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diff --git a/17180.txt b/17180.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..090f31b --- /dev/null +++ b/17180.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7507 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Riddle of the Frozen Flame +by Mary E. Hanshew +Thomas W. Hanshew + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Riddle of the Frozen Flame + +Author: Mary E. Hanshew +Thomas W. Hanshew + +Illustrator: Walter De Maris + +Release Date: November 29, 2005 [EBook #17180] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIDDLE OF THE FROZEN FLAME *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE RIDDLE OF THE FROZEN FLAME + + By MARY E. & THOMAS W. HANSHEW + +<sc>Author of</sc> "Cleek, the Man of Forty Faces," "Cleek of Scotland +Yard," "Cleek's Government Cases," "The Riddle of the Night," "The Riddle +of the Purple Emperor." + + 1929 + + + + + + A.L. BURT COMPANY + New York + Published by arrangement with Doubleday, Page & Company + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + + I. The Law + + II. The Frozen Flames + + III. Sunshine and Shadow + + IV. An Evil Genius + + V. The Spectre at the Feast + + VI. A Shot in the Dark + + VII. The Watcher in the Shadow + + VIII. The Victim + + IX. The Second Victim + + X. --And the Lady + + XI. The Secret of the Flames + + XII. "As a Thief in the Night--" + + XIII. A Gruesome Discovery + + XIV. The Spin of the Wheel + + XV. A Startling Disclosure + + XVI. Trapped! + + XVII. In the Cell + + XVIII. Possible Excitement + + XIX. What Took Place at "The Pig and Whistle" + + XX. At the Inquest + + XXI. Questions--and Answers + + XXII. A New Departure + + XXIII. Prisoners + + XXIV. In the Dark + + XXV. The Web of Circumstance + + XXVI. Justice--and Justification + + XXVII. The Solving of the Riddle + + XXVIII. "Toward Morning ..." + + + + +The Riddle of the Frozen Flame + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE LAW + + +Mr. Maverick Narkom, Superintendent of Scotland Yard, sat before the +litter of papers upon his desk. His brow was puckered, his fat face red +with anxiety, and there was about him the air of one who has reached the +end of his tether. + +He faced the man opposite, and fairly ground his teeth upon his lower +lip. + +"Dash it, Cleek!" he said for the thirty-third time, "I don't know what +to make of it, I don't, indeed! The thing's at a deadlock. Hammond +reports to me this morning that another bank in Hendon--a little +one-horse affair--has been broken into. That makes the third this week, +and as usual every piece of gold is gone. Not a bank note touched, not +a bond even fingered. And the thief--or thieves--made as clean a get-away +as you ever laid your eyes on! I tell you, man, it's enough to send an +average person daft! The whole of Scotland Yard's been on the thing, and +we haven't traced 'em yet! What do you make of it, old chap?" + +"As pretty a kettle of fish as I ever came across," responded Cleek, with +an enigmatic smile. "And I can't help having a sneaking admiration for +the person who's engineering the whole thing. How he must laugh at the +state of the old Yard, with never a clue to settle down upon, never a +thread to pick up and unravel! All of which is unbusinesslike of me, I've +no doubt. But, cheer up, man, I've a piece of news which ought to help +matters on a bit. Just came from the War Office, you know." + +Mr. Narkom mopped his forehead eagerly. The action was one which Cleek +knew showed that every nerve was tense. + +"Well, out with it, old chap! Anything to cast some light on the +inexplicable thing. What did you learn at the War Office?" + +"A good many things--after I had unravelled several hundred yards of red +tape to get at 'em," said Cleek, still smiling. "Chief among them was +this: Much English gold has been discovered in Belgium, Mr. Narkom, in +connection with several big electrical firms engaged upon work out there. +The Secret Service wired over that fact, and I got it first hand. Now it +strikes me there must be some connection between the two things. These +bank robberies point in one direction, and that is, that the gold is not +for use in this country. Now let's hear the full account of this latest +outrage. I'm all ears, as the donkey said to the ostrich. Fire away." + +Mr. Narkom "fired away" forthwith. He was a bland, round little man, +rather too fat for one's conceptions of what a policeman ought to be, yet +with that lightness of foot that so many stout people seem to possess. + +Cleek presented a keen contrast to him. His broad-shouldered, +well-groomed person would have adorned any company. His head was well-set +upon his neck, and his features at this moment were small and inclined to +be aquiline. He had closely set ears that lay well back against his head, +and his hands were slim and exceedingly well-kept. Of his age--well that, +like himself, was an enigma. To-day he might have been anything between +thirty-five and forty--to-morrow probably he would be looking nineteen. +That was part of the peculiar birthright of the man, that and a mobility +of feature which enabled him to alter his face completely in the passing +of a second, a gift which at least one notorious criminal of history also +possessed. + +He sat now, playing with the silver-topped cane between his knees, his +head slightly to one side, his whole manner one of polite and tolerant +interest. But Mr. Narkom knew that this same manner marked an intensity +of concentration which was positively unique. Without more ado he plunged +into the details of his story. + +"It happened in this wise, Cleek," he said, tapping his fountain-pen +against his blotter until little spouts of ink fell out like jet beads. +"This is at least the ninth case of the kind we've had reported to us +within the space of the last fortnight. The first robbery was at a tiny +branch bank in Purley, and the bag amounted to a matter of a couple of +hundred or so sovereigns; the second was at Peckham--on the outskirts, +you understand; the third at Harrow; the fourth somewhere near Forest +Hill, and the fifth in Croydon. Other places on the South East side of +London have come in for their share, too, as for instance Anerley and +Sutton. This last affair took place at Hendon, during the evening of +Saturday last--the sixteenth, wasn't it? No one observed anything +untoward in the least, that is except one witness who relates how he saw +a motor car standing outside the bank's premises at half past nine at +night. He gave no thought to this, as he probably imagined, if he thought +of the coincidence at all, that the manager had called there for +something he had forgotten in his office." + +"And where, then, does the manager live, if not over the bank itself?" +put in Cleek at this juncture. + +"With his wife and family, in a house some distance away. A couple of old +bank people--a porter and his wife who are both thoroughly trustworthy in +every way, so Mr. Barker tells me--act as caretakers. But they positively +assert that they heard no one in the place that night, and no untoward +happening occurred to their knowledge." + +"And yet the bank was broken into, and the gold taken," supplemented +Cleek quietly. "And what then, Mr. Narkom? How was the deed done?" + +"Oh, the usual methods. The skeleton keys of a master crook obviously +opened the door to the premises themselves, and soup was used to crack +the safe. Everything was left perfectly neat and tidy and only the bags +of gold--amounting to seven hundred and fifty pounds--were gone. And not +a trace of a clue to give one a notion of who did the confounded thing, +or where they came from!" + +"Hmm. Any finger-prints?" + +Mr. Narkom shook his head. + +"None. The thief or thieves used rubber gloves to handle the thing. And +that was the only leg given us to stand upon, so to speak. For rubber +gloves, when they are new, particularly, possess a very strong smell, +and this still clung to the door-knob of the safe, and to several +objects near it. That was how we deduced the rubber-glove theory of +no finger-prints at all, Cleek." + +"And a very worthy deduction too, my friend," responded that gentleman, +with something of tolerance in his smile. "And so you have absolutely +nothing to go by. Poor Mr. Narkom! The path of Law and Justice is by no +means an easy one to tread, is it? Of course you can count upon me to +help you in every way. That goes without saying. But I can't help +thinking that this news from the War Office with regard to English gold +in Belgium has something to do with these bank robberies, my friend. The +two things seem to hang together in my mind, and a dollar to a ducat that +in the long run they identify themselves thus.... Hello! Who's that?" as +a tap sounded at the door. "I'll be off if you're expecting visitors. I +want to look into this thing a little closer. Some time or other the +thieves are bound to leave a clue behind. Success breeds carelessness, +you know, and if they think that Scotland Yard is giving the business +up as a bad job, they won't be so deuced particular as to clearing up +afterward. We'll unravel the thing between us, never fear." + +"I wish I could think so, old chap!" said Mr. Narkom, a trifle gloomily, +as he called "Come in!" The door opened to admit Petrie, very straight +and business-like. "But you're no end of a help. It does me good just to +see you. What is it, Petrie?" + +"A gentleman to see you, sir," responded the constable in crisp tones. "A +gentleman by name of Merriton, Sir Nigel Merriton he said his name was. +Bit of a toff I should say by the look of 'im. And wants to see you +partikler. He mentioned Mr. Cleek's name, sir, but I told 'im he wasn't +in at the moment. Shall I show him up?" + +"Quite right, Petrie," laughed Cleek, in recognition of this act of one +of the Yard's subordinates; for everyone was to do everything in his +power to shield Cleek's identity. "I'll stay if you don't mind, Mr. +Narkom. I happen to know something of this Merriton. A fine upstanding +young man, who, once upon a time was very great friends with Miss +Lorne. That was in the old Hawksley days. Chap's lately come into his +inheritance, I believe. Uncle disappeared some five or six years ago +and legal time being up, young Merriton has come over to claim his own. +The thing made a newspaper story for a week when it happened, but they +never found any trace of the old man. And now the young one is over +here, bearing the title, and I suppose living as master of the +Towers--spooklike spot that it is! Needn't say who I am, old chap, until +I hear a bit. I'll just shift over there by the window and read the news, +if you don't mind." + +"Right you are." Mr. Narkom struggled into his coat--which he generally +disposed of during private office hours. Then he gave the order for the +gentleman to be shown in and Petrie disappeared forthwith. + +But during the time which intervened before Merriton's arrival, Cleek did +a little "altering" in face and general get-up, and when he _did_ appear +certainly no one would have recognized the aristocratic looking +individual of a moment or two before, in an ordinary-appearing, +stoop-shouldered, rather racy-looking tout. + +"Ready," said Cleek at last, and Mr. Narkom touched the bell upon his +table. Immediately the door opened and Petrie appeared followed closely +by young Sir Nigel Merriton, whose clean-cut face was grim and whose +mouth was set forbiddingly. + +And in this fashion was Cleek introduced to the chief character of a case +which was to prove one of the strangest of his whole career. There was +nothing about Sir Nigel, a well-dressed man about town, to indicate that +he was to be the centre of an extraordinary drama, yet such was to be the +case. + +He was obviously perturbed, but those who sought Mr. Narkom's counsel +were frequently agitated; for no one can be even remotely connected with +crime in one form or another without showing excitement to a greater or +lesser degree. And so his manner by no means set Sir Nigel apart from +many another visitor to the Superintendent's sanctum. + +Mr. Narkom's cordial nod brought from the young man a demand to see "Mr. +Cleek," of whom he had heard such wonderful tales. Mr. Narkom, with one +eye on that very gentleman's back, announced gravely that Cleek was +absent on a government case, and asked what he could do. He waved a hand +in Cleek's direction and said that here was one of his men who would +doubtless be able to help Sir Nigel in any difficulty he might happen +to be in at the moment. + +Now, as Sir Nigel's story was a long one, and as the young man was +too agitated to tell it altogether coherently, we will go back for a +certain space of time, and tell the very remarkable story, the details +of which were told to Mr. Narkom and his nameless associate in the +Superintendent's office, and which was to involve Cleek of Scotland Yard +in a case which was later to receive the title of the Riddle of the +Frozen Flame. + +Much that he told them of his family history was already known to Cleek, +whose uncanny knowledge of men and affairs was a by-word, but as that +part of the story itself was not without romance, it must be told too, +and to do so takes the reader back to a few months before his present +visit to the precincts of the Law, when Sir Nigel Merriton returned to +England after twelve years of army life in India. A few days he had spent +in London, renewing acquaintances, revisiting places he knew--to find +them wonderfully little changed--and then had journeyed to Merriton +Towers, the place which was to be his, due to the extraordinary +disappearance of his uncle--a disappearance which was yet to be +explained. + +Ill luck had often seemed to dog the footsteps of his house and even his +journey home was not without a mishap; nothing serious, as things turned +out, but still something that might have been vastly so. His train was in +a wreck, rather a nasty one, but Nigel himself had come out unscathed, +and much to be congratulated, he thought, since through that wreck he has +become acquainted with what he firmly believed to be the most beautiful +girl in the world. Better yet, he had learned that she was a neighbour of +his at Merriton Towers. That fact helped him through what he felt was +going to be somewhat of an ordeal--his entrance into the gloomy and +ghost-ridden old house of his inheritance. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE FROZEN FLAMES + + +Merriton Towers had been called the loneliest spot in England by many +of the tourists who chanced to visit the Fen district, and it was no +misnomer. Nigel, having seen it some thirteen years before, found that +his memory had dimmed the true vision of the place considerably; that +where he had builded romance, romance was not. Where he had softened +harsh outlines, and peopled dark corridors with his own fancies, those +same outlines had taken on a grimness that he could hardly believe +possible, and the long, dark corridors of his mind's vision were longer +and darker and lonelier than he had ever imagined any spot could be. + +It was a handsome place, no doubt, in its gaunt, gray, prisonlike way. +And, too, it had a moat and a miniature portcullis that rather tickled +his boyish fancy. The furnishings, however, had an appalling grimness +that took the very heart out of one. Chairs which seemed to have grown in +their places for centuries crowded the corners of hallway and stairs like +gigantic nightmares of their original prototypes. Monstrous curtains of +red brocade, grown purple with the years, seemed to hang from every +window and door crowding out the light and air. The carpets were thick +and dark and had lost all sign of pattern in the dull gloom of the +centuries. + +It was, in fact, a house that would create ghosts. The atmosphere was +alive with that strange sensation of disembodied spirits which some +very old houses seem to possess. Narrow, slit-like windows in perfect +keeping with the architecture and the needs of the period in which it was +built--if not with modern ideas of hygiene and health--kept the rooms +dark and musty. When Nigel first entered the place through the great +front door thrown open by the solemn-faced butler, who he learned had +been kept on from his uncle's time, he felt as though he were entering +his own tomb. When the door shut he shuddered as the light and sunshine +vanished. + +The first night he hardly slept a wink. His bed was a huge four-poster, +girt about with plush hangings like over-ripe plums, that shut him in as +though he were in some monstrous Victorian trinket box. A post creaked at +every turn he made in its downy softnesses, and being used to the light, +camp-like furniture of an Indian bungalow he got up, took an eiderdown +with him, and spent the rest of the hours upon a sofa drawn up beside an +open window. + +"That people could live in such places!" he told himself, over and over +again. "No wonder my poor old uncle disappeared! Any self-respecting +Christian would. There'll be some slight alterations made in Merriton +Towers before I'm many days older, you can bet your life on that. Old +great-grandmother four-poster takes her _conge_ to-morrow morning. If +I must live here I'll sleep anyhow." + +He settled himself back against the hard, horsehair sofa, and pulled up +the blind. The room was instantly filled with gray and lavender shadows, +while without the Fens stretched out in unbroken lines as though all the +rest of the world were made up of nothing else. Lonely? Merriton had +known the loneliness of Indian nights, far away from any signs of +civilization: the loneliness of the jungle when the air was so still that +the least sound was like the dropping of a bomb; the strange mystical +loneliness which comes to the only white man in a town of natives. But +all these were as nothing as compared to this. He could imagine a chap +committing suicide living in such a house. Sir Joseph Merriton had +disappeared five years before--and no wonder! + +Merriton lay with his eyes upon the window, smoking a cigarette, and +surveyed the outlook before him with despairing eyes. What a future for +a chap in his early thirties to face! Not a sign of habitation anywhere, +not a vestige of it, save at the far edge of the Fens where a clump of +trees and thick shrubs told him that behind lay Withersby Hall. This, +intuition told him, was the home of Antoinette Brellier, the girl of the +train, of the wreck, and now of his dreams. Then his thoughts turned to +her. Gad! to bring a frail, delicate little butterfly to a place like +this was like trying to imprison a ray of sunshine in a leaden box!... + +His eyes, rivetted upon where the clump of trees stood out against the +semi-darkness of the approaching dawn, saw of a sudden a light prick out +like a tiny flame, low down upon the very edge of the Fens. One light, +two, three, and then a very host of them flashed out, as though some +unseen hand had torn the heavens down and strewn their jewels broadcast +over the marshes. Instinctively he got to his feet. What on earth--? But +even as his lips formed the unspoken exclamation came yet another light +to join the others dancing and twinkling and flickering out there across +the gloomy marshlands. + +What the dickens was it, anyhow? A sort of unearthly fireworks display, +or some new explosive experiment? The dancing flames got into his eyes +like bits of lighted thistledown blown here, there, and everywhere. + +Merriton got to his feet and threw open another window bottom with a good +deal of effort, for the sashes were old and stiff. Then, clad only in his +silk pyjamas, and with the cigarette charring itself to a tiny column of +gray ash in one hand, he leaned far out over the sill and watched those +twinkling, dancing, maddening little star-flames, with the eyes of amazed +astonishment. + +In a moment sleep had gone from his eyelids and he felt thoroughly awake. +Dashed if he wouldn't throw on a few clothes and investigate. The thing +was so strange, so incredible! He knew, well enough, from Borkins's (the +venerable butler) description earlier in the evening, that that part of +the marshes was uninhabited. Too low for stars the things were, for they +hung on the edges of the marsh grass like tiny lanterns swung there by +fairy hands. In such a house, in such a room, with the shadow of that +old four-poster winding its long fingers over him, Merriton began to +perspire. It was so devilish uncanny! He was a brave enough man in human +matters, but somehow these flames out there in the uninhabited stretch of +the marshes were surely caused by no human agency. Go and investigate he +would, this very minute! He drew in his head and brought the window down +with a bang that went sounding through the gaunt, deserted old house. + +Hastily he began to dress, and even as he struggled into a pair of tweed +trousers came the sound of a soft knock upon his door, and he whipped +round as though he had been shot, his nerves all a-jingle from the very +atmosphere of the place. + +"And who the devil are you?" he snapped out in an angry voice, all the +more angry since he was conscious of a slight trembling of the knees. The +door swung open a trifle and the pale face of Borkins appeared around it. +His eyes were wide with fright, his mouth hung open. + +"Sir Nigel, sir. I 'eard a dreadful noise--like a pistol shot it was, +comin' from this room! Anythink the matter, sir?" + +"Nothing, you ass!" broke out Merriton, fretfully, as the butler began +to show other parts of his anatomy round the corner of the door. "Come +in, or go out, which ever you please. But for the Lord's sake, do one +or the other! There's a beastly draught. The noise you heard was that +window which possibly hasn't been opened for a century or two, groaning +in pain at being forced into action again! Can't sleep in this beastly +room--haven't closed my eyes yet--and when I did get out of that +Victorian atrocity over there and take to the sofa by the window, +why, the first thing I saw were those flames flickering out across the +horizon like signal-fires, or _something_! I've been watching them for +the past twenty minutes and they've got on my nerves. I'm goin' out to +investigate." + +Borkins gave a little exclamation of alarm and put one trembling hand +over his face. Merriton suddenly registered the fact as being a symptom +of the state of nerves which Merriton Towers was likely to reduce one. +Then Borkins shambled across the room and laid a timid hand upon +Merriton's arm. + +"For Gawd's sake sir--_don't_!" he murmured in a shaken voice. "Those +lights, sir--if you knew the story! If you values your life at any price +at all don't go out, sir, and investigate them. _Don't!_ You're a dead +man in the morning if you do." + +"What's that?" Merriton swung round and looked into the weak, rather +watery, blue eyes of his butler. "What the devil do you mean, Borkins, +talkin' a lot of rot? What _are_ those flames, anyway? And why in +heaven's name shouldn't I go out and investigate 'em if I want to? Who's +to stop me?" + +"I, your lordship--if I ever 'as any influence with 'uman nature!" +returned Borkins, vehemently. "The story's common knowledge, Sir Nigel, +sir. Them there flames is supernatural. Frozen flames the villagers +calls 'em, because they don't seem to give out no 'eat. That part of the +Fens in unin'abited and there isn't a soul in the whole village as would +venture anywhere near it after dark." + +"Why?" + +"Because they never comes back, that's why, sir!" said Borkins. "'Tisn't +any old wives' tale neither. There's been cases by the score. Only a +matter of six months ago one of the boys from the mill, who was somewhat +the worse for liquor, said he was a-goin' ter see who it was wot made them +flames light up by theirselves, and--he never came back. And that same +night another flame was added to the number!" + +"Whew! Bit of a tall story that, Borkins!" Nevertheless a cold chill +crept over Merriton's bones and he gave a forced, mirthless laugh. + +"As true as the gospel, Sir Nigel!" said Borkins, solemnly. "That's what +always 'appens. Every time any one ventures that way--well, they're +a-soundin' their own death-knell, so to speak, and you kin see the new +light appear. But there's never no trace of the person that ventured out +across the Fens at evening time. He, or she--a girl tried it once, Lord +save 'er!--vanishes off the face of the earth as clean as though they'd +never been born. Gawd alone knows what it is that lives there, or what +them flames may be, but I tells you it's sheer death to attempt to see +for yourself, so long as night lasts. And in the morning--well, it's +gone, and there isn't a thing to be seen for the lookin'!" + +"Merciful powers! What a peculiar thing!" Despite his mockery of the +supernatural, Merriton could not help but feel a sort of awe steal over +him, at the tale as told by Borkins in the eeriest hour of the whole +twenty-four--that which hangs between darkness and dawn. Should he go or +shouldn't he? He was a fool to believe the thing, and yet--He certainly +didn't want to die yet awhile, with Antoinette Brellier a mere handful of +yards away from him, and all the days his own to cultivate her +acquaintance in. + +"You've fairly made my flesh creep with your beastly story!" he said, in +a rather high-pitched voice. "Might have reserved it until morning--after +my _debut_ in this haunt of spirits, Borkins. Consider my nerves. India's +made a hash of 'em. Get back to bed, man, and don't worry over my +investigations. I swear I won't venture out, to-night at any rate. +Perhaps to-morrow I may have summoned up enough courage, but I've no +fancy for funerals yet awhile. So you can keep your pleasant little +reminiscences for another time, and I'll give you my word of honour that +I'll do nothing rash!" + +Borkins gave a sigh of relief. He passed his hand over his forehead, and +his eyes--rather shifty, rather narrow, pale blue eyes which Merriton had +instinctively disliked (he couldn't tell why)--lightened suddenly. + +"Thank Gawd for that, sir!" he said, solemnly. "You've relieved my +mind on that score. I've always thought--your poor uncle, Sir Joseph +Merriton--and those flames there might 'ave been the reason for his +disappearance, though of course--" + +"What's that?" Merriton turned round and looked at him, his brow +furrowed, the whole personality of the man suddenly awake. "My uncle, +Borkins? How long have these--er--lights been seen hereabouts? I don't +remember them as a child." + +"Oh, mostly always, I believe, sir; though they ain't been much noticed +before the last four years," replied Borkins. "I think--yes--come August +next. Four years--was the first time my attention was called to 'em." + +Merriton's laugh held a note of relief. + +"Then you needn't have worried. My uncle has been missing for a little +more than _five_ years, and that, therefore, when he did disappear the +flames obviously had nothing to do with it!" + +Borkins's wrinkled, parchment-like cheeks went a dull, unhealthy red. He +opened his mouth to speak and then drew back again. Merriton gave him a +keen glance. + +"Of course, how foolish of me. As you say, sir, impossible!" he stammered +out, bowing backward toward the door. "I'll be getting back to my bed +again, and leave you to finish your rest undisturbed. I'm sorry to 'ave +troubled you, I'm sure, sir, only I was afraid something 'ad 'appened." + +"That's all right. Good-night," returned Merriton curtly, and turned the +key in the lock as the door closed. He stood for a moment thinking, his +eyes upon the winking, flickering points of light that seemed dimmer in +the fast growing light. "Now why did he make that bloomer about dates, I +wonder? Uncle's been gone five years--and Borkins knew it. He was here at +the time, and yet why did he suggest that old wives' tale as a possible +solution of the disappearance? Borkins, my lad, there's more behind those +watery blue eyes of yours than men may read. Hmm! ... Now I wonder why +the deuce he lied to me?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SUNSHINE AND SHADOW + + +When Merriton shaved himself next morning he laughed at the reflection +that the mirror cast back at him. For he looked for all the world as +though he had been up all night and his knee was painful and rather +stiff, as though he had strained some ligament in it. + +"Beastly place is beginning to make its mark on me already!" he said, as +he lathered his chin. "My eyes look as though they had been stuck in with +burnt cork, and--the devil take my shaky hand! And that railroad business +yesterday helps it along. A nice state of affairs for a chap of my age, I +must say! Scared as a kid at an old wives' story. Borkins is a fool, and +I'm an idiot.... Damn! there's a bit off my chin for a start. I hope to +goodness no one takes it into their heads to pay me a visit to-day." + +His hopes, however, in this direction were not to be realized, for as +the afternoon wore itself slowly away in a ramble round the old place, +and through the stables--which in their day had been famous--the big, +harsh-throated doorbell rang, and Merriton, in the very act of telling +Borkins that he was officially "not in," happened to catch a glimpse of +something light and fluffy through the stained-glass of the door, and +suddenly kept his counsel. + +A few seconds later Borkins ushered in two visitors. Merriton, prepared +by the convenient glass for the appearance of one was nevertheless not +unpleased to see the other. For the names that Borkins rolled off his +tongue with much relish were those of "Miss Brellier and Mr. Brellier, +sir." + +His lady of the thrice blessed wreck! His lady of the dainty accent and +glorious eyes. + +His face glowed suddenly and he crossed the big room in a couple of +strides and in the next second was holding Antoinette's hand rather +longer than was necessary, and was looking down into the rouguish +greeny-gray eyes that had captivated him only yesterday, when for one +terrible, glorious moment he had held her in his arms, while the railroad +coach dissolved around them. + +"Are you fit to be about?" he said, his voice ringing with the very +evident pleasure that he felt at this meeting with her, and his eyes +wandering to where a strip of pink court plaster upon her forehead showed +faintly through the screen of hair that covered it. Then he dropped her +hand and turned toward the man who stood a pace or two behind her tiny +figure, looking at him with the bluest, youngest eyes he had ever looked +into. + +"Mr. Brellier, is it not? Very good of you, sir, to come across in this +neighbourly fashion. Won't you sit down?" + +"Yes," said Antoinette, gaily, "my uncle. I brought him right over by +telling him of our adventure." + +The man was tall and heavily built, with a wealth of black hair thickly +streaked with gray, and a trim, well-kept "imperial" which gave him the +foreign air that his name carried out so well. His morning suit was +extremely well cut, and his whole bearing that of the well-to-do man +about town. Merriton registered all this in his mind's eye, and was +secretly very glad of it. They were two thoroughbreds--that was easy to +see. + +And as for Antoinette! Well, he could barely keep his eyes from her. +She was lovelier than ever, and clad this afternoon in all the fluffy +femininity that every man loves. Anything more intoxicatingly delicious +Merriton had never seen outside of his own dreams. + +"It was certainly ripping of you both to come," he said nervously, +feeling all hands and feet. "Never saw such a lonely spot in all my life, +by George, as this house! It fairly gives you the creeps!" + +"Indeed?" Brellier laughed in a deep, full-throated voice. "For my part +the loneliness is what so much appeals to me. When one has spent a busy +life travelling to and fro over the world, m'sieur, one can but +appreciate the peaceful backwaters which are so often to be found in this +very dear, very delightful England of yours. But that is not the mission +upon which I come. I have to thank you, sir, for the great kindness and +consideration you displayed to my niece yesterday." + +His English was excellent, and he spoke with the clipped, careful accent +of the foreigner, which Merriton found fascinating. He had already +succumbed to something of the same thing in Antoinette. He was beginning +to enjoy himself very much indeed. + +"There was no need for thanks--none at all.... What is your opinion of +the Towers, Miss Brellier?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward toward +her, anxious to change the conversation. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"That is hardly a fair question to ask!" she responded, "when I have been +in it but a matter of five minutes or more. But everything to me is +enchanting! The architecture, the furnishings, the very atmosphere--" + +"Brrh! If you could have been here last night!" He gave a mock shudder +and broke it with a laugh. "Why, a truly haunted house wasn't a patch on +it! If this place hasn't got a ghost, well then I'll eat my hat! I could +fairly hear 'em, dozens and dozens of them, clinking and clanking all +over the place. And if you could see my room! I sleep in a four-poster as +big as a suburban villa, and every now and again the furniture gives a +comfy little crack or two, like someone practising with a pistol, just to +remind me that my great-great-great-grandmother's ghost is sitting in the +wardrobe and watching over me with true great-etc.-grandmotherly +conscientiousness.... I say, do you ride? There ought to be some rippin' +rides round here, if my memory doesn't fail me." + +She nodded, and the conversation took a turn that Sir Nigel found more +than pleasant, and the time passed most agreeably. + +Merriton, only anxious to entertain his guests, suddenly exploded the +bomb which shattered that afternoon's enjoyment for all three of them. + +"By the way," he remarked, "last night, while I was lying awake I saw +a lot of funny flames dancing up and down upon the horizon. Seemed as +though they lay in the marshes between your place and mine, Mr. Brellier. +Borkins pulled a long story about 'em with all the usual trimmin's. Said +they were supernatural and all that. Ever seen 'em yourself? I must say +they gave me a bit of a turn. I'm not keen on spirits--except in bottle +form (which by the way is a rotten bad pun, Miss Brellier,) but in India +one gets chockful of that sort of thing, and there never seems to be any +rational explanation. It leaves you feeling funny. What's your opinion of +'em? For seen 'em you must have done, as they seem to be the talk of the +whole village from what Borkins says." + +Antoinette's spoon tinkled in the saucer of the tea-cup she was holding +and her face went white. Brellier shifted his eyes. A sort of tension had +settled suddenly over the pleasant room. + +"I--well, to tell you the truth, I can't explain 'em myself!" Brellier +said at last, clearing his throat with signs of genuine nervousness. +"They seem to be inexplicable. I have seen them--yes, many, many +times. And so has 'Toinette, but the stories afloat about them are +rather--unpleasant, and like a wise man I have kept myself free of +investigation. I do hope you'll do the same, Sir Nigel. One never knows, +and although one cannot always believe the silly things which the +villagers prattle about, it is as well to be on the safe side. As you +say, these things sometimes lack a rational explanation. I should be +sorry to think you were likely to run into any unnecessary danger." He +bent his head and Merriton could see that his fingers twitched. + +"Borkins actually told me stories of people who had disappeared in a +mysterious manner and were never found again," he remarked casually. + +Brellier shrugged his shoulders. He spread out his hands. + +"Among the uneducated--what would you? But it is so, even since I myself +have been in residence at Withersby Hall--something like three and a half +years--there have been several mysterious disappearances, Sir Nigel, and +all directly traceable to a foolhardy desire to investigate these +phenomena. For myself, I leave well enough alone. I trust you are going +to do likewise?" + +His eyes searched Merriton's face anxiously. There was a worried furrow +between his brows. + +Merriton laughed, and at the sound, 'Toinette, who had sat perfectly +still during the discussion of the mystery, gave a little cry of alarm +and covered her ears with her hands. + +"I beg of you," she broke out excitedly, "please, please do not talk +about it! The whole affair frightens me! Uncle will laugh I know, but--I +am terrified of those little flames, Sir Nigel, more terrified than I can +say! If you speak of them any more, I must go--really! Please, _please_ +don't dream of trying to find out what they are, Sir Nigel! It--it would +upset me very much indeed if you attempted so foolish a thing!" + +Merriton's first sensation at hearing this was pleasure that he was +capable of upsetting her over his own personal welfare. Then the +something sinister about the whole story, which seemed to affect every +one with whom he came into touch, swept over him. A number of otherwise +rational human beings scared out of their wits over some mysterious +flames on the edge of the Fens at night time, seemed, in the face of this +glorious summer's afternoon, to be little short of ridiculous. He tried +to throw the idea off but could not. 'Toinette's pale face kept coming +before him; the sudden dropping of her spoon struck an unpleasant chord +in his memory. Brellier's attitude merely added fuel to the fire and soon +they rose to go, Merriton following them to the door. + +"Don't forget, then, Miss Brellier, that you are booked to me for a ride +on Thursday," he said, laughingly. + +She nodded to him and gave his hand a little squeeze at parting. + +"I shall not forget, Sir Nigel. But--you will promise me," her voice +dropped a tone or two, "you will promise me that you will not try and +find out what those--those flames are, won't you? I could not sleep if +you did." And they were gone. + +Merriton stood awhile in silence, his brows puckered and his mouth stern. +First Borkins, and then Brellier, and now--_her_! All of them begging him +almost upon their knees to forego a perfectly harmless little quest of +discovery. There seemed to his mind something almost fishy about it all. +What then were these "Frozen Flames"? What secret did they hide? And what +malignant power dwelt behind the screen of their mystery? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AN EVIL GENIUS + + +Thus, despite the bad beginning at Merriton Towers the weeks that +followed were filled with happiness for Merriton. His acquaintance with +'Toinette flourished and that charming young woman grew to mean more and +more to the man who had led such a lonely life. + +And so one day wove itself into another with the joy of sunlight over +both their lives. He took to going regularly to Withersby Hall, and +became an expected guest, dropping in at all hours to wile away an hour +or two in 'Toinette's company, or else to have a quiet game of billiards +with Brellier, or a cigar in company with both of them, in the garden, +while the sun was still up. He never mentioned the flames to them again. +But he never investigated them either. He had promised 'Toinette that, +though he often watched them from his bedroom window, at night, watched +them and wondered, and thought a good deal about Borkins and how he had +lied to him about his uncle's disappearance upon that first night. +Between Borkins and himself there grew up a spirit of distrust which he +regretted yet did nothing to counteract. In fact it is to be feared that +he did his best at times to irritate the staid old man who had been in +the family so long. Borkins _did_ amuse him, and he couldn't help leading +him on. Borkins, noting this attitude, drew himself into himself and his +face became mask-like in its impassivity. + +But if Borkins became a stone image whenever Merriton was about, his +effusiveness was over-powering at such times as Mr. Brellier paid a visit +to the Towers. He followed both Brellier and his niece wherever they went +like a shadow. Jokingly one day, Merriton had made the remark: "Borkins +might be your factotum rather than mine, Mr. Brellier; indeed I've no +doubt he would be, if the traditions of the house had not so long lain in +his hands." He was rewarded for this remark by a sudden tightening of +Brellier's lips, and then by an equally sudden smile. They were very good +friends these days--Brellier and Merriton, and got on very excellently +together. + +And then, as the days wore themselves away and turned into months, +Merriton woke up to the fact that he could wait no longer before putting +his luck to the test so far as 'Toinette was concerned. He had already +confided his secret to Brellier, who laughed and patted him on the back +and told him that he had known of it a long time and wished him luck. It +wasn't long after this he was telling Brellier the good news that +'Toinette had accepted, and the two of them came to tell him of their +happiness. + +"So?" Mr. Brellier said quietly. "Well, I am very, very glad. You have +taken your time, _mes enfants_, in settling this greatest of all +questions, but perhaps you have been wise.... I am very happy for you, my +'Toinette, for I feel that your future is in the keeping of a good and +true man. There are all too few in the world, believe me!... + +"'Toinette, a friend awaits you in the drawing-room. Someone, I fear me, +who will be none too pleased to hear this news, but that's as may be. +Dacre Wynne is there, 'Toinette." + +At the name a chill came over Merriton. + +_Dacre Wynne!_ And here! Impossible, and yet the name was too uncommon +for it to be a different person from the man who always seemed somehow to +turn up wherever he, Merriton, might chance to be. Sort of a fateful +affinity. Good friends and all that, but somehow the things he always +wanted, Dacre Wynne had invariably come by just beforehand. There was +much more than friendly rivalry in their acquaintanceship. And once, as +mere youngsters of seventeen and eighteen, there had been a girl, _his_ +girl, until Dacre came and took her with that masterful way of his. There +was something brutally over-powering about Dacre, hard as granite, +forceful, magnetic. To Nigel's young, clean, wholesome mind, little given +to morbid imaginings as it was, it had almost seemed as if their two +spirits were in some stifling stranglehold together, wrapt about and +intertwined by a hand operating by means of some unknown medium. And now +to find him here in his hour of happiness. Was this close, uncomfortable +companionship of the spirit to be forced on him again? If Wynne were +present he felt he would be powerless to avoid it. + +"Do you know Dacre Wynne?" he asked, his voice betraying an emotion that +was almost fear. + +'Toinette Brellier glanced at her uncle, hesitated, and then murmured: +"Yes--I--do. I didn't know you did, Nigel. He never spoke of you. +I--he--you see he wants me, too, Nigel, and I am almost afraid to tell +him--about us. But I--I have to see him. Shall I tell him?" + +"Of course. Poor chap, I am sorry for him. Yes, I know him, 'Toinette. +But I cannot say we are friends. You see, I--Oh, well, it doesn't +matter." + +But how much Dacre Wynne was to matter to him, and to 'Toinette, and to +the public, and to far away Scotland Yard, and to the man of mystery, +Hamilton Cleek, not they--nor any one else--could possibly tell. + +They went into the long, cool drawing room together, and came upon Dacre +Wynne, clad in riding things, and looking, just as Nigel remembered he +always looked, very bronzed and big and handsome in a heavy way. His back +was toward them and his eyes were upon a photo of 'Toinette that stood on +a carved secretaire. He wheeled at the sound of their footsteps and came +forward, his face lighting with pleasure, his hand outstretched. Then he +saw Merriton behind 'Toinette's tiny figure, and for a moment some of the +pleasure went out of his eyes. + +"Hello," he said. "However did you get to this part of the world? You +always turn up like a bad penny.... What a time you've been 'Toinette!" + +Merriton greeted him pleasantly, and 'Toinette's radiant eyes smiled up +into his bronzed face. + +"Have I?" she said, with a little embarrassed laugh. "Well, I have been +out riding--with Nigel." + +"Oh, Nigel lives round here, does he?" said Wynne, with a sarcastic +laugh. "Like it, old man?" + +"Oh, I like it well enough," retorted Merriton. "At any rate I'll be +obliged to get used to it. I've said good-bye to India for keeps, Wynne. +I'm settled here for good." + +Wynne swung upon his heel at the tone of Merriton's voice, and his eyes +narrowed. He stood almost a head taller than Nigel--who was by no means +short--and was big and broad and heavy-chested. Merriton always felt at +a disadvantage. + +"So? You are going to settle down to it altogether, then?" said Wynne, +with an odd note in his deep, booming voice. 