran. “Aren’t you taking the risk of losing +him up in the woods there? It’ll be pretty dark under +the trees.”</p> + +<p>He quickened his pace slightly in his eagerness; +but the Chief Constable restrained him.</p> + +<p>“Leave it to Armadale. It’s his affair. We’re only +spectators, really.”</p> + +<p>“I want the beggar caught,” Cecil grumbled, but +he obeyed Sir Clinton’s orders and slowed down +slightly.</p> + +<p>A few seconds brought them to the fringe of the +wood; and far ahead of them they could see the form +of the burglar running steadily up the track.</p> + +<p>“Just the same as before?” Sir Clinton demanded +from Michael.</p> + +<p>“Just the same.”</p> + +<p>Through the wood they went behind the police +squad. At the brow of the hill, where the trees began +to thin, Armadale called a halt. They could hear +him giving orders for the formation of his cordon. +When his men began to move off under his directions +the Inspector came over to Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“He’ll not slip through our hands this time, sir. +I’ll beat every bit of cover in that spinney. He can’t +get away on either side without being spotted. We’ll +get our hands on him in a few minutes now. I +suppose he’s armed?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I should doubt that.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector failed to conceal his surprise.</p> + +<p>“Not armed? He’s sure to be.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see in a minute or two,” the Chief Constable +answered. “You’d better get your beaters to +work, hadn’t you? . . . Ah!”</p> + +<p>In the silence they heard the sound of a faint +splash from the direction of the quarry.</p> + +<p>“History’s repeating itself pretty accurately, isn’t +it?” said Sir Clinton, turning to Michael. “That’s +the kind of thing you heard the other night?”</p> + +<p>“Just the same,” Michael admitted.</p> + +<p>But as the line of constables moved forward he +could not help contrasting their methodical work with +the rather haphazard doings of the pursuers on the +earlier occasion. Armadale had evidently issued +stringent orders, for not a tuft of undergrowth was +left unexamined as the line slowly closed in upon +the hunted man. Every possible piece of cover was +scrutinized and beaten before the cordon passed +beyond it.</p> + +<p>“Very pretty,” Sir Clinton commented, as they +moved up in the rear of the line. “The Inspector +must surely have been training these fellows. They +really do the business excellently.”</p> + +<p>Michael suddenly left the path they were following +and stepped across under the trees.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to have a look at that Fairy House +myself,” he declared. “That’s where I found Maurice +after the last show. I want to be perfectly certain +that it’s empty.”</p> + +<p>He opened the door, leaned inside the building, and +then came back to his companions. Something like +disappointment was visible in his expression. He was +taken aback to see glances of sardonic amusement +exchanged between Cecil and the Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>“Drawn blank, have you?” Cecil inquired.</p> + +<p>“There’s no one there at present,” Michael +admitted.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think the constables would have missed a +plain thing like that,” Sir Clinton remarked mildly, +though with a faint undertone of correction in his +voice.</p> + +<p>Before Michael had time to reply they heard +Armadale’s voice. The cordon had passed completely +through the spinney and was now on the edge of the +marble terrace.</p> + +<p>“Come along,” Sir Clinton urged. “We mustn’t +miss the final scene.”</p> + +<p>They hurriedly joined the line just as Armadale +ordered a last advance.</p> + +<p>“He’s somewhere on this terrace,” he told his men. +“See that he doesn’t break away from you at the last +moment.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton turned to Michael.</p> + +<p>“Just the same as before?”</p> + +<p>Michael made a gesture of assent.</p> + +<p>“I’ll admit that this is more businesslike.”</p> + +<p>The Constabulary line crept forward almost foot +by foot, subjecting every one of the marble seats to +the most rigid scrutiny. Inspector Armadale’s anxiety +was more and more apparent as the cordon advanced +without securing the man for whom they were searching. +At last the whole of the possible cover had been +beaten, and the constables emerged on the open +terrace. The fugitive had vanished, apparently, into +thin air.</p> + +<p>Michael Clifton turned to the Chief Constable with +an ironical smile.</p> + +<p>“<em>Just</em> the same as last time, it seems. How history +repeats itself!”</p> + +<p>The Inspector hurried across the terrace to where +they were standing. It was obvious that he was +completely staggered by the turn of events.</p> + +<p>“He’s got away, sir,” he reported in a mortified +voice. “I can’t think how he’s managed it.”</p> + +<p>“I think we’ll repeat that last stage again, +Inspector, if you don’t mind. Withdraw your men till +they’re just in front of that last line of seats.”</p> + +<p>While the Inspector was giving his orders Sir Clinton +pulled his case from his pocket, opened it, and +thoughtfully tapped a cigarette on the lid. Before +lighting it he threw a glance up and down the empty +spaces of the terrace from which the fugitive had so +mysteriously vanished.</p> + +<p>“All plain and above board, isn’t it?” he said, +turning to his two companions. “I’ve got nothing in +my hands except a cigarette, and you can search my +sleeves if you like. It is required, as Euclid would +say, to produce a full-sized burglar for the +satisfaction of the audience. It’s a stiff job.”</p> + +<p>He glanced again over the wide white pavement of +the terrace.</p> + +<p>“A conjurer’s usually allowed a little patter, isn’t +he? The quickness of the tongue distracts the eye, +and all that. Just a question, then. Do you happen +to remember what Medusa was able to do? Turned +things into stone when she looked at them, didn’t +she? That somehow brings the late Pygmalion to my +mind—a kind of association of opposites, in a way, +I suppose. But I’ve often wondered what Pygmalion +felt like when the statue came to life.”</p> + +<p>He turned sharply on his heel.</p> + +<p>“You can come down off that pedestal, my friend. +The game’s up!”</p> + +<p>To the amazement of the group around him, the +white marble statue above him started suddenly into +life. It leapt down from its base on to the pavement +of the terrace, staggered as it alighted, and then, as +Cecil and Michael grasped at its smooth sides, it +shook itself clear and sprang upon the broad marble +balustrade.</p> + +<p>“Come back, you fool!” Sir Clinton snapped, as +the figure faced outward to the gulf below.</p> + +<p>But instead of halting, the white form gathered +itself together for an instant and then dived +headlong into the abyss. There was the sound of a +splash; and an appalling cry came up through the +night.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton dashed to the rail.</p> + +<p>“Below, there! Get out on that raft at once and +pick him up. He’s badly hurt. He’ll drown if you +don’t hurry.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector hurried forward.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you warn us, sir? We’d have had +Marden as easy as anything. If you’d only told us +what to expect.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton looked round.</p> + +<p>“Marden? That’s not Marden. I tell you, Inspector, +if that jump of his meant anything, it +suggests that there’s no Marden at all.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector’s amazement overbore his +chagrin.</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand . . .” he began.</p> + +<p>“Never mind. I’ll explain later. Get away down +to the water-side at once. See if he’s badly damaged. +Quick, now.”</p> + +<p>As the Inspector hurried off, the Chief Constable +turned to Michael Clifton.</p> + +<p>“History doesn’t always repeat itself exactly, you +see.”</p> + +<p>He pulled out a match-box and lit his cigarette in +a leisurely fashion. Then, throwing away the vesta, +he inquired:</p> + +<p>“You see now how he got away from you last +time?”</p> + +<p>Michael made no reply. He was examining the +pedestal from which the living statue had taken its +flight; and he could see the scores and cuts left by +the chisel which had smoothed the standing-place of +the original marble figure. Quite obviously, on the +night of the masked ball, the same trick had been +played; and while the pursuers were searching all +around, the fugitive had stood rigid above them, +unsuspected by any one.</p> + +<p>Cecil turned to the Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going down to see if something can’t +be done for the poor devil? He must have come a +fearful smash on the rocks.”</p> + +<p>“Poor devil?” Sir Clinton retorted. “That’s not a +poor devil. That’s a wild beast, if you’re anxious for +information. But if you’re a member of the Society +for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, I suppose +we’d better see that things are done decently and in +order. We’ll go down, if you’re perturbed about him.”</p> + +<p>It took them some little time to descend to the level +of the lakelet. They could see, as they went down, +the process of rescue; and when they reached the +water-side, they found two constables stooping over +a limp white figure, beside which the Inspector knelt +solicitously. As the newcomers approached, +Armadale rose and stepped over to them.</p> + +<p>“He’s done for, sir,” he reported in a low voice to +Sir Clinton. “His pelvis is smashed and I think his +spine must have gone as well. He’s paralysed below +the waist. I doubt if he’ll last long. It was a fearful +smash.”</p> + +<p>Cecil crossed over and peered down at the face of +the dying man. For a moment he failed to recognize +him; for the white grease-paint disguised the natural +appearance of the features: but a closer scrutiny +revealed the identity of the living statue.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s the chauffeur!”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” was all that Sir Clinton thought it +worth while to say.</p> + +<p>Armadale brought something up from the +water-side.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the waterproof he was wearing, sir. It’s +Marden’s, just as I told you when I saw him in the +museum to-night. When he flung it over the edge +of the cliff as we were coming up, it landed on a +broad bit of rock instead of sinking like the Pierrot +costume, the other night.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton was silent for a moment. His glance +wandered to the broken, white-clad figure on the +ground, but no pity showed on his face. Then he +turned back to Armadale.</p> + +<p>“See if you can get a confession out of him, +Inspector. He won’t live long at the best; and he might +as well tell what he can. We can’t hang him now, +unfortunately; and he may as well save us some +trouble in piecing things together. For one thing, he’s +got a bag or a suit-case lying around somewhere +in the neighbourhood with a suit of clothes in it. +You’d better find out where that is, and save us the +bother of hunting for it. If you manage to get +anything out of him, take it down and get it witnessed. +Bring it down to Ravensthorpe at once.”</p> + +<p>He paused, then added as if by an after-thought:</p> + +<p>“You’d better search these tights that he’s wearing. +There ought to be five of the medallions +concealed about him somewhere. Get them for me.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Cecil and Michael.</p> + +<p>“We’ll go back now to Ravensthorpe. Unless I’m +far astray in my deductions, there’s been another +murder there; and we must keep the girls from +hearing about it, if we can.”</p> + +<p>As they walked through the pine-wood, Sir Clinton +maintained a complete taciturnity, and neither +of the others cared to break in on his silence. His +last words had shown that ahead of them might lie +yet another of the Ravensthorpe tragedies, and the +shadow of it lay across their minds. It was not until +they were approaching the house that the Chief +Constable spoke again.</p> + +<p>“You’ve spun that yarn I gave you to the girls?”</p> + +<p>“They know there was some stunt afoot,” said +Cecil, “but they were to keep out of the way, in their +rooms, until we were clear of the house.”</p> + +<p>“One had to tell them something,” Sir Clinton +answered. “If one hadn’t, they’d have been pretty +uncomfortable when all that racket started. You +managed to scare him out very neatly with the row +you raised when I blew my whistle.”</p> + +<p>“The girls are sitting up, waiting for us,” Cecil +explained. “They said they’d have coffee ready when +we came back.”</p> + +<p>“The deuce they did!”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton was obviously put out.</p> + +<p>“I’d been counting on their going back to bed +again. Then we could have got Marden’s body away +quietly—if he’s been murdered, as I think he has. +There’s no use upsetting people if you can avoid it. +Ravensthorpe’s had its fill of sensations lately and +there’s no need to add another to-night.”</p> + +<p>He reflected as he walked on, and at last he seemed +to hit on an expedient to suit the circumstances.</p> + +<p>“The bottom’s out of this case now,” he said, at +last. “There’ll be no trial; so there’s no need for +any more secrecy, so far as I can see. I’ll be giving +nothing away that I shouldn’t, at this stage of the +game.”</p> + +<p>He threw away the end of his cigarette and looked +up at the bulk of Ravensthorpe before them. Here +and there on the dark front the yellow oblong of a +window shone out in the night.</p> + +<p>“Suppose I spin them a yarn,” Sir Clinton went on. +“I can keep them up until dawn with it. After that, +they’ll sleep sound enough; and while they’re asleep, +we’ll get Marden’s body away in peace and comfort. +It’ll spare them the shock of finding another corpse +on the premises; and that’s always something +gained.”</p> + +<p>When they reached Ravensthorpe, Sir Clinton +turned to Cecil.</p> + +<p>“You’d better go and close the safe in the museum. +No use leaving things like that open any longer than’s +necessary. I must go up to Marden’s room now. I’ll +be back again in a minute or two.”</p> + +<p>Ascending the servants’ staircase, Sir Clinton made +his way to the valet’s room. The door was locked; +but when Sir Clinton tapped gently, a constable +opened it and looked out. At the sight of the Chief +Constable, he stood aside.</p> + +<p>“He’s been murdered, sir,” the man explained in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>“I guessed it might be that,” Sir Clinton returned.</p> + +<p>“Whoever did it must have chloroformed him +first,” the constable went on. “There was a pad of +cotton-wool over his face; and his throat’s cut.”</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable nodded in comprehension.</p> + +<p>“That would prevent any sounds,” he said. +“Brackley was a first-class planner, there’s no +doubt.”</p> + +<p>The constable continued his explanation.</p> + +<p>“We came up here as you told us, sir; and when +we heard your whistle we slipped into the room, +expecting to arrest him according to your orders. But +he was dead by that time. It was quite clear that +he’d been murdered only a short time before. Your +orders didn’t cover the case, so we thought the best +thing to do was to lock the door and wait till you +came back. You’d said we were to keep him here till +your return, anyhow; so that seemed to be the best +course.”</p> + +<p>“Quite correct,” Sir Clinton commended them. +“You couldn’t have done better. Now you’ll need to +wait here till morning. Keep the door locked, and +don’t let any word of this affair get abroad. I’ll see +about removing the body in due course. Until then, +I don’t want any alarm on the subject.”</p> + +<p>He stepped across the room, examined the body on +the bed, and then, with a nod to the constables, he +went downstairs once more.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter" id="ch15"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XV. <br> Sir Clinton’s Solution</h2> + +<p>“It’s a pleasure to meet Sir Clinton again,” Joan +observed when they had finished their coffee. “For +the last ten days or so, I’ve been dealing with a man +they call the Chief Constable. I don’t much care +for him. These beetle-browed officials are not my +sort. Too stiff and overbearing for me, altogether.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton laughed at the hit.</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve invited one of your aversions +to join us. In fact, I think I hear him at the +door now.”</p> + +<p>“Inspector Armadale?” Joan demanded. “Well, +I’ve nothing against him. You never let him get a +word in edgeways at our interviews. Grasping, I +call it.”