'Toinette sent a quick, +rather scared look into her lover's face. He smiled back as though to +reassure her. + +"Yes," he said, a trifle defiantly. "You see, Wynne, I've come into a +place near here. I'm--I'm hoping to get married soon. 'Toinette and I, +you know. She's done me the honour to promise to be my wife. Congratulate +me, won't you?" + +It was like a blow full in the face to the other man. For a moment all +the colour drained out of his bronzed cheeks and he went as white as +death. + +"I--I--certainly congratulate you, with all my heart," he said, speaking +in a strange, husky voice. "Believe me, you're a luckier chap, Merriton, +than you know. Quite the luckiest chap in the world." + +He took out his handkerchief suddenly and blew his nose, and then wiped +his forehead, which, Merriton noted, was damp with perspiration. Then he +felt in his pockets and produced a cigarette. + +"I may smoke, 'Toinette? Thanks. I've had a long ride, and a hard +one.... And so you two are going to get married, are you?" + +'Toinette's face, too, was rather pale. She smiled nervously, and +instinctively her hand crept out and touched Merriton's sleeve. She could +feel him stiffen suddenly, and saw how proudly he threw back his head. + +"Yes," said 'Toinette. "We're going to be married, Dacre. And I am--oh, +so happy! I know you cannot help being pleased--with that. And uncle, +too. He seems delighted." + +Wynne measured her with his eyes for a moment. Then he looked quickly +away. + +"Well, Merriton, you've got your own back for little Rosie Deverill, +haven't you? Remember how heart-broken you were at sixteen, when she +turned her rather wayward affections to me? Now--the tables have turned. +Well, I wish you luck. Think I'll be getting along. I've a good deal of +work to do this evening, and I'll be shipping for Cairo, I hope, next +week. That's what I came to see you about 'Toinette, but I'm afraid I am +a little--late." + +"Cairo, Mr. Wynne?" Brellier had entered the room and his voice held a +note of surprise. "We shall miss you--" + +"Oh, you'll get on all right without me, my friend," returned Wynne with +a grim smile, and a look that included all three of them in its mock +amusement. "I'm not quite so much wanted as I thought. Well, Nigel, I +suppose you'll be giving a dinner, the proper 'stag' party, before you +become a Benedict. Sorry I can't be here to join in the revels." + +He put out his hand, Nigel took it, and wrung it with a heartiness and +friendship that he had never before felt; but after all he had conquered! +It was he Antoinette was going to marry. His heart was brimming over with +pity for the man. + +"Look here," he said. "Come and dine with me at the Towers before you go, +Wynne, old man. We'll have a real bachelor party as you say. All the +other chaps and you, just to give you a sort of send off. What about +Tuesday? I won't have you say no." + +For a moment a look of friendship came into Wynne's eyes. He gazed into +Merriton's, and then returned the hand-grasp frankly. It was almost as +though he understood this mute apology of Nigel's, and took it at its +proper value. + +"Thanks, old boy. Very decent of you, I'm sure. Yes, I'd like to have a +peep at the other chaps before I sail. Just for old times' sake. I've +nothing special doing Tuesday that I can't put off. And so--I'll come. So +long." + +"Good-bye," said Merriton, rather relieved at Wynne's attitude--and yet, +in spite of himself, distrusting it. + +"Good-bye, 'Toinette.... It's really good-bye _this_ time. And I wish you +all the happiness you deserve." + +"Thank you." + +He looked into her eyes a moment, and then with a sudden sigh turned +quickly away and went out of the room. Brellier strode after him and +wrung his hand while the two that were left clung to each other in +silence. It was as though an unseen, sinister presence had suddenly gone +from the room. The tension was lifted, and they could breathe naturally +again. + +Standing together they heard the front door slam. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SPECTRE AT THE FEAST + + +Merriton, clad in his evening clothes and looking exceedingly handsome, +stood by the smoking room door, with Tony West, short and thickset, +wearing a suit that fitted badly and a collar which looked sizes too +large for him (Merriton had long given up hope of making him visit a +decent tailor) and waited for the sound of motor wheels which would +announce the arrival of further guests. + +It was the memorable Tuesday dinner, given in the first place for Dacre +Wynne, as a sort of send off before he left for Cairo. In the second +Merriton intended to break it gently to the other chaps that he was +shortly to become a Benedict. + +Lester Stark and Tony West, very loyal and proven friends of Nigel +Merriton, had arrived the evening before. Dacre Wynne was coming down by +the seven o'clock train, Dicky Fordyce, Reginald Lefroy--both fellow +officers of Merriton's regiment, and home on leave from India--and mild +old Dr. Bartholomew, whom everyone respected and few did not love, and +who was in attendance at most of the bachelor spreads in London and out +of it, as being a dry old body with a wit as fine as a rapier-thrust, +and a fund of delicate, subtle humour, made up the little party. + +The solemn front door bell of Merriton Towers clanged, and Borkins, very +pompous and elegant, flung wide the door. Merriton saw Wynne's big, +broad-shouldered figure swathed in the black evening cloak which he +affected upon such occasions, and which became him mightily, and with an +opera hat set at the correct angle upon his closely-clipped dark hair, +step into the lighted hallway, and begin taking off his gloves. + +Tony West's raspy voice chimed out a welcome, as Merriton went forward, +his hand outstretched. + +"Hello, old man!" said Tony. "How goes it? Lookin' a bit white about the +gills, aren't you, eh?... Whew! Merriton, old chap, that's my ribs, if +you don't mind. I've no penchant for your bayonet-like elbow to go +prodding into 'em!" + +Merriton raised an eyebrow, frowned heavily, and by every other method +under the sun tried to make it plain to West that the topic was taboo. +Wherefore West raised _his_ eyebrows, began to make a hasty exclamation, +thought better of it, and then clapping his hand over his mouth broke +into whistling the latest jazz tune, as though he had completely +extricated both feet from the unfortunate mire he had planted them +in--but with very little success. + +Wynne was a frowning Hercules as he entered the pleasant smoke-filled +room. Merriton's arm lay upon his sleeve, and he endured because he had +to--that was all. + +"Hello!" he said, to Lester Stark's rather half-hearted greeting--Lester +Stark never had liked Dacre Wynne and they both knew it. "You here as +well? Merriton's giving me a send-off and no mistake. Gad! you chaps will +be envying me this time next week, I'll swear! Out on the briny for a +decently long trip; plenty of pretty women--on which I'm bankin' of +course"--he gave Merriton a sudden, searching look, "and not a care in +the world. And the white lights of Cairo starin' at me across the water. +Some picture, isn't it?" + +"You may keep it!" said Tony West with a shudder. "When you've smelled +Cairo, Wynne, old boy, you'll come skulkin' home with your tail between +your legs. A 'rose by any other name would smell as sweet,' but +Cairo--parts of it mind you--well, Cairo's the stinkin'st rose I ever +put my nose into, that's all!" + +"There are some things which offend the nostrils more than--odours!" +threw back Wynne with a black look in Nigel's direction, and with a +sort of slur in his voice that showed he had been drinking more than +was good for him that night. "I think I can endure the smells of Cairo +after--other things. Eh, Nigel?" He forced a laugh which was mirthless +and unpleasant, and Merriton, with a quick glance into his friends' +faces, saw that they too had seen. Wynne was in one of his "devil" +humours, and all the fun and joking and merriment in the world would +never get him out of it. His pity for the man suddenly died a natural +death. The very evident fact that Wynne had been drinking rather heavily +merely added a further distaste to it all. He wished heartily that he +had never ventured upon this act of unwanted friendliness and given a +dinner in his honour. Wynne was going to be the spectre at the feast, and +it looked like being a poor sort of show after all. + +"Come, buck up, old chap!" broke out Tony West, the irrepressible. "Try +to look a little less like a soured lemon, if you can! Or we'll begin to +think that you've been and gone and done something you're sorry for, and +are trying to work it off on us instead." + +"Hello, here's Doctor Johnson," as the venerable Bartholomew entered the +room. "How goes it to-night, sir? A fine night, what? Behold the king of +the feast, his serene and mighty--oh extremely mighty!--highness Prince +Dacre Wynne, world explorer and soon to be lord-high-sniffer of Cairo's +smells! Don't envy him the task, do you?" + +He bowed with a flourish to the doctor who chuckled and his keen eyes, +fringed with snow-white lashes, danced. He wore a rather long, extremely +untidy beard, and his shirt-front as always was crumpled and worn. +Anything more unlike a doctor it would be hard to imagine. But he was a +clever one, nevertheless. + +"Well, my talkative young parrot," he greeted West affectionately, "and +how are you?... And who's party is this, anyhow? Yours or Merriton's? +You seem to be putting yourself rather more to the fore than usual." + +"Well, I'll soon be goin' aft," retorted West with a wide grin. "When old +Nigel gets his innings. He's as chockful of news as an egg is of meat." +West was one of the chosen few who had already heard of Nigel's +engagement, and he was rather like a gossipy old woman--but his friends +forgave it in him. + +Merriton gave him a shove, and he fell back upon Wynne, emitting a +portentous groan. + +"What the devil--?" began that gentleman, in a testy voice. + +Tony grinned. + +"Nigel was ever thus!" he murmured, with uplifted eyes. + +"Shut up!" thundered Stark, clapping a hand over West's mouth, and he +subsided as the doorbell rang again, and Borkins ushered in Fordyce and +Lefroy, two slim-hipped, dapper young gentlemen with the stamp of the +army all over them. The party thus complete, Borkins gravely withdrew, +and some fifteen minutes later the great gong in the hallway clanged +out its summons. They streamed into the dining room, Doctor Bartholomew +upon Tony West's fat little arm; Fordyce and Lefroy, side by side, hands +in pockets and closely cropped heads nodding vigorously; Merriton and +Lester Stark sauntering one slightly behind the other, and exchanging +pleasantries as they went; and just in front of them, Dacre Wynne, +solitary, huge, sinister, and overbearing. + +Wynne sat in the seat of honour on Merriton's right. The rest sorted +themselves out as they wished, and made a good deal of noise and fun +about it, too. Down the length of the long, exquisitely decorated table +Merriton looked at his guests and thought it wasn't going to be so dismal +after all. + +Champagne ran like water and spirits ran high. They joyfully toasted +Wynne, and later on the news that Merriton imparted to them. In vain +Dacre Wynne's low spirits were apparent. He must get over his grouch, +that was all. Then once again the spirit of evil descended upon the +gathering and it was Stark who precipitated its flight. "By the way, +Nigel," he asked suddenly, "isn't there some ghost story or other +pertaining to your district? Give us a recital of it, old boy. Walnuts +and wine and ghost stories, you know, are just the right sort of thing +after a dinner like this. Tony, switch off the lights. This old house of +yours is the very place for ghosts. Now let us have it." + +"Hold on," Nigel remonstrated. "Give me a chance to digest my dinner, +and--dash it all, the thing's so deuced uncanny that it doesn't bear too +much laughing at either!" + +"Come along!" Six voices echoed the cry. "We're waiting, Nigel." + +So Merriton had forthwith to oblige them. He, too, had had enough to +drink--though drinking too heavily was not one of his vices--and his +flushed face showed the excitement that burned within him. + +"Come over here by the window and see the thing for yourselves, and then +you shall hear the story," he began enigmatically. + +Nigel pushed back the heavy curtain and there, in the darkness +without--it was getting on toward ten o'clock--gleamed and danced and +flickered the little flames that had so often puzzled him, and filled +his soul with a strange sort of supernatural fear. Against the blackness +beyond they hung like a chain of diamonds irregularly strung, flickering +incessantly. + +Every man there, save one, and that one stood apart from the others like +some giant bull who deigns not to run with the herd--gave an involuntary +exclamation. + +"What a deuced pretty sight!" remarked Fordyce, in his pleasant drawl. +"What is it? Some sort of fair or other? Didn't know you had such things +in these parts." + +"We don't." It was Merriton who spoke, rather curtly, for the remark +sounded inane to his ears. + +"It is no fair you ass, it's--God knows what! That's the point of the +whole affair. What _are_ those flames, and where do they come from? That +part of the Fens is uninhabited, a boggy, marshy, ghostly spot which no +one in the whole countryside will cross at night. The story goes that +those who do--well they never come back." + +"Oh, go easy, Nigel!" struck in Tony West with a whistle of pretended +astonishment. "Champagne no doubt, but--" + +"It's the truth according to the villagers, anyhow!" returned Merriton, +soberly. "That is how the story goes, my lad, and you chaps asked me for +it. Those Frozen Flames--it's the villagers' name, not mine--they say are +supernatural phenomena, and any one, as I said before, crossing the place +near them at night disappears clean off the face of the earth. Then a +new flame appears, the soul of the johnny who has 'gone out'." + +"Any proof?" inquired Doctor Bartholomew suddenly, stroking his beard, +and arching his bushy eyebrows, as if trying to sympathize with his +host's obvious half belief in the story. + +Nigel wheeled and faced him in the dim light. The pupils of his eyes were +a trifle dilated. + +"Yes, so I understand. Short time back a chap went out--fellow called +Myers--Will Myers. He was a bit drunk, I think, and thought he'd have +a shot at makin' the village busybodies sit up and give 'em something to +talk about. Anyhow, he went." + +"And he came back?" Unconsciously a little note of anxiety had crept into +Tony West's voice. + +"No, on the contrary, he did _not_ come back. They searched for his body +all over the marshes next day, but it had disappeared absolutely, and the +chap who told me said he saw another light come out the next night, and +join the rest of 'em.... There, there's your story, Lester, make what you +like of it. I've done my bit and told it anyway." + +For a moment there was silence. Then Stark shook himself. + +"Gad, what an uncanny story! Turn up the lights someone, and dispel this +gloom that seems to have settled on everyone! What do you make of it?" + +Suddenly Wynne's great, bulky figure swung free from the shadows. There +were red glints in his eyes and a sneer curled his heavy lips. He sucked +his cigar and threw his head back. + +"What I make of it is a whole lot of old women's damn silly nonsense!" he +announced in a loud voice. "And how a sensible, decent thinkin' man can +give credence to the thing for one second beats me completely! Nigel's +head was always full of imaginations (of a sort) but how you other chaps +can listen to the thing--Well, all I can say is you're the rottenest lot +of idiots I've ever come across!" + +Merriton shut his lips tightly for a moment, and tried hard to remember +that this man was a guest in his house. It was so obvious that Wynne was +trying for a row, Doctor Bartholomew turned round and lifted a protesting +hand. + +"Don't you think your language is a trifle--er--overstrong, Wynne?" he +said, in that quiet voice of his which made all men listen and wonder why +they did it. + +Wynne tossed his shoulders. His thick neck was rather red. + +"No, I'm damned if I do! You're men here--or supposed to be--not a pack +of weak-kneed women!... Afraid to go out and see what those lights are, +are you? Well, I'm not. Look here. I'll have a bet with you boys. Fifty +pounds that I get back safely, and dispel the morbid fancies from your +kindergarten brains by tellin' you that the things are glow-worms, or +some fool out for a practical joke on the neighbourhood--which has fallen +for it like this sort of one-horse hole-in-the-corner place would! Fifty +pounds? What say you?" + +He glowered round upon each of them in turn, his sneering lips showing +the pointed dogs' teeth behind them, his whole arrogant personality +brutally awake. "Who'll take it on? You Merriton? Fifty pounds, man, +that I don't get back safely and report to you chaps at twelve o'clock +to-night." + +Merriton's flushed face went a shade or two redder, and he took an +involuntary step forward. It was only the doctor's fingers upon his +coat-sleeve that restrained him. Then, too, he felt some anxiety that +this drunken fool should attempt to do the very thing which another +drunken fool had attempted three months back. He couldn't bet on another +man's chance of life, like he would on a race-horse! + +"You'll be a fool if you go, Wynne," he said, as quietly as his +excitement would permit. "As my guest I ask you not to. The thing may be +all rubbish--possibly is--but I'd rather you took no chances. Who it is +that hides out there and kills his victims or smuggles them away I don't +know, but I'd rather you didn't, old chap. And I'm not betting on a +fellow's life. Have another drink man, and forget all about it." + +Wynne took this creditable effort at reconciliation with a harsh guffaw. +He crossed to Nigel and put his big, heavy hands upon the slim shoulders, +bending his flushed face down so that the eyes of both were almost upon a +level. + +"You little, white-livered sneak," he said in a deep rumbling voice that +was like thunder in the still room. "Pull yourself together and try to be +a man. Take on the bet or not, whichever you like. You're savin' up for +the housekeepin' I suppose. Well, take it or leave it--fifty pounds that +I get back safe in this house to-night. Are you on?" + +Merriton's teeth bit into his lips until the blood came in the effort at +repression. He shook Wynne's hands off his shoulders and laughed straight +into the other man's sneering face. + +"Well then go--and be damned to you!" he said fiercely. "And blame your +drunken wits if you come to grief. I've done my best to dissuade you. If +you were less drunk I'd square the thing up and fight you. But I'm on, +all right. Fifty pounds that you don't get back here--though I'm decent +enough to hope I'll have to pay it. That satisfy you?" + +"All right." Wynne straightened himself, took an unsteady step forward +toward the door, and it was then that they all realized how exceedingly +drunk the man was. He had come to the dinner in a state of partial +intoxication, which merely made him bad-tempered, but now the spirits +that he had partaken of so plentifully was burning itself into his very +brain. + +Doctor Bartholomew took a step toward him. + +"Dash it all!" he said under his breath and addressing no one in +particular, "he can't go like that. Can't some of us stop him?" + +"Try," put in Lester Stark sententiously, having had previous experiences +of Wynne's mood, so Doctor Bartholomew did try, and got cursed for his +pains. Wynne was struggling into his great, picturesque cloak, a sinister +figure of unsteady gait and blood-shot eye. As he went to the hall and +swung open the front door, Merriton made one last effort to stop him. + +"Don't be a fool, Wynne," he said anxiously. "The game's not worth the +candle. Stay where you are and I'll put you up for the night, but in +Heaven's name don't venture out across the Fens now." + +Wynne turned and showed him a reddened, congested face from which the +eyes gleamed evilly. Merriton never forgot that picture of him, or the +sudden tightening of the heart-strings that he experienced, the sudden +sensation of foreboding that swept over him. + +"Oh--go to hell!" Wynne said thickly. And plunged out into the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A SHOT IN THE DARK + + +The church clock, some distance over Herne's Hill which lies at the back +of Merriton Towers, broke the half silence that had fallen upon the +little group of men in the warm smoking room with twelve sonorous, +deep-throated notes. At sound of them Merriton got to his feet and +stretched his hands above his head. A damper had fallen over the spirits +of his guests after Wynne had gone out into the night on his foolish +errand, and the fury against him that had stirred Nigel's soul was +gradually wearing off. + +"Well, Wynne said twelve, didn't he?" he remarked, with a sort of +half-laugh as he surveyed the grave faces of the men who were seated in +a semi-circle about him, "and twelve it is. We'll wait another half hour, +and then if he doesn't come we'll make a move for bed. He'll be playing +some beastly trick upon us, you may be sure of that. What a horrible +temperament the man has! He was supposed to be putting up with the +Brelliers to-night--old man Brellier was decent enough to ask him--and +possibly he'll simply turn in there and laugh to himself at the picture +of us chaps sitting here in the mornin' and waitin' for his return!" + +Doctor Bartholomew shook his white head with a good deal of obstinacy. + +"I think you're wrong there Nigel. Wynne is a man of his word, drunk or +sober. He'll come back, no doubt. Unless something has happened to him." + +"And this from our sceptical disbeliever, boys!" struck in Tony West, +raising his hands in mock horror. "Nigel, m'lad, you've made an early +conversion. The good doctor has a sneaking belief in the story. How now, +son? What's your plan of action?" + +"Half an hour's wait more, and then to bed," said Merriton, tossing back +his head and setting his jaw. "I offered Wynne a bed in the first place, +but he saw fit to refuse me. If he hasn't made use of this opportunity +to turn in at the Brelliers' place, I'll eat my hat. What about a round +of cards, boys, till the time is up?" + +So the cards were produced, and the game began. But it was a half-hearted +attempt at best, for everyone's ear was strained for the front-door bell, +and everyone had an eye half-cocked toward the window. Before the half +hour was up the game had fizzled out. And still Dacre Wynne did not put +in an appearance. + +Borkins, having been summoned, brought in some whisky and Merriton +remarked casually: + +"Mr. Wynne has ventured out to try and discover the meaning of the Frozen +Flames, Borkins. He'll be back some time this evening--or rather morning, +I should say, for it's after midnight--and the other gentlemen and myself +are going to make a move for bed. Keep your ears peeled in case you hear +him. I sleep like the very old devil himself, when once I do get off." + +Borkins, on hearing this, turned suddenly gray, and the perspiration +broke out on his forehead. + +"Gone, sir? Mr. Wynne--gone--out _there_?" he said in a stifled voice. +"Oh my Gawd, sir. It's--it's suicide, that's what it is! And Mr. +Wynne's--gone!... 'E'll never come back, I swear." + +Merriton laughed easily. + +"Well, keep your swearing to yourself, Borkins," he returned, "and see +that the gentlemen's rooms are ready for 'em. Doctor Bartholomew has the +one next to mine, and Mr. West's is on the other side. I gave Mrs. Dredge +full instructions this morning.... Good-night, Borkins, and pleasant +dreams." + +Borkins left. But his face was a dull drab shade and he was trembling +like a man who has received a terrible shock. + +"There's a case of genuine scare for you," remarked Doctor Bartholomew +quietly, drawing on his pipe. "That man's nerves are like unstrung wires. +Hardly ever seen a chap so frightened in all the course of my medical +career. He's either had experience of the thing, or he knows something +about it. Whichever way it is, he's the most terrified object I've ever +laid eyes on!" + +Merriton broke into a laugh. But there was not much merriment in it, +rather a note of uneasiness which made Tony West glance up at him +sharply. + +"Best place for _you_, old chap, is your bed," he said, getting to his +feet and laying an arm across Nigel's shoulders. "Livin' down here does +seem to play the old Harry with one's nerves. I'm as jumpy as a kitten +myself. Take it from me, Wynne will return, Nigel, and when he does he'll +see to it that we all hear him. He'll probably break every pane of glass +in the place with a stone, and play a devil's dance upon the knocker. +That's his usual way of expressin' his pleasure, I believe. Here, here's +health to you, old boy, and happiness, and the best of luck." + +That little ceremony being over, they turned in, Doctor Bartholomew, +his arm linked in Nigel's going with him to his bedroom, and, in the +half-dusk of the spluttering candles, they stood together at the +uncurtained window and looked out in silence upon the flames, the Frozen +Flames that Wynne had gone out to investigate. For quite ten minutes they +stood still. Then the doctor stirred himself and broke into a little +laugh. + +"Well, well," he said comfortably, "whatever our friend Wynne is going to +do, I don't really think we need put any credence in the story that he +won't return, Nigel. So you can go to bed in comfort on that, can't you?" + +Merriton nodded. Then he yawned and shut his eyes. + +"What's that? Credence in the story? Of course not, Doctor. I'm not such +a fool as I may look. Wynne's playing a game on us, and at this moment +he is probably seated in Brellier's study having a laugh at the rest of +us, waitin' up for him anxiously, like a lot of scared old women. Heigho! +I'm tired.... You're interested in firearms, Doctor. Here's my little +pet, my sleepin' companion, you understand, that has been with me through +many a hot campaign." He leaned over and took a little revolver out of +the drawer of the little cabinet that stood by the bedside. The doctor, +who had a remarkably fine collection of firearms, handled it with +practised hands, remarked upon its good points, cocked the tiny thing, +and then lifting his head looked Nigel straight in the eyes. + +"I see you keep it loaded, my boy," he said quietly. + +Merriton laughed. + +"Yes. Habit, I suppose. One needed a loaded revolver in the jungle where +every black man's hand was against you. Nice little toy, isn't it?" + +"Yes. Looks very business-like, too." + +"It is. Twice now it has saved my life. I owe it a good turn.... Well," +laying the thing down upon the top of the cabinet and turning to the +doctor with a smile. "I suppose you'll be turning in now. Pleasant +dreams, old chap, and plenty of 'em. If you hear anything of Wynne--" + +"I'll let you know," broke in the doctor, returning the smile +affectionately. "Good-night." + +He turned and went out through the door to his own room, the next one +along the hall. + +Nigel, after hesitating a moment, strode over to the window. It was still +as black as a pocket outside, for dawn was not due for some hours yet, +and against the darkness the flames still danced their nightly revel. He +shook his fist at them and then broke into a harsh laugh as the thought +of Dacre Wynne came to him again. Dash the fellow! He was always, in some +way or another, intruding upon his privacy, whether it was mental or +otherwise. Then, as he looked, it seemed as though a fresh flame suddenly +flashed out in the velvet darkness to the left of the others. To his +excited fancy it looked bigger, brighter, _newer_! But that was +impossible! The Fens were uninhabited. + +He watched the light for a moment or two, and then suddenly, obsessed +with a strange fear, strode across the room and picked up the tiny +revolver. + +"Damn it! I'm going silly!" he exclaimed angrily, and throwing the window +open took aim, his brain on fire with the champagne and the excitement of +the evening. "Now let's see if you'll go, you infernal little devil!" + +His finger touched the trigger, the thing spoke softly--that was one of +its chief attractions for Nigel--and spat forth a little jet of flame. +And as it did so, his brain cleared like magic. He laughed and shook +himself as though out of a trance into which he had fallen. The light was +still there. What a fool he was, potting at glow-worms like a madman! +He shut the window with a bang and started to undress, and then went over +to the door as he heard the doctor's voice outside. + +"Thought I heard a shot, Nigel, what--?" + +"You did. I'm a silly ass and have been potting at those beastly flames," +returned Merriton, shamefacedly. "For Heaven's sake, don't tell the other +fellows. They'll think I've gone loony. And for a moment I believe I had. +But there's no harm done." + +"Potting at those flames!" The doctor's voice was almost concerned. Then +he shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, well, there's nothing in it! I must say +I've taken a chance shot now and again at a bird myself from my bedroom +before now. Still, get to bed, Nigel, like a good fellow, and have some +sleep. Here, give me the pistol. You'll be potting at me before I know +where I am. I'll take it into my room, thank you!" + +"Right you are!" Merriton's laugh rang more normally and the doctor +nodded with pleasure. "Good-night, Doctor." + +"Good-night." + +Then the door closed again, and the house dropped once more into +stillness. In ten minutes Merriton tumbled into bed. He slept like a +log.... He hadn't seen the doctor drop that sleeping draught into that +last whisky while Tony West kept him talking. That was why he slept. + +Later on, however, his shame at his own foolishness in firing his pistol +at mere flames of the night was the cause of grave difficulty. For when +he related the story of the whole affair to Cleek's master mind he _left +that out_! And very nearly was it his own undoing, for strange was to be +the outcome of that shot in the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WATCHER IN THE SHADOW + + +But if Merriton slept, the others of the little party did not. After his +door had closed upon him they appeared from their rooms, and met by +arrangement once more in the study. Doctor Bartholomew--a little late at +having waited and listened for the outward result of his drug in Nigel's +comforting snore--joined the group with an anxious face. There was no +laughter now in the pleasant, heated smoking room. Every face there wore +a look that bordered closely upon fear. + +"Well, Doctor," said Tony West, as he entered the room, "what's the plan? +I don't like Wynne's absence, I swear I don't. It--it looks fishy, +somehow. And he was in no mood to play boyish pranks on us by turnin' in +at the Brelliers' place. There's somethin' else afoot. What's your idea, +now?" + +The doctor considered a moment. + +"Better be getting out and form a search party," he said quietly. "If +nothing turns up--well, Nigel needn't know we've been out. But--there's +more in this than meets the eye, boys. Frankly, I don't like it. Wynne's +a brute, but he never liked practical joking. It's my private opinion +that he would have returned by now--if something hadn't happened to him. +We'll wait till dawn, and then we'll go. Nigel is good for some hours +yet. Wynne always had a bad effect on him. Ever noticed it, West? Or you, +Stark?" + +The two men nodded. + +"Yes," said Tony, "I have. Many times. Nigel's never the same fellow when +that man's about. He's--he's got some sort of devilish influence over +him, I believe. And how he hates Nigel! See his eyes to-night? He could +have killed him, I believe--specially as Nigel's taken his girl." + +"Yes." The doctor's voice was rather grave. "Wynne's a queer chap and a +revengeful one. And he was as drunk as a beast to-night.... Well, boys +we'll sit down and wait awhile." + +Pipes were got out and cigarettes lighted. For an hour in the hot +smoking-room the men sat, talking in undertones and smoking, or dropping +off into long silences. Finally the doctor drew out his watch. He sighed +as he looked at it. + +"Three o'clock, and no sign of Wynne yet. We'll be getting our things on, +boys." + +Instantly every man rose to his feet. The tension slackened with +movement. In comparative silence they stole out into the hall, threw on +their coats and hats, and then Tony West nervously slid the bolts of the +big front door. It creaked once or twice, but no sound from the still +house answered it. West swung it open, and on the whitened step they +quietly put on their shoes. + +The doctor switched on an electric torch and threw a blob of light upon +the gravelled pathway for them to see the descent. Then one by one they +went quietly down the steps, and West shut the door behind them. + +"Excellent! Excellent!" exclaimed Doctor Bartholomew, as the gate was +reached with no untoward happenings. "Not a soul knows we're gone, boys. +That's pretty certain. Now, then, out of the gate and turn to the right +up that lane. It'll take us to the very edge of the Fens, I believe, and +then our search will commence." + +He spoke with assurance, and they followed him instinctively. +Unconsciously they had made him captain of the expedition. But--no one +had heard them, he had said? If he had looked back once when the big gate +shut, he might have changed his mind upon that score. With white face +pressed close against the glass of the smoking-room window, which looked +directly out upon the front path, stood Borkins, watching them as though +he were watching a line of ghosts on their nightly prowl. + +"Good Gawd!" he ejaculated, as he discerned their dark figures and the +light of the doctor's torch. "Every one of 'em gone--_every one_!" And +then, trembling, he went back to bed. + +But the doctor did not look back, and so the little party proceeded upon +its way in comparative silence until the edge of the Fens was reached. +Here, with one accord, they stopped for further instructions. Three +torches made the spot upon which they stood like daylight. The doctor +bent his eyes downward. + +"Now, boys," he said briskly. "Keep your eyes sharp for footprints. Wynne +must have struck off here into the Fens, it's the most direct course. He +wouldn't have been such a duffer as to walk too far out of his way--if he +was bent upon going there at all.... Hello! Here's the squelchy mark of a +man's boot, and here's another!" + +They followed the track onward, with perfect ease, for the marshy ground +was sodden and took every footprint deeply. That some man had crossed +this way, and recently, too, was perfectly plain. The footprints wavered +a little that was all, showing that the man who made them was uncertain +upon his feet. And Wynne had left the house by no means sober! + +"It looks as though he had come here after all!" broke out Tony West, +excitedly. "Why the track's as plain as the nose on your face." + +They zig-zagged their tedious way out across the marshy grassland, their +thin shoes squelching in the bogs, their trousers unmercifully spattered +with the thick, treacley mud. They spoke little, their eyes bent upon the +ground, their foreheads wrinkled. On and on and on they went, while the +sky above them lightened and grew murky with the soft cloudiness of +breaking dawn. The flames in the distance began to pale, and the vast +stretch of Fen district before them was shrouded in a light fog, misty, +unutterably ghostlike and with the chill lonesomeness of death. + +"Whew! Eeriest task I've ever come across!" ejaculated Stark with a +grimace as he looked up for a moment into the dull mist ahead. "If +we're not all down with pneumonia to-morrow, it won't be our own +faults!... Some distance, isn't it, Doctor?" + +"It is," returned the doctor grimly. "What a fool the man was to attempt +it!... Here's a footprint, and another." + +Yes, and many another after that. They staggered on, wet, cold, +uncomfortable, anxious. The doctor was a little ahead of the rest of +them, Tony West came second, the others straggled a pace or two behind. +Suddenly the doctor stopped and gave a hasty exclamation: + +"Good Heavens above!" + +They ran up to him clustering around him in their eagerness, and +their torches lent their rays to make the thing he gazed at more +distinguishable, while another mile away at least, the flames twinkled +dimly, and slowly went out one by one as though the finger of dawn had +snuffed them like candle-ends. + +"What the devil is it?" demanded Tony West, getting to his knees and +peering at the spot with narrowed eyes. + +"Charred grass. And the end of the footprints!" It was the doctor who +spoke--in a queer voice sharp with excitement. "There has been a fire +here or something. And--Wynne went no farther, apparently. The ground +about it is as marshy as ever, and my own footprint is perfectly +clear.... What the dickens do you make of it, eh?" + +But there was no answer forthcoming. Every man stood still staring down +at this strange thing with wide eyes. For what the doctor said was +absolute truth. The footsteps certainly _did_ end here, and in a patch of +charred grass as big round as a small table. What did it mean? What could +it mean, but one thing? Somehow, somewhere, Wynne had vanished. It was +incredible, unbelievable, and yet--there was the evidence of their own +eyes. From that spot onward the ground was wholly free of the footprints +of any man, woman, or child. No mark disturbed the sodden mud of it. And +yet--right here, where the grasses seemed to grow tallest, this patch was +burnt off and withered as though with sudden heat. + +Tony West straightened himself. + +"If I didn't think the whole business was a pack of lies spun into a +bigger one by a lot of village gossips, I'd--I'd begin to imagine there +was something in the story after all!" he said, getting to his feet and +looking at the white faces about him. "It's--it's devilish uncanny, +Doctor!" + +"It is that." The doctor drew a long breath and stroked his beard +agitatedly. "It's so devilish uncanny that one hardly knows what to +believe. If this thing had happened in the East one might have looked +at it with a more fatalistic eye. But _here_--in England, no man in his +senses could believe such a fool's tale as that which Nigel told us +to-night. And yet--Wynne has gone, vanished! Never a trace of him, +though we'll search still farther for a while, to make sure!" + +They separated at once, radiating out from that sinister spot and +searched and searched and searched. Not a footprint was to be found +beyond the spot, not a trace of any living thing. There was nothing for +it but to go back to Merriton Towers and tell their tale to Nigel. + +"Old Wynne has gone, and no mistake," said Tony West, as the men began +slowly to retrace their steps across the marshlands, their faces in the +pale light of the early morning looking white and drawn with the +excitement and strain of the night. "What to make of it all, I don't +know. Apparently old Wynne went out to see the Frozen Flames and--the +Frozen Flames have swallowed him up, or burnt him up, one or the other." + +"And yet I can't hold any credence in the thing, no matter how hard +I try!" said the doctor, shaking his head gravely, as they trudged on +through the mud and mire. "And if Wynne isn't found--well, there'll be +the deuce to pay with the authorities. We'll have to report to the police +first thing in the morning." + +"Yes, the village constable will take the matter up, and knowing the +story, will put entire faith in it, and that's all the help we'll +get from _him_!" supplemented West with a harsh laugh. "I know the +sort.... Here's the Towers at last, and if I don't make a mistake, +there's the face of old Borkins pressed against the window!" + +He ran ahead of the others and took the great stone steps two at a time. +But Borkins had opened the door before he reached it. His eyes stared, +his mouth sagged open. + +"Mr. Wynne, sir? You found 'im?" he asked hoarsely. + +"No. No trace whatever, Borkins. Where's your master?" + +"Sir Nigel, sir? 'E's asleep, and snorin' like a grampus. This'll be a +shock to 'im sir, for sure. Mr. Wynne--_gone_? 'T ain't possible!" + +But Tony had pushed by him and thrown open the smoking-room door. The +warm, heated atmosphere came to them comfortingly. He crossed to the +table, picked up a decanter and slopped out a peg of whisky. This he +drank off neat. After that he felt better. The other men straggled in +after him. He faced them with set lips. + +"Now," said he, "to tell Nigel." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE VICTIM + + +Dacre Wynne had vanished, leaving behind him no trace of mortal remains, +and only a patch of charred grass in the middle of the uninhabited Fens +to mark the spot. And Nigel Merriton, whose guest the man was, must of +necessity be told the fruitlessness of the searchers' self-appointed +task. The doctor volunteered to do it. + +Tony West accompanied him as far as Nigel's, and then he suddenly +recollected that Merriton had locked it the night before. There was +nothing for it but to hammer upon the panels, or--pick the lock. + +"And he'll be sleeping like a dead man, if I know anything of sleeping +draughts," said the doctor, shaking his head. "Got a penknife, West?" + +West nodded. He whipped the knife out of his pocket and began +methodically to work at the worn lock with all the precision of an +experienced burglar. But the action brought no smile to his lips, no +little mocking jest to help on the job. There was something grim in the +set of West's lips, and in the tension of the doctor's slight figure. +Tragedy had stalked unnoticed into the Towers that evening and they had +become enmeshed in the folds of its cloak. They felt it in the cold +clamminess of the atmosphere, in the quiet peace of the long corridors. + +Finally the thing was done. West turned the handle and the door swung +inward. The doctor crossed to the bedside and took hold of the sleeping +man's shoulder. He shook it vigorously. + +"Nigel!" he called sharply once or twice. "Wake up! Wake up!" + +But Merriton never moved. The performance was repeated and the call was +louder. + +"Nigel! I say, wake up--wake up! We've news for you!" + +The sleeping man stirred suddenly and wrenched his shoulder away. + +"Let go of me, Wynne, damn you!" he broke out petulantly, his eyes +opening. "I've beaten you this time, anyhow, so part of our score is +marked off! Let go, I say--I--I--_Doctor Bartholomew_! What in Heaven's +name's the matter? I've been asleep, haven't I? What is it? You look as +though you had seen a ghost!" + +He was thoroughly awake now, and struggled to a sitting position. The +doctor's face twisted wryly. + +"I--wish I had, Nigel," he said bitterly. "Even ghosts would be better +than--nothing at all. We've been out searching for Wynne, and I--" + +"_Been out?