</p> + +<p>The door opened and the Inspector was ushered +in. As he entered, a glance passed between him and +Sir Clinton. In reply, Armadale made a furtive +gesture which escaped the rest of the company.</p> + +<p>“Passed in his checks,” Sir Clinton interpreted it +to himself. “That clears the road.”</p> + +<p>Joan poured out coffee for the Inspector and then +turned to the Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>“Cecil promised that you’d tell us all about everything. +Don’t linger over it. We’re all in quite good +listening form and we look to you not to be boring. +Proceed.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton refused to be disconcerted.</p> + +<p>“Inspector Armadale’s the last authority on the +subject,” he remarked. “He’s got the confession of +the master mind in his pocket. I haven’t seen it yet. +Suppose I give you my account of things, and the +Inspector will check it for us where necessary? That +seems a fair division of labour.”</p> + +<p>“Very fair,” Una Rainhill put in. “Now, Joan, be +quiet and let’s get on with the tale.”</p> + +<p>“Before the curtain goes up,” Sir Clinton +suggested, “you’d better read your programmes. First +of all you find the name of Thomas Pailton, <i>alias</i> +Cocoa Tom, <i>alias</i>, J. B. Foss, <i>alias</i> The Wizard of +Woz: a retired conjurer, gaolbird, confidence-trick +sharp, etc. As I read his psychology, he was rather a +weak character and not over straight even in dealing +with his equals. In the present play, he was acting +under the orders of a gentleman of much tougher +fibre.</p> + +<p>“The next name on the programme is Thomas +Marden. The police have no records of his early +doings, but I suspect that Mr. Marden had cause to +bless his luck in this respect, rather than his honesty. +I’m sure he wasn’t a prentice hand. As to his +character, I believe he was rather a violent person when +roused, and he had a deplorable lack of control over +a rather bad temper.</p> + +<p>“The third name is . . . ?”</p> + +<p>“Stephen Racks,” the Inspector supplied in answer +to Sir Clinton’s glance of inquiry.</p> + +<p>“<i>Alias</i> Joe Brackley,” Sir Clinton continued. “I +think we’ll call him Brackley, since that was the +name you knew him by, if you knew him at all. He +was nominally Foss’s chauffeur. Actually, I think, he +was the brain of the gang and did the planning for +them.”</p> + +<p>“That’s correct,” the Inspector interpolated.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Brackley, I think, was the most deliberately +unscrupulous of them all,” Sir Clinton continued. “A +really dangerous person who would stick at nothing +to get what he wanted or to cover his tracks.</p> + +<p>“Then, last of all, there’s a Mr. Blank, whose +name I do not know, but who at present is under +arrest in America for forging the name of Mr. +Kessock the millionaire. He was employed by Mr. +Kessock in some capacity or other which gave him +access to Mr. Kessock’s correspondence. I’ve no +details on that point as yet.”</p> + +<p>“This is the kind of stuff I always skip when I’m +reading a detective story,” complained Joan. “Can’t +you get along to something interesting soon?”</p> + +<p>“You’re like the Bellman in the ‘Hunting of the +Snark,’ Joan. ‘Oh, skip your dear uncle!’ Well, I +skip, as you desire it. I’ll merely mention in passing +that an American tourist came here a while ago and +asked to see the Leonardo medallions, because he +was writing a book on Leonardo. He, I believe, was +Mr. Blank from America; and his job was to see the +safe in the museum and note its pattern.</p> + +<p>“I must skip again; and now we reach the night of +the robbery in the museum. You know what happened +then. Mr. Foss came to me with his tale about +overhearing some of you planning a practical joke. +His story was true enough, I’ve no doubt; but it set +me thinking at once. I may not have shown it, Joan, +but I quite agreed with you about his methods. It +seemed a funny business to come straight to the +police over a thing of that sort. Of course he had his +reason ready; but it didn’t ring quite true, somehow. +I might have put it down to tactlessness, if it hadn’t +suggested something else to my mind.</p> + +<p>“That pistol-shot which smashed the lamp was too +neatly timed for my taste. It was fired by some one +who knew precisely when the keeper was going to +be gripped, and it was fired just in time to get ahead +of Foxton Polegate in the raid on the show-case. +That meant, if it meant anything, that the man who +fired the shot was a person who knew of the practical +joke. But on the face of it, Foss was the only person +who knew about the joke, bar the jokers themselves. +So naturally I began to suspect Foss of having a +hand in the business. It was the usual mistake of the +criminal—trying to be too clever and throw suspicion +on to some one else.</p> + +<p>“Now Foss wasn’t the man in white, obviously; +for he came to see me while the man-hunt was still +in full cry. So at that stage in the business I was +fairly certain that at least two people were in the +game: Foss and some one else, who was the man in +white. That looked like either the valet or the +chauffeur, since they were the only people I knew about +who were directly associated with Foss while he was +here. But this incognito business at the masked ball +had made it possible for outsiders to come in +unrecognized; so the man in white might be a +confederate quite outside our range of knowledge. One +couldn’t assume that either Marden or Brackley was +in the show at all.</p> + +<p>“I learned, later on, that Foss had synchronized +his watch with yours, Cecil; and that, of course, +made it pretty plain that he was in the game. There +was also another bit of evidence which suggested +something. If either the valet or the chauffeur was +the confederate, then they could easily enough have +found out from the servants what costume Maurice +meant to wear that night—a few questions to his +valet would have got the information—and they +could have chosen the Pierrot costume for their own +runner in order to confuse things. That suggested +that Foss’s servants might be in the business; but it +proved nothing really. The white Pierrot costume +was chosen mainly for its conspicuousness, I’m sure.</p> + +<p>“Now I come to the disappearance of the man in +white.”</p> + +<p>“Thank goodness!” Joan commented. “It gets +more interesting as it goes on, doesn’t it? That’s +something to be thankful for.”</p> + +<p>“One does one’s best,” Sir Clinton retorted, +unperturbed. “Now the vanishing of that fellow could +be accounted for in various ways, so far as I could +see. First of all, he might have slipped down the rope +into the little lake. That was what the rope was meant +to suggest, obviously. But unfortunately one of the +hunters had the wit to keep an eye on the lake; and +it was pretty clear the man in white didn’t go that +way. Then there was the possibility of his being +concealed in the cave; but that was ruled out by the +search of the cave. Thirdly, the gang might have hit +on the opening of one of the secret passages of +Ravensthorpe. Candidly, I ruled that out also. It +seemed next door to impossible. But if you exclude +all these ways, then there seem to be only two +possibilities left. The first of these depends on the man +in white having a confederate in the cordon who let +him slip through. But the chance of a slip-through +of that sort escaping the notice of the rest of the +hunters seemed very small. It seemed to me too risky +a business for them to have tried.</p> + +<p>“The final possibility was that the fugitive disguised +himself as something else. Well, what disguise +would be the best? It’s a question of camouflage, and +they had only a few seconds to do the camouflaging. +You can’t dress up as a drain-pipe or a garden-seat +in a couple of seconds. So we come down to something +that’s human in shape but isn’t really human. +In a garden, you might pretend to be a scarecrow; +but up on that terrace a scarecrow was out of the +question. And then I remembered the statues.</p> + +<p>“Suppose somebody had gone up there in the evening +and had chiselled one of the statues off its base. +The broken marble could be heaved over into the +little lake and the bare pedestal would be left for the +fugitive.”</p> + +<p>“I ought to have thought of that,” Michael interjected. +“It’s so obvious when you think of it. But I +didn’t think of anything like that at the time.”</p> + +<p>“My impression then,” Sir Clinton continued, “was +that the man in white had white tights on under his +Pierrot dress. His face and hands were whitened, +also; so that as soon as he stripped off his jacket and +trousers, he was sufficiently statuelike to pass muster +in that light. His eyes would have given him away in +daylight; but under the moon he’d only got to shut +them and you’d hardly notice his whitened eyelashes. +In the few moments that you left him, while the +cordon was being formed, he took off his Pierrot +things, wrapped them round the weight he’d used in +breaking the case’s glass, and pitched the lot over +the balustrade. That would account for the splash +that was heard.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton paused to light a cigarette.</p> + +<p>“That theory seemed to fit most of the evidence, as +you see. It explained why they’d chosen that +particular place for the disappearing trick; and it +accounted for the splash as well. Further, it suggested +that there was a third man in the gang: the man who +smashed down the real statue. They’d leave that bit +of work to the last moment for fear of the damage +being seen accidentally beforehand. Now Foss was +at the masked ball, so it wasn’t he. The man in white +might need all his powers in that race, so it was +unlikely that he’d been up there on a heavy bit of +manual labour just then, for the shifting of that +statue, even in pieces, can have been no light affair. +That suggested the use of a third confederate. But +I’m no wild enthusiast for theories. I simply noted +the coincidence that this theory demanded three men +and that Foss’s party contained three men: himself, +the valet, and the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>“Now, for reasons which I’ll give you immediately, +it seemed likely that this affair was only a first step in +a more complicated plan. On the spur of the moment, +I decided it was worth while taking a hand. So I got +a patrol set round the spinney and issued orders that +no one was to go up to the terrace until I’d been over +the ground. I took good care that every one knew +about this; and I took equally good care not to go +there myself. I rather advertised the thing, in fact. +That was to assure the fellows that no one had seen +the empty pedestal. They were pretty certain to rout +about for information; and they’d hear on all sides +that no one had been up to the terrace. That left the +thing open for them to try again if they wanted to.</p> + +<p>“Another thing confirmed my notions. When the +Inspector was dragging the lake, he got a largish +piece of marble out of it. That fitted in with the view +that the broken statue was down in the water in +fragments, hidden by the weeds. It all fitted fairly well, +you see.</p> + +<p>“Then came another bit of evidence—two bits, in +fact. The village drunkard put abroad some yarn +about seeing a White Man in the woods; and a little +girl saw a Black Man. That might have been mere +fancy. Or it might have been true enough. When +the hunters had gone, the pseudo-statue would come +down off his pedestal. Suppose he wandered off into +the wood and was seen by old Groby. There’s your +White Man. But he couldn’t possibly get back to the +house in white tights. He’d want to get in as quietly +as possible. What about a set of black tights under +the white ones? When he took off the white ones, +he’d be next door to invisible among shadows; and +he’d be able to sneak in through a window in the +servants’ wing—in the shadow of the house—fairly +inconspicuously. Perhaps that’s how it happened.”</p> + +<p>“That was it,” the Inspector confirmed, looking up +from a sheet of paper which he was consulting from +time to time.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton acknowledged the confirmation but +refused to lay much stress on the point.</p> + +<p>“I thought it possible,” he said, “but it was merely +a guess. In itself the evidence wasn’t worth anything; +but it fitted well enough into the hypothesis I’d +made.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“Did you get the five medallions as I expected?”</p> + +<p>Armadale put his hand into his pocket and withdrew +the five discs of gold, which he handed over to +the Chief Constable. Sir Clinton took the sixth +medallion from his own pocket and laid the whole set on +the table beside him.</p> + +<p>“They say,” he went on, “that the more <i>outré</i> a +crime is, the easier it is to find a solution for it. I +shouldn’t like to assert that in every case. But there’s +no harm in paying especial attention to the bizarre +points in an affair. If you cast your minds back to +the case as it presented itself to us on the night of the +masked ball, you’ll recall one point which +undoubtedly seemed out of the common.”</p> + +<p>He glanced round the circle of listeners, but no +one ventured to interrupt.</p> + +<p>“Here was a gang of thieves bent on stealing +something. One of them—Foss—knew that in the show-case +there were three medallions and three replicas. +The medallions were of enormous value; the replicas +were worth next to nothing. Foss, I was sure—and it +turned out afterwards that I was right—Foss knew +that the real medallions were in the top row and that +the replicas were in the lower row.”</p> + +<p>He arranged the six discs on the table as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“And yet, with that knowledge, it was the replicas +which they stole and not the real medallions. Amazing, +at first sight, isn’t it? To my mind it was much +more bizarre than the vanishing trick. And, naturally, +it was on that point in the case that I fixed my +attention. These weren’t blunderers, remember. The +rest of the business showed that they were anything +but that. The way they had seized upon that practical +joke to serve their ends was quite enough to +prove that there was a good brain at the back of the +thing. That joke wasn’t in their original programme, +and yet they’d taken it in their stride and turned it +to account in a most ingenious way. They weren’t the +sort of people who would make a mistake about the +positions of the replicas. If they took the electrotypes +instead of the real things, it was because the +electrotypes were what they wanted.</p> + +<p>“Why did they want them? That question seemed +to thrust itself forward in front of all the others +which suggested themselves in the case; and it was +that question that had to be answered before one +could see light anywhere.”</p> + +<p>He leaned forward in his chair and glanced at the +two rows of medallions on the table before him for a +moment.</p> + +<p>“If one thinks about a point long enough, it often +happens that all of a sudden a fresh idea turns up +and fits into its place. I think it was probably the +notion of the pseudo-statue that put me on to this +affair. There you had a fraud imposing itself on some +people simply because they had no reason to suppose +that any fraud was intended. I doubt if any of you +people, Mr. Clifton, gave a second glance at these +statues that night. You simply regarded them as +statues, because you knew that statues were on all +the pedestals in normal circumstances. You were off +your guard on that particular point.</p> + +<p>“That idea seemed to give me the key to this +mysterious preference for replicas. If they’d taken +the real medallions that night, with all the fuss that +was made, then you Ravensthorpe people would have +known at once that the true Leonardos had gone; +and, naturally, with the theft of them dated to a +minute, the risk was considerable. But suppose that +the theft of the replicas was only the first stage in +the game, what then? They had the replicas; you had +the real medallions. Foss, as the agent for Kessock, +had every excuse for asking to see the medallions +again.</p> + +<p>“Now at that point there would come in the very +same subconscious assurance that played into their +hands in the case of the statue. Maurice would know +for certain that the three things in his safe were the +real Leonardos. He’d fish them out for Foss to +examine; and he’d put them back in the safe without +any minute inspection when Foss handed them over. +The replicas would be off the board—lost, gone for +good. He’d never think of them.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced mischievously at Joan before +continuing.