_" + +"Yes, across the Fens. We were anxious. Wynne didn't come back, you know, +and so after we'd got you to bed we thought we'd make up a search party +among ourselves and look into the thing. But we haven't found him, Nigel. +He's vanished--completely!" + +"Impossible!" + +Merriton was out of bed now, still staring sleepily at them. Something in +the boyishness of him struck a chord of sympathy in the doctor's heart. +He alone of all of them had guessed at the genuineness of Nigel's fear +for Wynne, he alone had seen into the man's heart, and discovered the +half-belief that lurked there. + +"I'm afraid it's perfectly true," he said quietly, as Merriton came to +him and caught him by the arm, his face white. "We followed his tracks +across the Fens--it had been raining and it was extremely easy to +do--until they suddenly ended in a patch of half-charred grass. It was +uncanny! We made a further search to make sure, but nothing rewarded our +efforts. Dacre Wynne's gone somewhere, and those devilish flames of yours +will be counting another victim to their lengthening list to-night." + +"Good God!" + +Merriton's lips trembled, and his fingers dropped from the doctor's arm. + +"But I tell you it's impossible, man!" he broke out suddenly. "The +thing's beyond human credulity, Doctor." + +"Well, be that as it may, the fact remains--Wynne's gone," returned the +doctor gloomily. "Of course we must communicate with the police. That's +the next thing to do. We'll send over to make sure Wynne isn't at the +Brellier's but I think there isn't a chance of it myself. Where he did +go beats me completely!" + +"And it fair beats me, too!" said Merriton, in a shocked voice, beginning +mechanically to struggle into his clothes. "One of you might 'phone the +police--though what they'll be able to do for us I don't know. It's a +one-horse show in the village, and the chap who's chief constable was the +fellow who told me of the other man that disappeared, and seemed quite +willing to accept a supernatural explanation. Still, of course, it's the +thing to be done.... And I actually saw, with my own eyes, that new flame +flash out!" + +He said the last words in a sort of undertone, but the doctor heard them, +and twitched up an enquiring eyebrow. + +"You saw the new flame? Oh--of course. And you--never mind. Our next move +is to telephone the police." + +But what the police could do for them was so pitifully small as to be +absurd. Constable Haggers was a man whose superstitious fear of the +flames got the better of his constabulary training in every way. He said +he would do what he could, but he would certainly attempt nothing until +broad daylight. He believed the story in every particular and said that +it was well-nigh impossible to trace the vanished man. "There had been +others," was all he would say, "and never a trace of 'em 'ave we ever +seen!" + +Telephoning the Brelliers was a mere matter of minutes, and by that means +Merriton made perfectly sure that Wynne had not put in an appearance at +Withersby Hall. Brellier himself answered the phone, and said that he was +just thinking that as Wynne hadn't turned up yet, they must indeed have +been making a night of it at the Towers. + +"However," he continued, "if you say you all retired around about one +o'clock, and Wynne left you soon after ten--well, I can't think what has +become of him...." + +"He went out to investigate those devilish flames!" remarked Merriton, as +a rather shamefaced explanation. Then he fairly heard the wires jump with +the force of Brellier's exclamation. + +"Eh--what? What's that you say? He went out to investigate the flames, +Merriton? What fool let him go? Surely you know the story?" + +"We did. And we did our best to dissuade him, Mr. Brellier," replied +Merriton wearily. "But he went. You know Dacre Wynne as well as I do. He +was set upon going. But he has not come back, and some of the chaps here +set up a search-party to hunt for him. They discovered nothing. Simply +some charred grass in the middle of the Fens and the end of his +footprints.... So he didn't come round to your place then? Thanks. I'm +awfully sorry to have bothered you, but you can understand my anxiety +I know. I'll keep you posted as to any news we get. Yes--horrible, isn't +it? So--so beastly uncanny...." + +He hung up the receiver with a drawn face. + +"Well, Wynne didn't go there, anyway," he said to the group of men who +clustered round him. "So that's done with. Now we'll just have to possess +our souls in patience, and see what Constable Haggers can do for us. I +vote we tumble in for forty winks before the sun gets too high in the +heavens. It is the most reasonable thing to do in the circumstances." + +The days that followed brought them little light upon the matter. Wynne, +it proved, was a man apparently without relations, and devoid of friends. +The local police could make nothing of it. They had had such cases +before, and were perfectly willing to let the matter rest where it +was. Interest, once so high, began to flag. The thing dropped into the +commonplace, and was soon forgotten, together with the man who had caused +it. + +But Nigel was far from satisfied. That he and Dacre Wynne were really +enemies, who had posed as friends made not a particle of difference. +Dacre Wynne had disappeared during the brief time that he was a guest in +Merriton's house. The subject did not die with the owner of Merriton +Towers. He spent many long evenings with Doctor Bartholomew talking the +thing over, trying to reconstruct it, probe into it, hunt for new clues, +new anything which might lead to a solution. But such talks always came +to nothing. Every stone had already been turned, and the dry dust of the +highway afforded little knowledge to Merriton. + +Across the clear sky of his happiness a cloud had gloomed, spoiling for +a time the perfection of it. He could not think of marriage while the +mystery of Dacre Wynne's death remained unsolved. It seemed unthinkable. + +Tony West told him he was getting morbid about it, and to have a change. + +"Come up to London and see some of your friends," was West's advice. But +Merriton never took it. + +'Toinette seemed the only person who understood how he felt, and the +knowledge of this only served to draw them closer together. She, too, +felt that marriage was for the time being unthinkable, and despite +Brellier's constant urging in that direction, she held her ground firmly, +telling him that they preferred to wait awhile. + +"I'm going to solve the blessed thing, 'Toinette," Nigel told her over +and over again during these long weeks and days that followed, "if I grow +gray-headed in the attempt. Dacre Wynne was no true friend of mine, but +he was my guest at the time of his disappearance, and I mean to find the +reason of it." + +If he had only known what the future held in store for them both, would +he still have clung to his purpose? Who can tell? + +It was at night that the thing obsessed him worst. When darkness had +fallen Merriton would sit, evening after evening, looking out upon that +same scene that he had shown his companions that eventful night. And +always the flames danced on their maddening way, mocking him, holding +behind the screen of their brilliancy the key to Dacre Wynne's +inexplicable disappearance. Merriton would sit and watch them for hours, +and sometimes find himself talking to them. + +What was the matter with him? Was he going insane? Or was this Dacre +Wynne's abominable idea of a revenge for having stolen 'Toinette's heart +away from him? To have died and sent his spirit back to haunt the man he +hated seemed to Merriton sometimes the answer to the questions which +constantly puzzled him. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SECOND VICTIM + + +The alterations at Merriton Towers were certainly a success, from the +builder's point of view at any rate. White paint had helped to dispel +some of its gloominess, though there were those who said that the whole +place was ruined thereby. However, it was certainly an improvement to be +able to have windows that opened, and to look into rooms that beckoned +you with promises of cozy inglenooks, and plenty of brilliant sunshine. + +Borkins looked upon these improvements with a censorious eye. He was one +of those who believed in "lettin' things be"; to whom innovation is a +crime, and modernity nothing short of madness. To him the dignity of the +house had gone. But when it came to Nigel installing a new staff of +servants, the good Borkins literally threw up his hands and cried aloud +in anguish. He did not hold with frilled aprons, any more than he held +with women assuming places that were not meant for them. + +But if the maids annoyed Borkins, his patience reached its breaking point +when Merriton--paying a flying visit to town--returned in company with a +short, thickset person, who spoke with a harsh, cockney accent, and whom +Merriton introduced as his "batman", "Whatever that might be," said +Borkins, holding forth to Dimmock, one of the under-grooms. James Collins +soon became a necessary part of the household machinery, a little cog in +fact upon which the great wheel of tragedy was soon to turn. + +Within a week he was completely at home in his new surroundings. Collins, +in fact, was the perfect "gentleman's servant" and thus he liked always +to think himself. Many a word he and Borkins had over their master's +likes and dislikes. But invariably Collins won out. While every other +servant in the place liked him and trusted him, the sight of his honest, +red face and his ginger eyebrows was enough to make Borkins look like a +thundercloud. + +The climax was reached one night in the autumn when the evening papers +failed to appear at their appointed time. Collins confronted Borkins with +the fact and got snubbed for his pains. + +"'Ere you," he said--he hadn't much respect for Borkins and made no +attempt to hide the fact--"what the dooce 'as become of his lordship's +pypers? 'Ave _you_ bin 'avin' a squint at 'em, ole pieface? Jist like +your bloomin' cheek!" + +"Not so much of your impidence, Mr. Collins," retorted Borkins. "When you +h'addresses a gentleman try to remember 'ow to speak to 'im. I've 'ad +nothink whatever to do with Sir Nigel's evenin' papers, and you know it. +If they're late, well, wouldn't it be worth your while to go down to the +station and 'ave a gentle word or two with one of the officials there?" + +"Oh well, then, old Fiddlefyce," retorted Collins, with a good-natured +grin, "don't lose yer wool over it; you ain't got any ter spare. 'Is +Lordship's been a-arskin' fer 'em, and like as not they ain't turned up. +Let's see what's the time? 'Arf-past eight." He shook his bullet-shaped +head. "Well, I'll be doin' as you say. Slap on me 'at and jacket and myke +off ter the blinkin' stytion. What's the shortest w'y, Borkins, me +beauty?" + +Borkins looked at him a moment, and his face went a dull brick colour. +Then he smirked sarcastically. + +"Like as not you're so brave you wouldn't mind goin' across the Fens," he +said. "Them there flames wouldn't be scarin' such a 'ero as Mr. James +Collins. Oh no! You'll find it a mile or so less than the three miles by +road. It's the shortest cut, but I don't recommend it. 'Owever, that lies +with you. I'll tell Sir Nigel where you're gone if 'e asks me, you may be +sure!" + +"Orl right! Across the Fens is the shortest, you says. Well, I'll try it +ternight and see. You're right fer once. I ain't afraid. It tykes more'n +twiddley little bits er lights ter scare James Collins, I tells yer. So +long." + +Borkins, standing at the window in the dining room and peering through +the dusk at Collins' sturdy figure as it swung past him down the drive, +bit his lip a moment, and made as if to go after him. + +"No, I'll be danged if I do!" he said suddenly. "If 'e knows such a lot, +well, let 'im take the risk. I warned 'im anyhow, so I've done my bit. +The flames'll do the rest." And he laughed. + +But James Collins did not come back, when he ought to have done, and the +evening papers arrived before him, brought by the station-master's son +Jacob. Jacob had seen nothing of Collins, and Merriton, who did not know +that the man had gone on this errand, made no remark when the hours went +slowly by, and no sign of Collins appeared. + +At eleven o'clock the household retired. Merriton, still ignorant of his +man's absence, went to bed and slept soundly. The first knowledge he +received of Collins' absence was when Borkins appeared in his bedroom in +the morning. + +"Where the deuce is Collins?" Merriton said pettishly, for he did not +like Borkins, and they both knew it. + +"That's exactly what I 'ave been tryin' ter find out, sir," responded +Borkins, bravely. "'E 'asn't been back since last night, so far as I +could make out." + +"_Last night?_" Merriton sat bolt upright in bed and ran his fingers +through his hair. "What the dickens do you mean?" + +"Collins went out last night, sir, to fetch your papers. Leastways that +was what he said he was goin' for," responded Borkins patiently, "and so +far as I knows he 'asn't returned yet. Whether he dropped into a public +'ouse on the way or not, I don't know, or whether he took the short cut +to the station across the Fens isn't for me to say. But--'e 'asn't come +back yet, sir!" + +Merriton looked anxious. Collins had a strong hold upon his master's +heart. He certainly wouldn't like anything to happen to him. + +"You mean to say," he said sharply, "that Collins went out last night to +fetch my papers from the station and was fool enough to take the short +cut across the Fens?" + +"I warned him against doin' so," said Borkins, "since 'e said 'e'd +probably go that way. That no Frozen Flames was a-goin' ter frighten 'im, +an'--an' 'is language was most offensive. But I've no doubt 'e went." + +"Then why the devil didn't you tell me last night?" exclaimed Merriton +angrily, jumping out of bed. "You knew the--the truth about Mr. Wynne's +disappearance, and yet you deliberately let that man go out to his death. +If anything's happened to James Collins, Borkins, I'll--I'll wring your +damned neck. Understand?" + +Borkins went a shade or two paler, and took a step backward. + +"Sir Nigel, sir--I--" + +"When did Collins go?" + +"'Arf past eight, sir!" Borkins' voice trembled a little. "And believe +me or not, sir, I did my best to persuade Collins from doin' such an +extremely dangerous thing. I begged 'im not to think o' doin' it, but +Collins is pig-'eaded, if you'll forgive the word, sir, and he was bent +upon gettin' your papers. I swear, sir, I ain't 'ad anythin' ter do with +it, and when 'e didn't come back last night before I went to bed I said +to meself, I said, 'Collins 'as dropped into a public 'ouse and made a--a +ass of hisself', I said. And thought no more about it, expectin' he'd be +in later. But 'is bed 'asn't been slept in, and there 's no sign of 'im +anywhere." + +Merriton twisted round upon his heel and looked at the man keenly for a +moment. + +"I'm fond of Collins, Borkins," he said abruptly. "We've known each other +a long time. I shouldn't like anything to happen to the chap while he's +in my service, that's all. Get out now and make enquiries in every +direction. Have Dimmock go down to the village. And ransack every public +house round about. If you can't find any trace of him--" his lips +tightened for a moment, "then I'll fetch in the police. I'll get the +finest detective in the land on this thing, I'll get Cleek himself if it +costs me every penny I possess, but I'll have him traced somehow. Those +devilish flames are taking too heavy a toll. I've reached the end of my +tether!" + +He waved Borkins out with an imperious hand, and went on with his +dressing, his heart sick. What if Collins had met with the same fate +as Dacre Wynne? What were those fiendish flames, anyhow, that men +disappeared completely, leaving neither sight nor sound? Surely there +was some brain clever enough to probe the mystery of them. + +"If Collins doesn't turn up this morning," he told himself as he shaved +with a very unsteady hand, "I'll go straight up to London by the twelve +o'clock train and straight to Scotland Yard. But I'll find him--damn +it, I'll find him." + +But no trace of James Collins could be found. He was gone--completely. No +one had seen him, no one but Borkins had known of his probable journey +across the Fens at night-time, and Borkins excused himself upon the plea +that Collins hadn't actually _said_ he was going that way. He had simply +vanished as Dacre Wynne had vanished, as Will Myers and all that long +list of others had vanished. Eaten up by the flames--and in Twentieth +Century England! But the fact remained. Dacre Wynne had disappeared, and +now James Collins had followed him. And a new flame shone among the +others, a newer, brighter flame than any before. Merriton saw it himself, +that was the devilish part of it. His own eyes had seen the thing appear, +just as he had seen it upon the night when Dacre Wynne had vanished. But +he didn't shoot at it this time. Instead, he packed a small bag, ran over +and said good-bye to 'Toinette and told her he was going to have a day in +town, but told her nothing else. Then he took the twelve o'clock train to +town. A taxi whisked him to Scotland Yard. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +--AND THE LADY + + +And this was the extraordinary chain of events which brought young +Merriton into Mr. Narkom's office that day while Cleek was sitting there, +and on being introduced as "Mr. Headland" heard the story from Sir +Nigel's lips. + +As he came to the last "And no trace of either body has ever been found," +Cleek suddenly switched round in his chair and exclaimed: + +"An extraordinary rigmarole altogether!" Meeting Merriton's astonished +eyes with his own keen ones, he went on: "The flames, of course, are a +plant of some sort. That goes without saying. But the thing to find out +is what they're there for to hide. When you've discovered that, you'll +have got half way to the truth, and the rest will follow as a matter of +course.... What's that, Mr. Narkom? Yes, I'll take the case, Sir Nigel. +My name's Cleek--Hamilton Cleek, at your service. Now let's hear the +thing all over again, please. I've one or two questions I'd like to ask." + +Merriton left Scotland Yard an hour later, lighter in heart than he +had been for some time--ever since, in fact, Dacre Wynne's tragic +disappearance had cast such a gloom over his life's happiness. He had +unburdened his soul to Cleek--absolutely. And Cleek had treated the +confession with a decent sort of respect which was enough to win any chap +over to him. Merriton in fact had found in Cleek a friend as well as a +detective. He had been a little astonished at his general get-up and +appearance, but Merriton had heard of his peculiar birthright, and felt +that the man himself was capable of almost anything. Certainly he proved +full of sympathetic understanding. + +Cleek understood the ground upon which he stood with regard to his +friendship with Dacre Wynne. He had, with a wonderful intuition, sensed +the peculiar influence of the man upon Nigel--this by look and gesture +rather than by use of tongue and speech. And Cleek had already drawn his +own conclusions. He heard of Nigel's engagement to Antoinette Brellier, +and of how Dacre Wynne had taken it, heard indeed all the little personal +things which Merriton had never told to any man, and certainly hadn't +intended telling to this one. + +But that was Cleek's way. He secured a man's confidence and by that +method got at the truth. A bond of friendship had sprung up between them, +and Cleek and Mr. Narkom had promised that before a couple of days were +over, they would put in an appearance at Fetchworth, and look into things +more closely. It was agreed that they were to pose as friends of Sir +Nigel, since Cleek felt that in that way he could pursue his +investigations unsuspected, and make more headway in the case. + +But there was but one thing Nigel hadn't spoken of, and that was the very +foolish and ridiculous action of his upon that fateful evening of the +dinner party. Only he and Doctor Bartholomew--who was as close-mouthed +as the devil himself over some things--knew of the incident of the +pistol-shooting, so far as Merriton was aware. And the young man was too +ashamed of the whole futile affair and what it very apparently proved to +the listener--that he had certainly drunk more than was good for him--to +wish any one else to share in the absurd little secret. It could have no +bearing upon the affair, and if 'Toinette got to hear of it, well, he'd +look all sorts of a fool, and possibly be treated to a sermon--a prospect +which he did not relish in the slightest. + +As he left the Yard and turned into the keen autumn sunshine, he lifted +his face to the skies and thanked the stars that he had come to London +after all and placed things in proper hands. There was nothing now for +him to do but to go back to Merriton Towers and as expeditiously as +possible make up for the day lost from 'Toinette. + +So, after a visit to a big confectioners in Regent Street, and another to +a little jeweller in Piccadilly, Merriton got into the train at Waterloo, +carrying his parcels with a happy heart. He got out at Fetchworth station +three hours later, hailed the only hack that stood there--for he had +forgotten to apprise any one at the Towers of his quick return--and drove +straightway to Withersby Hall. + +'Toinette was at the window as he swung open the great gate. When she saw +him she darted away and came flying down the drive to meet him. + +The contents of the various packages made her happy as a child, and it +was some time after they reached the house that Nigel asked some question +concerning her uncle. + +Her face clouded ever so little, and for the first time Nigel noticed +that she was pale. + +"Uncle has gone away for a few days," she replied. "He said it was +business--what would you? But I told him I should be lonesome in this +great house, and I--I am so frightened at those horrible little flames +that twinkle twinkle all night long. I cannot sleep when I am alone, +Nigel. I am a baby I know, but I cannot help it. It makes me feel so +afraid!" + +As was usual in moments of emotion with 'Toinette, her accent became more +pronounced. He stroked her hair with a gentle hand, as though she were in +very truth the child she tried not to be. + +"Poor little one! I wish I could come across and put up here for the +night. Hang conventions, anyway! And then too I have to make ready for +some visitors who will be down to-morrow or the next day." + +"Visitors, Nigel?" + +"Yes, dear. I've a couple of--friends coming to spend a short time with +me. Chaps I met in London to-day." + +"What did you go up for, Nigel--really?" + +He coloured a little, and was thankful that she turned away at that +moment to straighten the collar of her blouse. He didn't like lying to +the woman he was going to marry. But he had given his word to Cleek. + +"Oh," he said off-handedly, "I--I went to my tailor's. And then stepped +in to buy you that little trinket and your precious chocs, and came +along home again. Met these fellows on my way across town. Rather nice +chaps--one of 'em, anyhow. Used to know some friends of friends of his, +girl called Ailsa Lorne. And the other one happened to be there so I +asked him, too. They won't worry you much, 'Toinette. They're frightfully +keen about the country, and will be sure to go out shootin' and snuffin' +round like these town johnnies always do when they get in places like +this.... Well, as Mr. Brellier isn't here I suppose I'd better be making +my way home again. Wish we were married, 'Toinette. There'd be no more of +these everlasting separations then. No more nightmares for you, little +one. Only happiness and joy, and--and heaps of other rippin' things. +Never mind, we'll make it soon, won't we?" + +She raised her face suddenly and her eyes met his. There was a haunted +look in them that made him draw closer, his own face anxious. + +"What is it, dear?" he said in a low, worried tone. + +"Only--Dacre Wynne. Always Dacre Wynne these days," she replied +unsteadily. "Do you know, Nigel, I am a silly girl, I know, but somehow I +dare not think of marriage with you until--everything is finally cleared +up, and his death or disappearance, or whatever the dreadful affair was, +discovered. I feel in some inexplicable way responsible. It is as if his +spirit were standing between us and our happiness. Tell me I am foolish, +please." + +"You are more than foolish," said Nigel obediently, and laughed +carelessly to show her how he treated the thing. But in his heart he knew +her feelings, knew them and fully understood. It was exactly as he had +felt about it also. The bond that bound Dacre Wynne's life to his had not +yet been snapped, the mystery of his disappearance seemed only to +strengthen it. He wondered dully when he would ever feel free again, and +then laughed inwardly at himself for making a farce of the whole thing, +for building a mountain out of a stupid little molehill. And 'Toinette +was helping him. They were both unutterably foolish. Anyhow, Cleek was +coming soon to clear matters up. He wished with all his heart that he +might tell 'Toinette, and thus relieve the tension of her mind, but he +had given his word to Cleek, and with a man of his type his word was +sacred. + +So he kissed her good-bye and laughed, and went back to Merriton Towers +to prepare for their coming. But the cloud had dropped across his horizon +again, and the sun was once more obscured. There was no smile upon his +lips as he clanged the great front door to behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SECRET OF THE FLAMES + + +Fetchworth, as everybody knows, lies in that part of the Fen district +of Lincolnshire that borders on the coast, and in the curve of its +motherlike arm Saltfleet Bay, a tiny shipping centre with miniature +harbour, drowses its days in pleasant idleness. + +And so it was that upon the morning of Cleek's and Mr. Narkom's arrival +at Merriton Towers. They came disguised as two idlers interested in the +surrounding country, after having satiated themselves at the fountain of +London's gaieties, and bore the pseudonyms of "George Headland" and "Mr. +Gregory Lake" respectively. Cleek himself was primed, so to speak, on +every point of the landscape. He knew all about Fetchworth that there was +to know--saving the secret of the Frozen Flames, and that he was expected +to know very soon--and the traffic of Saltfleet Bay and its tiny harbour +was an open book to him. + +Even Withersby Hall and its environs had had the same close intensive +study, and everything that was to be learnt from guide-books, tourists' +enquiry offices and the like, was hidden away in the innermost recesses +of his remarkable brain. + +Borkins, standing at the smoking-room window--a favourite haunt of his +from which he was able to see without too ostensibly being seen--noted +their coming up the broad driveway, with something of disfavour in his +look. Merriton had given him certain directions only the night before, +and Borkins was a keen-sighted man. Also, the little fat johnny at any +rate, didn't quite look the type of man that the Merriton's were in the +habit of entertaining at the Towers. + +However, he opened the door with a flourish, and told the gentlemen that +"Sir Nigel is in the drorin'-room," whither he led them with much pomp. + +Cleek took in the place at a glance. Noted the wide, deep hallway; the +old-fashioned outlines of the house, smartened up freshly by the hands of +modern workmen; the set of each door and window that he passed, and +stowed away these impressions in the pigeon-holes of his mind. As he +proceeded to the drawing-room he set out in his mind's eye the whole +scene of that night's occurrence as had been related to him by Sir Nigel. +There was the smoking-room door, open and showing the type of room behind +it; there the hall-stand from which Dacre Wynne had fatefully wrenched +his coat and hat, to go lurching out into oblivion, half-drunk and +maddened with something more than intoxication--if Merriton had told his +story truly, and Cleek believed he had. It was, in fact, in that very +smoking-room that the legend which had led up to the tragedy had been +told. Hmm. There certainly was much to be cleared up here while he was +waiting for that other business at the War Office to adjust itself. He +wouldn't find time hanging heavily upon his hands there was no doubt of +that, and the thought that this man who had come to him for help was a +one-time friend of Ailsa Lorne's, the one dear woman in the world, added +fuel to the fire of his already awakened interest. + +He greeted Merriton with all the bored ennui of the part he had adopted, +during such time as he was under Borkins' watchful eye. Even Mr. Narkom +played his part creditably, and won a glance of approval from his justly +celebrated ally. + +"Hello, old chap," said Cleek, extending a hand, and screwing a monocle +still farther into his left eye. "Awfully pleased to see you, +doncherknow. Devilish long journey, what? Beastly fine place you've +got here, I must say. What you think, Lake?" + +Merriton gasped, bit his lip, and then suddenly realizing who the +gentleman thus addressing him was, made an attempt at the right sort of +reply. + +"Er--yes, yes, of course," he responded, though somewhat at random, for +this absolutely new creature that Cleek had become rather took his breath +away. "Afraid you're very tired and all that. Cold, Mr.--er Headland?" + +Cleek frowned at the slight hesitation before the name. He didn't want +to take chances of any one guessing his identity and Borkins was still +half-way within the room, and probably had sharp ears. His sort of man +had! + +"Not very," he responded, as the door closed behind the butler. "At least +that is, Sir Nigel,"--speaking in his natural voice--"it really was +pretty chilly coming down. Winter's setting in fast, you know. That your +man?" + +He jerked his head in the direction of the closed door, and twitched an +enquiring eyebrow. + +Merriton nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "that's Borkins. Looks a trustworthy specimen, +doesn't he? For my part I don't trust him farther than I can see him, +Mr.--er--Headland (awfully sorry but I keep forgetting your name +somehow). He's too shifty-eyed for me. What do you think?" + +"Tell you better when I've had a good look at him," responded Cleek, +guardedly. "And lots of honest men are shifty-eyed, Sir Nigel, and vice +versa. That doesn't count for anything, you know. Well, my dear Mr. Lake, +finding your part a bit too much for you?" he added, with a laugh, +turning to Mr. Narkom, who was sitting on the extreme edge of his chair, +mournfully fingering his collar, which was higher and tighter than the +somewhat careless affair which he usually adopted. "Never mind. As the +poet sings, 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women, etc.' +You're simply one of 'em, now. Try to remember that. And remember, also, +that the eyes of the gallery are not always upon you. Sir Nigel, I ask +you, isn't our friend's make-up the perfection of the--er--elderly +man-about-town?" + +Sir Nigel laughingly had to admit that it was, whereupon Mr. Narkom +blushed exceedingly, and--the ice was broken as Cleek had intended it +should be. + +They adjourned to the smoking-room, where a huge log-fire burnt in the +grate, and easy chairs invited. They discussed the topics of the day with +evident relish during such time as Borkins was in the room, and smoked +their cigars with the air of men to whom the hours were as naught, and +life simply a chessboard to move their little pieces upon as they willed. +But how soon they were to cry checkmate upon this case which they were +all investigating, even Cleek did not know. Then of a sudden he looked up +from his task of studying the fire with knitted brows. + +"By the way," he said off-handedly, "I hope you don't mind. My man will +be coming down by the next train with our traps. I never travel without +him, he's such a useful beggar. You can manage to put him up somewhere, +I suppose? I was a fool not to have mentioned it before, but the lad +entirely slipped my memory. He helps me, too, in other things, and there +is always a good deal to be learned from the servants' hall, you know, +Sir Nigel.... You can manage with Dollops, can't you? Otherwise he can +put up at the village inn." + +Merriton shook his head decisively. + +"Of course not, Mr. Headland. Wouldn't hear of such a thing. Anybody who +is going to be useful to you in this case is, as you know, absolutely +welcome to Merriton Towers. He won't get much out of Borkins though, +I don't mind telling you." + +"Hmm. Well that remains to be seen, doesn't it, Mr. Narkom?" returned +Cleek, with a smile. "Dollops has a way. And he knows it. I'll warrant +there won't be much that Borkins can keep from the sharp little devil! +Well, it seems to be getting dusk rapidly, Sir Nigel, what about those +flames now, eh? I'd like to have a look at 'em if it's possible." + +Merriton screwed his head round to the window, and noted the gathering +gloom which the fire and the electric lights within had managed to +neutralize. Then he got to his feet. There was a trace of excitement +in his manner. Here was the moment he had been waiting for, and here the +master-mind which, if anything ever could, must unravel this fiendish +mystery that surrounded two men's disappearances and a group of silly, +flickering little flames. + +He turned from the window with his eyes bright. + +"Look here," he said, rapidly. "They're just beginnin' to appear. See +'em? Mr. Cleek, see 'em? Now tell me what the dickens they are and how +they are connected with Dacre Wynne's disappearance." + +Cleek got to his feet slowly, and strode over to the window. In the +gathering gloom of the early winter night, the flames were flashing out +one by one, here and there and everywhere hanging low against the grass +across the bar of horizon directly in front of them. Cleek stared at them +for a long time. Mr. Narkom coming up behind him peered out over his +shoulder, rubbed his eyes, looked again and gave out a hasty "God bless +my soul!" of genuine astonishment, then dropped into silence again, his +eyes upon Cleek's face. Sir Nigel, too, was watching that face, his own +nervous, a trifle distraught. + +But Cleek stood there at the window with his hands in his trousers' +pockets, humming a little tune and watching this amazing phenomenon which +a whole village had believed to be witchcraft, as though the thing +surprised him not one whit; as though, in fact, he was a trifle amused +at it. Which indeed he was. + +Finally he swung round upon his heels and looked at each of the faces in +turn, his own broadening into a grin, his eyes expressing incredulity, +wonderment, and lastly mirth. At length he spoke: + +"Gad!" he ejaculated with a little whistle of astonishment. "You mean +to tell me that a whole township has been hanging by the heels, so to +speak, upon as ridiculously easy an affair as that?" He jerked his thumb +outward toward the flames and threw back his head with a laugh. "Where +is your 'general knowledge' which you learnt at school, man? Didn't they +teach you any? What amazes me most is that there are others--forgive +me--equally as ignorant. Want to know what those flames are, eh?" + +"Well, rather!" + +"Well, well, just to think that you've actually been losing sleep on it! +Shows what asses we human beings are, doesn't it? No offence meant, of +course. As for you, Mr. Narkom--or Mr. Gregory Lake, as I must remember +to call you for the good of the cause--I'm ashamed of you, I am indeed! +You ought to know better, a man of your years!" + +"But the flames, Cleek, the flames!" There was a tension in Merriton's +voice that spoke of nerves near to the breaking point. Instantly Cleek +was serious. He reached out a hand and laid it upon the young man's +shoulder. Merriton was trembling, but he steadied under the grip, just +as it was meant that he should. + +"See here," Cleek said, bluntly, "you oughtn't to work yourself up into +such a state. It's not good for you; you'll go all to pieces one of these +days. Those flames, eh? Why I thought any one knew enough about natural +phenomena to answer that question. But it seems I'm wrong. Those flames +are nothing more nor less than marsh gas, Sir Nigel, evolved from the +decomposition of vegetation, and therefore only found in swampy regions +such as this. Whew! and to think that here is a community that has been +bowing down to these things as symbols from another world!" + +"Marsh gas, Mr.--" + +"Headland, please. It is wiser, and will help better to remember when the +necessity arises," returned Cleek, with a smile. "Yes, that is all they +are--the outcome of marsh gas." + +"But what _is_ marsh gas, Mr.--Headland?" Merriton's voice was still +strained. + +Cleek motioned to a chair. + +"Better sit down to it, my young friend," he said, gently. "Because, to +one who isn't interested, it is an extremely dull subject. However, it is +better that you should know--as you don't seem to have learnt it at +school. Here goes: marsh gas, or methane as it is sometimes called, is +the first of the group of hydrocarbons known as paraffins. Whether that +conveys anything to you I don't know. But you've asked for knowledge and +I mean you to have it." He smiled again, and Merriton gravely shook his +head, while Mr. Narkom, dropping for the time being his air of pompous +boredom, became the interested listener in every line of his ample +proportions. + +"Go on, old chap," he said eagerly. + +"Methane," said Cleek, serenely, "is a colourless, absolutely +odourless gas, slightly soluble in water. It burns with a yellowish +flame--which golden tinge you have no doubt noticed in these famous +flames of yours--with the production of carbonic acid and water. In the +neighbourhood of oil wells in America, and also in the Caucasus, if my +memory doesn't fail me, the gas escapes from the earth, and in some +districts--particularly in Baku--it has actually been burning for years +as sacred fires. A question of atmosphere and education, you see, Sir +Nigel." + +"Good Heavens! Then you mean to say that those beastly things out there +are not lit by any human or superhuman agency at all!" exploded Merriton +at this juncture. "And that they have nothing whatever to do with the +vanishing of Wynne and Collins?" + +Cleek shook his head emphatically. + +"Pardon me," he said, "but I didn't say that. The first part of the +sentence I agree with entirely. Those so-called flames are lit only by +the hand of the Infinite. And the Infinite is always mysterious, Sir +Nigel. But as to whether they have any bearing upon the disappearances of +those two men is a horse of another colour. We'll look into that later +on. In coal-mines marsh gas is considered highly dangerous, and the +miners call it fire-damp. But that is by the way. What enters into the +immediate question is the fact that there is a patch of charred grass +upon the Fens where you say the vanished man, Dacre Wynne's footprints +suddenly ended. Hmm." + +He stopped speaking suddenly, and getting up again crossed over to the +window. He stood for a moment looking out of it, his brows drawn down, +his face set in the stern lines that betokened concentration of thought. + +Mr. Narkom and Merriton watched him with something of wonder in their +eyes. To Merriton, at any rate, who really knew so little of Cleek's +unique and powerful mind, the fact of a policeman having such extensive +information was surprising in the extreme. + +"You don't think, then," he said, breaking the silence that had fallen +upon them, "that this--er--marsh gas could have caused the death of Wynne +and Collins? Burnt 'em alive, so to speak?" + +Cleek did not move at this question. They merely saw his shoulders twitch +as though he didn't wish to be bothered at the moment. + +"Don't know," he said laconically, "and if that were true, where are +the bodies?... Gad! Just as I thought! Come here, gentlemen, this may +interest you. See that flame there! It's no more natural marsh gas than +I am! There's human agency all right, Sir Nigel. There's natural marsh +gas and there are--other things as well. Those marsh lights are being +augmented. But for what purpose? What reason? That's the thing we've got +to find out." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"AS A THIEF IN THE NIGHT--" + + +The arrival of Dollops lighted a spark of great interest in the servants' +hall. The newly engaged maids accepted him for his youth and sharp +manners, as an innovation which they rather fancied than otherwise. +Borkins alone stood aloof. It seemed to the man that here, in Dollops' +lithe, young form, in the very ginger of his carrotty hair, in the +stridency of this cockney accent--which Cleek had endeavoured to +eradicate without a particle of success--was the reembodiment of the +older, shorter, more mature James Collins. To hear him speak in that +sharp, young voice of his was to make the hair upon one's neck prick in +supernatural discomfort. It was as though James Collins had come back to +life again in the form of this East Side youngster, who was so extremely +unlike his drawling, over-pampered master. + +But Dollops had been primed for his task, and set to work at it with a +will. + +"Been in these 'ere parts long, Mr. Borkins?" he queried as they all sat +at supper, and he himself munched bread and butter and fish paste with a +vigour that was lacking in only one quality--manners. + +Borkins sniffed, and passed up his cup to the housekeeper. + +"Before you were born, I dessay," he responded tartly. + +"Is that so, Methuselah?" Dollops gave a little boyish giggle at sight +of the butler's face. "Well, seein' as I'm gettin' along in life, +you must be a good way parst the meridian, if yer don't mind my sayin' +so.... Funny thing, on the way down I run across a chap wot's visitin' +pals in this 'ere village, and 'e pulls me the strangest yarn as ever a +body 'eard. Summink to do wiv flames it were--Frozen Flames or icicles or +frost of some kind. But 'e was so full up of mystery that there weren't +no gettin' nuffin out er 'im. Any one 'ere tell me the story? 'E fair got +me curiosity fired, 'e did!" + +A glance laden with sinister meaning flew around the table. Borkins +cleared his throat as every eye fastened itself upon him, and he swelled +visibly beneath his brass-buttoned waistcoat. + +"If you're any wiser than you look, young man, you'll leave well alone, +and not go stickin' your fingers in other peoples' pie!" he gave out +sententiously. "Yes, there is a story--and a very unpleasant one, too. +If you use your eyes to-night and look out of the smoking-room window as +dusk comes on, you'll see the Frozen Flame for yerself, and won't want to +be arskin' me any fool questions about it. One of the servants 'ere--and +a rude, unmannerly London creetur 'e was too!--disappeared a while ago, +goin' out across the Fens after night-time when 'e was warned not to. +Never seen a sight of 'im since--though I'm not mournin' any, as you kin +see!" + +"_Go on!_" Dollops' voice expressed incredulity, amazement, and an awed +interest that rather flattered the butler. + +"True as I'm sittin' 'ere!" he responded grimly. "And before that a +friend of Sir Nigel's--a fine, big upstandin' man 'e were, name of +Wynne--went the same way. Got a little the worse for drink and laughed +at the story. Said 'e'd go out and investigate for 'imself. 'E never come +back from that day to this!" + +"Gawd's truf! 'Ow orful! You won't find yer 'umble a 'ankerin' after the +fresh air come night-time!" broke in Dollops with a little shiver of +terror that was remarkably real. "I'll keep to me downy thank you, an' as +you say, Mr. Borkins, leave well enough alone. You're a wise gentleman, +you are!" + +Borkins, flattered, still further expanded. + +"I won't say as all you cockney chaps are the same as Collins," he +returned magnanimously, "for it takes all kinds ter make a world. If you +feels inclined some time, I'll walk you down to the Pig and Whistle and +you shall 'ave a word or two with a chap I know. 