</p> + +<p>“As it happens, I can do a little parlour conjuring +myself. It comes in handy when one has to live up to +the part of Prospero or anything like that. I know +what one can do in the way of palming things, and +so forth. And as soon as I hit on this idea of the case, +I saw how things might be managed. Foss would fake +up some excuse for handling the real medallions; and +during that handling, he’d substitute the replicas for +the Leonardos. Maurice, having apparently had the +things under his eyes all the time, would never think +of examining the medals which he got back from +Foss’s hands. He’d simply put them back into the +safe. Foss would have the real things in his pocket; +the deal would fall through; Foss & Co. would retire +gracefully . . . and it was a hundred to one that no +minute examination of the medallions in the safe +would be made for long enough. By that time +it would be impossible either to find Foss or to +bring the thing home to him even if you did find +him.</p> + +<p>“You see the advantages? First of all, the only +theft would be one of the replicas, which no one cared +much about. Second, the date of the real theft would +be left doubtful. And third, this plan gave them any +amount of time to dispose of the real things before +any suspicions were aroused at all, as regards the +genuine Leonardos. My impression is that they had +a market for them: some scoundrelly collector who’d +pay high to have the Leonardos even if he couldn’t +boast publicly that he had them.”</p> + +<p>“That’s correct, sir,” the Inspector interposed. +“Brackley had a market, but he wouldn’t tell me who +the collector was.”</p> + +<p>Joan rose from her chair, crossed the room to a +small table, and solemnly came back with a tray.</p> + +<p>“Have some whisky and soda,” she suggested to +Sir Clinton.</p> + +<p>“You find the tale rather dry?” he inquired +solicitously. “Life’s like that, you know. Inspector +Armadale really needs this more than I do. He’s +been a long time out in the cold up yonder. I’ll take +some later on, if you don’t mind.”</p> + +<p>Joan presented the tray to the Inspector, who +helped himself.</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton waited till he was finished with the +siphon and then continued, addressing himself to +Joan:</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the story has lacked feminine interest +up to this point. We’ll hurry on to the day when you, +Maurice, and Foss had your talk on the terrace. +Down below was Foss’s motor, serving two purposes. +It was there if they had to make a bolt, should things +go wrong. It also allowed the chauffeur, making a +fake repair, to watch what went on in the museum. I +gather that he meant to keep an eye on his +confederates.</p> + +<p>“At that moment, Foss had the three replicas in his +pocket; and he was looking for some excuse to carry +out the exchange. He led the conversation on to +Japanese swords and so forth. I suspect Brackley +supplied the basis for that matter, enough to allow +Foss to make a show of information. Then Foss +brought up the subject of his ‘poor man’s collection’ +of rubbings. I’ve no doubt he forced a card there—induced +Maurice to offer to let him take rubbings of +the medallions. That would be child’s play to an +ex-conjurer with a smart tongue. He got his way, +anyhow.</p> + +<p>“But then came a complication he hadn’t expected. +You, Joan, got interested in this taking of rubbings. +I admit it was hard lines on the poor fellow. It was +the last thing he could have anticipated.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks for the compliment!” Joan interjected, +ironically.</p> + +<p>“Well, it wasn’t in the plan, anyhow,” Sir Clinton +went on. “It meant an extra pair of eyes to deceive +when the exchange was made; and as the exchange +was the crucial move in the whole scheme, your +company—strange to say—was not appreciated. In fact, +you made Mr. Foss nervous. He wasn’t quite as cool +as he could have wished; and my reading of the +situation is that he bungled his first attempt at the +substitution and had to prolong the agony by +pretending to take a second rubbing of the first +medallion he got into his hands.</p> + +<p>“He had more luck with his second attempt, even +with your eagle eyes on him; and he stowed away +Medallion Number One in one of the special concealed +pockets which he had in his clothes. But he +desired intensely to be relieved of your company; and +he proceeded to draw your attention to some one calling +you. Of course that voice existed solely in his own +imagination. But it was quite as effective as a real +voice in getting you to leave the museum; and then +there was one onlooker the less to bother him in his +sleight-of-hand.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton paused to light a cigarette before +continuing. Inspector Armadale, laying down his paper, +turned to the Chief Constable as though expecting at +this point to hear something which he did not already +know.</p> + +<p>“The next stage is one of pure conjecture,” Sir +Clinton went on. “Foss is dead, and I haven’t had +any opportunity of interrogating the other actor: +Marden.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale smiled grimly at the way in +which the Chief Constable evaded any reference to +the valet’s murder.</p> + +<p>“Possibly Inspector Armadale has a note or two on +the matter,” Sir Clinton pursued, “but even if he has, +it can only be something like ‘what the soldier said,’ +for Brackley could have merely second-hand evidence +at the best. Take the case as the Inspector and +I found it. Foss was dead, stabbed with the +Muramasa sword. On its handle we found the finger-prints +of Maurice, and no others. Under Foss’s body +we found an undischarged automatic pistol with his +finger-prints on the butt. We noticed curious pockets +in Foss’s clothes; but they were empty. And we found +no trace of any of the medallions about the place. +Maurice was <i>non est inventus</i>—we could see no sign +of him. Marden had cut his hand in a fall against +one of the cases. He’d wrapped it up with his +handkerchief in a rough sort of way. The case containing +the Muramasa sword was open, and the sheath was +lying in it, empty, of course.</p> + +<p>“It’s only fair to Inspector Armadale to tell you +that he suspected Marden immediately. What I’m +going to give you is merely the case as it presented +itself to me.”</p> + +<p>Armadale looked slightly flustered by this tribute +to his perspicacity. He glanced suspiciously at the +Chief Constable, but Sir Clinton’s face betrayed no +ironical intention.</p> + +<p>“He may be pulling my leg again,” the Inspector +reflected, “but at least it’s decent of him to go out +of his way to say that. It’s true enough, but not +exactly in the way that they’ll understand it.”</p> + +<p>“Marden had a very complete story to tell us. He’d +come to the door of the museum with a parcel which +Foss had sent him to post. He’d found the address +was incomplete and came back to get Foss to finish +it. He stayed outside the door and he heard a quarrel +between Maurice and Foss, ending in a struggle. +When he burst into the room, Maurice was disappearing +at the other end and Foss was dead on the +floor. Then Marden slipped on the parquet, fell +against a show-case, cut his hand, and tied it up in his +handkerchief. Then he gave the alarm.</p> + +<p>“The parcel with the incomplete address was the +first thing that interested me. We opened it and we +found in it a cheap wrist-watch in perfect condition, +apparently. The Inspector tried it for finger-prints. +There weren’t any of any sort, either on the watch or +the box in which it was enclosed. That seemed a bit +rum to us both.</p> + +<p>“The only thing that seemed to fit the case was +this. Suppose Marden wanted to keep an eye on Foss. +This parcel would give him an excuse of bursting in +on his employer at any moment. Assume that +Marden himself had made up the parcel and that +Foss had nothing to do with it. It was wrapped up +in paper on which the address was written. You +know how one writes on a parcel—not the least like +one’s normal handwriting if the paper is crumpled +a bit in the wrapping-up. That would make a bit of +rough forgery of Foss’s writing fairly easy. Further, +if by any chance the parcel fell into the hands of the +police—as actually happened—there was nothing inside +to show that Foss hadn’t wrapped it up himself. +Nobody else’s finger-marks were on it at all. It had +been wrapped up with gloved hands. And the contents +were innocent enough: only a watch being sent to a +watch-maker to be regulated, perhaps. If it had been +a letter, then to carry the thing through properly +they’d have had to forge Foss’s writing all the way +through, in order to make it look genuine if it +happened to be opened.