'E'll tell yer somethink +that'll make your 'air stand on end. You jist trot along ter me when +you're free, and we'll take a little stroll together." + +Dollops' countenance widened into a delighted grin. + +Later, Dollops, in the act of laying out Cleek's clothes for dinner, +while Cleek himself unpacked leisurely and made the braces that held the +mirror of the dressing-table gay with multi-coloured ties, gave out the +news of his promised visit to the Pig and Whistle with the august Borkins +with something akin to triumph. + +"That's right, lad, that's right. Get friendly with 'em!" returned Cleek +with a pleased smile. "I've an idea we're going to have a pretty lively +time down here, if I'm not much mistaken. Stick to that chap Borkins as +you would to glue. Don't let him get away from you. Follow him wherever +he goes, but don't let the other servants in the place slip out from your +watchful eye, either. Those Frozen Flames want looking into. I have grave +suspicions of Borkins. His sort generally knows more than almost any +other sort, and he appeared to be sizing me up pretty carefully. I +shouldn't wonder at all, if he had an idea already that I am not the 'man +about town' I appear to be. It will be rotten luck if he has.... Time I +got into my togs, boy.... Here, just hand me that shirt, will you?" + +That night certainly proved an even more exciting one than Cleek had +prophesied. The household retired early, as country households are apt +to do, but Cleek, however, did not undress. He sat at his window, which +faced upon the Fens, watching the trail of the flames dancing across the +horizon of night, and trying to solve the riddle that he had come to find +the answer to. + +He heard the church clock in the distance chime out the hour of twelve; +and still he sat on. The peace of the quiet night stole over him, filling +his active brain with a restfulness that had been foreign to it for some +time in the stress of his busy life in London. He felt glad he had taken +up this case, if only for the view of the countryside at night, the +stillness of the untrod marshes, and the absolute absence of every living +thing at this hour. + +The clock chimed one, and he heeded it not. Two--half-past--. Of a sudden +he sat bolt upright, then got noiselessly to his feet and glided across +the floor to where his bed stood--a monstrous black object with heavy +canopy and curtains, a relic of the Victorianism in which this house was +born. He moved like a cat, absolutely without sound, fleet, sure. His +fingers found the coverlet and he tore it down, tumbling the clothes and +pushing down the pillow so that it looked as if he himself lay there, +peacefully sleeping beneath the sheltering blankets.... Then, still +noiseless, panther-like, he slid his lithe figure under the bed.... Then +the noise came again. Just the whisper of footsteps in the wide hall, and +then--his door opened soundlessly and for a moment the footsteps stopped. +He could feel a presence in the room. If it were Dollops the lad would +give some sign. If not--He lay still, scarcely breathing in the +enveloping darkness. The footsteps came again, softly, softly padding +across the room toward him. He saw the black shadows of stockinged feet +as they crossed the path of moonlight, and sucked in his breath. Man's +feet!... Whose?... Then something shook the bedstead with tremendous +force, but without sound. It was as if some object had been hurled +forcibly into its softness. The footsteps turned again, hurriedly this +time, and there was a sound of a deep-drawn breath--a breath full of +pent-up, passionate hatred. Then the figure ran lightly across the room, +and as it flashed for a moment through the bar of moonlight, Cleek looked +out from his safe hiding-place and--_saw_! The eyes were narrowed in the +ivory-tinted face, the jaw heavy and undershot as a bull-dog's, while a +dark coloured mustache straggled untidily across the upper lip. The +moonlight, cruelly clear, picked out the point of something sharp that +shone in one clenched hand, something that looked like a knife--that +_was_ a knife. + +Then the figure vanished and the door closed noiselessly behind him. + +Hmm. So this question of the Frozen Flame was as urgent as all that, was +it? To attempt to murder him, here--in the house of the Squire of +Fetchworth. He wriggled out of his hiding place, a little stiff from +the cramped position he had held, and guardedly lit his candle. Then he +surveyed the bed with set mouth and narrowed eyes. There was a sharp +incision through the clothes, an incision quite three inches long, that +had punctured the pillow which lay beneath them--the pillow that had +saved him his life--and buried itself in the mattress beneath. Gad! a +powerful hand that! He stood a moment thinking, pinching up his chin the +while. He had had his suspicions of Borkins, but the face that he had +seen in the moonlight was not the butler's face. _Whose, then, was it?_ + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A GRUESOME DISCOVERY + + +Through the long watches of the night Cleek sat there thinking, his chin +sunk in one hand, his eyes narrowed down to pin-points, the whole alert +personality of the man vitally dominant. No, he would not tell any one +of the happening except Dollops and Mr. Narkom. It would only invite +suspicion, throw the house into a state of unrest which was the very +thing that he was anxious to avoid. As dawn broke, and the danger for +that night was past, he got to his feet, plunged his face into cold +water, which cleared away the cobwebs, undressed, and then tackled the +question of the injured bedding. + +The mattress could be turned--that was easy enough, and the slit would +probably not be noticed. The bedclothes, too, might be turned the other +way up, and with care the injured parts tucked in tightly at the bottom. +It would leave them a little short at the top perhaps, but that couldn't +be helped. Suspicion must be allayed at all costs. Time enough to bring +the would-be murderer to justice when he had solved the riddle in its +entirety. There were two pillows, so he took the damaged one, tore off +its case, and tucked that away in his kit-bag, pushed the bag under the +bed, and then set about the remaking, with some small success. At least +for the time, the incisions in the blanket and sheets would not be +noticed, and in the morning he would invent some excuse to have them +changed. + +The early morning cup of tea, brought at eight by a dainty chambermaid in +cap and starched blue dress, supplied the need quite nicely. He nodded to +her as she left the room, and then, when the door closed, upset the cup +on the coverlet, letting the liquid soak through. Then he got up and +dressed himself with something like a smile upon his lips. + +At breakfast, a housemaid waited upon them, and Cleek ate lustily, with +the appetite that is born of good health, and a mind at peace with the +world. Toward the end of the meal, however, Borkins came in. He glanced +casually over the group at the table, let his eyes rest for a moment upon +Cleek, and then--dropped an empty dish he was carrying. As he stooped to +recover it, all chance of seeing how the appearance of the man who had so +nearly met his death last night affected him, was gone. He came up again +still the same, quiet, dignified Borkins of yore. Not a gleam of anything +but the most obsequious interest in the task before him marred the +tranquillity of his features. If the man knew anything, then he was +a fine actor. But--did he? That was the question that interested Cleek +during the remainder of the meal. + +After it was over, Mr. Narkom and Sir Nigel went off to the smoking room +for a quiet cigarette before setting to the real business of the day, and +Cleek was left to follow them at his leisure. Borkins was pottering about +the table as the two men left the breakfast room, and Cleek stood in the +doorway. + +"Peaceful night, last night, eh, Borkins?" he said with a slight laugh. +"That's the best of this blessed country life of yours. Chap rests so +well. Talk about the simple life--" He broke off and laughed again, +watching Borkins pick up a clean fork and carry it to the plate-basket +upon the sideboard. + +The man retained his perfect dignity and ease of manner. + +"Quite so, sir. Quite so. I trust you slept well." + +"Pretty well--_for a strange bed_," returned Cleek with emphasis, and +turned upon his heel. "If you see my man you might send him along to me. +I want to arrange with him about suits that are coming down from my +tailor's." + +"Very good, sir." + +Cleek joined the two men with something akin to admiration for the +butler's impassiveness in his heart. If he knew anything, then he was +a past master in the art of repression. On the other hand perhaps he +didn't--and there was really no reason why he should. Eavesdropping was +a common enough fault with the best of servants, and curiosity a failing +of most men. Borkins might be--and possibly was--absolutely innocent of +any knowledge of last night's affair. And yet, how did the knowledge, +that he was not altogether what he seemed, leak out? It was a puzzle to +which, as yet, Cleek could find no answer. + +Mr. Narkom greeted Cleek enthusiastically when he joined him. + +"I'm off on a tour of investigation in a few minutes," he announced. +"Petrie and Hammond arrived last night, as you know, and are putting up +at the village inn. I'm meeting them at the edge of the Fens at ten +o'clock. Then we're going to have a good look to see if we can find the +bodies of the two men who have vanished. You coming along?" + +Cleek nodded, and the queer little one-sided smile travelled up his +cheek. + +"Certainly, my dear Lake. I'd be delighted. Sir Nigel, of course, has +other business to attend to. It's ten minutes to ten now. If you're going +you'd better step lively. Ah," as Dollops's figure appeared in the +doorway, "if you'll excuse me, Sir Nigel, I'll just have a word or two +with my man." His voice dropped several tones as he addressed the boy and +they moved away together. "Mr. Lake and I are going out for a walk across +the Fens. Petrie and Hammond will be there at ten. I'd like you to join +'em. Better nip along now." + +"Yessir." + +"And--Dollops"--he beckoned him back and bent his head to the lad's +ear, speaking in a voice that none heard but the one it was intended +for--"keep a sharp look-out. I had a narrow escape last night. Someone +tried to stab me in bed but he got my pillow instead--" + +"_Gawdamercy_, Guv'nor!--" + +"Ssh. And there's no need to worry. I'm still here, you see. But keep +your eyes and your ears open, and if you see any strange men hanging +around, report to me at once." + +Dollops's usually pale, freckled countenance went a shade paler, and he +caught at Cleek's arm as though he were loath to let it go. + +"But, sir," he whispered in a hoarse undertone, "you won't go a-knocking +about alone, will yer? If anythin' were to 'appen to you--I--I'd go along +and commit that there 'harum-scarum' wot the Japanese are so fond o' +doin'--on the spot!" + +Cleek could barely restrain a laugh. The whispered conversation had taken +the merest fraction of a minute and, during it, he had had full view of +the green baize door which led down to the servants' quarters. Borkins +had gone through it some time before. Then he heard the butler's deep, +measured tones in the garden, and caught sight of him talking to one of +the grooms in the courtyard. He heaved something like a sigh of relief. + +Dollops left, and Cleek then rejoined the two men who stood talking +together in low, earnest tones. + +"Now," said he, briskly, "if you're ready, Mr. Lake, I am. Let us be off. +Sir Nigel, I hope by dinner time to have some sort of news to impart to +you, whether good or ill remains to be seen. By the way, have you, in +your employ, a dark, square-faced individual, with close-set eyes and a +straggling moustache? Rather undershot, too, I believe? It would be +interesting to me to know." + +Merriton considered for a moment. + +"Tell you the truth, Mr. Headland, I can't fit the description in +anywhere among the people here," he said after a pause. "Dimmock's +fairish--though he _has_ got a moustache, but it's a military one, and +Borkins is, of course, smooth shaven. The other men are clean-shaved, +too, except for old Doughty, the head gardener, and he wears a full, gray +beard. Why?" + +Cleek shook his head. + +"Nothing important. I was only just wondering. Now then, Lake, you'll be +late if you loiter any longer, and our--er--friends will be waiting. +Good-bye, Sir Nigel, and good luck. Lunch at one-fifteen, I take it?" + +He swung upon his heel and linked his arm with Mr. Narkom's, then, taking +his cap from a peg on the hall stand, clapped it on his head and went +down and out to the task that awaited him, and a discovery which was, +to say the least of it, startling in the extreme. + +They walked for some time in comparative silence, puffing at their +cigarettes. Then of a sudden, Cleek spoke. + +"I say, old man, you'll want to keep a close look-out upon your own +personal safety," he said, abruptly, wheeling round and meeting his +friend full in the eyes. + +"What d'you mean, C--Headland?" + +"What I say. Someone's got wind of our real purpose here. I have a grave +suspicion that that Borkins was listening at my door last evening when +I was talking to Dollops. Later--well, somebody or other tried to get me +in bed. But I was one too many for him--" + +"My dear Cleek!" + +"Mr. Lake, I beg of you--not so loud!" ejaculated Cleek. "There are ears +everywhere, which you as a policeman ought to know. Do remember my name +and don't go losing any sleep over me. I can take care of myself, all +right. But I had to do it pretty energetically last night. A thoughtful +visitor stabbed the pillow I'd placed in bed instead of my humble self, +and cut an incision three inches deep. Hit the mattress, too!" + +"Headland, my God--!" + +"Now, don't take on so. I tell you I can take care of myself, but you do +the same. No one in the house knows a word about it, and I don't intend +that they shall. The less said the better, in a case like this. Only +those Frozen Flames are trying to eat up something that is either very +serious or very money-making. One thing or the other.... Hello, here we +are! Mornin' Petrie; mornin' Hammond. All ready for the search I see." + +The two constables, clad in plain clothes and accompanied by Dollops, +were holding in their hands long pitchforks which looked more as if they +were ready for haymaking than for the gruesome task ahead of them all. +Petrie carried upon his arm a roll of rope. They swung into step behind +the detectives, across the uneven, marshy ground. + +It was a chilly morning, and inclined to rain. Across the flat horizon +the mist hung in wraithlike forms of cloudy gray, and the deep grass into +which they plunged their feet was beaded with dew. For a time they walked +on quietly until they had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile. Then Cleek +halted. + +"Better separate here," he said, waving his arm out across the sweep of +flat country. "Dollops, you take the right with Petrie. Hammond, you'd +better try the left. Mr. Narkom and I will go straight ahead together. +Any discovery made, just give the usual signal." + +They separated at once, their feet upon the thick marshy ground leaving +numberless footprints in the moist rank grass, which crushed under them +like wet hay. Their heads were bent, their eyes fixed upon the ground, +their faces bearing a look of utter concentration. Cleek watched them +moving slowly across the wide, flat reaches of the Fens, stopping now and +then to poke among the rank marsh-grass, and prod into the earth, and +then turned to Mr. Narkom. + +"Good fellows--those three," he said with a smile. "What more can you ask +than that? Straight ahead for us, Mr. Narkom. Sir Nigel tells me the +patch of charred grass lies in a direct line with the edge of the Fens +where we started our search. I'm keen to have a look at it." + +Mr. Narkom nodded, and walked on, poking here and there with his stout +walking stick. Cleek did likewise. They rarely spoke, simply pushed and +poked and trod the grass down; searching, searching, searching, as had +those other men upon the night of Dacre Wynne's disappearance. But they +had searched in vain for any clue which would lead to the elucidation of +the mystery. + +Suddenly Cleek stopped. He pointed a little ahead of him with his walking +stick. + +"There you are!" said he briskly. "The patch of charred grass." He strode +up to it, stopped and bent his eyes upon it, then suddenly exclaimed: +"Look here! Below at the roots the fresh grass is springing up in little +tender green shoots. That patch'll disappear shortly. And"--he stopped +and sucked in his breath, wheeling round upon Mr. Narkom--"when you come +to think of it, why shouldn't it have grown up already? There's been time +enough since the man Wynne's disappearance to cover up all those singed +ends in a new growth. Can't be that it's done on _purpose_, and yet--why +is it still here?" + +"Perhaps some sign or something," suggested Mr. Narkom. + +"Possibly, something of the sort. And if we have signs then there must +be something human behind all this talk of supernatural agents," +returned Cleek. "Let us take it that this patch of charred grass _hides_ +something, or marks the way to something, something buried underneath it, +or lying near by. Eh--what's that?" + +"That" was a cat-call ringing out across the misty silences from the +direction in which Dollops and Petrie had gone. + +"They've found something!" cried out Mr. Narkom, in a hoarse whisper of +excitement. + +"Obviously. Well, this other thing will wait. We'll go after them." + +The two of them hastened off in the direction of the repeated cat-call, +and soon came upon Dollops bending over something, his eyes rather +scared, just as Hammond arrived from the other direction in answer to the +summons. Petrie, too, appeared rather nervous. As Cleek came up to them, +his eyes fell upon the ground, and he stopped stock still. + +"_Gad!..._ Where did you find it?" + +"Here, sir; half buried, but with the 'ead a-stickin' out!" returned +Petrie. "Dollops and I pulled it out and--and 'ere it is." + +Cleek glanced down at the body of a heavily built man, clad in evening +clothes, and already in an advanced state of decomposition. "Looks like +it was that chap Wynne," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Answers the +description all right. The other man was short and red-headed. And the +evening clothes are well cut from what I can see. Must have been a +handsome chap--once.... Well, we'll have to get this very gruesome find +back to the Towers as quickly as possible. Got your oilskin with you, +Petrie?" + +"Yessir!" Petrie miraculously produced the roll from under his tunic and +spread the sheet out. Then they lifted up the body and wrapped it about +so that the covering hid the awfulness of it from view. Mr. Narkom mopped +his forehead with his handkerchief. + +"Cinnamon, Cleek!" he ejaculated, breathlessly. "Pretty awful, isn't it? +Was it much hidden, Petrie? Funny the other people didn't find it when +they searched!" + +"No, sir--plain as a pikestaff!" returned Petrie importantly, for he felt +the burden of responsibility and hoped that this would mean promotion. +Dollops, who was by no means a regular member of the force, simply looked +at Cleek with considerable pride fighting through the natural horror that +the find had given birth to. + +"Funny thing!" broke in Cleek at this juncture. "The only solution must +be that the body was placed there some time _after_ death.... Leave it a +little longer, boys, and we'll have a further search in this direction. +We may come upon poor Collins in a similar fashion--though thank Heaven +his disappearance didn't happen quite so long ago." + +They took a few steps farther in the same direction and--stopped +simultaneously. Before their eyes lay the figure of Collins, in his +discreet black clothes, his red head against a tuffet of moss, and a +bullet wound in his temple. + +"God!" said Cleek, softly, and sucked in his breath. "Two of 'em. And +like this!... Looks like a plant, doesn't it? Poor chap!... And yet +Merriton declared that he, as well as others, had searched every inch of +this ground over and over again. Seems fishy. To find 'em both here--so +close together.... Let's have a look at the other poor chap.... Hmm. +Bullet wound through the right temple, too. Small-calibre revolver." + +He bent down and examined the head carefully through his magnifying +glass, then got slowly to his feet. + +"Well, Mr. Narkom," said he, steadily, "nothing to be done at present, +but to get these bodies back to the Towers. After that they can take 'em +to the village mortuary if they like. But I've one or two things I'd like +to ask you Merriton, and one or two things I want to examine. Gad! it's a +beastly task, boys. That sheet's big enough, thank fortune! Cross the +pitchforks, Petrie, and make a sort of stretcher out of them, that way. +That's right. Now then, forward.... Gad! _what_ a morning!" + +But if he had known just exactly what the rest of that morning was to +bring forth, indeed before lunch was served at one-fifteen, he might have +hesitated to pass judgment upon it so soon. + +Slowly the cavalcade wended its way across the rank grass.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SPIN OF THE WHEEL + + +Merriton stood at the study window, looking out, and pulling at his +cigar with an air of profound meditation. Upon the hearth-rug Doctor +Bartholomew, clad in baggy tweeds, stood tugging at his beard and watched +the man's back with kindly, troubled eyes. + +"Don't like it, Nigel, my boy; don't like it at all!" he ejaculated, +suddenly, in his close-clipped fashion. "These detectives are the very +devil to pay. Get 'em in one's house and they're like doctors--including, +of course, my humble self--difficult to get out. Part of the profession, +my boy. But a beastly nuisance. Seems to me I'd rather have the mystery +than the men. Simpler, anyway. And fees, you know, are heavy." + +Merriton swung round upon his heel suddenly, his brows like a thunder +cloud. + +"I don't care a damn about that," he broke out angrily. "Let 'em take +every penny I've got, so long as they solve the thing! But I can't get +away from it--I just can't. Hangs over me night and day like the sword of +Damocles! Until the mystery of Wynne's disappearance is cleared up, I +tell you 'Toinette and I can't marry. She feels the same. And--and--we've +the house all ready, you know, everything fixed and in order, except +_this_. When poor old Collins disappeared, too, I found I'd reached my +limit. So here these detectives are, and, on the whole, jolly decent +chaps I find 'em." + +Doctor Bartholomew shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "Have it your own +way, my boy." But what he really _did_ say was: + +"What are their names?" + +"Young chap's Headland--George or John Headland, I don't remember quite +which. Other one's Lake--Gregory Lake." + +"H'm. Good name that, Nigel. Ought to be some brains behind it. But I +never did pin my faith on policemen, you know, boy. Scotland Yard's made +so many mistakes that if it hadn't been for that chap Cleek, they'd have +ruined themselves altogether. Now, he's a man, if you like! Pity you +couldn't get _him_ while you're about it." + +The impulse to tell who "George Headland" really was to this firm friend +who had been more than a father to him, even in the old days, and who had +made a point of dropping down upon him, informally, ever since the +trouble over Dacre Wynne's disappearance, took hold of Nigel. But he +shook it off. He had given his word. And if he could not tell 'Toinette, +then no other soul in the universe should know. So he simply tossed his +shoulders, and, going back to the window, looked out of it, to hide the +something of triumph which had stolen into his face. + +Truth to tell, he was obsessed with a feeling that something _was_ +going to happen, and happen soon. The premonition, to one who was not +used to such things, carried all the more conviction. With Cleek on the +track--anything might happen. Cleek was a man for whom things never stood +still, and his amazing brain was concentrated upon this problem as it +had been concentrated--successfully--upon others. Merriton had a feeling +that it was only a matter of time. + +Then, just as he was standing there, humming something softly beneath his +breath, the cavalcade, headed by Cleek and Mr. Narkom, rather grim and +silent, reached the gateway. Behind them--Merriton gave a sudden cry +which brought the doctor to his side--behind them three men were carrying +something--something bulky and large and wrapped in a black oilskin +tarpaulin. And one of the men was Headland's servant, Dollops! He +recognized that, even as his inner consciousness told him that his +"something" was about to happen now. + +"Gad! they've found the body," he exclaimed, in a hoarse, excited voice, +fairly running to the front door and throwing it open with a crash that +rang through the old house from floor to rafters, and brought Borkins +scuttling up the kitchen stairs at a pace that was ill-befitting his age +and dignity. Merriton gave him a curt order. + +"Have the morning-room door thrown open and the sofa pulled out from +against the wall. My friends have been for a walk across the Fens, and +have found something. You can see them coming up the drive. What d'you +make of it?" + +"Gawd! a haccident, Sir Nigel," said Borkins, in a shaky voice. "'Adn't I +better tell Mrs. Mummery to put the blue bedroom in order and 'ave plenty +of 'ot water?..." + +"No." Merriton was running down the front steps and flung the answer back +over his shoulder. "Can't you use your eyes? It's a body, you fool--a +body!" + +Borkins gasped a moment, and then stood still, his thin lips sucked in, +his face unpleasant to see. He was alone in the hallway, for Doctor +Bartholomew's fat figure was waddling in Merriton's wake. + +He put up his fist and shook it in their direction. + +"Pity it ain't your body, young upstart that you are!" he muttered +beneath his breath, and turned toward the morning room. + +Meanwhile Merriton had reached the solemn little party and was walking +back beside Cleek, his face chalky, the pupils of his eyes a trifle +dilated with excitement. + +"Found 'em? Found 'em _both_, you say, Mr. Headland?" he kept on +repeating over and over again, as they mounted the steps together. "Good +God! What a strange--what a peculiar thing! I'll swear there was no sight +nor sign of them when I've tramped over the Fens dozens of times. I don't +know what to make of it, I don't indeed!" + +"Oh, we'll make something of it all right," returned Cleek, with a sharp +look at him, for there was one thing he wanted to find out, and he meant +to do that as soon as possible. "Two and two, you know, put together +properly, always make four. It's only the fools of the world that add +wrong. If you'd had as much practice as I've had in dealing with +humanity, you'd find it was an ever-increasing astonishment to see the +way things dovetail in.... Who's this, by the way?" + +He jerked his head in the direction of the doctor, who had stopped at the +foot of the steps and waited for them to come up to him. + +"Oh, a very old friend of mine, Mr. Headland. Doctor Bartholomew. Has a +very big practice in town, but a trifle eccentric, as you can see at +first glance." + +Cleek sent his keen eyes over the odd-looking figure in the worn tweeds. + +"I see. Then can you tell me how he finds time to run down here at +leisure and visit you? Seems to me a man with a big practice never has +enough time to work it in. At least, that has been my experience of +doctors." + +Merriton flushed angrily at the tone. He whipped his head round and met +Cleek's cool gaze hotly. + +"I know you're down here to investigate the case, but I don't think +there's any reason for you to start suspecting my friends," he retorted, +his eyes flashing. "Doctor Bartholomew has a partner, if you want to +know. And also he's supposed to be retired. But he carries on for the +love of the thing. Best man ever breathed--remember that!" + +Cleek smiled to himself at the sudden onslaught. The young pepper-pot! +Yet he liked him for the loyal defence of his friend, nevertheless. There +were all too few creatures in the world who found it impossible to +suspect those whom they cared for, and who cared for them. + +"Sorry to have given any offence, I'm sure," he said, smoothly. "None was +meant, right enough, Sir Nigel. But a policeman has an unpleasant duty, +you know. He's got to keep his eyes and his ears open. So if you find +mine open too far, any time, just tip me the wink and I'll shut 'em up +again." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Merriton, mollified, and a trifle shamefaced +at the outburst. Then, with an effort to turn the conversation: "But +think of findin' 'em both, Mr.--er--Headland! Were they--very awful?" + +"Pretty awful," returned Cleek, quietly; "eh, Mr. Lake?" + +"God bless my soul--_yes_!" threw in that gentleman, with a shudder. +"Now then, boys, if you don't mind--" He took the attitude of a casual +acquaintance with his two assistants who helped to bear the burden. "Come +along inside. This way--that's it. Where did you say, Merriton? Into the +morning room? All right. Ah, Borkins has been getting things ready, I +see. That couch is a broad one. Good thing, as there are two of 'em." + +"_Two_ of 'em, sir?" exclaimed Borkins, suddenly throwing up his hands, +his eyes wide with horror. Mr. Narkom nodded with something of +professional triumph in his look. + +"Two of 'em, Borkins. And the second one, if I don't make any mistake, +answers to the description of James Collins--eh, Headland?" + +Cleek gave him a sudden look that spoke volumes. It came over him in a +flash that Narkom had said too much; that it wasn't the casual visitor's +place to know what a servant who was not there at the time of his visit +looked like. + +"At least--that's as far as I can make out from what Sir Nigel told me of +him the other day," he supplemented, in an effort to make amends. "Now +then, boys, put 'em there on the couch. Poor things! I warn you, Sir +Nigel, this isn't going to be a pleasant sight, but you've got to go +through with it, I'm afraid. The police'll want identification made, of +course. Hadn't you better 'phone the local branch? Someone ought to be +here in charge, you know." + +Merriton nodded. He was so stunned at the actuality of these two men's +deaths, at the knowledge that their bodies--lifeless, extinct--were here +in his morning room, that he had stood like an image, making no move, no +sound. + +"Yes--yes," he said, rapidly, waving a hand in Borkins's direction. "See +that it's done at once, please. Tell Constable Roberts to come along with +a couple of his men. Very decent of these chaps to give you a hand, Mr. +Lake. That's your man, Dollops, isn't it, Headland? Well, hadn't he +better take 'em downstairs and give 'em a stiff whisky-and-soda? I expect +the poor beggars have need of it." + +Cleek held up a silencing hand. + +"No," he said, firmly. "Not just yet, I think. They may be needed for +evidence when the constable comes. Now...." He crossed over to where the +bodies lay, and gently removed the covering. Merriton went suddenly +white, while the doctor, more used to such sights, bit his lips and laid +a steadying hand upon the younger man's arm. + +"My God!" cried Sir Nigel, despairingly. "How did they meet their death?" + +Cleek reached down a finger and gently touched a blackened spot upon +Wynne's temple. + +"Shot through the head, and the bullet penetrated the brain," he said, +quietly. "Small-calibre revolver, too. There's your Frozen Flame for you, +my friend!" + +But he was hardly prepared for the event that followed. For at this +statement, Merriton threw a hand out suddenly, as though warding off a +blow, took a step forward and peered at that which had once been his +friend--and enemy--and then gave out a strangled cry. + +"Shot through the head!" he fairly shrieked, as Borkins came quietly into +the room, and stopped short at the sound of his master's voice. "I tell +you it's impossible--_impossible_! It wasn't my shot, Mr. Headland--it +couldn't have been!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A STARTLING DISCLOSURE + + +Cleek took a sudden step forward. + +"What's that? What's that?" he rapped out, sharply. "_Your_ shot, Sir +Nigel? This is something I haven't heard of before, and it's likely to +cause trouble. Explain, please!" + +But Merriton was past explaining anything just then. For he had bowed his +head in his hands and was sobbing in great, heart-wrung sobs with Doctor +Bartholomew's arms about him, sobs that told of the nerve-strain which +gave them birth, that told of the tenseness under which he had lived +these last weeks. And now the thread had snapped, and all the broken, +jangling nerves of the man had been loosed and torn his control to atoms. + +The doctor shook him gently, but with firm fingers. + +"Don't be a fool, boy--don't be a fool!" he said over and over again, +as he waved the other away, and, taking out a little phial from his +waistcoat pocket, dropped a dose from it into a wine-glass and forced it +between the man's lips. "Don't make an ass of yourself, Nigel. The shot +you fired was nothing--the mere whim of a man, whose brain had been fired +by champagne and who wasn't therefore altogether responsible for his +actions." + +He whipped round suddenly upon Cleek, his faded eyes, with their fringe +of almost white lashes, flashing like points of light from the seamed and +wrinkled frame of his face. + +"If you want to hear that foolish part of the story, I can give it to +you," he said, sharply. "Because I happened to be there." + +"_You!_" + +"Yes--I, Mr.--er--Headland, isn't it? Ah, thanks. But the boy's unstrung, +nerve-racked. He's been through too much. The whole beastly thing has +made a mess of him, and he was a fool to meddle with it. Nigel Merriton +fired a shot that night when Dacre Wynne disappeared, Mr. Headland; fired +it after he had gone up to his room, a little over-excited with too much +champagne, a little over-wrought by the scene through which he had just +passed with the man who had always exercised such a sinister influence +over his life." + +"So Sir Nigel was no good friend of this man Wynne's, then?" remarked +Cleek, quietly, as if he did not already know the fact. + +The doctor looked up as though he were ready to spring upon him and tear +him limb from limb. + +"No!" he said, furiously, "and neither would you have been, if you'd +known him. Great hulking bully that he was! I tell you, I've seen the man +use his influence upon this boy here, until--fine, upstanding chap that +he is (and I've known him and his people ever since he was a baby) he +succeeded in making him as weak as a hysterical girl--and gloated over +it, too!" + +Cleek drew in a quiet breath, and gave his shoulders the very slightest +of twitches, to show that he was listening. + +"Very interesting, Doctor, as psychological studies of the kind go," he +said, smoothly, stroking his chin and looking down at the bowed shoulders +of the man in the arm chair, with something almost like sorrow in his +eyes. "But we've got to get down to brass tacks, you know. This thing's +serious. It's got to be proved. If it can't be--well, it's going to be +mighty awkward for Sir Nigel. Now, let's hear the thing straight out from +the person most interested, please. I don't like to appear thoughtless in +any way, but this is a serious admission you've just made. Sir Nigel, I +beg of you, tell us the story before the constable comes. It might make +things easier for you in the long run." + +Merriton, thus addressed, threw up his head suddenly and showed a face +marked with mental anguish, dry-eyed, deathly white. He got slowly to his +feet and went over to the table, leaning his hand upon it as though for +support. + +"Oh, well," he said, listlessly, "you might as well hear it first as +last. Doctor Bartholomew's right, Mr. Headland. I _did_ fire a shot upon +the night of Dacre Wynne's disappearance, and I fired it from my bedroom +window. It was like this: + +"Wynne had gone, and after waiting for him to come back away past the +given time, we all made up our minds to go to bed, and Tony West--a pal +of mine who was one of the guests--and the Doctor here accompanied me to +my room door. Dr. Bartholomew had a room next to mine. In that part of +the house the walls are thin, and although my revolver (which I always +carry with me, Mr. Headland, since I lived in India) is one of those +almost soundless little things, still, the sound of it reached him." + +"Is it of small calibre?" asked Cleek, at this juncture. + +Merriton nodded gravely. + +"As you say, of small calibre. You can see it for yourself. Borkins"--he +turned toward the man, who was standing by the doorway, his hands hanging +at his sides, his manner a trifle obsequious; "will you bring it from the +left-hand drawer of my dressing table. Here is the key." He tossed over a +bunch of keys and they fell with a jangling sound upon the floor at +Borkins's feet. + +"Very good, Sir Nigel," said the man and withdrew, leaving the door open +behind him, however, as though he were afraid to lose any of the story +that was being told in the quiet morning room. + +When he had gone, Merriton resumed: + +"I'm not a superstitious man, Mr. Headland, but that old wives' tale of +the Frozen Flames, and the new one coming out every time they claimed +another victim, seemed to have burnt its way into my brain. That and the +champagne together, and then close upon it Dacre Wynne's foolish bet to +find out what the things were. When I went up to my room, and after +saying good-night to the doctor here, closed the door and locked it, +I then crossed to the window and looked out at the flames. And as I +looked--believe it or not, as you will--another flame suddenly sprang up +at the left of the others, a flame that seemed brighter, bigger than any +of the rest, a flame that bore with it the message: 'I am Dacre Wynne'." + +Cleek smiled, crookedly, and went on stroking his chin. + +"Rather a fanciful story that, Sir Nigel," he said, "but go on. What +happened?" + +"Why, I fired at the thing. I picked up my revolver and, in a sort of +blind rage, fired at it through the open window; and I believe I said +something like this: 'Damn it, why won't you go? I'll make you go, you +maddening little devil!' though I know those weren't the identical words +I spoke. As soon as the shot was fired my brain cleared. I began to feel +ashamed of myself, thought what a fool I'd look in front of the boys if +they heard the story; and just at that moment Doctor Bartholomew knocked +at the door." + +Here the doctor nodded vigorously as though to corroborate these +statements, and made as if to speak. + +Cleek silenced him with a gesture. + +"And then--what next, Sir Nigel?" + +Merriton cleared his throat before proceeding. There was a drawn look +upon his face. + +"The doctor said he thought he had heard a shot, and asked me what it +was, and I replied: 'Nothing. Only I was potting at the flames.' This +seemed to amaze him, as it would any sane man, I should think, and as no +doubt it is amazing you, Mr. Headland. Amazing you and making you think, +'What a fool the fellow is, after all!' Well, I showed the doctor the +revolver in my hand, and he laughingly said that he'd take it to bed +with him, in case I should start potting at _him_ by mistake. Then I +got into bed, after making him promise he wouldn't breathe a word to +anybody of what had occurred, as the others would be sure to laugh at +me; and--that's all." + +"H'm. And quite enough, too, I should say," broke in Cleek, as the man +finished. "It sounds true enough, believe me, from your lips, and I know +you for an honourable man; but--what sort of a credence do you think an +average jury is going to place upon it? D'you think they'd believe you?" +He shook his head. "Never. They'd simply laugh at the whole thing, and +say you were either drunk or dreaming. People in the twentieth century +don't indulge in superstition to that extent, Sir Nigel; or, at least, +if they do, they let their reason govern their actions as far as +possible. It's a tall story at best, if you'll forgive me for saying so." + +Merriton's face went a dull, sultry red. His eyes flamed. + +"Then you don't believe me?" he said, impatiently. + +Cleek raised a hand. + +"I don't say that for one moment," he replied. "What I say is: 'Would a +judge and jury believe you?' That is the question. And my answer to it +is, 'No.' You've had every provocation to take Dacre Wynne's life, so far +as I can learn, every provocation, that is, that a man of unsound +mentality who would stoop to murder could have to justify himself in his +own eyes. Things look exceedingly black against you, Sir Nigel. You can +swear to this statement as far as your part in it is concerned, Doctor +Bartholomew?" + +"Absolutely," said the doctor, though plainly showing that he felt it was +no business of the supposed Mr. Headland's. + +"Well, that's good. But if only there had been another witness, someone +who actually saw this thing done, or who had heard the pistol-shot--not +that I'm doubting your word at all, Doctor--it might help to elucidate +matters. There is no one you know of who could have heard--and not +spoken?" + +At this juncture Borkins came quietly into the room, holding the little +revolver in his right hand, and handed it to Cleek. + +"If you please, sir," he said, impassively, and with a quick look into +Merriton's grave face, "_I_ heard. And I can speak, if the jury wants me +to, I don't doubt but what my tale would be worth listenin' to, if only +to add my hevidence to the rest. That man there"--he pointed one shaking +forefinger at his master's face, and glowered into it for a moment "was +the murderer of poor Mr. Wynne!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TRAPPED! + + +"You damned, skulking liar!" + +Merriton leapt forward suddenly, and it was with difficulty that Cleek +could restrain him from seizing the butler round the throat. + +"Gently, gently, my friend," interposed Cleek, as he neatly caught +Merriton's upthrown arm. "It won't help you, you know, to attack a +possible witness. We've got to hear what this man says, to know whether +he's speaking the truth or not--and we've got to go into his evidence as +clearly as we go into yours.... You're perfectly right, Doctor, I _am_ a +policeman, and I'm down here for the express purpose of investigating +this appalling affair. The expression of your face so plainly said, 'What +right has he to go meddling in another man's affairs like this?' that I +was obliged to confess the fact, for the sake of my self-respect. My +friend here, Mr. Lake, is working with me." At this he gave Borkins a +keen, searching look, and saw in the man's impassive countenance that +this was no news to him. "Now then, my man, speak out. You tell us you +heard that revolver-shot when your master fired it from his bedroom. +Where are your quarters?" + +"On the other side of the 'ouse, sir," returned Borkins, flushing a +trifle. "But I was up in me dressing gown, as I'd some'ow thought that +something was amiss. I'd 'eard the quarrel that 'ad taken place between +Sir Nigel and poor Mr. Wynne, and I'd 'eard 'im go out and slam the door +be'ind 'im. So I was keeping me ears peeled, as you might say." + +"I see. Doing a bit of eavesdropping, eh?" asked Cleek, and was rewarded +by an angry look from under the man's dark brows and a sudden tightening +of the lines about his mouth. "And what then?" + +"I kept about, first in the bathroom, and then in the 'all, keeping my +ears open, for I'd an idea that one day things would come to a 'ead +between 'em. Sir Nigel had taken Mr. Wynne's girl and--" + +"Close your lying mouth, you vile beast!" spat out Merriton, vehemently, +"and don't you dare to mention her name, or I'll stop you for ever from +speaking, whether I hang or not!" + +Borkins looked at Cleek, and his look quite plainly conveyed the meaning +that he wished the detective to notice how violent Sir Nigel could be on +occasions, but if Cleek saw this he paid not the slightest heed. + +"Speak as briefly as you can, please, and give as little offence," he cut +in, in a sharp tone, and Borkins resumed: + +"At last I saw Sir Nigel and the Doctor and Mr. West come up the corridor +together. I 'eard 'em bid each other good-night, saw the Doctor go into +'is room, and Mr. West return to the smoking-room, and 'eard Sir Nigel's +key turn in 'is lock. After that there was silence for a bit, and all I +'ears was 'is moving about and muttering to 'imself, as though 'e was +angry about something. Then, just as I was a-goin' back to me own room, +I 'eard the pistol-shot, and nips back again. I 'eard 'im say, 'Got +you--you devil!' and then without waitin' for anything else, I runs down +to the servants' 'all, which is directly below the smoking room where the +other gentlemen were talking and smoking. I peers out of the window, +upward--for it's a half-basement, as perhaps you've noticed, sir--and +there, in the light of the moon, I see Mr. Wynne's figure, crouched down +against the gravel of the front path, and makin' funny sorts of noises. +And then, all of a sudden, 'e went still as a dead man--and 'e _was_ a +dead man. With that I flies to me own room, frightened half out of me +wits--for I'm a peace-lovin' person, and easily scared, I'm afraid--and +then I locks meself in, sayin' over and over to meself the words, 'He's +done it! He's done it at last! He's murdered Mr. Wynne, he has!' And +that's all I 'ave to say, sir." + +"And a damned sight too much, too, you liar!" threw in Merriton, +furiously, his face convulsed with passion, the veins on his temple +standing out like whipcords. "Why, the whole story's a fake. And if it +_were_ true, tell me how I could get Wynne's body out of the way so +quickly, and without any one hearing me, when every man in that smoking +room, from their own words, and from those of the doctor here, was +at that moment straining his ears for any possible sound? The smoking +room flanks straight on the drive, Mr.