</p> + +<p>“But if that theory were adopted, a lot followed +from it. First and foremost, it meant that Marden +was the boss and his nominal employer was an +underling in the gang, who would have to back up any +story that Marden liked to tell. Secondly, it pointed +to the fact that Marden didn’t trust Foss much. He +wanted an excuse to get at Foss at any moment—which +is hardly in the power of a simple valet. When +he thought Foss needed watching, all he had to do +was to trot up with his little parcel, just to let Foss +see that he was under observation. Thirdly, this +dodge was worked at a crucial stage in the +game—when the replicas were being exchanged for the +Leonardo medallions. Doesn’t that suggest that +Marden didn’t trust Foss very much? It looks as if +Marden was none too sure that he’d get a square +deal from Foss once the real medallions had changed +hands. Am I right in my guesses, Inspector?”</p> + +<p>“They didn’t trust Foss to play straight, sir. +Brackley was quite open about that.”</p> + +<p>“And it was Brackley’s idea? The parcel, I mean. +It looks as if it came from his mint.”</p> + +<p>“He said so, sir. Foss knew nothing about it, of +course. It was a surprise for him. They knew he’d +have to pretend he knew all about it when Marden +brought it to him.”</p> + +<p>“That finishes the parcel,” Sir Clinton continued. +“But it had suggested one or two things, as you see. +The most important thing, from my point of view, +was that this gang was not exactly a band of brothers. +Two of them suspected the third. Possibly the split +was even more extensive.</p> + +<p>“The next thing was the valet’s story. According +to him, Maurice stabbed Foss, after a quarrel which +Marden couldn’t overhear clearly. Unfortunately for +that tale, the blow that killed Foss was a powerful +one. What Marden didn’t know was that Maurice +had sprained his wrist that morning. I doubt if a +sprained wrist could have achieved that stab. There +was no proof, of course; but it seemed just a little +doubtful. Then Marden said that from the door he +couldn’t catch the words of the quarrel, although the +voices were angry in tone. I tried the experiment +myself later; and it’s perfectly easy to overhear +what’s said in the museum from the position Marden +said he was in. So that was a deliberate lie. On that +basis, one could eliminate most of Marden’s tale as +being under suspicion.</p> + +<p>“What really happened in the museum? Maurice +is gone, Foss is dead, Marden won’t tell. One has +just to reconstruct the thing as plausibly as one can. +My impression—it’s only conjecture—is this. Marden +was listening at the door and he could see some +parts of the room, since the door was ajar. Foss had +succeeded in substituting one replica for a real +medallion. To get Maurice’s eye off him, he asked to see +the Muramasa sword. Maurice went to get it, leaving +Foss at his rubbing—visible to Maurice all the time. +Foss made the exchange of the second replica at that +moment. Maurice came back with the Muramasa +sword—and of course in doing that, he put his +finger-prints on the handle in drawing the blade from +the sheath. Marden, at the door, saw him do this +and made a note of it. Just as Maurice came back to +Foss, he was suddenly taken ill. He had the third real +medallion in one hand; and as he passed Foss he +picked up the two replicas—which he believed to be +the other two real medallions. He went to the safe +and hurriedly put on a shelf the two replicas; but the +other medallion, in his other hand, he forgot all +about. He shut the safe and staggered into the secret +passage.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale looked frankly incredulous.</p> + +<p>“Do people take ill all of a sudden like that?” he +demanded. “Why should he want to rush off all at +once?”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton swung round on him.</p> + +<p>“Ever suffered from rheumatism, Inspector? Or +neuralgia? Or toothache?”</p> + +<p>“No,” the Inspector replied with all the pride of +perfect health. “I’ve never had rheumatism and I’ve +never had a tooth go wrong in my life.”</p> + +<p>“No wonder you can’t understand, then,” Sir +Clinton retorted. “Wait till you have neuralgia in +the fifth nerve, Inspector. Then, if you don’t know +yourself that you’re unfit for human society, your +friends will tell you, soon enough. If you get a bad +attack, it’s maddening—nothing less. Men have +suicided on account of it often enough,” he added, +with a meaning glance at Armadale.</p> + +<p>A light broke in on the Inspector’s mind.</p> + +<p>“So that was it? No wonder I couldn’t put two +and two together!” he reflected to himself; but he +made no audible comment.</p> + +<p>“Now we come to a mere leap in the dark,” Sir +Clinton continued. “I believe that as soon as Maurice +was out of the way, Marden went into the museum +and demanded the medallions from Foss.”</p> + +<p>He put down his cigarette and leaned back in his +chair. When he spoke again, a faint tinge of pity +seemed to come into his voice.</p> + +<p>“Foss was a poor little creature, hardly better than +a rabbit in the big jungle of crime. And the other two +were something quite different: carnivores, beasts +of prey. They’d picked him out simply on account of +his one miserable talent: his little trick of +legerdemain. He was only a tool, poor beggar, and he knew +it. I expect that when he saw what sort of company +he’d fallen into, he was terrified. That would account +for the pistol he carried.</p> + +<p>“His only chance of a fair deal from them lay in +the fact that he had the real medallions in his +possession; and he meant to hold on to them. And when +Marden demanded them, Foss revolted. It must have +been like the revolt of a rabbit against a stoat. He +hadn’t a chance. He pulled out his pistol, I expect; +and when that appeared, Marden saw red.</p> + +<p>“But Marden, even in a fury, was a person with a +very keen mind. Perhaps he’d thought the thing over +beforehand. He was evidently one of these sub-human +creatures with no respect for human life—the +things they label Apaches in Paris. When the pistol +came out he was ready for it. Foss, I’m sure, +brandished the thing in an amateurish fashion—he wasn’t +a gunman of any sort. Probably he imagined that the +mere sight of the thing would bring Marden to heel.</p> + +<p>“Marden had his handkerchief out at once. Probably +he had it ready in his hand. He picked up the +Muramasa sword, leaving no finger-marks of his own +on it through the handkerchief. And . . . that was +the end of Foss.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton leaned over, selected a fresh cigarette +with a certain fastidiousness, and lighted it before +going on with his tale.</p> + +<p>“That was the end of his feeble little attempt to get +the better of his confederate. The money in his +pocket-book didn’t give him the escape he’d hoped +for. All his precautions to leave no clues to his real +identity played straight into the hands of Marden +and Brackley.</p> + +<p>“Marden’s immediate problem, once he’d come out +of his fury, was difficult enough. I suspect that his +first move was to search Foss and get the medallions +out of his pockets. Then he was faced with the blood +on his hands and on his handkerchief. He had his +plan made almost in a moment. He went across, +deliberately slipped—he was an artist in detail, +evidently—smashed against the glass of one of the cases, +cut his hand, and then he felt fairly secure. He +wrapped up the wounds in his handkerchief—and +there was the case complete to account for any stray +blood anywhere on his clothes. He tried the safe, for +fear Maurice was lurking inside; and then he gave +the alarm.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton glanced inquiringly at the Inspector, +but Armadale shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Brackley had nothing to say about all that, sir. +Marden gave him no details.”</p> + +<p>“It’s mostly guess-work,” Sir Clinton warned his +audience. “All that one can say for it is that it fits +the facts fairly well.”</p> + +<p>“And is that brute in the house now?” Una Rainhill +demanded. “I shan’t go to sleep if he is.”