--er--Headland--" He caught himself +up just in time as he saw Cleek's almost imperceptible signal, and then +went on, his voice gaining in strength and fury with every word: "I'm not +a giant, am I? I couldn't have lifted Wynne _alive_ and with his own +assistance, much less lift him dead when he'd be a good sight heavier. +Why, the thing's a tissue of lies, I tell you--a beastly, underhanded, +backbiting tissue of lies, and if ever I get out of this thing alive, +I'll show Borkins exactly what I think of him. And why you should give +credence to the story of a lying servant, rather than to mine, I cannot +see at all. Would I have brought you here, you, a man whose name--" And +even in the excitement which had him in its grip Nigel felt Cleek's will, +powerful, compelling, preventing his giving away the secret of his +identity, preventing his telling that it was the master mind among the +criminal investigators of Europe which was working on this horrible +affair. + +He went on, still in a fury of indignation, but with the knowledge of Mr. +Headland's true name still locked in his breast. "Did I bring you here as +a friend and give you every opportunity to work on this strange business, +to have you arraign me as a murderer? Do not treat me as a suspect, Mr. +Detective. I am not on trial. I want this thing cleared up, yes; but I am +not here to be accused of the murder of a man who was a guest in my own +house, by the very man I brought in to find the true murderer." + +"You haven't given me time to say whether I accuse you or not, Sir +Nigel," replied Cleek, patiently. "Now, if you'll permit me to speak, +we'll take up this man's evidence. There are gaps in it that rather badly +want filling up, and there are thin places which I hardly think would +hold water before a judge and jury. But he swears himself a witness, and +there you are. And as for believing his word before yours--who fired the +shot, Sir Nigel? Did he, or did you? I am a representative of the Law and +as such I entered your house." + +Merriton made no reply, simply held his head a little higher and clasped +the edge of the table more firmly. + +"Now," said Cleek, turning to the butler and fixing him with his keen +eyes. "You are ready to swear that this is true, upon your oath, and +knowing that perjury is punishable by law?" + +"Yes, sir." Borkins's voice was very low and rather indistinct. + +"Very well. Then may I ask why you did not immediately report this matter +to the rest of the party, or to the police?" + +Something flashed across Borkins's face, and was gone again. He cleared +his throat nervously before replying: + +"I felt on me honour to--Sir Nigel, sir," he returned at length. "A man +stands by his master, you know--if 'e's a good one; and though we'd 'ad +words before, I didn't bear 'im no malice. And I didn't want the old +'ouse to come to disgrace." + +"So you waited until things looked a little blacker for him, and then +decided to cast your creditable scruples to the wind?" said Cleek, the +queer little one-sided smile travelling up his cheek. "I take it that you +had had what you term 'words' since that fatal date?" + +Borkins nodded. He did not like this cross-examination, and his +nervousness was apparent in voice and look and action. + +"Yes, sir." + +"H'm. And if we put that to one side altogether can you give me any +reason why I should believe this unlikely story in place of the equally +unlikely one that your master has told me--knowing what I do?" + +Borkins twitched up his head suddenly, his eyes fear-filled, his face +turned suddenly gray. + +"I--I--What can you know about me, but that I 'ave been in the employment +of this family nearly all my life?" he returned, taken off his guard by +Cleek's remark. "I'm only a poor, honest workin' man, sir, been in the +same place nigh on to twenty years and--" + +"And hoping you can hang on another twenty, I dare say!" threw in Cleek, +sarcastically. "Oh, I know more about you, my man, than I care to tell. +But at the moment that doesn't enter into the matter. We'll take that up +later. Now then, there's the revolver. Doctor, you should be useful here; +if you will use your professional skill in the service of the law that +seems trying to embroil your friend. I want you to examine the head +wound, please--the head wound of the man called Dacre Wynne, and, if you +can, remove the bullet that is lodged in the brain. Then we shall have a +chance to compare it with those remaining in Sir Nigel's revolver." + +"I--can't do it, Mr. Headland," returned Doctor Bartholomew, firmly. +"I won't lend myself to a plot to inveigle this poor boy, to ruin his +life--" + +"And I demand it--in the name of the Law." He motioned to Petrie and +Hammond, who through the whole length of the inquiry had stood with +Dollops, beside the doorway. They came forward swiftly. "Arrest Doctor +Bartholomew for treating the Law with contempt--" + +"But, I say, Mr. Headland, this is a damned outrage!" + +Cleek held up a hand. + +"Yes," he said, "I agree with you. But a very necessary one. Besides"--he +smiled suddenly into the seamed, anxious face of the man--"who knows but +that bullet may prove Sir Nigel's innocence? Who knows but that it is not +the same kind as lie now in this deadly little thing here in my hand? It +lies with you, Doctor. Must I arrest him now, and take him off to the +public jail to await trial, or will you give him a sporting chance?" + +The doctor looked up into the keen eyes bent upon him, his own equally +keen. He did not know whether he liked this man of the law or not. +Something of the man's personality, unfortunate as had been its +revelation during this past trying hour, had caught him in its thrall. He +measured him, eye for eye, but Cleek's never wavered. + +"I've no instruments," he said at last, hedging for time. + +"I have plenty--upstairs. I have dabbled a little in surgery myself, when +occasion has arisen. I'll fetch them in a minute. You will?" + +The doctor stood up between the two tall policemen who had a hand upon +either shoulder. His face was set like a mask. + +"It's a damned outrage, but I will," he said. + +Dollops was gone like a flash. In the meantime Cleek cleared the room. He +sent Merriton off to the smoking room in charge of Petrie and Hammond, +and Borkins with them--though Borkins was to be kept in the hallway, away +from his master's touch and voice. + +Cleek, Mr. Narkom, and the doctor remained alone in the room of death, +where the doctor set to his gruesome task. Outside, Constable Roberts's +burly voice could be heard holding forth in the hall upon the fact that +he'd been after a poacher on Mr. Jimmeson's estate over to Saltfleet, and +wasn't in when they came for him. + +And the operation went quietly on.... + +... In the smoking room, with Hammond and Petrie seated like deaf mutes +upon either side of him, Merriton reviewed the whole awful affair from +start to finish, and felt his heart sink like lead in his breast. Oh, +what a fool he had been to have these men down here! What a fool! To see +them wilfully trumping up a charge of murder against himself was--well, +it was enough to make any sane man lose hold on his reason. And +'Toinette! His little 'Toinette! If he should be convicted and sent to +prison, what would become of her? It would break her heart. And he might +never see her again! A sudden moisture pricked at the corners of his +eyes. God!--never to call her _wife_!... How long were those beasts going +to brood in there over the dead? And was there not a chance that the +bullet might be different? After all, wasn't it almost impossible that +the bullet _should_ be the same? His was an unusual little revolver made +by a firm in French Africa, having a different sort of cartridge. Every +Tom, Dick, and Harry didn't have one--couldn't afford it, in the first +place.... There was a chance--yes, certainly there was a _chance_. + +... His blood began to hammer in his veins again, and his heart beat +rapidly. Hope went through him like wine, drowning all the fears and +terrors that had stalked before him like demons from another world. He +heard, with throbbing pulses, approaching footsteps in the hall. His head +was swimming, his feet seemed loaded with lead so that he could not rise. +Then, across the space from where Cleek stood, the revolver in one hand +and the tiny black object that had nested in a dead man's brain in the +other, came the sound of his voice, speaking in clear, concise sentences. +He could see the doctor's grave face over the curve of Mr. Narkom's fat +shoulder. For a moment the world swam. Then he caught the import of what +Cleek was saying. + +"The bullet is the same as those in your revolver, Sir Nigel," he said, +concisely. "I am sorry, but I must do my duty. Constable Roberts, here is +your prisoner. I arrest this man for the murder of Dacre Wynne!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN THE CELL + + +What followed was like a sort of nightmare to Merriton. That he should be +arrested for the murder of Dacre Wynne reeled drunkenly in his brain. +Murderer! They were calling him a murderer! The liars! The fools! Calling +him a murderer, were they? And taking the word of a crawling worm like +Borkins, a man without honour and utterly devoid of decency, who could +stand up before them and tell them a story that was a tissue of lies. It +was appalling! What a fiend incarnate this man Cleek was! Coming here at +Nigel's own bidding, and then suddenly manipulating the evidence, until +it caught him up in its writhing coils like a well-thrown lasso. Oh, if +he had only let well enough alone and not brought a detective to the +house. Yet how was he to know that the man would try to fix a murder on +him, himself? Useless for him to speak, to deny. The revolver-shot and +the cruel little bullet (which showed there were others who possessed +that sort of fire-arm besides himself) proved too easily, upon the +circumstantial evidence theory at all events, that his word was naught. + +He went through the next hour or two like a man who has been tortured. +Silent, but bearing the mark of it upon his white face and in his haggard +eyes. And indeed his situation was a terrible and strange one. He had set +the wheels of the law in motion; he himself had brought the relentless +Hamilton Cleek into the affair and now he was called a murderer! + +In the little cell where they placed him, away from the gaping, +murmuring, gesticulating knot of villagers that had marked his progress +to the police-station--for news flies fast in the country, especially +when there is a viper-tongue like Borkins's to wing it on its way--he was +thankful for the momentary peace and quiet that the place afforded. At +least he could _think_--think and pace up and down the narrow room with +its tiny barred window too high for a man to reach, and its hard camp +bedstead with the straw mattress, and go through the whole miserable +fabrication that had landed him there. + +The second day of confinement brought him a visitor. It was 'Toinette. +His jailer--a rough-haired village-hand who had taken up with the "Force" +and wore the uniform as though it belonged to someone else (which indeed +it had)--brought him news of her arrival. It cut him like a lash to see +her thus, and yet the longing for her was so great that it superseded all +else. So he faced the man with a grim smile. + +"I suppose, Bennett, that I shall be allowed to see Miss Brellier? You +have made enquiries?" + +"Yes, sir." Bennett was crestfallen and rather ashamed of his duty. + +"Any restrictions?" + +Bennett hedged. + +"Well--if you please--Sir Nigel--that is--" + +"What the devil are they, then?" + +"Constable Roberts give orders that I was to stay 'ere with you--but I +can turn me back," returned Bennett, with flushing countenance. "Shall +I show the lady in?" + +"Yes." + +She came. Her frock was of some clinging gray material that made her look +more fairy-like than ever. A drooping veil of gray gauze fell like a mist +before her face, screening from him the anguished mirrors of her eyes. + +"Nigel! My poor, poor Nigel!" + +"Little 'Toinette!" + +"Oh, Nigel--it seems impossible--utterly! That you should be thought to +have killed Dacre. You of all people! Poor, peace-loving Nigel! Something +must be done, dearest; something _shall_ be done! You shall not suffer +so, for someone else's sin--you shall not!" + +He smiled at her wanly, and told her how beautiful she was. It was +useless to explain to her the utter futility of it all. There was the +revolver and there the bullet. The weapon was his--of the bullet he could +say nothing. He had only told the truth--and they had not believed him. + +"Yes see, dear," he said, patiently, "they do not believe me. They say I +killed him, and Borkins--lying devil that he is--has told them a story of +how the thing was done; sworn, in fact, that he saw it all from the +kitchen window, saw Wynne lying in the garden path, dying, after I fired +at him. Of course the thing's an outrageous lie, but--they're acting upon +it." + +"_Nigel!_ How dared he?" + +"Who? Borkins? That kind of a devil dares anything.... How's your uncle, +dear? He has heard, of course?" + +Her face brightened, her eyes were suddenly moist. She put her hands upon +his shoulders and tilted her chin so that she could see his eyes. + +"Uncle Gustave told me to tell you that he does not believe a word of +it, dearest!" she said, softly. "And he is going to make investigations +himself. He is so unhappy, so terribly unhappy over it all. Such a +tangled web as it is, such a wicked, wicked plot they have woven about +you! Oh, Nigel dearest--_why_ did you not tell me that they were +detectives, these friends of yours who were coming to visit? If you +had only said--" + +He held her a moment, and then, leaning forward, kissed her gently upon +the forehead. + +"What then, _p'tite_?" + +"I would have made you send them away--I would! I would!" she cried, +vehemently. "They should not have come--not if I had wired to them +myself! Something told me that day, after you were gone, that a dreadful +thing would happen. I was frightened for you--frightened! And I could not +tell why! I kept laughing at myself, trying to tease myself out of it, as +though it were simply--what you call it?--the 'blues'. And now--this!" + +He nodded. + +"And now--this," he said, grimly, and laughed. + +Bennett, hand upon watch, turned apologetically at this juncture. + +"Sorry, Sir Nigel," he said, "but time's up. Ten minutes is the time +allowed a prisoner, and--and--I'm afeared the young leddy must go. It +'urts me to tell you, sir, but--you'll understand. Dooty is dooty." + +"Yes, doubtless, Bennett, though some people's idea of it is different +from others'," returned Merriton, with a bleak smile. "Have no fear, +'Toinette. There is still plenty of time, and I shall engage the +finest counsel in the land to stand for me. This knot shall be broken +somehow, this tissue of lies must have a flaw somewhere. And nowadays +circumstantial evidence, you know, doesn't hold too much water in a court +of law. God bless you, little 'Toinette." + +She clung to him a moment, her face suddenly lightening at the tenor of +his words--so bravely spoken, with so little conviction behind them. But +they had helped her, and for that he was glad. + +When she had gone, he sat down on the edge of his narrow bed and dropped +his face in the cup of his hands. How hopeless it seemed. What chance had +he of a future now--with Cleek against him? Cleek the unraveller of a +thousand riddles that had puzzled the cleverest brains in the universe! +Cleek would never admit to having made a blunder this time--though there +was a sort of grim satisfaction in the knowledge that he _had_ blundered, +though he himself was the victim. + +... He sat there for a long time, thinking, his brain wearied, his heart +like lead. Bennett's heavily-booted feet upon the stone floor brought him +back again to realities. + +"There's another visitor, sir," said he. "A gentleman. Seen 'im up at the +Towers, I 'ave. Name of West, sir. Constable Roberts says as 'ow you may +see him." + +How kind of the constable, thought Nigel bitterly. His mouth twisted into +a wry smile. Then his eyes lightened suddenly. Tony West, eh? So all the +rats hadn't deserted the sinking ship, after all. There were still the +old doctor, who came, cheering him up with kind words, bringing him books +that he thought he could read--as though a man _could_ read books, under +such circumstances--and now Tony West--good old West! + +West strode in, his five-feet-three of manhood looking as though it were +ready to throw the jailer's six-feet-one out of the window upon request, +and seized Nigel's hand, wringing it furiously. + +"Good old Nigel! Gad! but it's fine to see you. And what fool put you in +this idiotic predicament? Wring his damned neck, I would. How are you, +old sport?" + +Under such light badinage did West try to conceal his real feeling but +there was a tremour of the lips that spoke so banteringly. + +Good old West! A friend in a thousand. + +"Nice sort of place for the Squire of the Manor to be disporting himself, +isn't it?" returned Merriton, fighting his hardest to keep his composure +and reply in the same light tone. "I--I--damn it, Tony, you don't believe +it, do you?" + +West went red to the rim of his collar. He choked with the vehemence of +his response. + +"Believe it, man? D'you think I'm crazy? What sort of a fool would I be +to believe it? Wasn't I there, that night, with you? Wait until I give my +evidence in court. Bullet or no bullet, you're no--no murderer, Nigel; +I'd swear my life away on that. There were others on worse terms with +Wynne than you, old chap. There was Stark, for one. Stark used to borrow +money from him in the old days, you know, until they had a devil of a +shindy over an I.O.U. and the friendship bust. You'd no more reason to +kill him than Lester Stark, I swear. Or me, for that matter." + +"No, I'd no reason to kill him, Tony. But they'll take that quarrel we +had over the Frozen Flame that night, and bring it up against me in +court. They'll bring everything against me; everything that can be +twisted or turned or bullied into blackening my name. If ever I get +scot-free, I'll kill that man Borkins." + +West put up his hand suddenly. + +"Don't," he said, quietly; "or they'll be putting that against you, too. +Believe me, Nigel, old boy, the Law's the greatest duffer on earth. By +the way, here's a piece of news for you! Heard it as I stopped in at the +Towers this morning. Saw that man Headland, the detective. He told me to +tell you, and I clean forgot. But they found an I.O.U. on Wynne's body, +an I.O.U. for two thou'--in Lester Stark's name. Dated two nights before +the party. Looks a bit funny, that, doesn't it?" + +Funny? Merriton felt his heart suddenly bound upward, and as suddenly +drop back in his breast like lead. Glad that there was a chance for +another pal to come under the same brutal sway as he had? What sort of +a friend was he, anyway? But an I.O.U.!... And in Lester Stark's name! +He remembered the black looks that passed between the two of them that +night, remembered them as though they had been but yesterday. He jerked +his chin up. + +"What're they going to do about it?" + +"Headland told me to tell you that he was going to investigate the matter +further. That you were to keep up your heart.... Seemed a decent sort of +a chap, I must say." + +Keep up his heart!... And there was a chance of someone else taking his +share of the damnable thing, after all!... But Lester Stark wouldn't +_kill_. Perhaps not--and yet, some months ago he had told him to his face +that he'd like to send Wynne's body to burn in hell!... H'm. Well, he +would have to keep his mouth shut upon _that_ conversation, at all +events, or they'd have poor Stark by the heels the next minute.... But +somehow his heart had lightened. Cleek didn't seem such a bad chap, after +all. And they couldn't hang him yet, anyhow. + +For the rest of the long, dreary day the memory of that I.O.U. with +Lester Stark's name sprawled across the bottom of it, in the dashing +caligraphy that he knew, danced before his mind's eye like a fleeting +hope, making the day less long. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +POSSIBLE EXCITEMENT + + +Meanwhile, Cleek, Mr. Narkom, and Dollops stayed on at the Towers for +such time as it would take to have the coroner's inquest arranged, and +Merriton brought up before the local magistrate. + +Mr. Narkom was frankly uneasy over the whole affair. + +"There's something fishy in it, Cleek," he kept saying. "I don't like +the looks of it. Taking that innocent boy up for a murder which I feel +certain he never committed. Of course, circumstantial evidence points +strongly against him, but--" + +"He's better out of the way, at all events," interposed Cleek. "Mind you, +I don't say the chap is innocent. Men of Wynne's calibre have the knack +of raising the very devil in a person who is under their influence for +long. And there's Borkins's story." The queer little one-sided smile +looped up his cheek for a moment and was gone again in a twinkling. He +crossed to where Mr. Narkom stood, and put a hand on his arm. "Tell me," +he said, quietly, "did you ever hear of a chap squirming and moaning and +doing the rest of the things that the man said Wynne was doing in the +garden pathway, when a bullet had got him clean through the brain? +Something 'fishy' there, if you like." + +"I should think so," replied Mr. Narkom. "Why, the chap would have died +instantly. Then you think Borkins himself is guilty?" + +"On the contrary, I do not," returned Cleek, emphatically. "If my +theory's correct, Borkins is not the murderer of Dacre Wynne. Much more +likely to be Nigel Merriton, for that matter. Then there's the question +of this I.O.U. that I found on the body. Signed 'Lester Stark', and the +doctor--Gad! what a loyal friend to have!--told me that Lester Stark, +Merriton, and a little man called West were bosom friends and +club-mates." + +"Then perhaps the man Stark killed him, after all?" threw in Mr. Narkom +at this juncture, and there was a tinge of eagerness in his excited +tones, which made Cleek whirl round upon him and say, accusingly, "Old +friend, Merriton has won your heart as he has won others'. You're dead +nuts on the youngster, and I must say he does seem such a clean, honest, +upstanding young fellow. But you're ready to convict any one of the +murder of Dacre Wynne but Merriton himself. Own up now; you've a sneaking +regard for the fellow!" + +Mr. Narkom reddened. + +"Well, if you want the truth of it--I have!" he said, finally, in an +"I-don't-care-what-the-devil-you-think" sort of voice. "He's exactly the +kind of chap I'd like for a son of my own, and--and--dash it! I don't +like seeing him in the lock-up; and that's the long and short of it!" + +"So long as it's only the long and short, and not the end of it, it +doesn't greatly matter," returned Cleek. "Hello! Is that you, Dollops?" + +"Yessir." + +"Any news for me? Found that chap with the straggling black moustache +that tried to do me in the other night? I've not a doubt that you've +discovered the answer to the whole riddle, by the look upon your face." + +Dollops cautiously approached, looking over his shoulder as though he +expected any minute that the cadaverous face of Borkins would peer in at +him, or that perhaps Dacre Wynne himself would rise from the dead and +shake an accusing finger in his face. He reached Cleek and laid a timid +hand upon the detective's arm. Then he bent his face close to Cleek's +ear. + +"Well, I've an inklin' that I'm well on to the untyin' of it, s'help me +if I ain't!" he whispered in highly melodramatic tones. + +Cleek laughed, but looked interested at once, while Mr. Narkom prepared +to give his best attention to what the lad had to say. + +"Traced the blighter wiv the straggling whiskers on 'is lip, anyway!" he +said, triumphantly, casting still another glance over his shoulder in the +direction of the door, and lowering his tones still further. "Caught a +glimpse of 'im 'long by the Saltfleet Road this afternoon, Guv'nor, and +thinks I to myself, 'You're the blinkin' blighter wot tried to do the +Guv'nor in, are you? Well, you wait, my lad! There's a little taste of +'ell-sauce a-comin' your way wot'll make you sit up and bawl for yer +muvver.' He'd got on sailorin' togs, Mr. Cleek, an' a black 'at pulled +down low over one eye. Mate wiv 'im looked like a real bad 'un. Gold +rings in 'is ears 'e'd got like a bloomin' lydy, an' a blue sweater, and +sailor's breeches. Chin whiskers, too, wot were somethin like rotten +seaweed. Oh, a 'eavenly specimen of a chap 'e were, I kin tell you!" + +"On the Saltfleet Road, eh?" interposed Cleek, rapidly, as the boy paused +a moment for breath. "So? My midnight friend is doubtless sailing for +foreign parts, as the safest place when coroner's evidence begins to get +too hot for him. And what then, Dollops?" + +"Couldn't find out much else, Mr. Cleek, 'cept to trace the place where +the beggar 'angs out, and that's a bit of a shanty just off Saltfleet +Bay, an' a stone's throw from what looks ter me very like a boat-factory +of some kind. Reckon the chap's employed there, as, from a casual chat +wiv a sailorin' Johnny in the bar parlour of the 'Pig and Whistle', where +I wuz a-linin' of me empty stummick (detectin' is that 'ungry work, sir!) +wiv a sossage an' a pint o' four-and-er-'arf, this feller tells me that +pretty near everyone around here works there. I arsked 'im wot they did, +an' 'e says, 'Make boats an' fings, with now an' agin a little flurry in +shippin' ter break the monotony.'... Anyway, I traced the devil wot +nearly got _you_, Guv'nor, and _that's_ somefing. And if I don't give 'im +a taste of the 'appy 'ereafter, well, my name's not Dollops." + +Cleek laughed and laid a hand upon the lad's shoulder. + +"You've done a lot toward unravelling the mystery, Dollops, my lad," +he said. "A regular right-hand man you are, eh, Mr. Narkom? This +evening we'll hie us to the Saltfleet Road and see what further the 'Pig +and Whistle' can reveal to us. It'll be like the old times of the +'Twisted-Arm' days, boy, where every second held its own unknown and +certain danger. Give us an appetite for our breakfast, eh?" + +He laughed again, a happy, schoolboyish laugh which brought a positively +shocked expression to Mr. Narkom's round face. + +"My dear Cleek!" he expostulated. "Really, one might think that you +actually enjoyed this sort of thing! One of these fine days, if you're +not careful, you'll be caught napping, and it'll take all Dollops's +and my ingenuity to get you out of the clutches. I do beg of you to be +careful--for Ailsa's sake, if not for mine." + +At mention of the name, for a second the whole look upon Cleek's face +altered. Something came into his eyes that softened their keenness, +something settled down over his countenance, wiping away the mirth and +the grim lines together. He sighed. + +"Heigho!" he said, softly, spinning round upon his heel and surveying Mr. +Narkom with a half-smile upon his lips. "I will be careful, dear friend. +I promise. And I have given my word to--her--as well. And that the life +of Hamilton Cleek should be so precious to any such angel as that--well, +it 'fair beats me', as Dollops would say.... I'll be careful, all right. +You may depend upon it. But Dollops and I are going to have a little +outing on our own. We'll ransack the 'make-up' box after lunch and see +what it can produce. And if we don't bring back something worth hearing +to you on our return to-night, then I'll retire from Scotland Yard +altogether and take a kindergarten class.... Gad! I feel sorry for young +Merriton. But there's no other course open to us at present but to keep +him where he is. Coroner's inquest takes place to-morrow afternoon, and +a lot may happen in the meantime." + +Mr. Narkom gravely shook his head. + +"Don't like the thing at all, Headland," he supplemented slowly, lighting +a fresh cigarette from the stump of the other one, and blowing a cloud of +smoke into the air. "There's something here that we haven't got at. +Something _big_. I feel it." + +"Well, you'll have that feeling further augmented before many more days +are over, my friend," returned Cleek, meaningly. "What did the letter +from Headquarters say? I noticed you got one this morning, and recognized +it by the way the stamp was set on the envelope--though I must say your +secretary is more than discreet. It looked for all the world like a +love-letter, which no doubt your curious friend Borkins thought it was." + +But if Cleek appeared in fine fettle at the prospect of a possible +exciting evening with Dollops, Mr. Narkom's barometer did not register +the same comforting high altitude. He did not smile. + +"Oh, it had to do with these continual bank robberies," he replied with a +sigh. "They're enough to wear a man right out. Seem so simple, and all +that, and yet--never a trace left. Fellowes reports that another one took +place, at Ealing. As usual, only gold stolen. Not a bank-note touched. +They'll be holding us up in the main road, like Dick Turpin, if the +robbers are allowed to continue on their way like this. It's damnable, to +say the least! The beggars seem to get off scot-free every time. If this +case here wasn't so difficult and important, I'd be off up to London to +have a look into things again. Frankly, it worries me." + +Cleek lifted a restraining hand. + +"Don't let it do anything so foolish as that to you, old man," he +interposed. "Give 'em rope to hang themselves, lots of rope. This is just +the opportunity they want. Give orders for nothing to be done. Let 'em +have a good run for their money, and by-and-by you'll have 'em so they'll +eat out of your hand. There's nothing like patience in this sort of a +job. They're bound to get careless soon, and then will be your chance." + +"I wish I could feel as confident about it as you do," returned Mr. +Narkom, with a shake of the head. "But you've solved so many unsolvable +riddles in your time, man, so I suppose I'll just have to trust your +judgment, and let your opinion cheer me up. Still.... Ah, Borkins! lunch +ready? I must say I don't like eating the food of a man I've just placed +in prison, but I suppose one must eat. And there are a few very necessary +enquiries to be gone into before the coroner's inquest to-morrow. The men +have been up from the local morgue, haven't they?" + +Borkins, who had tapped discreetly upon the door and then put in a sleek +head to announce lunch, came a little farther into the room and replied +in the affirmative. Save for a slight light of triumph which seemed to +flicker in his close-set eyes, and play occasionally about his narrow +lips, there was nothing to show in his demeanour that such an extremely +large pebble as his master's conviction for murder had caused the ripples +to break on the smooth surface of his life's tenor. + +Cleek blew a cloud of smoke into the air and swung one leg across the +other with a sort of devil-may-care air that was part of his Headland +make-up in this piece. + +"Well," said he, off-handedly, "all I can say is, I wouldn't like to be +in your master's shoes, Borkins. He's guilty--not a doubt of it; and +he'll certainly be called to justice." + +"You think so?" An undercurrent of eagerness ran in Borkins's tone. + +"Most assuredly I do. Not a chance for him--poor beggar. He'll possibly +swing for it, too! Pleasant conjecture before lunch, I must say. And +we'll have it all cold if we don't look sharp about it, Lake, old chap. +Come along." + +... They spent the afternoon in discussing the case bit by bit, probing +into it, tearing it to ribbons, analysing, comparing, rehearsing once +more the scene of that fateful night when Dacre Wynne had crossed the +Fens, and, according to everyone's but Borkins's evidence, had never +returned. By evening Mr. Narkom, note-book in hand, was suffering with +writer's cramp, and complained of a headache. + +As Cleek rose from this private investigation and stretched his hands +over his head, he gave a sudden little laugh. + +"Well, you'll be able to rest yourself as much as you like this evening, +Mr. Lake," he said, lightly, trying the muscles of his right arm with his +left hand, and nodding as he felt them ride up, smooth and firm as ivory, +under his coat-sleeve. "I'm not in such bad fettle for an amateur, if +anything in the nature of a scrap comes along, after all. Though I'm not +anticipating any fighting, I can assure you. There's the morning's +papers, and the local rag with various lurid--and inaccurate--accounts of +the whole ghastly affair. Merriton seems to have a good many friends in +these parts, and the local press is strong in his favour. But that's as +far as it goes. At any rate, they'll keep you interested until we come +home again. By the way, you might drop a hint to Borkins that I shall be +writing some letters in my room to-night, and don't want to be disturbed, +and that if he wants to go out, Dollops will post them for me and see to +my wants; will you? I don't want him to 'suspicion' anything." + +Mr. Narkom nodded. He snapped his note-book to, and bound the elastic +round it, as Cleek crossed to the door and threw it open. + +"I'll be going up to my room now, Lake," he said, in clear, high tones +that carried down the empty hallway to whatever listener might be there +to hear them. "I've some letters to write. One to my fiancee, you know, +and naturally I don't want to be disturbed." + +"All right," said Mr. Narkom, equally clearly. "So long." + +Then the door closed sharply, and Cleek mounted the stairs to his room, +whistling softly to himself meanwhile, just as Borkins rounded the corner +of the dining-room door and acknowledged his friendly nod with one +equally friendly. + +A smile played about the corners of the man's mouth, and his eyes +narrowed, as he watched Cleek disappear up the stairs. + +"Faugh!" he said to the shadows. "So much for yer Lunnon policeman, eh? +Writin' love-letters on a night like this! Young sap'ead!" + +Then he swung upon his heel, and retraced his steps to the kitchen. +Upstairs in the dark passageway, Cleek stood and laughed noiselessly, his +shoulders shaking with the mirth that swayed him. Borkins's idea of a +'Lunnon policeman' had pleased him mightily. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHAT TOOK PLACE AT "THE PIG AND WHISTLE" + + +It was a night without a moon. Great gray cloud-banks swamped the sky, +and there was a heavy mist that blurred the outline of tree and fence and +made the broad, flat stretches of the marshes into one impenetrable blot +of inky darkness. + +Two men, in ill-fitting corduroys and soiled blue jerseys, their swarthy +necks girt about by vivid handkerchiefs, and their big-peaked caps pulled +well down over their eyes, made their way along the narrow lane that led +from Merriton Towers to Saltfleet Bay. At the junction with Saltfleet +Road, two other figures slipped by them in the half-mist, and after +peering at then from under the screen of dark caps, sang out a husky +"Good-night, mates." They answered in unison, the bigger, broader one +whistling as he swung along, his pace slackening a trifle so that the two +newcomers might pass him and get on into the shadows ahead. + +Once they had done so, he ceased his endless, ear-piercing whistle and +turned to his companion, his hand reaching out suddenly and catching the +sleeve nearest him. + +"That was Borkins!" he said in a muttered undertone, as the two figures +in front swung away into the shadows. "Did you see his face, lad?" + +"I did," responded Dollops, with asperity. "And a fine specimen of a face +it were, too! If I were born wiv that tacked on to me anatomy, I'd drown +meself in the nearest pond afore I'd 'ave courage to survive it.... Yus, +it was Borkins all right, Guv'nor, and the other chap wiv him, the one +wiv the black whiskers and the lanting jor--" + +"Hush, boy! Not so loud!" Cleek's voice cut into the whispered undertone, +a mere thread of sound, but a sound to be obeyed. "I recognized him, +too," interrupted Cleek. "My friend of the midnight visit, and the +plugged pillow. I'm not likely to forget that face in a day's march, +I can promise you. And with Borkins! Well, that was to be expected, of +course. The next thing to consider is--what the devil has a common sailor +or factory-hand to do with a chap like Dacre Wynne? Or Merriton, for that +matter. I never heard him say he'd any interest in factories of any kind, +and I dare swear he hasn't. And yet, what's this dark stranger--as the +fortune-tellers say--doing, poking his nose into the affair, and trying +to murder me, just because I happen to be down here to investigate the +question of the Frozen Flames?... Bit of a problem, eh, Dollops? Frozen +Flames, Country Squires, Dark Strangers who are sailormen, and a butler +who has been years in the family service; there you have the ingredients +for quite a nice little mix-up. Now, I wonder where those two are bound +for?" + +"'Pig and Whistle'," conjectured Dollops. "Leastways, tha's where old +Black Whiskers is a-makin' for. Got friend Borkins in tow as well +ternight, so things ought ter be gittin' interestin'. Gawd! sir, +if you don't looka fair cut-throat I an't ever seen one. + +"Makes me blood run cold jist ter squint at yer, it does! That there +moustache 'ud git yer a fortin' on the stage, I swear. Mr. Narkom'd faint +if 'e saw yer, an' I'm not so certing I wouldn't do a bunk meself, if +I met yer in a dark lane, so to speak. 'Ow yer does the expression fair +beats me." + +Cleek laughed good-humouredly. The something theatrical in his make-up +was gratified by the admiration of his audience. He linked his arm +through the boy's. + +"Birthright, Dollops, birthright!" he made answer, speaking in a +leisurely tone. "Every man has one, you know. There is the birthright +of princes--" he sighed. "Your birthright is a willing soul and an +unwavering loyalty. Mine? A mere play of feature that can transform me +from one man into another. A poor thing at best, Dollops, but.... Hello! +Lights ahead! What is it, my pocket guide-book?" + +"'Pig and Whistle'," grunted Dollops in a husky voice, glad of an excuse +to hide his pleasure at Cleek's appreciation of his character. + +"H'm. That's good. The fun commences. Don't forget your part, boy. We're +sailoring men back from a cruise to Jamaica and pretty near penniless. +Lost our jobs, and looking for others. Told there was a factory somewhere +in this part of the world that had to do with shipping, and have walked +down from London. Took six days, mind; don't forget that. And a devilish +long walk, too, I reckon! But that's by the way. Your name's Sam--Sam +Robinson. Mine--Bill Jones.... Our friends are ahead of us. Come along." + +Whistling, they swung up to the brightly lit little public-house, set +there upon the edge of the bay. Here and there over the unruffled surface +of the waters to the left of them, a light pricked out, glowing against +the gloom. Black against the mouth of the harbour, as though etched upon +a smoky background, a steamer swayed uneasily with the swell of the water +at her keel, her nose touching the pier-head, a chain of lights outlining +her cumbersome hulk. Men's voices made the night noisy, and numerous feet +scuttled to and fro over the cobbles of the dockyard to where a handful +of fishing boats were drawn up, only their masts showing above the +landing, with here and there a ghostly wraith of sail. + +Cleek paused a moment, drinking in the scene with his love of beauty, and +then assumed his role of the evening. And how well he could play any role +he chose! + +He cleared his throat, and addressed his companion in broad cockney. + +"Gawd's truf, Sammie!" he said. "If this fair don't look like a bit of +'ome. Ain't spotted the briny for a dog's age. Let's 'ave a drink." + +Someone turned at his raucous voice and looked back over the curve of a +huge shoulder. Then he went to the doorway of the little pub, and raised +a hand, with two fingers extended. Obviously it was some sort of sign, +for in an instant the noise of voices dropped, and Cleek and Dollops +slouched in and up to the crowded bar. Men made room for them on either +side, as they pushed their way in, eyeing them at first with some +suspicion, then, as they saw the familiar garments, calling out some +hoarse jest or greeting in their own lingo, to which Cleek cheerfully +responded. + +A little to the right of them stood Borkins, his cap still pulled low +over his eyes, and a shabby overcoat buttoned to the neck. Cleek glanced +at him out of the tail of his eye, and then, at sight of his companion, +his mouth tightened. He'd give something to measure _that_ cur muscle for +muscle, strength for strength! The sort to steal into a man's room at +night and try to murder him! The detective planted an arm--brown and +brawny and with a tattooed serpent winding its way round the strong wrist +to the elbow (oh, wonderful make-up box!)--on the edge of the marble bar, +and called loudly for a drink. His very voice was raw and husky with a +tang of the sea in it. Dollops's nasal twang took up the story, while the +barmaid--a red-headed, fat woman with a coarse, hard face, who was +continually smiling--looked them up and down, and having taken stock of +them set two pewter tankards of frothing ale before them, took the money +from Cleek, bit it, and then with a nod dropped it into the till and came +back for a chat. + +"Strangers, ain't you?" she said, pleasantly, leaning on the bar and +grinning at them. + +"Yus." Cleek's voice was sharp, emphatic. + +"Thought so. Sea-faring, I take it?" + +"Yus," said Cleek again, and gulped down the rest of his ale, pushing the +tankard toward her and nodding at it significantly. + +She sniffed, and then laughed. + +"Want another, eh? Ain't wastin' many words, are yer, matey? 'Oo's the +little 'un?" + +"Meaning me?" said Dollops, bridling. "None of yer blarney 'ere, miss! Me +an' my mate's been on a walkin' tooer--come up from Lunnon, we 'ave." + +"You never did!" + +Admiration mingled with disbelief in the barmaid's voice. A little stir +of interest went round the crowded, smoky room and someone called out: + +"Lunnon, 'ave yer? Bin walkin' a bit, matey. Wot brought yer dahn 'ere? +An' what're sailor men doin' in Lunnon, any'ow?" + +"Wot most folks is doin' nowadays--lookin for a job!" replied Cleek, as +he gulped down the second tankard and pushed it forward again to be +replenished. "Come from Southampton, we 'ave. Got a parss up to Lunnon, +'cause a pal told us there'd be work at the factories. But there weren't +no work. Gawd's truf! What're sailormen wantin' wi' clorth-makin' and +'ammering' tin-pots? Them's the only jobs we wuz offered in Lunnon. I +don't give a curse for the plyce.... No, Sammy an' me we says to each +other"--he took another drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his +hand--"we says this ain't no plyce for us. We'd just come over frum +Jamaica--" + +"Go on! Travellin' in furrin parts was you!" this in admiration from the +barmaid. + +"--and we ain't seein' oursel's turning inter land-lubbers in no +sich spot as that. Pal told us there was a 'arbour down 'ere abahts, +wiv a factory wot a sailorman might git work at an' still 'old 'is +self-respec'. So we walked 'ere." + +"Wot energy!" + +Black Whiskers--as Dollops had called him--broke in at this juncture, his +thin mouth opening in a grin that showed two rows of blackened teeth. + +Cleek twitched round sharply in his direction. + +"Yus--wasn't it? An', funny enough, we've plenty more energy ter +come!... But what the 'ell is this factory work 'ere, any'ow? An' any +chawnce of a couple of men gittin' a bit er work to keep the blinkin' +wolf from the door? Who'll tell us?" + +A slight silence followed this, a silence in which man looked at man, and +then back again at the ginger-headed lady behind the bar. She raised her +eyebrows and nodded, and then went off into little giggles that shook her +plump figure. + +A big man at Cleek's left gave him the answer. + +"Factory makes electric fittin's an' such-like, an' ships 'em abroad," he +said, tersely. "Happen you don't unnerstan' the business? Happen the +marster won't want you. Happen you'll 'ave ter move on, I'm a-thinkin'." + +"Happen I won't!" retorted Cleek, with a loud guffaw. + +"S'welp me, you chaps, ain't none uv you a-goin' ter lend a 'and to a +mate wot's out uv a job? What's the blooming mystery? An' where's the +bloomin' boss?" + +"Better see 'im in the mawning," supplemented Black Whiskers, +truculently. "He's busy now. Works all night sometimes, 'e does. But +there's a vacancy or two, I know, for factory 'ands. Bin a bit of +riotin' an' splittin' uv state secrets. But the fellers wot did it are +gorn now"--he laughed a trifle grimly--"won't never come troublin' 'ere +again. Pretty strict, marster is. But good work and good pay." + +"And yer carnt arsk fer more, that's wot I ses!" threw in Dollops in his +shrill voice. + +Now Cleek, all this time, had been edging more and more in the direction +of Borkins and his sinister companion who were standing a little apart, +but nevertheless were interested spectators of all that went on. + +Having at last obtained his object, he cast about for a subject of +conversation and picked the barmaid whose rallies met with the approval +of the entire company, and who was at that moment carrying on a spirited +give-and-take conversation with the redoubtable Dollops. + +"Bit of a sport, ain't she, guv'nor?" Cleek remarked to Borkins, with a +jerk of his head in the woman's direction. The butler whirled round and +fixed him with a stare of haughty indignation. + +"Here, you keep your fingers off your betters!" he retorted angrily, for +Cleek had dug a friendly elbow into his ribs. + +"Oh, orl right! No offence meant! Thought perhaps _you_ wuz the boss, by +the look of yer. But doubtless you ain't nuffink ter do wiv the factory +at all. Private gent, I take it." + +"Then you take it wrong!" retorted Borkins, sharply. "And I _have_ +something ter do with the factory, if you wants ter know. Like ter show +your good manners, I might be able to get you a job--an' one for the +little 'un as well, though I don't care for Londoners as a rule. There's +another of 'em up at the place where I lives. I'm 'ead butler to Sir +Nigel Merriton of Merriton Towers, if you're anxious to know who _I_ am." +His chest swelled visibly. "In private I dabbles a little in--other +things. And I've influence. You men can keep your mouths shut?" + +"Dumb as a blinkin' dorg!" threw in Dollops, who was close by Cleek's +side, and both men nodded vigorously. + +"Well, then, I'll see what I can do. Mind you, I don't promise nothink. +I'll think it hover. Better come to me to-morrow. Make it in the evening +for there's a h'inquest up at the Towers. My master's been copped for +murderin' his friend, and I'll 'ave to be about, then. Ow'll to-morrow +evening suit?" + +Cleek drew a long breath and put out his hand. Then, as if recalling the +superior station of the man he addressed, withdrew it again and remarked: +"You're a real gent, you are! Any one'd know you was wot they calls +well-connected. Ter-morrow it is, then. We'll be 'ere and grateful for +yer 'elp.... Wot's this abaht a murder? Fight was it? I'm 'appy at that +sort of thing myself." + +He squared up a moment and made a mock of boxing Dollops which seemed to +please the audience. + +"That's the stuff, that's the stuff, matey!" called out a raw-boned man +who up to the present had remained silent. "You're the man for us, I ses! +An' the little 'un, too." + +"Reckon I can give you a taste of fightin' that'll please you," +remarked Borkins in a low voice. "Yes, Mainer's right. You're the man +for us.... Good-night, all. Time's up. I'm off." + +"Good-night," chorused a score of voices, while the fat barmaid blew a +kiss off the tips of her stubby fingers, and called out after him: "Come +again soon, dearie." + +Cleek looked at Dollops, and both realized the importance of getting back +to the Towers before the arrival of Borkins, in case that worthy should +think (as was far from unlikely) of spying on their movements, and +checking up on Cleek's progress in letter writing. It was going to +require some quick work. + +"Well, Sammy, better be movin' back to our shelterin' roof an' all the +comforts of 'ome," began Cleek almost at once, and gulping down the last +of his fourth tankard and slouching over to the doorway. A chorus of +voices stopped him. + +"Where you sleepin'?" + +"Under the 'aystack about 'arf a mile from 'ere," replied Cleek glibly +and at a venture. + +The barmaid's brows knitted into a frown. + +"'Aystack?" she repeated. "There ain't no 'aystack along this road from +'ere to Fetchworth. Bit orf the track, ain't yer?" + +Cleek retrieved himself at once. + +"Ain't there? Well, wot if there ain't? The place wot I calls a +'aystack--an' wot Lunnoners calls a 'aystack too--is the nearest bit of +shelter wot comes your way. Manner of speakin', that's all." + +"Oh! Then I reckon you means the barn about a quarter of a mile up the +road toward the village?" The barmaid smiled again. + +"That's it. Good-night." + +"Good night," chorused the hoarse voices. + +The night outside was as black as a pocket. + +"Better cut along by the fields, Dollops," whispered Cleek as they took +to their heels up the rough road. "Got to pass him. This mist will help +us. That was a near shave about the haystack. I nearly tripped us up +there. Awful creature, that woman!" + +"Looks like a jelly-fish come loose," threw in Dollops with a snort. +"There's ole Borkins, sir, straight ahead. 'Ere--in through this gap in +this 'edge and then across the field by the side of 'im.... Weren't such a +rough night after all, was it, sir?" + +Cleek sighed. One might almost have thought that he regretted the fact. + +"No, Dollops," he said, softly, "it was the calmest night of its kind +I've ever experienced. But we've gleaned something from it. But what the +devil has Borkins got to _do_ with this factory? What ever it is he's +in it right up to the neck, and we'll have to dig around him pretty +carefully. You'll help me, Dollops, won't you? Can't do without you, you +know." + +"Orlways, sir--orlways," breathed Dollops, in a husky whisper. "Where you +goes, I'm a-hikin' along by yer side. You ain't ever going ter get rid of +me." + +"Good lad!" and they redoubled their pace. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +AT THE INQUEST + + +Thursday dawned in a blaze of sunshine, and after the bleak promise of +the day before the sky was a clear, sapphire-blue. + +"What a day! And what a mission to waste it on!" sighed Cleek next +morning, as he finished breakfast and took a turn to the front door, +smoking his cigarette. "Here's murder at the very door of this ill-fated +place. And we've got to see the thing out!" + +He spun upon his heel and went back again into the gloomy hall, as though +the sight of the sunshine sickened him. His thoughts were with Merriton, +shut away there in the village prison to await this day of reckoning, +with, if the word should go against him, a still further day of reckoning +ahead. A day when the cleverest brains of the law schools would be +arrayed against him, and he would have to go through the awful tragedy +of a trial in open court. What was a mere coroner's jury to that +possibility? + +Then too, perhaps in spite of evidence, they might let the boy off. There +was a chance in that matter of the I.O.U., which he himself had found in +the pocket of the dead man, and which was signed in the name of Lester +Stark. Stark was due at the inquest to-day, to give his side of the +affair. There was a possible loophole of escape. Would Nigel be able +to get through it? That was the question. + +The inquest was set for two o'clock. From eleven onward the great house +began to fill with expectant and curious visitors. Reporters from local +papers, and one or two who represented the London press, turned up, their +press-cards as tickets of admittance. Petrie was stationed at the door to +waylay casual strangers, but any who offered possible light upon the +matter, eye-witnesses or otherwise, were allowed to enter. It was +astonishing how many people there were who confessed to having "seen +things" connected with the whole distressing affair. By one o'clock +almost everyone was in place. At a quarter past, 'Toinette Brellier +arrived, dressed in black and with a heavy veil shrouding her pallor. She +was accompanied by her uncle. + +Cleek met them in the hall. Upon sight of him 'Toinette ran up and caught +him by the arm. + +"You are Mr. Headland, are you not?" she stated rather than asked, her +voice full of agitation, her whole figure trembling. "My name is +Brellier, Antoinette Brellier. You have heard of me from Nigel, Mr. +Headland. I am--engaged to be married to him. This is my uncle, with whom +I live. Mr. Headland--Mr. Brellier." + +She made the introduction in a distrait manner, and the two men bowed. + +"I am pleased to meet you, sir," said Brellier, in his stilted English, +"but I could wish it were under happier circumstances." + +"And I," murmured Cleek, taking in the trim contour and the keen eyes of +this man who was to have been Merriton's father-in-law--if things had +turned out differently. He found he rather liked his looks. + +"There is nothing--one can do?" Brellier's voice was politely anxious, +and he spread out his hands in true French fashion then tugged at his +closely clipped iron-gray beard. + +"Anything that you know, Mr. Brellier, that would perhaps be of help, you +can say--in the witness box. We are looking for people who know anything +of the whole distressing tragedy. You can help that way, and that way +alone. For myself," he shrugged his shoulders, "I don't for an instant +believe Sir Nigel to be guilty. I can't, somehow. And yet--if you knew +the evidence against him--!" + +A sob came suddenly from 'Toinette, and Brellier gently led her away. It +was a terrible ordeal for her, but she had insisted on coming--fearing, +hoping that she might be of use to Nigel in the witness box. By the time +they reached the great, crowded room, with its table set at the far end, +its empty chairs, and the platform upon which the two bodies lay shrouded +in their black coverings, she was crying, though plainly struggling for +self possession. + +Brellier found her a chair at the farther side of the room, and stood +beside her, while near by Cleek saw the figure of Borkins, clad in +ordinary clothes. He tipped one respectful finger as Brellier passed him, +and greeted him with a half-smile, as one of whom he thoroughly approved. + +Then there was a little murmur of expectancy, as the group about the +doorway parted to admit the prisoner. + +He came between two policemen, very pale, very haggard, greatly aged by +the few days of his ordeal. There were lines about his mouth and eyes +that were not good to see. He was thinner, older. Already the gray showed +in the hair about his temples. He walked stiffly, looking neither to +right nor left, his head up, his hands handcuffed before him; calm, +dignified, a trifle grimly amused at the whole affair--though what this +attitude cost him to keep up no one ever knew. + +'Toinette uttered a cry at sight of him, and then shut her handkerchief +against her mouth. His face quivered as he recognized her voice, then, +looking across the crowded room, he saw her--and smiled.... + +The jury filed in one after the other, twelve stout, hardy specimens of +the country tradesman, with a local doctor and a farmer or two sprinkled +among the lump to leaven it. The coroner followed, having driven up in +the latest thing in motor cars (for he was going to do the thing +properly, as it was at the country's expense). Then the horrible +proceedings began. + +After the preliminaries, which followed the usual custom (for the coroner +seemed singularly devoid of originality) the bodies were uncovered, and +a murmur of excited expectancy ran through the crowd. With morbid +curiosity they pressed forward. The reporters started to scribble in +their note-books, a little pale and perturbed, for all their experience +of such affairs. One or two of the crowd gasped, and then shut their +eyes. Brellier exclaimed aloud in French, and for a moment covered his +face with his hands; but 'Toinette made no murmur. For she had not +looked, _would_ not look upon the grim terrors that lay there. There +was no need for _that_. + +The coroner spoke, attacking the matter in a business-like fashion, and +leaning down from his slightly elevated position upon the platform, +pointed a finger at the singed and blackened puncture upon the temple of +the thing that was once Dacre Wynne. He pointed also to the wound in the +head of Collins. + +"It is apparent to all present," he began in his flat voice, "that death +has been caused in each case by a shot in the head. That the two men were +killed similarly is something in the nature of a coincidence. The +revolver that killed them was not the same in both cases. In that of Mr. +Wynne we have a bullet wound of an extremely small calibre. We have, +indeed, the actual bullet. We also have, so we think, the revolver that +fired the shot. In the case of James Collins there has been no proof +and no evidence of any one whom we know being concerned. Therefore we +will take the case of the man Dacre Wynne first. He was killed by a +revolver-shot in the temple, and death was--or should have +been--instantaneous. We will call the prisoner to speak first." + +He lifted a revolver from the table and held it in the hollow of his big +palm. + +"This revolver is yours?" he said, peering up under his shaggy eyebrows +into Merriton's face. + +"It is." + +"Very good. There has been, as you see, one shot fired from it. Of the +six chambers one is empty." He reached down and picked up a small +something and held it in the hollow of the other hand, balancing one +against the other as he talked. "Sir Nigel, I ask you. This we recognize +as a bullet which belongs to this same revolver, the revolver which you +have recognized and claimed as your own. It is identical with those that +are used in the cartridges of your revolver, is it not?" + +Merriton bent his head. His eyes had a dumb, hurt look, but over the +crowded room his voice sounded firm and steady. + +"It is." + +"Then I take it that, as this bullet was extracted from the head of the +dead man, and as this revolver which you gave to the police yourself, and +from which you say that you fired a shot that night, that you are guilty +of his murder. Is it not so?" + +"I am not guilty." + +"H'm." For a moment there was silence. Over the room came the sound of +scratching pencils and pens, the shuffle of someone's foot, a swift +intake of the breath--no more. Then the coroner spoke again. + +"Tell us, then," he said, "your version of what took place that night." + +And Merriton told it, told it with a ring in his voice, his head high, +and with eyes that flashed and shone with the cause he was pleading. Told +it with fire and spirit; and even as the words fell from his lips, felt +the sudden chill of disbelief that seemed to grip the room in its cold +hand. Not a sound broke the recital. He had been given a fair hearing, at +all events, though in that community of hard-headed, unimaginative men +there was not one that believed him--save those few who already knew the +story to be true. + +The coroner stopped fitting his fingers together as the firm voice +faltered and was finally silent, and shot a glance at Merriton from under +his shaggy brows. + +"And you expect us to believe that story, Sir Nigel; knowing what we do +about the bad blood between you and the dead man, and having here the +evidence of our own eyes in this revolver bullet?" + +"I have told the truth. I can do no more." + +"No man can," responded the coroner, gravely, "but it is that which I +must admit I query. The story is so far-fetched, so utterly impossible +for a rationally minded being--" + +"But you must admit that he was not a rationally minded being that +night!" broke in a quick voice from across the room, and everyone turned +to look into Doctor Bartholomew's seamed, anxious face. "Under the +influence of drink and that devil incarnate, Dacre Wynne, a man couldn't +be answerable for--" + +"Silence in the Court!" rapped out the coroner, and the good doctor was +forced to obey. + +Then the inquiry went on. The prisoner was told to stand down, amid a +chorus of protesting voices, for, though the story was disbelieved, +everyone who had come in contact with Merriton had formed an instant +liking for him. No one wished to see him condemned as guilty--save those +few who seemed determined to send him to the gallows. + +Three or four possible witnesses were called, but nothing of any +importance was gleaned from them; then Borkins was summoned to the table. +As he pushed past 'Toinette's chair from the knot of villagers which +surrounded him, his face was white, and his lips compressed. He took his +stand in front of the jury and prepared to answer the questions which +were put to him by the coroner. That man's method seemed to have changed +since his questioning of Sir Nigel and he flung out his queries like a +rapid-fire gun. + +Borkins came through the ordeal fairly well, all things considered. +He told his story of what he had said he had seen that night, in a +comparatively steady voice, though he was of the type that is addicted +to nervousness when appearing before people. + +Cleek, at the back of the court, with Mr. Narkom on his right and Dollops +on his left, waited for that one weak spot in the evidence, and saw with +a smile how the coroner lit upon it. His opinion of that worthy went up +considerably. + +"You say you heard the man Wynne groaning and moaning on the garden +pathway after he was shot, and then practically saw him die?" + +"I did, sir." + +"And yet, a man killed in that fashion, hit in that particular portion of +the temple, always dies instantaneously. Isn't that rather strange?" + +Borkins went red. + +"I have nothing to say, sir. Simply what I heard." + +"H'm. Well, certainly the evidence does dovetail in, and the doctors may +have been wrong in this instance. We can look into that evidence later. +Stand down." + +Borkins stood down with something like a sigh of relief, and pushed his +way back into his place, his friends nodding to him and congratulating +him upon the way he had given his evidence. + +Then Tony West was called, and told all that he had to tell of his +knowledge of the night's happenings in a rather irritated manner, as +though the whole thing bored him utterly, and he couldn't for the life +of him make out why any one even dreamed that old Nigel had murdered a +man. He told the coroner something of this before he finished, and as he +returned to his place a murmur of approval went up. His manner had taken +the public fancy, and they would have liked to hear more of him. + +But there was another piece of evidence to be shown, and this took the +form of a scrap of creased white paper. + +It was waved aloft in the coroner's hand, so that everyone could see it. + +"This," said the coroner, "is an I.O.U. found upon the dead man, for two +thousand pounds, and signed with the name of Lester Stark. An important +piece of evidence, this. Will Mr. Stark kindly come forward?" + +There was a rustle at the back of the court, and Stark pushed his way to +the front, his face rather red, his eyes a trifle shamefaced. As he +came, Merriton was conscious of a quickening of his pulse, of a leap of +his heart, though he loathed himself afterward for the sensation. His +eyes went toward 'Toinette, and he saw that she was looking at him, with +all the love that was in her soul laid bare for him--and all--to see. It +cheered him, as she meant it should. + +Then Stark took his place upon the witness stand. + +"This I.O.U. belongs to you, I take it?" said the coroner, briskly. + +"It does, sir." + +"And it was made out two days before the prisoner met his death. The +signature is yours?" + +Stark bowed. His eyes sought Nigel's and rested upon the pale, lined face +with every appearance of concern. Then he looked back at the coroner. + +"Dacre Wynne lent me that money two days before he came down to visit +Merriton. No one knew of it, except he and I. We had never been good +friends--in fact, I believe he hated me. My mother had been--well, kind +to him in the old days, and I suppose he hadn't forgotten it. Anyhow, +there was family difficulty. My--my pater left some considerable debts +which we found we were obliged to face. There was a woman--oh, I needn't +go into these family things, in a place like this, need I?... Well, if I +must--I must. But it's a loathsome job at best.... There was a woman whom +my father--kept. When he died he left her two thousand pounds in his +will, and he hadn't two thousand pounds to leave when his debts were +cleared up. We--we had to face things. Paid everything off, and all that, +and then, at the last gasp, that woman came and claimed the money. The +lawyer said she was within her rights, we'd have to fork out. And I +couldn't lay my hands upon the amount just then, because it had taken +pretty nearly all we had to clear the debts off." + +"So you borrowed from Mr. Wynne?" + +"Yes, I borrowed from Dacre Wynne. I'd sooner have cut my right hand off +than have done it, but I knew Merriton was going to be married, and I +wouldn't saddle him with my bills. Don't look at me like that, Nigel, old +chap, you know I _couldn't_! Tony West has only enough for himself, and I +didn't want to go to loan sharks. So the mater suggested Dacre Wynne. I +went to him, in her name, and ate the dust. It was beastly--but he +promised to stump up. And he did. I'm working now on a paper, to try +and pay as much off as I can, and--a cousin is keeping the mater until +I can look after her myself. We've taken a little place out Chelsea way. +That's all." + +"H'm. And you can show proof of this, if the jury requires it?" put in +the coroner, at this juncture. + +"I can--here and now." He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out +a sheaf of papers, tossing them in front of the coroner, who, after +a glance at their contents, seemed to be satisfied that they gave the +answer he sought. + +"Thank you.... And you have no revolver, Mr. Stark, even if you had +reason for killing Mr. Wynne?" + +Stark gave a little start of surprise. + +"Reason for _killing_ him? You're not trying to intimate that _I_ killed +him, are you? Of all the idiotic things! No, I have no revolver, Mr. +Coroner. And I've nothing more to say." + +"Then stand down," said the coroner, and Lester Stark threaded his way +back to the chair he had occupied during the proceedings, rather red in +the face, and with blazing eyes and tightly set lips. + +A stream of other witnesses came and gave their stories. Brellier told of +how he had been rung up by Merriton to ask if there were any news of +Wynne's arrival at the house. Told, in fact, all that he admitted to know +of the night's affair, and ended up his evidence with the remark that +"nothing on earth or in heaven would make him believe that Sir Nigel +Merriton was guilty of murder." + +Things were narrowing down. There was a restlessness about the court; +time was getting on and everything pointed one way. After some discussion +with the jury, the foreman of it, a stout, pretentious fellow, rose to +his feet and whispered a few hurried words to the coroner. That gentleman +wiped his forehead with a silk handkerchief and looked about him. It had +been a trying business altogether. He'd be glad of his supper. He got to +his feet and turned to the crowded room. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "in all this evidence that has been placed before +us I find not one loophole of escape for the prisoner, not one opening +by which there might be a chance of passing any other verdict than that +which I am compelled to pass now; save only in the evidence of Borkins, +who tells that the dead man groaned and moaned for a minute or two after +being shot. This, I must say, leaves me in some doubt as to the absolute +accuracy of his story, but the main facts tally with what evidence we +have and point in one direction. There is only one revolver in question, +and that revolver of a peculiar make and bore. I have shown you the +instrument here, also the bullet which was extracted from the dead man's +brain. Is there no other person who would wish to give evidence, before +I am compelled to pronounce the prisoner 'Guilty'--and leave him to the +hands of higher Courts of Justice? If there is, I beg of you to speak, +and speak at once. Time is short, gentlemen." + +His voice ceased, and for a moment over the room there was silence. You +could have heard a pin drop. Then came the scraping of a chair, a +swiftly-muttered, "I will! I will! I have something to say!" in a woman's +voice shrill with emotion, and 'Toinette Brellier stood up, slim and tall +in her black frock, and with the veil thrown back from her pale face. She +held something in her hand, something which she waved aloft for all to +see. + +"I ... I have something to say, Mr. Coroner," she said in a clear, high +voice. "Something to show you, also. See!" She pushed her way through the +crowd that opened to admit her, gaping at her as she came rapidly to the +coroner's table and held out the object. It was a small-sized revolver, +identical in every detail to that which lay upon the coroner's table. +"That," she said clearly, her voice rising higher and higher, as she +looked into Merriton's face for a single instant and smiled wanly, "that, +Mr. Coroner, is a revolver identical with the one which you have there. +It is the same make, the same bore--_everything_!" + +"So it is!" For a moment the coroner lost his calm. He lifted an excited +face to meet her eyes, "Where did you get it, Miss Brellier?" + +"From the top drawer of the secretaire in the little boudoir at Withersby +Hall," she said calmly, "where it has always lain. You will find a shot +missing. Everything the same, Mr. Coroner; _everything_ the same!" + +"It belongs to some member of your household, Miss Brellier?" + +She took a step backward and drew a sharp breath. Then her eyes were +fixed upon Merriton's face. + +"It belongs to--_me_," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +QUESTIONS--AND ANSWERS + + +A murmur of amazement went round the room, like the sound of rising wind. +The coroner held up his hand for silence. + +"You say it is yours, Miss Brellier? This--this is really most +remarkable--most remarkable! The revolver is of French make, is it not? +You bought it abroad?" + +"I did. Just before I first came to England. I had been travelling +through Tunis before that, and--well, one doesn't like to be without +these things. Sir Nigel's revolver came from India, I believe--through +the agents of a French firm, the makers." + +"But--" The coroner's voice was low-pitched, incredulous, "are you trying +to tell us you fired a shot that night, Miss Brellier?" + +She shook her head, smiling. + +"No--that would be impossible. But my revolver has always lain in that +little secretaire, and I have never had cause to use it since I have been +on this side of the Channel. I was in bed early that night, with a +headache. My uncle will tell you that. He took me to my room and spent +the rest of the evening in his study, as you have already heard from him. +No, I cannot say I murdered Dacre Wynne. Though I would say that or +anything to save Nigel. But I didn't discover that this little revolver +of mine had ever been fired until yesterday, when I happened to go to my +secretaire for a letter which I had locked away in that particular +drawer. Then I took it up and chanced to examine it--I don't know why. +Perhaps because it was the same as Nigel's, I--" she choked suddenly, and +bit at her lips for control. "Is there not a loophole _here_, sir, by +which Sir Nigel might be saved? Surely it must be traced who used this +revolver, who fired the shot from it?" + +Her voice had risen to a piteous note that brought the tears to many eyes +in that crowded room. The coroner coughed. Then he glanced enquiringly +over at Brellier, who had risen from his seat. + +"You have something to say about this, Mr. Brellier?" + +Brellier made a clicking sound with his tongue. + +"I'm afraid my niece has been wasting your time, sir," he said quietly, +"because I happen to have used that little instrument myself five months +ago. We had a dog who was hurt--you remember Franco, 'Toinette? And if +you carry your mind back you will also recollect that he had eventually +to be shot, and that I was forced to perform that unpleasant operation +myself. He was dear to me, that dog; he was--how do you call it?--a true +'pal'. It hurt me to do this thing, but I did it. And with that revolver +also. It was light. 'Toinette must have forgotten that I mentioned the +matter to her. + +"I am afraid this can have no bearing upon the case--though the dear God +knows that I would do all I could to bring this terrible thing to an end, +if it lay in my power. That's is all, I think." + +He bowed, and sat down again, beckoning his niece back to her seat with +a little frown. She cast a piteous look up into the coroner's face. + +"I'm sorry," she said brokenly; "I had forgotten about that. Of course, +it is true, as my uncle said. But I was so anxious--so anxious! And there +seemed just a chance. You understand?" + +"I do, Miss Brellier. And I am sorry that the evidence in this case is +of no use to us. Constable, take the prisoner away to await higher +justice. I must say that I think no other verdict upon the evidence +brought forward could possibly be passed upon the prisoner than I have +passed to-day. I'm sorry, Sir Nigel, but--one must do one's duty, you +know.... We'll be getting back to the office, Mr. Murkford." He beckoned +to his clerk, who rose instantly and followed him. "Good afternoon, +gentlemen." + +... And so the whole wearisome proceedings were at an end--and Cleek had +spoken no word of that would-be assassin who had come upon him in the +dark watches of the night and sought his life. He noted that Borkins +looked at him in some surprise, but held his counsel. Borkins knew more +than he had said upon his oath _this_ day; of that Cleek was certain. +Well, he would bide his time. There were other ways to work besides the +open-handed fashion of the coroner's court and the policeman's uniform. +He was due to meet Borkins that night and discuss the possibilities of +being taken on to work at the electrical factory. Something might come +out of that--something _must_ come of that. It was impossible that the +thing should be left as it was, and an innocent boy--he was certain of +Merriton's innocence, in spite of the evidence against him--should be +hanged. + +As he stepped out into the growing twilight Cleek touched Mr. Narkom on +the arm and then ran over to the van into which the prisoner was +stepping, his guardians of the law upon either side of him, his face +white, his shoulders bowed. 'Toinette stood a few steps distant, the +tears chasing themselves down her face and the sobs drowning her broken +words of comfort to him. He seemed barely to notice her, but at sight of +Cleek he flung himself round, and gave a harsh laugh. + +"And a damn lot of good _you've_ done me, for all your fine reputation!" +he said sneeringly, his face reddening. "God! that there should be such +fools allowed to hold the law in their hands! You've made a mistake this +time, Mr. Cl--" + +"One moment!" Cleek held up a silencing hand as the name almost escaped +Merriton's lips. "Officer, I'm from Scotland Yard. I'd like a word with +the prisoner alone, if you don't mind, before you take him away. I'll +answer for his safety, I promise.... Keep your heart up, boy; I've not +done yet!" This in a low-pitched voice, as the two men dropped away from +either side. "I've not done by a long shot. But evidence has been so +confoundly against you. I'd hopes of that I.O.U., but the whole thing was +so simply explained--and there were the proofs, you know. Still, there +was no telling how the story would come out. But it was so obviously +true.... Only, keep up your heart, lad; that's what I wanted to tell you. +I'd swear on my oath you weren't guilty. And I'll prove it yet!" + +Something like a sob broke in Merriton's voice. He held out an impetuous +hand. + +"I'm sorry, sir," he said jerkily, "but it's a devilish ordeal. What a +life I've led this past week! If you only knew--could only realize! It +tears a man's nerves to atoms. I've almost given up hope--" + +Cleek took the hand and held it. + +"Never do that, Merriton, never do that," he said softly. "I've been +through the mill myself once--years ago now, but the scar still +stays--and it'll be a bit more red hell for the present. But if there's +any saving you, any proving this thing right up to the hilt, I'll do it. +That's all I wanted to say. Good-bye, and--buck up. I'm going to speak to +the little girl now, and cheer her up, too. You'll hear everything as it +comes along." + +He squeezed the hand, manacled so grimly to the other, and smiled a smile +brimming over with hope and promise. + +"God bless you, Mr.--Headland," Merriton replied, and as Cleek beckoned +to the two policemen, took his stand between them and entered the closed +vehicle. The door shut, the engine purred, and the car shot away up the +road toward the local police-station, leaving the man and the girl +staring after it, the same mute sorrow and sympathy shining in both pairs +of eyes. + +As it disappeared round a corner, 'Toinette turned to Cleek, her whole +agonized heart in her eyes. + +"Mr. Headland!" she broke out with a gush of tears. "Oh, m'sieur, if you +did but know--could but understand all that my poor heart suffers for +that innocent boy! It is breaking every minute, every hour. Is there +nothing, nothing that can be done to save him? I'd stake my very life on +his innocence!" + +Cleek let his hand rest for a moment upon the fragile shoulder, and +looked down into the pallid face. + +"I know you would," he said softly, "for even I know and understand what +the love of a good woman may do to a man. But, tell me. That story of the +revolver--_your_ revolver. You can vouch for it? Your uncle _did_ kill +the dog Franco with it? You can remember? Forgive me for asking, or +questioning for a moment the evidence which Mr. Brellier has given, but +I am anxious to save that boy from the hands of the law, and for that +reason no stone must be left unturned, no secret kept silent. Carry your +mind back to that time, and tell me if that is true." + +She puckered her brows together as if in perplexity and tapped one slim, +perfectly-manicured finger against her white teeth. + +"Yes," she said at last; "yes, it was every bit of it true--every bit, +Mr. Headland. For the moment, in that room of terror, I had forgotten +poor Franco's death. But now--yes, I can remember it all fully. My uncle +spoke the truth, Mr. Headland--I can promise you that." + +Cleek sighed. Then: + +"But it was _your_ revolver he used, Miss Brellier? Try to remember. He +said that he told you of it at the time. Can you recollect your uncle +telling you that he used your revolver to shoot the dog with, or not? +That is what I want to know." + +She shrugged her shoulders and spread out her hands. + +"It is so _difficile_. I am trying to remember, and the matter seemed +then so trivial! But there is no reason to doubt my uncle, Mr. Headland, +for he loves Nigel dearly, and if there was any way in which he could +help to unravel this so terrible plot against him--Oh! I am _sure_ he +must have told me so, _sure_! There would be no point in his telling an +untruth over that." + +"And yet you can not recall the actual remark that your uncle made, Miss +Brellier?" + +"No. But I am sure, sure that what he said was true." + +Cleek shrugged his shoulders. + +"Then, of course, you must know best. Well, we must try and find some +other loophole. I promised Merriton I'd speak a few words to you, Miss +Brellier, just to tell you to keep up heart--though it's a difficult +task. But everything that can be done, _will_ be done. And--if you should +happen to hear that I have thrown up the case, and gone back to London, +don't be a bit surprised. There are other ways, other means of helping +than the average person dreams of. Don't mention anything I have said to +you to _anybody_. Keep you own counsel, please, and as a token of my +regard for that I will give you my word that everything that _can_ be +done for Merriton will be. Good-bye." + +He put out his hand and she laid her slim one in it. For a moment her +eyes measured him, scanning his face as though to trace therein anything +of treachery to the cause which she held so dear. Then her face broke +into a wintry smile. + +"I have a feeling, Mr. Headland," she said softly, "that you are going +to be a good friend to us, Nigel and me. It is a woman's intuition that +tells me, and it helps me to bear the too dreadful suspense under which +we are all now labouring. You have my word of honour never to speak of +this talk together, and to keep a guard on my tongue for the future, if +it is to help Nigel. You will let me know how things go on, Mr. +Headland?" + +"That I cannot for the present tell. It will depend entirely upon how +events shape themselves, Miss Brellier. You may hear soon--you may not +hear at all. But I believe in his innocence as deeply as you do. +Therefore you must be content that I shall do my best, _whatever_ +happens. Good-bye." + +He gave her fingers a soft squeeze, held them a moment and then, dropping +them, bowed and swung upon his heel to join Mr. Narkom, who was standing +near by, the last of the group of interested spectators of that +afternoon's ghastly business. Dollops stood a little back from them, +awaiting his orders. + +"We'll have some supper at the village 'pub,' my dear Lake," said Cleek +in a loud, clear voice that carried to every corner of the deserted +garden, "and then come back to the Towers long enough to pack up our +traps and clear out of this haunted house altogether. The case is one too +many for me, and I'm chucking it." Mr. Narkom opened his mouth to speak, +but his colleague gave him no opportunity. "It's a bit too fishy for my +liking," he went on, "when the only clues a man's got to go on are a +dancing flame and a patch of charred grass--which, by the way, never +struck me as particularly interesting at the best of times--and when +evidence points so strongly toward young Merriton's guilt. All I can +say is, let's go. That's the ticket for me." + +"And for me also, old man!" agreed Mr. Narkom, emphatically, following +Cleek's lead though rather in the dark. "It's back to London for me, +whenever you're ready." + +"And that'll be as soon as Dollops can pack my things and get 'em off to +the station." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A NEW DEPARTURE + + +The question of packing was a very small matter altogether, and it was +barely seven o'clock when, this finished, Cleek and Mr. Narkom had +collected their coats and hats from the hat-stand, given Borkins the +benefit of their very original ideas as to closing up the house and +clearing out of it as soon as possible, each of them slipped a sovereign +into his hand, and were standing talking a short while at the open front +door. The chill of the evening crept into the house in cold breaths, +turning the gloomy hall into a good representation of a family vault. + +"All I can say," said Cleek, chewing a cigar, his hands in his trousers' +pockets, and his feet rocking from toe to heel, "is--get out of it, +Borkins, as soon as you can. I don't mind tellin' you, I'm jolly glad to +be clearin' out myself. It's been a devilish uncanny business from first +to last, and not much to my taste. Now, _I_ like a decent robbery or a +nice, quick-fingered forger that wants a bit of huntin' up. You know, +even detectives have their particular favourites in the matter of crime, +Borkins, and a beastly murder isn't exactly in _my_ line." + +Borkins laughed respectfully, rubbing his hands together. + +"Nor mine, sir," he made answer. "Though I must say you gentlemen 'aven't +been a bit what I imagined detectives to be. When you first come down, +you know, I spotted something different about you, and--" + +"Ought to be on the Force yourself!" supplemented Cleek. + +"And not such a bad callin' neither!" returned Borkins with a grin. "But +I knew you wasn't what you said you was, in a manner of speakin'. And if +it 'adn't been for all this unpleasantness, it would 'ave bin a nice +little change for yer, wouldn't it? Sorry to see the last of you, sirs, +I am that. And that young gentleman of your'n. But I must say I'm glad to +be done of the business." + +Cleek blew a cloud of smoke into the air. + +"Oh, you'll have another dose of it before you're entirely finished!" he +responded. "When the case comes on in London. _That's_ the ticklish part +of the business. We'll meet there again, I expect, as Mr. Lake and I will +be bound to give our evidence--which is a thankless task at the best of +times.... Hello! Dollops, got the golf-clubs and walking-sticks? That's +a good lad. Now we'll be off to old London again--eh, Lake? Good-bye, +Borkins. Best of luck." + +"Good-bye, gentlemen." + +The two men got into the taxi Dollops had procured for them, while that +worthy hopped on to the seat beside the driver and gave him the order to +"Nip it for the eight o'clock train for Lunnon, as farst as you kin slide +it, cabby!" To which the chauffeur made some equally pointed remark, and +they were off. + +But Borkins either did not realize that the eight-o'clock train for +London was a slow one, or thought that it was the most convenient for the +two gentlemen most interested, because he did not give a thought to the +matter that that particular train stopped at the next station, some three +miles away from Fetchworth. And even if he had and could have seen the +two tough-looking sailormen who descended from the first-class +compartment there and stepped on to the tiny platform among one or two +others, he would never have dreamed of associating them with the Mr. +Headland and his man Dollops who had such a short time ago left the +Towers for London. + +Which is just as well, as it happened, for it was with Borkins that Cleek +and Dollops were most concerned. Upon the probability of their friendship +with the butler hung the chance of their getting work. They had left Mr. +Narkom to go up to London and keep his eyes open for any clues in the +bank robberies case, and had promised to report to him as soon as +possible, if there were anything to be gleaned at the factory. Mr. Narkom +had expressed his doubts about it, had told Cleek that he really did not +see how any human agency could possibly get Nigel Merriton off, with such +appalling evidence to damn him. And what an electrical factory could have +to do with it...! + +"You forget the good Borkins's connection with the affair," returned +Cleek, a trifle sharply, "and you forget another thing. And that is, that +I have found the man who attempted my life, and mean eventually to come +to grips with him. That is the only reason why I did not speak at the +inquest this afternoon. I am going to bide my time, but I'll have the +beggar in the end. If working for a time at an electrical factory is +going to help on matters, then work there I'm going to, and Dollops with +me.... + +"If there should be need of me, don't forget that I am Bill Jones, +sailorman, once of Jamaica, now of the Factory, Saltfleet. And stick to +the code. A wire will fetch me." He hopped out upon the platform just +here, in his "cut-throat" make-up--a little hastily done, for the time +between the stations had been short--but excellent, nevertheless; then as +Mr. Narkom gripped his hand, he put his head into the carriage again. + +"My love to Ailsa if you see her, and tell her all goes well with me, +like a good friend!" whispered Cleek, softly. + +Mr. Narkom nodded, waved his hand, and then the two navvies swung away +from the train, gave up their tickets to the porter--having procured +third-class as well as first for just this very arrangement--and after +enquiring just how far it was to Saltfleet Bay, and learning that it was +a matter of "two mile and a 'arf by road, and a couple o' mile by the +fields," strode off through the little gate and on to the highroad. Just +how adventurous their quest was going to turn out to be even they did not +fully realize. + +They reached the outskirts of the bay, just as a clock in the church +tower half a mile away struck out nine, in deep-throated, sonorous tones. + +To the right of them the "Pig and Whistle" flaunted its lights and its +noise, its hilarious laughter and its coarse-thrown jests. Cleek sighed +as he turned toward it. + +"Now for it, boy," he said softly, and then started to whistle and to +laugh alternately, making his way across the cobbles to the brightly-lit +little pub. Someone ran to the doorway and peered out at sound of his +voice, trying to penetrate the darkness and discover who the stranger +might be thus gaily employed. + +Cleek sang out a greeting. + +"Good evenin' to yer, matey! This 'ers's Bill Jones and 'is pal. 'Ow, +I'll tyke the 'ighroad, and you'll tyke the laow road! and I'll be in +Scotland afore yer'.... 