</p> + +<p>“Two constables were detached to arrest him,” Sir +Clinton assured her. “He’s not on the premises, you +may count on that.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale’s face took on a wooden expression, +the result of suppressing a sardonic smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, he does manage to tell the truth and convey +a wrong impression with it,” he commented inwardly.</p> + +<p>“Now consider the state of affairs after the Foss +murder,” Sir Clinton went on. “Marden and Brackley +were in a pretty pickle, it seems to me. They had +three medallions which Marden had got when he +rifled Foss’s body. But <em>they didn’t know what they’d +got</em>. They weren’t in the secret of the dots on the +replicas. For all they knew—knew for certain, I +mean—Foss might have bungled the affair and the +things they had might be merely replicas. If so, +they were no good. I can’t tell the difference between +a medallion and an electrotype myself; but I believe +an expert can tell you whether a thing’s been struck +with a die or merely plated from a mould. These +two scoundrels, I take it, weren’t experts. They +couldn’t tell which brand of article they had in their +hands.</p> + +<p>“There was only one thing to be done. They’d +have to get the whole six things into their hands, and +then they’d be sure of having the three medallions. So +they fell back on their original scheme of plain +burglary. That, I’m sure, had been their first plan. +They’d sent their American confederate to see the +safe a long while ago; and no doubt he’d reported +that it was an old pattern. Hence the otophone, by +means of which they could pick the combination lock. +The otophone was still on the premises: I’d left it for +them. But they were up against one thing.</p> + +<p>“I’d put a guard night and day on the museum. +That blocked any attempt at burglary unless they +were prepared to take the tremendous risk of +manhandling the guard. If the door had merely been +locked, I don’t think it would have given them much +trouble. I’m pretty sure there’s a very good outfit of +burglar’s tools mixed up with the tool-kit of the car, +where it would attract no attention. But the guard +was a difficulty in the way.”</p> + +<p>Without making it obvious to the others, Sir Clinton +made it clear to Armadale that the next part of +his story was meant specially for the Inspector.</p> + +<p>“I’d given you the view I held of the case at that +point. I felt fairly certain I was right. But if I’d +been asked to put that case before a jury, I certainly +would have backed out. It was mostly surmise: +accurate enough, perhaps, but with far too little +support. A jury—quite rightly—wants facts and not +theories. Could one even convince them that the +vanishing trick had been carried through as I +believed it had? It would have been a bit of a +gamble. And I don’t believe in that sort of gamble. I +wanted the thing proved up to the hilt. And the +best way to do that was to catch them actually at +work.</p> + +<p>“There seemed to me just one weak point in the +armour. I counted on a split between the two remaining +confederates, if I could only get a wedge in +somehow. I guessed, rightly or wrongly, that the Foss +murder would strike the chauffeur as a blunder, and +that there might be the makings of friction there. The +chauffeur’s watching the museum under cover of the +fake repair to the hood suggested that he mistrusted +the others. I suspected that Marden might have +stuck to the stuff he’d taken off Foss’s body. If +Brackley hadn’t got his share of that swag, he’d be in +a weak position. I gambled on that: everything to +gain and nothing much to lose. I had the chauffeur +up for examination again; and when I gave him an +opening, he deliberately gave his friend away by +letting me know he’d seen Marden and Foss together +just before the murder. And when he did that, I +blurted out to Inspector Armadale that the guards on +the terrace and the museum door were to be discontinued. +Brackley went off with those two bits of exclusive +information. He didn’t tell them to Marden. +He saw his way to make the balance even between +himself and his confederate. If he kept his news to +himself, he could burgle the museum safe; get the +remainder of the six medallions; and then he’d be +sure of getting his share of the profits. Neither of +them could do without the other in that case.</p> + +<p>“In actual practice, Brackley went a stage farther +than I’d anticipated. He schemed to get Marden’s +loot as well as the stuff from the safe. I needn’t go +into that side-issue.”</p> + +<p>Again Inspector Armadale suppressed his amusement +at the way in which Sir Clinton chose to present +the truth.</p> + +<p>“The rest of the tale’s short enough,” Sir Clinton +went on. “Brackley determined to burgle the safe. +If pursued, he decided, he’d repeat the vanishing +trick on the terrace; for I’d convinced him, apparently, +that the <i>modus operandi</i> of it was still unknown +to us. Probably he went up there and satisfied +himself that no one came near, after the patrol was +taken off. He got himself up for the part: whitened +his face; put on white tights; covered himself with +Marden’s waterproof as a disguise and to conceal his +fancy dress; put on a big black mask to hide the +paint on his face, lest he should give the show away if +an interruption came. And so he walked straight into +the trap I’d laid for him.</p> + +<p>“We saw the whole show from start to finish. I +even let Cecil and Mr. Clifton into the business, so +that we’d have some evidence apart from police +witnesses. We saw the whole show from start to finish.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton broke off his story and glanced at his +watch.</p> + +<p>“We’ve kept Inspector Armadale up to a most +unconscionable hour,” he said, apologetically. “We +really mustn’t detain him till sunrise. Before you go, +Inspector, you might tell us if my solution fits the +confession you got out of Brackley—in the later +stages, I mean.”</p> + +<p>Inspector Armadale saw his dismissal and rose to +his feet.</p> + +<p>“There’s really nothing in the confession that +doesn’t tally, sir. Differences in detail, of course; but +you were right in the main outlines of the affair.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton showed a faint satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s satisfactory enough to hear that. By +the way, Inspector, you’d better take my car. It’s in +the avenue still. Send a man up with it, please, when +you’ve done with it. There’s no need for you to walk +after a night like this.”</p> + +<p>Armadale thanked him; declined Cecil’s offer of +another whisky and soda; and took his departure. +When he had gone, Cecil threw a glance of inquiry at +the Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>“Do you feel inclined to tell us what you made of +my doings? I noticed that you didn’t drag them out +in front of the Inspector.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton acquiesced in the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“I think that’s fairly plain sailing; but correct me +if I go wrong. When you heard of Maurice’s +disappearance, you saw that something was very far amiss. +You had a fair idea where he might be, but you +didn’t want to advertise the Ravensthorpe secrets. +So you came back one night and went down there. +I don’t know whether you were surprised or not +when you found him; but in any case, you decided +that there was no good giving the newspapers a titbit +about secret passages. So you took him out into the +glade by the other entrance to the tunnel; and then +you came up to Ravensthorpe as though you’d come +by the first train. The Inspector tripped you over +that point, but it didn’t matter much. He doesn’t +love you, though, I suspect. I’d no desire to make +matters worse by interfering between you; for you +seemed able to look after yourself. Wasn’t that the +state of affairs?”</p> + +<p>“There or thereabouts,” Cecil admitted. “It +seemed the best thing to do, in the circumstances.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton showed obvious distaste for discussing +the matter further. He turned to the girls.</p> + +<p>“It’s high time you children were in bed. Dawn’s +well up in the sky. You’ve had all the excitement you +need, for the present; and a good sleep seems +indicated.”</p> + +<p>He gave a faint imitation of a stifled yawn.</p> + +<p>“That sets me off,” said Una Rainhill, frankly. “I +can hardly keep my eyes open. Come along, Joan. +It’s quite bright outside and I’m not afraid to go to +bed now.”</p> + +<p>Joan rubbed her eyes.</p> + +<p>“This sort of thing takes more out of one than +twenty dances,” she admitted. “The beginning of the +night was a bit too exciting for everyday use. How +does one say ‘Good-night’ in proper form when the +sun’s over the horizon? I give it up.”</p> + +<p>With a gesture of farewell, she made her way to +the door, followed by Una. When they had +disappeared, Sir Clinton turned to Cecil Chacewater.</p> + +<p>“Care to walk down the avenue a little to meet my +car? The fresh air and all that. I rather like the +dawn, myself, when it happens to come my way +without too much exertion.”</p> + +<p>Cecil saw that the Chief Constable was giving him +an opening if he cared to take it.</p> + +<p>“I’ll come along with you till you meet the car.”</p> + +<p>Sir Clinton took leave of Michael Clifton, who +obviously intended to go to bed immediately. As soon +as he was well clear of the house, Cecil turned to the +Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>“You skated over thin ice several times in that +yarn of yours. Especially the bits about Maurice. +Toothache! Neuralgia! That infernal Inspector of +yours swallowed it all down like cat-lap. From his +face, you’d have thought he picked up an absolute +cert. that no one else could see. I almost laughed, at +that point.”</p> + +<p>He changed suddenly to a serious tone.</p> + +<p>“How did you spot what was really wrong with +Maurice?”</p> + +<p>“One thing led to another,” Sir Clinton confessed. +“I didn’t hit on it all at once. The Fairy Houses set +me thinking at the start. One doesn’t keep toys like +that in good repair merely on account of some old +legend. They were quite evidently meant for use. +And then, Cecil, you seemed to have some private +joke of your own—not a particularly nice joke +either—about them. That set me thinking. And after that, +you dropped some remark about Maurice having +specialized in family curses.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to have a devil of a memory for trifles,” +Cecil commented, in some surprise.</p> + +<p>“Trifles sometimes count for a good deal in my +line,” Sir Clinton pointed out. “One gets into the +habit of docketing them, almost without thinking +about it. I must have pigeon-holed your talk about +the Fairy Houses quite mechanically. Then later on +I remembered that these things were dotted all over +your estate and nowhere else. On their own ground, +the Chacewaters were always within easy distance +of one or other of these affairs. Ancient family curse; +curious little buildings very handy; one brother +grinning—yes, you did grin, and nastily too—at +them, when you know he hates another brother like +poison. It was quite a pretty little problem. And +so . . .”</p> + +<p>“And so?” demanded Cecil, as Sir Clinton stopped +short.</p> + +<p>“And so I put it out of my mind. It wasn’t the sort +of thing I cared to think much about in connection +with Ravensthorpe,” Sir Clinton said, bluntly. +“Besides, it was no affair of mine.”</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>“Then came Michael Clifton’s story of finding +Maurice in one of these Fairy Houses. And the +details about the queer state Maurice was in when he +was found. That came up in connection with a crime; +and crimes are my business. Why does a fellow crawl +away into a place like that? Why does he resent +being dragged out of it? Why won’t he even take the +trouble to get up? These were the kind of questions +that absolutely bristled over the whole affair. One +couldn’t help getting an inkling. But that inkling +threw no light on the crime in hand, so it was no +affair of mine. I dropped it. But . . .”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Maurice wasn’t an attractive character, I’ll admit +that. I loathed the way he was going on. But I like +to look on the best side of people if I can. In my line, +one sees plenty of the other side—more than enough. +And by and by I began to see that perhaps all Maurice’s +doings could be explained, if they couldn’t be +excused. He was off his balance.”</p> + +<p>“He was, poor devil,” Cecil concurred, with some +contrition in his tone.</p> + +<p>“Then came the time I forced you to open the +secret passage. Your methods were the very worst +you could have chosen, Cecil. I knew perfectly well +that you hadn’t done anything to Maurice. You’re +not the fratricidal type. But you very evidently had +something that you wanted to conceal behind that +door. You were afraid of my spotting something. The +Inspector jumped to the conclusion that it was murder +you were hushing up. By that time I had a pretty +good notion that it was the Ravensthorpe family +secret. Once I saw that passage of yours, dwindling +away to almost nothing, the thing was clear enough. +With the Fairy House clue as well, the thing was +almost certain. And finally, you gave the show away +completely by what you said beside Maurice’s body.”</p> + +<p>“Chuchundra, you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I remembered—another of these docketed +trifles—just what Chuchundra was. He was the +muskrat that tried to make up his mind to run into +the middle of the room, but he never got there. Then +I asked you if the trouble began with A. Of course it +did. Agoraphobia. I suppose when Maurice was a +kid he had slight attacks of it—hated to move about +in an open room and preferred to sidle along by the +walls if possible. That was the start of the nickname, +wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Cecil assented with a nod.</p> + +<p>“It evidently cropped up in your family now and +again. Hence the Fairy Houses—harbours of refuge +when attacks came on. And that underground cell, +where a man could shut himself up tight and escape +the horror of open spaces.”</p> + +<p>“I’d really no notion how bad it was with +Maurice,” Cecil hastened to say. “It must have been +deadly when it drove him to shoot himself.”</p> + +<p>“Something beyond description, I should say,” Sir +Clinton said, gravely.</p> + +<p>He glanced over the wide prospects of the park and +then raised his eyes to where great luminous clouds +were sailing in stately procession across the blue.</p> + +<p>“Looks peaceful, Cecil, doesn’t it? Makes one +rather glad to be alive, when one gets into a scene +like this. And yet, to poor Maurice it was a mere +torture-chamber of nausea and torment, a horror that +drove him to burrowing into holes and crannies, +anywhere to escape from the terrors of the open sky. I +don’t suppose that we normal people can even come +near the thing in our imaginations. It’s too rum for +our minds—outside everything we know. Poor devil! +No wonder he went off the rails a bit in the end.”</p> + +</div> + +<div class="section" id="transcriber"> + +<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> + +<p>This transcription follows the text of the edition published by +Grosset & Dunlap in February, 1928. However, the following +alterations have been made to correct what are believed to be +unambiguous errors in the text:</p> + +<ul> + <li>“usally” was corrected to “usually” (Chapter I).</li> + <li>“sufficent” was corrected to “sufficient” (Chapter I).</li> + <li>“inqiringly” was corrected to “inquiringly” (Chapter I).</li> + <li>“deadful” was corrected to “dreadful” (Chapter II).</li> + <li>“artifical” was corrected to “artificial” (Chapter II).</li> + <li>“reassurred” was corrected to “reassured” (Chapter III).</li> + <li>“even since” was corrected to “ever since” (Chapter IV).</li> + <li>“That’s was” was corrected to “That was” (Chapter VI).</li> + <li>“her’s” was corrected to “hers” (Chapter IX).</li> + <li>“lot’s of” was corrected to “lots of” (Chapter XI).</li> + <li>“Froggart” was corrected to “Froggatt” (Chapter XIII).</li> + <li>“spiney” was corrected to “spinney” (Chapter XIV).</li> + <li>“orginal” was corrected to “original” (Chapter XIV).</li> + <li>“out of question” was corrected to “out of the question” + (Chapter XV).</li> + <li>Three occurrences of mismatched quotation marks were repaired.</li> + <li>One occurrence of a missing em dash was repaired.</li> +</ul> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75407 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75407-h/images/cover.jpg b/75407-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed48d1f --- /dev/null +++ b/75407-h/images/cover.jpg |