'Ere, Sammie, me lad, come along o' me an' warm +yer witals. I could drink the sea--strite I could!" + +He heard the man in the doorway laugh, and then he beckoned to him to +come along. And so they entered the "Pig and Whistle," and were greeted +enthusiastically by the red-headed barmaid, while many voices went up to +greet them, showing that already they had got on the right side of the +men who were to be their fellow-workers. + +"Gen'leman 'ere yet?" queried Cleek, jerking his thumb in the direction +where Borkins had stood the night before. "I've what you calls an +appointment wiv 'im, yer know. And.... 'Ere the blighter is! Good +evenin', sir. Pleased ter see yer again, though lookin' a bit pale abaht +the gills, if yer don't mind my sayin' so." + +"And so would you be, if you'd been through the ordeal I 'ave this +afternoon," snapped out Borkins in reply. "It's a beastly job a-tellin' +people what yer seen and 'eard. It is indeed!" + +"'Arder ter tell 'em wot you _'aven't_ seen an' 'eard, all the syme, +matey," threw in Cleek. "Done that meself, I 'as--bit of sleight-o'-'and +what they'd pulled me up for out Whitechapel way when I was a kid. Seein' +the master ternight, ain't we, sir?" + +Borkins slopped down his tankard of beer and wiped his mouth before +replying. + +"Seen him already," he answered with a touch of asperity, "and told +'im about you both, I 'ave. 'E says you're ter go up to the foreman +termorrow, say I sent you. Say the master 'as passed you, that'll be +all right. Couple o' quid a week, and the chance of a rise if you're +circumspect and keeps yer mouth closed." + +"That's my gyme all right, guv'nor!" struck in Dollops shrilly, clapping +his tankard down upon the bar with a loud bang. "Close as 'ouses we are, +guv'nor. An' me mate's like a hoyster." + +"Well, mind you remember it!" retorted Borkins sharply. "Or it'll go +badly with the pair of you. That's fixed, then, ain't it? What's yer +names again? I've forgotten." + +"Bill Jones, an' 'im's Sammie Robinson," replied Cleek quickly. "I'm much +obliged to yer, sir. Any one know where we kin get a shake-down for the +night? Time enough ter look for lodgin's termorrer." + +It was the barmaid's turn to speak, and she rested her rather heavy +person against the bar and touched Cleek's shoulder. + +"Mother, she 'as lodgers, dearie," she said in a coaxing voice. "You kin +come along to us, and stay right along, if you're comfortable. Nice beds +we 'ave, and a good 'ot dinner in the middle uv the day. You kin take yer +breakfast with us. Better come along to 'er ternight." + +"Thanks, I will," grunted Cleek in reply, and dug Dollops in the ribs, +just to show him how pleased he was with the arrangement. + +And so the evening passed. The lodgings were taken, the charge being +moderate for the kind of living that men in their walk of life were used +to, and the next morning found them both ensconced at their new work. + +The overseer proved to be a big, burly man, who, having received the +message from "the gentleman at the inn," immediately set them to work on +the machinery. The task was simple; they had merely to feed the machine +with so much raw material, and the other men and machines did the rest. +But what pleased them more, they were put to work side by side. This gave +Cleek a good opportunity of passing remarks now and then to Dollops and +telling him to take note of things. + +The factory was a smallish place, with not too large a payroll, and Cleek +gleaned from that first morning's work that it was run solely for the +purpose of making electrical fittings. + +"Where do they ship 'em to, matey?" he asked his next-door neighbour, +a pleasant-faced chap about twenty-three or four. + +"Over ter Belgium. Big firm there what buys from the master." + +"Oh?" So they were trading with Belgium, were they? That was interesting. +"Well, then, 'ow the dickens do they send 'em out?" + +"Boats, idiot!" The man's voice was full of contempt for the nincompoop +who couldn't use his head. Above the clang of the machinery Cleek's voice +rose a trifle higher. + +"Well, any fellow would know _that_!" he said with a laugh. "But what I +means is, what sort er boats? Big uns, I should sy, fer stuff like this." + +The man looked about him and bent his head. His voice dropped a note or +two. + +"_Fishin'_ boats," he said softly, and could be made to say no more, in +spite of the scornful laugh with which Cleek greeted this news. + +Fishing boats?... H'm. That was devilish peculiar. Sending out electrical +fittings to Belgium in _fishing boats_! Funny sort of a way to do trade, +though no doubt it was quite permissible up to a point. Well, he must +glean something more out of this good fellow before the day was over. + +A glass of beer at the "Pig and Whistle" after dinner worked wonders with +the man's tongue. He was not a favourite, so free drinks did not often +come his way. After the second glass he seemed almost ready to sell +his soul to this amicable newcomer, but Cleek was wise, and bided his +time. He didn't mean to fleece his man of the information in sight and +sound of his fellows. So he simply talked of the topics of the day, +discussed the labour question--from a new view-point--and then, as they +strolled back together to the factory, just as the whistle began to blow +that told the hands the dinner-hour was over, Cleek fired his first shot. + +"See 'ere, matey," he began confidentially, "you're a decent sort of +bloke, you are! Tell us a bit more about them there fishin' boats wot you +spoke uv. I'm that interested, I've been fair eaten up with curiosity. +Yer didn't mean the master of this plyce goes and ships electrical +fittin's and such-like out to Belgium in _fishin'_ boats--strite, eh?" + +"Yus." Jenkins nodded. "That's exactly what I do mean. Seems sort er +funny, don't it? And I reckon there's somethin' a bit fishy about the +whole thing. But I keep me mouth shut. That overseer's the very devil +'imself. Happen you'll larn ter do likewise. Two chaps who were 'ere +larst thought they'd be a bit smarty like, and told 'im they were goin' +ter tell all they knew--though God knows what it was! I ain't been able +to learn much, and haven't tried neither. But they went--zip! like that! +Never saw 'em no more, and nothin' come of it.... Best to keep your mouth +shut, mate. In this 'ere place, any'ow." + +"Oh," said Cleek off-handedly, "I'm not one to blab. You needn't be +afraid o' that. By the way, who's the chap with the black mustache +a-stragglin' all over 'is fyce? An' the narsty eye? Saw 'im with Borkins, +the man wot engaged me night before last." + +"That wasn't Borkins, me beauty," returned Jenkins with a laugh. "That +ain't his name. 'Ow did you come ter think of it? That fellow's name's +Piggott. And the other man? We calls 'im Dirty Jim, because 'e does all +the dirty work for the boss; but 'is real name's Dobbs. And if you takes +my word for anything, pal, you won't go rubbin' 'im up the wrong way. +'E's a fair devil!" + +H'm! "Dirty Jim," otherwise Jim Dobbs. And he was in the employment of +this very extraordinary firm for the purpose of doing its "dirty work." +Well, there seemed a good deal of employment for him, if that was the +case. And Borkins was _not_ Borkins in this part of the world. + +Cleek stepped back to his work a little thoughtful, a little +absent-minded, until the frown upon his forehead caused Dollops +to lean over and whisper anxiously, "Nothin' the matter, is there, sir?" + +He shook his head rapidly. + +"No, boy, no. Simply thinking, and smelling a rat somewhere." + +"Been smellin' of it meself this parst two hours," returned Dollops in +a sibilant whisper. His eye shone for a moment with the light of battle. +"Got summink ter tell you," he whispered under cover of the noise. +"Summink wot ought ter interest yer, I don't fink. 'Ave ter keep till +evenin'. Eh, Bill?" + +"Right you are, matey." Cleek's voice rose loudly as the overseer passed, +pausing a moment to watch them at work. "Nice job this, I must sy. Arfter +me own 'eart, strite it is. Soon catch on to it, don't yer?" + +"_Ra-ther!_" returned Dollops significantly. + +The overseer, with a shrug of the shoulders, moved on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +PRISONERS + + +It was not until the evening was fairly far advanced that the opportunity +of speaking to Dollops alone was afforded Cleek. He took it when the "Pig +and Whistle" was filled to overflowing, and hardly a man who worked at +the factory was not inside it or standing outside near the little quay, +holding the usual evening's confab on the affairs of the day. Cleek +caught hold of Dollops as he was making his way into the little bar. + +"Come fer a turn up the road, matey," he said loudly. "It's a fine +evenin' wot mykes yer 'omesick fer a sight uf yer own fireside. 'Ave +another drink later, mebbe. Come on." + +Dollops linked arms with him, and, smoking and talking, the two men went +off up the dark lane which led from the quayside, and of a night-time was +as black as a pocket. Cleek's torch showed them the pathway, and as they +walked they talked in rapid whispers. + +"Now, lad, let's hear all you've got to say!" he rapped out at length, as +the distance grew between themselves and the crowded little pub, and they +were safely out of earshot. + +Dollops gulped with pent-up excitement. + +"Lor! sir, there's summink wrong, any'ow; I've discovered that much!" he +broke out enthusiastically. "Chummed up with ole Black Whiskers I did, +and promised 'im a 'and ternight at twelve o'clock ter do some loadin' +on ter the fishin' boats wot's on their way ter Belgium. 'You're a +nice-seemin' sort er lad,' he tole me after we'd bin chattin' fer ten +minutes or so. 'Want ter make a bit of extra money by 'oldin' of your +tongue?' I was on it like a knife. 'Ra-_ther!_' I ses. 'Orl right,' ses +'e. 'Come along ter the quayside ternight at twelve o'clock. There's +a bit uf loadin' up ter be done, an' only a few uv the men are required. +I don't choose none wot I don't cotton to.' 'You'll cotton ter me all +right, matey,' I ses, with a sort uv a larf that seemed ter tickle 'im. +'I'm as close as the devil 'imself. Anythink yer doesn't want me ter see, +just tip me the wink.' 'I will that,' ses 'e, and then went off. An' so +'ere I am, sir, fixed up for a busy evenin' along uv ole Black Whiskers. +An' if I don't learn summink this night, well, my name ain't Dollops!" + +"Good lad!" said Cleek, giving the boy's arm a squeeze. "That's the way +to do it! And is that all you've got to tell me? I've done a bit myself, +and chummed up with a chap called Jenkins, the tall, thin man who works +on the left of me, and he's let me into the secret of the fishing boat +business. But he's a close-mouthed devil. Either doesn't know anything, +or won't tell. I'm not quite sure which. But he wasted a good deal of +valuable breath endeavouring to teach me to keep my mouth shut. Gad! I'd +give something to have a few moments alone with your friend Black +Whiskers! There's a ripped pillow-case in my portmanteau which ought +to interest him. And what else did you learn, Dollops?" + +"Only that what they ships is electric tubin's ter perfect flexible +electric wirin's wot is used for installations, sir," returned Dollops. +"That's what most of the things were wot I set eyes on after +workin'-hours, stacked up all ready ter be loaded on ter the boats. Long, +thin things they were, an' ought ter be easy work, judgin' from their +contents. But why they make all this mystery about it fair beats _me_!" + +"And me into the bargain, Dollops," interposed Cleek, with a little sigh. +"But there's an old saying, that there's no smoke without fire, and +ordinary people don't make such a devilish fuss about others knowing +their business if they're on the straight. What all this has got to do +with the 'Frozen Flame' business I must confess somewhat puzzles me to +discover. But that it _has_ something to do with it is proved by that +fishy character Borkins, and the amiable attempt of his friend to murder +so humble a person as myself. Now it's up to me to find the missing link +in the chain.... Hello! here's a gap in the hedge here. Looks like it had +been made on purpose. Let's go and investigate." + +He whipped his little torch round and the circle of light flashing over +the ground revealed to their searching eyes something vastly unexpected +in such a place and yet which, after all, seemed to fit into a place +where so much mystery and secretiveness was in the air. They themselves, +disguised as such rough characters, fitted into the strange picture, +which struck Cleek, even in spite of his many peculiar cases, as very +much out of the ordinary. + +A gap in the hedge there was, right enough. And through the gap--someone +must have been working here a very short time before--a square of turf, +cut carefully out and laid upon one side, revealed to their astonished +eyes a wooden trap-door, exactly suggestive of the pirates' den of a +child's imagination, and with a huge iron ring fastened to the centre of +it. + +Cleek whistled inaudibly, and turning round upon Dollops a happy light in +his eyes and a smile, almost of amusement on his lips. + +"Gad!" he exclaimed softly. "Game to try this, Dollops. I am going to +have a shot at it myself." + +"But you ain't got no firearms on yer, sir, in case o' h'accidents," +returned the literal minded Dollops, "and no man in 'is senses would +attempt to go down that thing without 'em." + +"Well, I've been called a lunatic before this, lad. And going down it I +am, this minute. And if you've the least qualms at following me, you can +just watch up here and warn me with the old signal if you hear any one +coming. But I'm going down, to find out where this thing leads to, and a +dollar to a ducat it'll lead to a good deal that means the unravelling of +a riddle. The fellow who tangled the threads in the first place has a +head any one might admire. But what I want to know is what he's taking +all this trouble for. Coming, Dollops?" + +Dollops sent a reproachful look into Cleek's face and sniffed audibly. + +"Of course I'm comin', guv'nor," he made answer. "D'yer think I'd be such +a dirty blighter as ter let you go dahn there--p'raps ter your very +death--alone? Not me, sir. Dollops is a-follerin' wherever you lead, and +if you chooses 'ell itself, well, 'e's ready ter be roasted and fried in +the devil's saucepan, so long as 'e keeps yer company." + +Without waiting for the end of this gallant, if rather prolonged speech +Cleek knelt down, set his two hands upon the iron ring and pulled for all +he was worth. But the ease with which the door lifted came as something +of a surprise. It came up silently, almost sending Cleek over backward, +as indeed it would have done a man with less poise, but he easily +recovered himself. He and Dollops cautiously approached the edge, and in +the half-light which the moon shed upon it (they did not use Cleek's +torch) saw that a flight of roughly-made clay steps led down into +darkness below. They sat back upon their heels and listened. Not a sound. + +"Coming?" whispered Cleek in a low, tense whisper. + +"Yes sir." Dollops was beside him in an instant. Cleek took the first +step carefully, and very slowly descended into the darkness, with Dollops +close behind him. Down and down they went, and on reaching the bottom, +found the place opened out into a sort of roughly-made tunnel, just as +high as a man's head, which ran on straight into the darkness in front of +them. + +"Gawd! gives yer the fair creeps, don't it?" muttered Dollops as they +stood in the gloom and tried to take their bearings. "What yer goin' ter +do, sir?" + +"Find out where it leads to--if there's time," whispered Cleek rapidly. +"We've got to find out what these human moles are burrowing in the earth +like this for. I'd give a good deal to know. Hear anything?" + +"Not a blinkin' sound, sir." + +"All right. We'll try the torch, and if any one turns up we'll have to +run for it. Now." He touched the electric button, and a blob of light +danced out upon the rough clay floor, revealing as it swung in Cleek's +swift fingers the whole circumference of the place from ground to +ceiling. + +"Cleverly made," muttered that gentleman in an admiring whisper. "It +reminds me of the old 'Twisted Arm' days, Dollops, and the tunnels that +ran to the sewers. Remember?" + +"I should just jolly well think I do, guv'nor! Them were days, if yer +like it! Never knew next minute if yer were goin' ter see daylight +again." + +"And this little adventure of ours seems a fair imitation of them!" +returned Cleek, with a noiseless laugh. "Let's move a bit farther on and +get our bearings. Hello! here's a little sort of cupboard without a door. +And ... look at those sacks standing there against that other side in +that little cut-out place, Dollops. Now I wonder what the devil _they_ +contain. Talk about the Catacombs! They aren't in it with this affair." + +Dollops crept up noiselessly and laid a hand upon one of the great sacks +that stood one upon the other in three double rows, and tried to feel the +contents with his fingers. It gave an absolutely unyielding surface, as +though it might be stuffed with concrete. + +"'Ard as a ship's biscuit, sir," he ejaculated. "Now I wonder what the +dickens?..." + +His voice trailed off suddenly, and he stood a moment absolutely still, +every nerve in his slim young body taut as wire, every muscle rigid. For +along the passage--not so very far in front of them, from where it seemed +to terminate--came the thud of men's feet upon the soft clayey ground. +The torch went out in an instant. In another, Cleek had caught Dollops's +arm and drawn him into the narrow aperture, where, with faces to the +wall, they stood tense and rigid, listening while the steps came nearer +and nearer. They waited in the darkness, as men in the _Bonnet Rouge_ +days must have waited for the stroke of Madame Guillotine. + +... The footsteps came forward leisurely. The intruders could hear the +sound of muffled voices. One, brief, concise, clipping its words short, +and with a note of cool authority in the low tones; the other--Dollops +huddled his shoulders closer and contrived to whisper "Black Whiskers" +before the two men came abreast of them. Strange to be walking thus +comfortably in the dark! Either they were sure of their way that it +didn't matter about having a light, or else they were afraid to use a +torch. + +"You will see that it is done, Dobbs, and done properly to-night?" +sounded the brisk tones of "Black Whiskers'" companion. And then the +reply: "Yes, it'll be done all right. We're sending 'em off at one +o'clock sharp. Loadin' at twelve. No need to worry about that, sir." + +"And these two newcomers? You can vouch for their reliability to keep +their mouths shut, Dobbs? We wouldn't have chanced taking them on if we +hadn't been so short-handed, but ... you're sure of them, eh?" + +They could hear "Dirty Jim's" ugly little chuckle. It seemed laden with +sinister purpose. + +"They're sound enough, master, I promise yer!" he made reply. +"Ugliest-lookin' pair er cut-throats yer ever laid yer peepers on. Seen +dirtier business than this, I dare swear. And Piggott's on to the right +kind, all right. Good man, Piggott." + +The two came opposite them, and stopped a moment, as though they might +be wishing to investigate the contents of the sacks that stood nearby, +hidden by the enveloping darkness. The tension under which Cleek and the +youthful Dollops laboured was tremendous. Not daring to breathe they +stood there hugging the wall, their every muscle aching with the strain, +and then the two strangers walked on again, still talking in low, casual +voices, until they had reached the end of the passage where the steps +started abruptly upward. Then a patch of light showed suddenly. + +"Steps here; be careful. They're none too easy," came the cautious voice +of Black Whiskers. "I'll go up first, so's you kin follow in my steps. +What's this? The door been left open, eh? I'll 'ave a few words with that +chap Jenkins afore I'm many days older. I'll larn 'im to disobey 'is +orders! Any one might come along 'ere and drop in casual-like!... The +unreliable swine!" + +The light grew less and less as the bearer of it climbed the rude stairs, +and finally vanished altogether. And as it disappeared Dollops clutched +Cleek's arm, his breath coming in little gasps. + +"The door, sir--" he gasped. "If they close that, we're--" And even as he +spoke there came a sound of sliding bolts and a thump which told the +truth only too well. + +"Did you 'ear, sir?" he almost moaned. + +The trap door had been closed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +IN THE DARK + + +Better men than they might have quailed in such a predicament. Here they +were, at ten o'clock at night, shut in an underground passage that led +heaven only knew where, and with, to say the least of it, small chance of +escape. They might stay there all night, but the morning would probably +bring release and--discovery. It was a combination which brought to them +very mixed emotions. + +Black Whiskers, should he be their rescuer might at once assume an +entirely different role--would most likely do so, in fact. There was a +grim element in this game of chance which they would just as soon had +been absent. + +Well, here they were, and the next thing would be to try their hands at +escape on their own account. Perhaps the trap-door hadn't been tightly +fastened down. It was a chance, of course. + +"We'll try the trap-door end first, lad," said Cleek. "If that doesn't +work we'll have a go at the other, but somehow you must get to the docks +by midnight. You may learn the whole secret there, and it would be the +worst luck in the world if you missed the chance; you mustn't. Come on." + +"I seconds that motion," threw in Dollops, though in a somewhat forlorn +voice. "I kin just imagine what it must be like to be a ghost tied up in +a fambly vault, an' it fills me with a feelin' of sympathy for them +creeturs wot I never felt before. Like a blooming messlinoleum this is!" + +"Mausoleum, you grammatical wonder!" responded Cleek, and even in his +anxiety he could not refrain from a laugh. + +"Well, mausoleum or muskiloleum makes no difference to me, sir. What +I wants ter know is--'ow do we get out of this charmin' little country +seat? Try the trap-door, you ses. Right you are!" + +He was up the rough steps like a shot, forgetful of the fact that, though +the door might be closed, there might also be others strolling along in +that secluded spot. Cleek came up now, behind him, and with a caution of +silence steadied himself upon the step below, and pressed his shoulder up +against the heavy door. He pushed and shoved with all his might, while +Dollops aided with every ounce of strength in his young body. + +The door responded not one whit. Black Whiskers had done his work well +and thoroughly, possibly as an object-lesson to the absent Jenkins. And +Jenkins, by the way, was the name of Cleek's new-found friend of the +factory. H'm. That was cause for thought. Then Jenkins was more "in the +know" than he had given him credit for. Possibly Black Whiskers knew +already of their conversation at dinner-time. He'd have to close down on +that source of information, at any rate--if they ever got out of this +business alive. + +These thoughts passed through Cleek's brain even while his shoulders and +his strength were at work upon the unresponsive door. Only failure marked +their efforts. At last, breathless and exhausted from the strain, Cleek +descended the steps again. He listened, and, hearing nothing, signalled +Dollops to follow him. + +"They must have got in somewhere, and here's hoping it wasn't through +this trap-door," he said evenly. "We'll see about it anyway. Unless they +were as careful with the door at the other end. It's a sporting chance, +Dollops my lad, and we've got to take it. I'll use my torch unless we +hear anything. Then we'll have to trust to luck. Heaven alone knows how +far this blessed affair runs on. We'll reach London soon, if we go on +like this!" + +"Yus, and find ourselves in Mr. Narkom's office, a-burrowin' under 'is +'Ighness' desk!" finished Dollops, with a little giggle of amusement. +"And 'e wouldn't 'arf be astonished, would 'e, sir?... Crumbs! but the +chaps wot made this bloomin' tube did their job fair, didn't they? It +goes on forever.... Whew! I'm winded already." + +"Then what you'll be by the end of this affair, goodness knows, my lad!" +responded Cleek, over his shoulder. He was pressing on, hugging the wall, +his eyes peering into the gloom ahead. "It seems to be continuing for +some time. Hello! here's a turning, and the question is, shall we go +straight on, or turn?" + +"Seems as if them two blighters came round a turnin', judging from the +nearness of their voices, sir," said Dollops, with entire sense. + +Cleek nodded. + +"You're right.... More sacks. If I wasn't so anxious to get out of this +place so that you shouldn't be late for your 'appointment' with our +friend Black Whiskers, I'd chance my luck and have a look what was in +'em. But there's no time now. We don't know how long this peculiar +journey of ours is going to last." + +They pressed on steadily along the rough, rudely made floor, on and on +and on, the little torch showing always the few feet in front of them, +to safeguard them against any pitfalls that might be laid for the unwary +traveller. It seemed hours that they walked thus, and their wonder at +the elaborateness of this extraordinary tunnel system grew. There were +turnings every now and again, passageways branching off from the main one +into other patches of unbroken gloom. And it was a ticklish job at best. +At any moment someone might round the next corner and come upon them, and +then--the game would be up with a vengeance. At Dollops's suggestion they +followed always the turnings upon the right. + +"Always keep to the right, sir, and you'll never go far wrong--that's +what they teaches you in Lunnon. An' that's what I always follows. It's +no use gittin' lost. So best make a set rule and foller it." + +"Well, at any rate there's no harm in doing so," responded Cleek a little +glumly. "We don't know the way out and we might as well try one plan as +another. Seems pretty well closed up for the night, doesn't it? It +certainly is a passage and if the door at the other end is impassable +after all this wandering, I'll, I'll--I don't know." + +"Carn't do no good by worritin', sir. Just 'ave to carry on--that's all +we _kin_ do," responded Dollops, with some effort at comfort. "There's +summink in front of us now. Looks like the end of the blinkin' cage, +don't it? Better investigate afore we 'it it too hard, sir." + +"You're right, Dollops." + +Cleek stepped cautiously forward into the gloom, lighting it up as he +progressed, the rays of his tiny torch always some five feet ahead of +him. And the end it proved to be, in every sense of the word. For here, +leading upward as the other had done, was a similar little flight of +clay-hewn steps, while at the top of them--Cleek gave a long sigh of +relief--showed a square of indigo, a couple of stars and--escape at last. + +"Thank God!" murmured Cleek, as they mounted the rough steps and came out +into the open air, with the free sky above them and a fine wind blowing +that soon dispelled the effects of their underground journey. "Gad! it's +good to smell the fresh air again--eh, Dollops? Where on earth are we? I +say--look over there, will you?" + +Dollops looked; then gasped in wonder, astonishment, and considerable +awe. + +"The Flames, guv'nor--the blinkin' Frozen Flames!" + +Cleek laughed. + +"Yes. The Flames all right, Dollops. And nearer than we've seen 'em, too! +We must be right in the middle of the Fens, from the appearance of those +lights, so, all told, we've done a mile or more underground, which isn't +so bad, my lad, when you come to look at the time." He brought out his +watch and surveyed it in the moonlight. "H'm. Ten past eleven. You'll +have to look sharp, boy, if you're to get to the docks by twelve. We've a +good four miles' walk ahead of us, and--what was that?" + +"That" was the sound of a man's feet coming swiftly toward them; they had +one second to act, and flight over this marshy ground, filled with pit +holes as it was, was impossible. No; the best plan was to stay where they +were and chance it. + +"Talk, boy--_talk_," whispered Cleek, and began a hasty conversation in a +high-pitched, cockney voice, to which Dollops bravely made answer in the +best tone he could muster under the circumstances. + +Then a voice snapped out at them across the small distance that separated +them from the unseen stranger, and they stiffened instinctively. + +"What the hell are you doing here?" it called. "Don't you know that it's +not safe to be in this district after nightfall? And if you don't--well, +a pocketful of lead will perhaps convince you!" + +From the darkness ahead of them a figure followed the voice. Cleek could +dimly discern a tall, slouchy-shouldered man, clad in overalls, with a +cap pulled down close over his eyes, and in the grasp of his right hand +a very businesslike-looking revolver. + +Cleek thought for a moment, then plunged bravely in. + +"Come up from the passage, sir," he responded curtly. "Loadin' up +ternight, and some fool locked t'other end before me and my mate 'ere 'ad +finished our work. 'Ad to come along this w'y, or else spend the rest of +the night dahn there, and we're due for loadin' the stuff at the docks at +midnight. Master'll be devilish mad if 'e finds us missin'." + +It was a chance shot, but somehow chance often favours the brave. It +told. The man lowered his revolver, gave them a quick glance from head to +toe, and then swung upon his heel. + +"Well, better clear out while there's no danger," he returned sharply. +"Two other men are on the watch-out for strangers. Take that short cut +there"--he pointed to the left--"and skirt round to the road. Quarter of +a mile'll bring you. Chaps at your end ought to see to it that none of +the special hands stray up this way. It's not safe. Good-night." + +"Good-night," responded Cleek cheerily. "Thank you, sir;" and, taking +Dollops's arm, swung off in the direction indicated, just as quick as his +feet could carry him. + +They walked in silence for a time, their feet making no sound in the +marshy ground, when they were well out of earshot--Cleek spoke in a low +tone. + +"Narrow shave, Dollops!" + +"It was that, sir. I could fair feel the razor aclippin' a bit off me +chin, so ter speak. 'Avin' some nice adventures this night, ain't we, +guv'nor?" + +"We certainly are." Cleek's voice was absent-minded, for his thoughts +were working, and already he was beginning to tie the broken threads of +the skein that he had gathered into a rough cord, with here and there a +gap that must--and should--be filled. It was strange enough, in all +conscience. Here were these underground tunnels leading, "if you kept to +the right," from a field out Saltfleet way, to the very heart of the Fens +themselves. And what went on here in these uninhabited reaches of the +marshland? Nothing that could be seen by daylight, for he had traversed +every step of them, and gained no information for his pains. Therefore +there could be no machinery, or anything of that sort. H'm. It was a bit +of a facer, true; but of one thing he was certain. Somehow, in some way, +the Frozen Flames played their part. That factory at Saltfleet and the +fishing boats and the Fens were all linked up in one inexplicable chain, +if one could only find the key that unlocked it. And what was a man doing +out there at night, with a revolver? What business was he up to? And he +had said there were two others on the look-out, as well. + +Cleek pulled out a little blackened clay pipe, which was part of his +make-up as Bill Jones, and, plugging it with tobacco, began to smoke +steadily. Dollops, casting a sideways glance at his master, knew what +this sign meant, and spoke never a word, until they had left the Fens +far behind them and were well on their way toward the docks, and the +"appointment" with Black Whiskers at twelve o'clock. Then: + +"Notice anything, Dollops?" Cleek asked, slewing round and looking at the +boy quizzically. + +"How do you mean, sir?" + +"Why, when you got to the top of those little steps and came out into the +Fens." + +"Only the Frozen Flames, sir. Why?" + +"Oh, nothing. It'll keep. Just a little thing I saw that led me a long +way upon the road I'm trying to travel. You'll hear about it later. +Time's getting on, Dollops, my lad. You're due with your friend Black +Whiskers in another ten minutes--and we're about that from the dockyard. +Wonder if there'd be any chance of me lending a hand?" + +Dollops thought a moment. + +"You might try, sir--'twould do no 'arm, anyway," he said after a pause. +"Pertickler as you're my mate, so ter speak. Ought ter be able to work +it, I should think.... Look. Who's a-comin' now? If it ain't ole Black +Whiskers 'imself!" + +And Black Whiskers it was, to be sure. He lounged up to them, hands in +pockets, hat pulled well down over his eyes, a sinister, ugly figure. He +had an "air"--and it was by no means a pleasant one. + +"Hullo, youngster!" he called out in a harsh voice. "Been seein' the +country--eh? Better fer you and yer mate if yer keeps yer eyes well on +the ground in this part uv the world. Never meddle in someone else's +business. It don't pay." His voice lowered suddenly, and he jerked a +thumb back over his shoulder. "Mate on the square with you, I s'pose? +Comin' along now?" + +"Bet yer life I am!" responded Dollops heartily, giving him a significant +wink. "'Course I ain't said nuffin' ter ole Bill abaht what you tole me, +but I know 'e's a cute un. No flies on ole Bill, guv'nor, give yer me +oath on that. What abaht it, now? Shall us bring him along too? Just as +you ses, guv'nor, seein' as you're the boss, but 'e's a strong fellow is +my mate--and 'is mouth's like a trap." + +Black Whiskers switched round in his slouchy walk, where he had fallen in +step beside Dollops, leaving Cleek on the boy's right hand, and gave the +"mate" a searching look under black brows. In the darkness, with just a +thread of moonlight to make patterns upon the black waters and etch out +the outline of mast and funnel and hull against the indigo, Cleek +recognized that look, and set his mouth grimly. He'd seen it once before, +upon that night when this man had stolen into his room and tried to knife +him. + +"Where're you off to, matey? With all your fine secrets? I'd like to +know!" he said jokingly, digging Dollops in the ribs, and giving a loud +guffaw. "Some girl, I suppose." + +"Somethin' uv more account than women, I kin tell ye!" threw in Black +Whiskers roughly. "'E's going ter help me with a little work--overtime is +what 'e'll get fer it. If yer willin' ter lend a 'and, overtime you'll +get, too. But you'll keep yer mouth shut, or clear. One or t'other. It's +up ter you ter choose." + +Cleek laughed. + +"Call me a fool, matey--but not a damned fool!" he said pleasantly. "Bill +Jones knows what side 'is bread's buttered on, I kin tell yer! Soft job +like this one wot we've nicked on ter ain't goin' ter slip through 'is +fingers fer a little tongue-waggin'. I'm on, mate." + +"Righto." + +"What's the job?" + +"Loadin' up boats fer cargo." + +"Oh!... Contraband, eh, matey?" + +"That's none uv yer business, my man, and as long as you remembers that, +you'll 'old yer job; no more, no less." + +"Beg pardon, I'm sure. But I bin in the same sort uv thing meself--out in +Jamaica. Used ter smuggle things through the customs. Nifty business it +were, too, and I almost got caught twice. But I slipped it somehow. Just +loadin' is our game, then?" + +"_Jist loadin'_," responded Black Whiskers significantly. "'Ere we are. +Now then, get ter work. See them tubings over there? Well, they've got to +be carried over to that fishin'-smack drawn up against the dock. There's +six of 'em goin' ternight, and we've got ter be quick. Ain't as easy as +it looks, mate, but--that's not your business neither. Get ter work!" + +They got to work forthwith, and turned to the pile of electrical tubings +which was built up against the side of the dock wall, twice as high as a +man's head. A pale lantern swung from the edge of the same wall, above +them, hanging suspended from a nail; another hung on the opposite side +from a post. By the light of these two lamps they could see a knot of +men assembled in the centre of the dockyard, talking together in low +whispers, while down below, at the water's edge, rocked a fleet of +fishing boats awaiting their mysterious cargo. One could hear the men +stirring restlessly and shifting sail as they waited for the task to +begin. + +Then the word was given in a low, vibrant voice, and they went to work. + +"Easy job this, matey," whispered Dollops as he and Cleek advanced upon +the stack of tubings and each started to lift one down. "I ... Gawd's +truf! _ain't_ it 'eavy! Lorlumme! Now, what in blazes--?" + +Cleek put up a warning finger, and shouldered the thing. Heavy it +certainly was, though of such fine metal that its weight seemed +incredible. And when one knew that these things carried electric +wiring.... Or _did they_?... Never was made an electric wire that +was as heavy as that. + +Cleek carried one of these tubings to the dock's edge, with the aid of +Dollops handed it over into the hands that were outstretched to receive +it, and went back for another one. Back and forth and back and forth they +went, lifting, carrying, delivering, until one boat was loaded, and +another one hove into sight in its place. He watched the first one's slow +progress out across the murky waters for a moment, making a pretence of +mopping his forehead with his handkerchief meanwhile. It was loaded +_below_ the water-mark! It hung so low in the water that it looked a mere +smudge upon the face of it, a ribbon of sail flapping from its slender +mast. + +Electrical tubings, eh? Faugh! a pretty story that.... + +Two boats were filled, three, four.... A fifth came riding up under the +very nose of the last, and settled itself with a rattle of chains and +bumping of sides against the quay. That, too, was loaded to its very +edge, and took its way slowly out beneath their eyes. The sixth took its +place after its fellows. + +For a moment or two the sweating men ceased in their work, and stood +wiping their faces or leaning against the dock wall, talking in low +whispers. + +Cleek and Dollops stood at the quayside, listening to the water lapping +against the iron girders, and straining their eyes to catch a last +glimpse of the fleet of fishing boats. Of a sudden from out the blackness +others appeared. Old Black Whiskers gave a muttered order, and like a +well-drilled army the men were ready again, this time flocking to the +side of the quay as the boats rode up, and waiting for them, +empty-handed. Cleek turned to the nearest one, and spoke in a low-toned +voice. + +"What now, matey? I'm new at this gyme." + +"Oh--unloadin'. Usual thing. Faulty gauge. Don't never seem as though the +factory kin get the proper gauge fer those tubin's. All the time I bin +'ere--nigh on to two years--it's bin the same. Every lot goes out, some +comes back again with a complaint. Funny thing, ain't it?" + +"Yus," responded Cleek shortly. "Damn funny." It certainly was. +Unless ... he sucked in his breath and his lips pursed themselves +up to whistle. But no sound came. + +And the work of unloading began. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE WEB OF CIRCUMSTANCE + + +For a few days there was no more overtime to be earned by Cleek or +Dollops, so that they were free to spend their evening as they wished, +and though the "Pig and Whistle" got its fair share of their time--for +the sake of appearances--there were long hours afterward, between the +last tattered remnants of the night and the day's dawning, when they did +a vast amount of exploration. + +That they made good use of this time was proved by the little note-book +that rested in Cleek's pocket, and in which a rough chart of the country +and the docks was drawn--though there were still some blanks to be filled +in--while opposite it was a rude outline of the secret passage into which +they had blundered three nights before. + +"Got to explore that hole from end to end, Dollops," said Cleek on the +fourth evening, as they struck off together toward that gap in the hedge, +soon after the clock in the village had chimed out ten, and the little +bar of the "Pig and Whistle" was slowly emptying itself of its +_habitues_. "I've the main route fairly correct, I think, and a rough +idea of where those sacks stood, and where we took to cover when Black +Whiskers was showing the master of this underworld domain through it. +Happen to have learnt the chap's name yet?" + +Dollops nodded. + +"Yessir. Brent it is, Jonathan Brent, or so one of the men tells me. Says +he's never seed 'im, though; nobody 'ardly ever does, from all accounts +'e give me. Ole Black Whiskers and our silent-footed friend Borkins is +the main ones wot does 'is work for 'im." + +"H'm. Well, that's something gleaned, anyway. Of course we may be able to +find out who he really is, but the chances are small. Men like this chap +don't go giving away anything more than they can help. They lie low and +let their paid underlings stand the racket if it happens to come along. +I know the type. I've come cross it before. Well, here we are. Now for +it--but this time I happen to have brought along a revolver." + +He crept through the hedge and crouching behind it ran to the spot where +they had found the open trap-door upon that memorable occasion three +nights before. There was nothing to be seen. The ground presented an +absolutely unbroken appearance, so far as they could make out in the +moon's rays. + +"Clever devils!" snapped out Cleek, in angry tribute. "We'll have to use +artificial light after all; but keep your torch light on the ground. It +won't do for any one to spot us just now." + +For perhaps a moment or two they explored the ground inch by inch, +crawling round in the long grass upon their hands and knees, until a +little tuft of brown earth sticking up through a piece of turf, like the +upturned corner of a rug, showed them what they were looking for. With +infinite care Cleek lifted up the square of turf and set it upon one +side. The sight of the flat dark surface of the trap-door rewarded them. +He ran his fingers along the two sides of it, and discovered a bolt, shot +this, and then catching the iron ring once more in his hands, swung the +top upward and laid it back upon the grass. + +A minute more found them once more in the cavernous, breathless depths. +Cleek handed the torch to Dollops. + +"You hold that while I do a bit of sketching," he said, fidgeting in his +coat-pocket for his fountain-pen. He then snapped open the flap of the +note-book and began to sketch rapidly as they moved forward. Cleek was an +adept in drawing to scale. The thing took shape as they continued their +progress, keeping this time to the left instead of to the right. Cleek +paced off the distance and stopped every now and then to check up +results. + +The place was as silent as the grave. Obviously no one was about here +upon these nights when there was no loading and unloading going on. In +that, at least, chance had been a good friend to them. They were going +to make the most of it. Through little runways, narrower than the main +route, and so low that they had to bend their necks to get along in +safety, they went, measuring and examining. Every few yards or so they +would come upon another little niche, stacked high with sacks of a +similar hardness to those others back there at the beginning of their +journey. Cleek prodded one with his finger, hesitated, then slipping out +a penknife, slit a fragment of the coarse sacking and inserted his +thumb.... + +He pulled it out with a look of astonishment upon his face. + +"Hello, hello!" he exclaimed. "So that's it, is it? Gad! This is the +approved hiding-place! Then those tubings--Dollops, just a little more +of this wearisome search, just a few telephone calls to be made, and I +believe I shall have untied at least _one_ part of this strange riddle. +And when that knot is unfastened, it will surely lead me to the +rest.... Go on, boy." + +They went on, stepping carefully, and hesitating now and again to listen +for any sound of alien footsteps. But the place might have been the grave +for any sign of human habitation that there was. They had it to +themselves that night, and made the most of it. + +For some time they walked on, taking the road that most appealed to them, +and in the maze must surely have retraced their own footsteps. Of a +sudden, however, they broke into a sort of rough stone passage, with +concrete floor that ran on for a few yards and ended at a flight of +well-made stone steps, above which was a square of polished oak, +worm-eaten, heavily-carved, and surely not of this generation's +make or structure. + +"Now, what the dickens...?" began Cleek, and stopped. + +Dollops surveyed it with his head on one side. + +"Seems ter me, sir," he began, after a pause, "that this yere's the +genuyne article. One of them old passages what people like King Charles +and Bloody Mary an' a few other of them celebrities you sees at Madame +Tussord's any day in the week, used to 'ide in when things were a-gettin' +too 'ot fer 'em. That's what this is." + +"Your history's a bit rocky, but your ideas are all right," returned +Cleek with a little smile, as he stood looking up at the square of black +oak above them. "I believe you're right, Dollops. It must have given the +later arrivals a big start in that tunnelling business, or else they've +been at it, or both. There must be years' work in this system of +passageways. It is marvellous. But if it's a genuine old secret passage, +those stairs will probably lead up into a house, and--let's try 'em. If +the house they lead into is the one I think it is.... Well, we'll be +unravelling the rest of this riddle before the night is out!" + +So saying, he fairly leapt up the little flight of stone stairs, and then +let his fingers glide over the smooth polished face of the oak door, +pushing, probing, pressing it, a frown puckering his brows. + +"If this _is_ a genuine old secret hiding-place," he remarked, "then +according to all the rules of the game there ought to be some sort of a +spring _this_ side to open it, so that the hidden man might be able to +get out again when he wanted to. But where? Faugh! My fingers must be +losing their cunning, and--Ah, here it is! Bit of wood gives way here, +Dollops. Just a gentle pressure, and--here we are!" + +And here they were, indeed, for as he spoke, the door slid back into the +flooring out of sight, and they found themselves looking up into a room +which was lighted by a single gas-jet, which barely illumined it, but +which, when Cleek poked his head up above the flooring and took a casual +survey of the place proved to be no less a place than the back kitchen of +Merriton Towers! + +He brought his head down again with a jerk, touched the spring in the +edge of oak-panelling at the left of him, and let the door swing back +across the opening once more; and not till it had slipped into place with +a little _click_ did he turn upon Dollops. + +"_Merriton Towers_!" he ejaculated finally. "Merriton Towers! Now, if +young Merriton really _is_ a party to this thing that is going on down +here in the bowels of the earth, why--Dash it, it's going to prove an +even worse case against him than we knew! A chap who plays an underhanded +game like this doesn't mind what he walks over to attain his ends. +But ... Merriton Towers...!" + +He stopped speaking suddenly, sucked in his breath, his face turned very +grim. Dollops broke the silence that fell, a tremour of excitement in his +low-pitched voice. + +"Yus--but it's the _back-kitchen_, sir," he threw out eagerly, like all +the rest of them anxious if possible to shield the man who seemed to have +won so many hearts. "And the back-kitchen don't spell Sir Nigel, sir. +It's Borkins wot's at the bottom of _that_, and--" + +"Maybe, maybe," interposed Cleek, a trifle hastily, but the grim look +did not leave his face. "But if anything as curious as all this affair +turns up in the evidence it won't help the boy any, that is a +certainty.... Merriton Towers!" + +He swung upon his heel and quickly retraced his steps, until the little +stone passageway was left behind them, and a few feet ahead loomed up +another of those queer turnings, which led--who knew where? + +"We'll take it on chance," said Cleek as they paused, while he marked it +in his chart, "and follow our noses. But I confess I've had a shock. I +never thought--never even dreamt of Merriton Towers being connected with +this smuggling or, whatever it is, Dollops! And if I hadn't been down in +that very kitchen upon a voyage of discovery the other day, I'd have had +more reason to disbelieve the evidence of my own eyes. The light was on, +too. Lucky for us we didn't pop our heads up at the moment when someone +was there. But then the servants are all gone. Borkins is keeping the +house open until after the trial. So it was Borkins who was using that +light, that's pretty obvious; and our necks have been spared by an inch +or two less than I had imagined. We must hurry; time's short, and there's +a good deal to be got through this night, I can tell you!" + +"Yessir," said Dollops, not knowing what else to say, for Cleek was +keeping up a sort of running monologue of his ideas of the case. "Don't +think much uv this 'ere passage, anyway, do you?" + +"No--narrower than the rest. But it may end just where we want to go. +'Journeys end in lovers' meetings' the poet sings, but not this kind of +a journey--no, not exactly. We'll find the hangman's rope at the end of +this riddle, Dollops, or I'm very much mistaken; and I've an +uncomfortable idea as to who will swing in the noose." + +For some time after that they pressed on in silence. Here and there along +the passage the walls opened out suddenly into little cut-out places +filled as ever with their built-up sacks. Each time Cleek passed them he +chuckled aloud, and then--once more his face would become grim. For some +moments they groped along in the gloom, their heads bent, to prevent them +bumping the low mud ceiling, their lips silent, but in the hearts of each +a sort of dull dread. Merriton Towers! Borkins, perhaps. But what if +Borkins and Merriton had been working hand-in-glove, and then, somehow or +other, had had a split? That would account for a good deal, and in +particular the man's attitude toward his master.... Cleek's brain ran on +ahead of his feet, his brows drew themselves into a knot, his mouth was +like a thin line of crimson in the granite-like mask of his face. + +Of a sudden he stopped and pointed ahead of him. Still another flight of +stairs met their eyes, but they were of newer, more recent make, and +composed of common deal, unvarnished and mudstained with the marks of +many feet up and down their surface. + +Cleek drew a deep breath, and his face relaxed. + +"The end of the journey, Dollops," he said softly. + +Then, without more ado, he mounted the stairs, and laid his shoulder to +the heavy door. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +JUSTICE--AND JUSTIFICATION + + +The court room was crowded on every side. There was barely space for +another person to enter in comfort, and when the news went round in the +street that Sir Nigel Merriton, late of the army, was being tried for his +life, and that things were going pretty black against him, all London +seemed to turn out with a morbid curiosity to hear the sentence of death +passed. + +Petrie, stationed at the door, spent most of his time waving a +white-gloved hand, and shaking his head until he felt that it would +shortly tumble off his neck and roll away upon the pavement. Mr. Narkom +had given him instructions that if any one of "any importance in the +affair in question" should turn up, he was to admit him, but to be +adamant in every other case. And so the queue of morbid-minded women and +idle men grew long and longer, and the clamour louder and louder, until +the tempers of the police on guard grew very short, and the crowd was +handled more and more firmly. + +The effect of this began to tell. Slowly it thinned out and the people +turned once more into the Strand, sauntering along with their heads half +the time over their shoulders, while Petrie stood and mopped his face and +wondered what had become of Mr. Cleek, or if he had turned up in one of +his many _aliases_, and he hadn't recognized him. + +"Like as not that's what's happened," he told himself, stuffing his +thumbs into his policeman's belt and setting his feet apart. "But what +gets over me is, not a sight 'ave I seen of young Dollops. And where Mr. +Cleek is.... Well, that there young feller is bound to be, too. Case is +drawin' to a close, I reckon, by this time. I wouldn't be in _that_ young +lord's shoes!" + +He shook his head at the thought, and fell to considering the matter and +in a most sympathetic frame of mind if the truth be told. + +Half-an-hour passed, another sped by. The crowd now worried him very +little, and judging from one or two folk that drifted out of the court +room, with rather pale faces and set mouths, as though they had heard +something that sickened them, and were going to be out of it before the +end came, Petrie began to think that that end was approaching very near. + +And he hadn't seen Mr. Cleek go into the place, or Dollops either! Funny +thing that. In his phone message that morning, Mr. Cleek had said he +would be at the court sharp at one, and it was half-past two now. Well, +he was sorry the guv'nor hadn't turned up in time. He'd be disappointed, +no doubt, and after all the telephoning and hunting up of directories +that he himself had done personally that very morning, Mr. Cleek would be +feeling rather "off it" if he turned up too late. + +Petrie took a few steps up and down, and his eyes roamed the Strand +leisurely. He came to a sudden halt, as a red limousine--_the_ red +limousine he knew so well--whirled up to the pavement's edge, stopped +in front of him with a grinding of brakes, a door flashed open, and he +heard the sound of a sharp order given in that one unmistakable voice. +Mr. Cleek was there, followed by Dollops, close at his heels, and looking +as though they had torn through hell itself to get there in time. + +Petrie took a hurried step forward and swung back the big iron gate still +farther. + +"In time, Petrie?" Cleek asked breathlessly. + +"Just about, sir. Near shave, though, from what I see of the people +a-comin' out. 'Eard the case 'ad gone against Sir Nigel, sir--poor chap. +'Ere, you, Dollops--" + +But Dollops was gone in his master's wake, in his arms a huge, ungainly +bundle that looked like a stove-pipe wrapped up in brown paper, gone +through the court room door, without so much as passing the time of day +with an old pal. Petrie felt distinctly hurt about it, and sauntered back +to his place with his smile gone, while Cleek, hurrying through the +crowded court room and passing, by the sheer power of his name, the +various court officials who would have stopped him, stopped only as he +reached the space before the judge's bench. Already the jury were filing +in, one by one, and taking their seats. The black cap lay beside Mr. +Justice Grainger's spectacles, a sinister emblem, having its response in +the white-faced man who stood in the dock, awaiting the verdict upon his +life. + +Cleek saw it all in one glance, and then spoke. + +"Your Lordship," he said, addressing the judge, who looked at him with +raised eyebrows, "may I address the court?" The barristers arose, +scandalized at the interruption, knowing not whether advantage for +prosecution or defence lay in what this man had to say. The clerk of the +court stood aghast ready to order the court officers to eject the +interloper who dared interrupt the course of the majestic law. All stood +poised for a breathless moment, held in check by the power of the man +Cleek, or by uncertainty as to the action of the judge. + +A tense pause, and then the court broke the silence, "You may speak." + +"Your Lordship, may it please the court," said Cleek, "I have evidence +here which will save this man's life. I demand to show it to the court." + +The barristers, held in check by the stern practice of the English law, +which, unlike American practice does not allow counsel to becloud the +issue with objection and technical argument, remained motionless. They +knew Cleek, and knew that here was the crisis of the case they had +presented so learnedly. + +"This is an unusual occurrence, sir," at last spoke the judge, "and you +are distinctly late. The jury has returned and the foreman is about to +pronounce the verdict. What is it you have to say, sir?" + +"Your Lordship, it is simply this." Cleek threw back his head. "The +prisoner at bar--" He pointed to Merriton, who at the first sound of +Cleek's voice had spun round, a sudden hope finding birth in his dull +eyes, "is _innocent_! I have absolute proof. Also--" He switched round +upon his heel and surveyed the court room, "I beg of your Lordship that +you will immediately give orders for no person to leave this court. The +instigator of the crime is before my eyes. Perhaps you do not know me, +but I have been at work upon this case for some time, and am a colleague +of Mr. Narkom of Scotland Yard. My name is--Cleek--Hamilton Cleek. I +have your permission to continue?" + +A murmur went up round the crowded court room. The judge nodded. He +needed no introduction to Cleek. + +"The gentlemen of the jury will be seated," declared the court, "the +clerk will call Hamilton Cleek as a witness." + +This formality accomplished, the judge indicated that he, himself, would +question this crucial eleventh-hour witness. + +"Mr. Cleek," he began, "you say this man is innocent. We will hear your +story." + +Cleek motioned to Dollops, who stood at the back of the court, and +instantly the lad pushed his way through the crowd to his master's side, +carrying the long, ungainly burden in his arms. Meanwhile, at the back of +the room a commotion had occurred. The magic name of that most magical of +men--Hamilton Cleek, detective--had wrought what Cleek had known it +would. Someone was pushing for the door with all the strength that was in +him, but already the key had turned, and Hammond, as guardian, held up +his hand. + +Cleek knew--but for the time said nothing--and the crowd had hidden +whoever it was from the common view. He simply motioned Dollops to lay +his burden upon the table, and then spoke once more. + +"M' Lud," he said clearly, "may I ask a favour of the court? I +should be obliged if you would call every witness in this matter +here--simultaneously. Set them out in a row, if you will, but call +them _now_.... Thanks." + +The judge motioned to the clerk, and through the hushed silence of +the court the dull voice droned out: "Anthony West, William Borkins, +Lester Stark, Gustave Brellier, Miss Antoinette Brellier, Doctor +Bartholomew...." And so on through the whole list. As each name was +called the owner of it came forward and stood in front of the judge's +high desk. + +"A most unusual proceeding, sir," said that worthy, again settling the +spectacles upon his nose and frowning down at Cleek; "but, knowing who +you are--" + +"I appreciate your Lordship's kindness. Now then, all there?" Cleek +whirled suddenly, and surveyed the strange line. "That's good. And at +least every one of them is _here_. No chance of slipping away now. Now +for it." + +He turned back to the table with something of suppressed eagerness in his +movements, and a low murmur of excitement went up round the crowded +court room. Rapidly he tore off the wrappings from the long, snake-like +bundle, and held one of the objects up to view. + +"Allow me to draw your attention to this," he said, in a loud, clear +voice, every note of which carried to the back of the long room. "This, +as you possibly know, sir, is a piece of electric tubing made for the +express purpose of conveying safely delicate electric wirings that are +used for installations, so that they may not be damaged in transit from +the factory to--the agent who sells them. You would like to see the +wirings, I know--" For answer he whipped open the joints of one of the +tubes, set it upon end, and--from inside the narrow casing came a perfect +shower of golden sovereigns clattering to the floor and across the table +in front of the astonished clerk's eyes. + +The judge sat up suddenly and rubbed his eyes. + +"God bless my soul!" he began, and then subsided into silence. The +eyes of young Sir Nigel Merriton nearly leapt from their sockets with +astonishment; and every man in the crowd was gaping. + +Cleek laughed. + +"Rather of a surprise, I must admit; isn't it?" he said, with a slight +shrug of the shoulders. "And no doubt you're wondering what all this has +to do with the case in hand. Well, that'll come along all in good time. +Golden sovereigns, you see, carefully stacked up to fill the little +tubing to its capacity--and thousands of 'em done the same, too! There's +a perfect fortune down there in that factory at Saltfleet! Mr. Narkom," +he turned round and surveyed the Superintendent with mirthful eyes, "what +about these bank robberies now, eh? I told you something would crop up. +You see it has. We've discovered the hiding-place of the gold--and the +prime leader in the whole distressing affair. The rest ought to be easy." +He whipped round suddenly toward the line of witnesses, letting his eyes +travel over each face in turn; past Tony West's reddened countenance, +past Dr. Bartholomew's pale intensity, past Borkins, standing very +straight and white and frightened-looking. Then, of a sudden he leapt +forward, his hand clamped down upon someone's shoulder, and his voice +exclaimed triumphantly: + +"And here the beauty is!" + +Then, before the astonished eyes of the crowd of spectators stood Mr. +Gustave Brellier, writhing and twisting in the clutch of the firm fingers +and spitting forth fury in a Flemish patois that would have struck Cleek +dead on the spot--if words could kill. + +A sudden din arose. People pressed forward, the better to see and hear, +exclaiming loudly, condemning, criticising. The judge's frail old hand +brought silence at last, and Antoinette Brellier came forward from her +place and clutched Cleek by the arm. + +"It cannot be, Mr.--Cleek!" she said piteously. "I tell you my uncle is +the best of men, truly! He could never have done this thing that you +accuse him of--and--" + +"And the worst of devils! That I can thoroughly endorse, my dear young +lady," returned Cleek with a grim laugh. "I am sorry for you--very. But +at least you will have consolation in your future husband's release. That +should compensate you. Here, officer, take hold of this man. We'll get +down to brass tacks now. Take hold of him, and hold him fast, for a more +slippery snake never was created. All right, Sir Nigel; it is all right, +lad. Sit down. This is going to be a long story, but it's got to be told. +Fetch chairs for the witnesses, constable. And don't let any of 'em +go--yet. I want 'em to hear this thing through." + +In his quick, easy manner he seemed suddenly to have taken command of the +court. And, knowing that he was Hamilton Cleek, and that Cleek would use +his own methods, or none, Mr. Justice Grainger took the wisest course, +and--let him alone. + +When all was in readiness, Cleek settled down to the story. He was the +only man left standing, a straight slim figure, full of that controlled +power and energy that is so often possessed by a small but perfect +machine. He bowed to the judge with something of the theatrical in his +manner, and then rested one hand upon the clerk's table. + +"Now, naturally, you are wanting to hear the story," he said briskly, +"and I'll make it as brief as possible. But I warn you there's a good +deal to be told, and afterward there'll be work for Scotland Yard, more +work than perhaps they'll care about; but that is another story. To begin +with, the jury, my lord, was undoubtedly, from all signs, about to +convict the prisoner upon a charge of murder--a murder of which he was +entirely innocent. You have heard Merriton's story. Believe me, every +word of it is true--circumstantial evidence to the contrary +notwithstanding. + +"In the first place, Dacre Wynne was shot through the temple at the +instigation of that man there," he pointed to Brellier, standing pale and +still between two constables, "foully shot, as many others had been +similarly done to death, because they had ventured forth across the Fens +at night, and were likely to investigate this man's charming little +midnight movements, further than he cared about. To creatures of his like +human life is nothing compared to what it can produce. Men and women are +a means to an end, and that end, the furtherance of his own wealth, his +own future. The epitome of prehistoric selfishness, is it not? Club the +next man that comes along, and steal from his dead body all that he has +worked for. Oh, a pretty sort of a tale this is, I promise you! + +"What's that, my lord? What has the Frozen Flame to do with all this? +Why, the answer to that is as simple as A.B.C. The Frozen Flames, or that +most natural of phenomena, marsh-gas--of which I won't weary you with an +explanation--arose from that part of the Fens where the rotting +vegetation was at its worst. What more natural, then, than that this +human fiend should endeavour to shape even this thing to his own ends? +The villagers had always been superstitious of these lights, but their +notice had never been particularly called to them before the story of the +Frozen Flames had been carefully spread from mouth to mouth by Brellier's +tools. + +"Then one man, braver than the rest, ventured forth--and never came back. +The story gained credence, even with the more educated few. Another, +unwilling to conform to public opinion, did likewise. And he, too, went +into the great unknown. The list of Brellier's victims--supposed, of +course, to be burnt up by the Frozen Flames--grew fairly lengthy in the +four years that he has been using them as a screen for his underhanded +work. A guard--and I've seen one of the men myself during a little +midnight encounter that I had with him--went wandering over that part of +the district armed with a revolver. The first sight of a stranger caused +him to use his weapon. Meanwhile, behind the screen of the lights the +bank robbers were bringing in their gold by motor and hiding the sacks +down in a network of underground passageways that I also discovered--and +traversed. They ran, by devious ways, both to a field in Saltfleet +conveniently near the factory, and by another route up to the back +kitchen of Merriton Towers. + +"You'll admit that, when I discovered this to be the case, I felt pretty +uneasy about Sir Nigel's innocence. But a still further search brought to +light another passage, which ran straight into the study of Withersby +Hall, occupied by the Brelliers, and was hidden under the square rug in +front of the fireplace. A nice convenient little spot for our friend here +to carry on his good work. Just a few words to say that he didn't want to +be disturbed in his study, a locked door, a rug moved, and--there you +are! He was free from all prying eyes to investigate the way things were +going, and to personally supervise the hiding of the gold. While outside +upon the Fens men were being killed like rats, because one or two of them +chose to use their intelligence, and wanted to find out what the flames +really were. They found out all right, poor devils, and their widows +waited for them in vain. + +"And what does he do with all this gold, you ask? Why, ship it, by using +an electrical factory where he makes tubings and fittings--and a good +deal of mischief, to boot. The sovereigns are hidden as you have seen, +and are shipped out at night in fishing boats, loaded below the water +mark--I've helped with the loading myself, so I know--_en route_ for +Belgium, where his equally creditable brother, Adolph, receives the +tubes and invariably ships them back as being of the wrong gauge. Look +here--" He stopped speaking for a moment and, stepping forward, lifted up +another tubing from the table, and unfastened it at one of the joints. +Then he held it up for all to see. + +"See that stuff in there? That's tungsten. Perhaps you don't all know +what tungsten is. Well, it's a valuable commodity that is mined from the +earth, and which is used expressly in the making of electric lamps. Our +good friend Adolph, like his brother, has the same twist of brain. +Instead of keeping the tubes, he returns them with the rather thin excuse +that they are of the wrong gauge, and fills them with this tungsten, from +the famous tungsten mines for which Belgium holds first place in the +world. And so the stuff is shipped in absolutely free of duty, while our +friend here unloads it, supplies the raw material to one or two firms in +town, trading under the name of Jonathan Brent (you see I've got the +whole facts, Brellier), and uses some himself for this factory, which is +the 'blind' for his other trading ideas. Very clever, isn't it?" + +The judge nodded. + +"I thought you would agree so, my Lord. Even crime can have its clever +side, and more often than not the criminal brain is the cleverest which +the world produces. + +"Where was I? Ah, yes! The shipping of the stuff to Belgium. You see, +Brellier's clever there. He knows that the sudden appearance of all +this gold at his own bank would arouse suspicions, especially as the +robberies have been so frequent, so he determines that it is safer out of +the country, and as the exchange of British gold is high, he makes money +that way. Turns his hand to everything, in fact." He laughed. "But now +we're turning our hands to _him_, and the Law will have its toll, penny +for penny, life for life. You've come to the end of _your_ resources, +Brellier, when you engaged those two strange workmen. Or, better still, +your accomplice did it for you. You didn't know they were Cleek and his +man, did you? You didn't know that on that second night after we'd worked +there at the factory for you, we investigated that secret passage in the +field outside Saltfleet Road? You didn't know that while you walked down +that passage in the darkness with your man Jim Dobbs--or 'Dirty Jim,' to +give him the sobriquet by which he is known among your employees--that +we were hidden against the wall opposite to that first little niche +where the bags of sovereigns stood, and that--though I hadn't seen +you--something in your voice struck a note of familiarity in my memory? +You didn't know that, then? Well, perhaps it's just as well, because I +might not be here now to tell this story, and to hand you over to +justice." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE SOLVING OF THE RIDDLE + + +"For the sake of _le bon dieu_, man, cease your cruel mockery!" said +Brellier, suddenly, in a husky voice, as the clerk rose to quell the +interrupted flow of oratory, and the court banged his mace for quiet. + +"You didn't think of the cruel mockery of God's good world, which you +were helping so successfully to ruin!" continued the detective, speaking +_to_ the court but _at_ Brellier, each word pointed as a barb, each pause +more pregnant with scorn than the spoken words had been. "You didn't +think of that, did you? Oh, no! You gave no thought to the ruined home +and the weeping wife, the broken-hearted mother and the fatherless child. +That was outside your reckoning altogether. And, if hearsay be true (and +in this case I believe it is) you even went so far as to kill a +defenceless woman who had been brave enough to wander out across that +particular part of the Fens just to see what those flames really were. +And yet,--your lordship, this man howls for mercy." + +He paused a moment and passed a hand wearily over his forehead. The +telling of the tale was not easy, and the expression of 'Toinette +Brellier's tear-misted eyes added to the difficulty of it. But he knew +he must spare no detail; in fairness to the man who stood in the dock, +in fairness to the Law he served, and in whose service he had unravelled +this riddle which at first had seemed so inexplicable. + +Then the judge spoke. + +"The court must congratulate you, Mr. Cleek," he said in his fine, +metallic voice, "upon the very excellent and intricate work you have done +on this case. Believe me, the Law appreciates it, and I, as one of its +humble exponents, must add my admiration to the rest. Permit me, however, +to ask one or two questions. In the first place, before we proceed +further with the case, I should like you to give me any explanation that +you can relative to the matter of what the prisoner here has told us with +regard to the story of the Frozen Flame. This gentleman has said that the +story goes that whenever a new victim had been claimed by the flames, +that he completely vanishes, and that another flame appears in amongst +its fellows. The prisoner has declared this to be true; in fact, has +actually sworn upon oath, that he has seen this thing with his own eyes +the night that Dacre Wynne was killed. I confess that upon hearing this, +I had my strong suspicions of his veracity. Can you explain it any +clearer?" + +Cleek smiled a trifle whimsically, then he nodded. + +"I can. Shortly after I made my discovery of the secret passage that led +out upon the Fens--the entrance to it, by the way, was marked by a patch +of charred grass about the size of a small round table (you remember, +Dollops, I asked you if you noticed anything then?), that lifted up, if +one had keen enough eyes to discover it, and revealed the trap-door +beneath--Dollops and I set out on another tour of investigation. We were +determined to take a sporting chance on being winged by the watchful +guards and have a look round behind those flames for ourselves. We did +this. It happened that we slipped the guard unobserved, having knowledge, +you see, of at least part of the whole diabolical scheme, and getting +within range of the flames without discovery, or, for that matter, seeing +any one about, we got down on our hands and knees and dug into the earth +with our penknives." + +"What suggested this plan to you?" + +Cleek smiled and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Why, I had a theory, you see. And, like you, I wanted to find out if +Merriton were telling the truth about that other light he had seen or +not. This was the only way. Marsh-gas was there in plenty, though there +is no heat from the tiny flames, as you know, from which fact, no doubt, +our friend Brellier derived the very theatrical name for them, but the +light of which Merriton spoke I took to be something bigger than that. +And I had noticed, too, that here and there among the flames danced +brilliant patches that seemed, well--_more_ than natural. So our +penknives did the trick. Dollops was digging, when something suddenly +exploded, and shot up into our faces with a volume of gassy smoke. We +sprang back, throwing our arms up to shield our eyes, and after the fumes +had subsided returned to our task. The penknife had struck a bladder +filled with gas, which, sunk into the ground, produced the larger lights, +one of which Sir Nigel had seen upon the night that Wynne disappeared. +Even more clever, isn't it? I wonder whose idea it originally was." + +He spun round slowly upon his heel and faced the line of seated +witnesses. His eyes once more travelled over the group, face to face, +eye to eye, until he paused suddenly and pointed at Borkins's chalk-white +countenance. + +"That's the man who probably did the job," he said casually. "Brellier's +right-hand man, that. With a brain that might have been used for other and +better things." + +The judge leaned forward upon his folded elbows, pointing his pen in +Borkins's direction. + +"Then you say this man is part and parcel of the scheme, Mr. Cleek?" he +queried. + +"I do. And a very big part, too. But, let me qualify that statement by +saying that if it hadn't been for Borkins's desire for revenge upon the +man he served, this whole ghastly affair would probably never have been +revealed. Wynne would have vanished in the ordinary way, as Collins +vanished afterward, and the superstitious horror would have gone on until +there was not one person left in the village of Fetchworth who would have +dared to venture an investigation of the flames. Then the work at the +factory would have continued, with a possibly curtailed payroll. No need +for high-handed pirates armed with revolvers _then_. That was the end the +arch-fiend was working for. The end that never came." + +"H'm. And may I ask how you discovered all this, before going into the +case of Borkins?" put in the judge. + +Cleek bowed. + +"Certainly," he returned. "That is the legal right. But I can vouch for +my evidence, my lord. I received it, you see, at first-hand. This man +Borkins engaged both the lad Dollops and myself as new hands for the +factory. We therefore had every opportunity of looking into the matter +personally." + +"Gawdamercy! I never did!" ejaculated Borkins, at this juncture, his face +the colour of newly-baked bread. "You're a liar--that's what you are! A +drorin' an innocent man into the beastly affair. I never engaged the +likes of _you_!" + +"Didn't you?" Cleek laughed soundlessly. "Look here. Remember the man +Bill Jones, and his little pal Sammie Robinson, from Jamaica?" He writhed +his features for a moment, slipped his hand into his pocket, and +producing the black moustache that had been Dollops's envy and +admiration, stuck it upon his upper lip, pulled out a check cap from the +other pocket, drew that upon his head, and peered at Borkins under the +peak of it. "What-o, matey!" he remarked in a harsh cockney voice. + +"Merciful 'Eavens!" gasped out that worthy, covering his eyes with his +hands, one more incredulous witness of Cleek's greatest gift. "Bill Jones +it is! _Gawd!_ are you a devil?" + +"No, just an ordinary man, my dear friend. But you remember now, eh? +Well, that does away with the need of the moustache, then." The clerk of +the court, only too familiar with Cleek's disregard of legal formality, +frowned at this violation of dignity and raised his mace to rap for order +and possibly to reprimand Cleek for his theatrical conduct but at that +moment the detective pulled off the cap and moustache as though well +pleased with his performance. Cleek turned once more to the judge. + +"My lord," he said serenely, "you have seen the man Bill Jones, and the +impersonator of Sammie Robinson is there," he pointed to Dollops. "Well, +this man Borkins--or Piggott, as he calls himself when doing his 'private +work'--engaged Dollops and me, in place of two hands in the factory who +had been given to too much tongue-wagging, and in consequence had met +with prompt punishment, God alone knows what it was! We worked there for +something just under a fortnight. Dollops, with his usual knack for +making friends in the right direction, chummed up to one of the men--whom +I have already named--Jim Dobbs. He finally asked him to come and help +with the loading up of the boats, and gave him the chance of making a +little overtime by simply keeping his mouth shut as to what went on. +I managed to get on the job too, and we did it three times in that +fortnight--and a jolly difficult task we found it, I don't mind saying. +But I felt that evidence was necessary, and while in the employ of 'the +master' we carried on many investigations. And still in his service I +made this rough map of the varied turnings of the secret passage, and the +places to which they led. You can get a better idea of the ground if you +glance at it." He handed it up to the high desk, and paused a moment as +the judge surveyed it through his spectacles. "The passage at Merriton +Towers, and also at Withersby Hall--so conveniently placed near that +particular part of the Fens, and therefore chosen by Brellier for his +work--are both of ancient origin, dating back, I should say, to the time +of the civil war. + +"Whose idea it was to connect the two passages up I could not say, or +when Borkins got into the pay of Brellier and played false to a family +that he had served for twenty years. But the fact remains. The two +passages _are_ linked up, and then continued at great labour in another +direction to that field which lies off the Saltfleet Road and just at the +back of the factory. And thus was made a convenient little subway for the +carrying on of nefarious transactions of the kind which we have +discovered." + +"And how did you discover that Brellier was the 'Master' in question?" +put in the judge at this juncture. + +"He happened to come to the factory one day while we were at work upon +our machines. Someone said, 'Crickey! 'Ere's the Master! Funny for _'im_ +to be prowlin' round at this hour of the day--night's more to 'is +likin'.' I could hardly contain myself when I saw who it was even though +I had already discovered the passage to Withersby Hall. I had not yet +realized that 'Jonathan Brent' and Brellier were one and the same, though +I discovered that the former had a perfectly legitimate office in London +in Leadenhall Street. But when I saw him I knew. After that I wasted no +time. Since then we've been having a pretty scramble to get safely away +without giving any clues to the other men, and to put Scotland Yard upon +their track. They're down there now, and have got every man of 'em I dare +swear (and I hope they are keeping my friend Black Whiskers for me to +deal with). That is the cause of my lateness at the hearing of the case. +You can fully understand how impossible it was to be here any earlier." + +The judge nodded. "Your statement against this man Borkins--?" + +"Is as strong a one as ever was made," said Cleek. "It was Borkins +who--in a fit of malicious rage, no doubt--conceived the idea of +interfering with his master's work to the extent of inventing the means +to have Sir Nigel Merriton wrongly convicted of the murder of Dacre +Wynne. You have seen the revolver, the peculiar make of which caused it +to be the chief evidence in this gruesome tragedy. Here is the genuine +one." + +He drew the little thing from his pocket, and reaching up placed it in +the judge's outstretched hand. That gentleman gave a gasp as he laid eyes +upon it. + +"Identical with this one, which belongs to the prisoner!" he said--almost +excitedly. + +"Exactly. The same colonial French make, you see. This particular one +belongs, by the way, to Miss Brellier." + +"_Miss Brellier!_" + +Something like a thrill ran through the crowded court room. In the silence +that followed you could have heard a pin drop. + +"That is correct. She will tell you that she always kept it in an unused +drawer in her secretaire locked away with some papers. She had not looked +at it for months, until the other day when she happened to examine one of +those papers, and therefore went to the drawer and unlocked it. The +revolver lying there drew her attention. Knowing that it was the same as +the one owned by her fiance, Sir Nigel Merriton, and figuring so largely +in this case, she took it out and idly examined it. One of the bullets +was missing! This rather aroused her curiosity, and when I questioned her +afterward about it, when the inquest was over, and she had brought it +forward and shown it to the coroner, who--quite naturally--after the +explanation given by Mr. Brellier, gave it back to her as having no +dealings with the case, she told me that she could not _absolutely_ +recollect her uncle telling her that he _had_ killed the dog with it. +A small thing but rather important." + +"And you say that this man Borkins arranged this revolver so as to point +to the prisoner's guilt, Mr. Cleek?" asked the judge. + +"I say that the man Dacre Wynne was actually _killed_ with that identical +revolver which you hold in your hand, my lord. And the construction I put +upon it is this: Borkins hated his master, but the long story of that +does not concern us here, and upon the night of the quarrel he was +listening at the door, and, hearing how things were shaping themselves, +began, as he himself has told you in his evidence, to think that there +would soon be trouble between Sir Nigel and Mr. Wynne, if things went on +as they had been going. Therefore, when he was told that Mr. Wynne had +gone out across the Fens in a drunken rage, to investigate the meaning of +the Frozen Flames, the idea entered Borkins's mind. He knew his master's +revolver, had seen it slipped under his pillow more often than not of an +evening when Sir Nigel went to bed. Here Borkins saw his life's +opportunity of getting even. He knew, too, of Miss Brellier's +revolver--_must_ have known, else why should this particular instrument +be used upon this particular night, in place of the usual type of +revolver which Brellier's guards carried, and by which poor Collins +undoubtedly met his death? So we will take it that he knew of this little +instrument here, and upon hearing of Wynne's proposed investigations, he +dashed to the back kitchen of the Towers--which, was rarely used by the +other servants, as being, so one of them told me, 'so dark and damp that +it fair gave 'em the creeps.' Therefore Borkins had his way unmolested, +and it did not take him long, knowing the turnings of the underground +passage--as he did from constant use--to communicate with Withersby Hall. +To which guard he told his tale I do not know, but, since we have taken +the whole crowd--we'll find out later. Anyway, he must have told someone +else of his desire for private vengeance. And the thing worked. When poor +Wynne met his death, it was at the point of a pistol which had lain +unused in the secretaire at Withersby Hall for some little time. I have +not been able to find the actual spot where the body of Wynne and, later +on, that of Collins was first concealed, but I have no doubt that they +were brought from that spot to be discovered by us. It was very necessary +for the body of Wynne to be discovered, since the bullet in his brain was +fired from Miss Brellier's revolver. It was all part of the plot against +Sir Nigel. How bitter was that plot is evidenced by the removal of the +bodies to the place they were discovered on the Fens--no very pleasant +job for any man." + +Cleek whirled suddenly upon Borkins, who stood with bent head and pallid +face, biting his lips and twisting his hands together, while Cleek's +voice broke the perfect silence of the court. But thus taken by surprise, +he lifted his head, and his mouth opened. + +The judge raised his hand. + +"Is this true, my man?" he demanded. + +Borkins's face went an ugly purplish-red. For a moment it looked as +though he were going to have an apoplectic fit. + +"Yes--damn you all--yes!" he replied venomously. "That's how I did +it--though Gawd alone knows how he come to find it out! But the game's +up now, and it's no more use a-lyin'." + +"Never a truer word spoken," returned Cleek, with a little triumphant +smile. "I must admit, your Lordship, that upon that one point I was a +little shaky. Borkins has irrefutably proved that my theory was correct. +I must say I am indebted to him." Again the little smile looped up one +corner of his face. "And I have but just a little bit more of the tale to +tell, and then--I must leave the rest of it in your infinitely more +capable hands. + +"... The reason why I mistrusted the story of the revolver? Why, upon +examination, that instrument belonging to Miss Brellier was a little too +clean and well-oiled to have been out of use for a matter of five months +or so. The worthy user of it had cleaned and polished it up, so as to be +sure of its action, and re-oiled it. So the 'dog story' was exploded +almost at its birth. The rest was easy to follow up, and knowing the +position of things between Borkins and his master (from both sides, so to +speak), I began to put two and two together. Borkins has, this moment, +most agreeably told me that my answer to the sum is correct. But things +worked in well for him, I must say. That Sir Nigel should actually fire +a shot upon that very night was a stroke of pure luck for the servant who +hated him. And it made his chance of fabricating the whole plot against +Sir Nigel a good deal easier. Whether he would have stolen the revolver +had that shot at the Frozen Flames--for which Sir Nigel has been so +sorely tried--never been fired, I cannot say, but that doubtless would +have been the course he would have taken. Luck favoured him upon that +dreadful night--but now that luck has changed. His own action has been +his undoing. If he had not given vent to this feeling of hatred that he +cherished in his heart for a master who was of such different stuff of +which he himself was made, the whole infernal plot might never have been +revealed. And yet--who can tell? + +"My lord and gentlemen of the jury, the tale is told. Justice has been +done an innocent man, and the rest of its doing lies in your capable +hands. I ask your permission to be seated." + +His voice trailed off into silence, and across the court a murmur arose, +like the hum of some giant airplane growing gradually nearer and nearer. +A sort of strangled sob came from the back of Cleek's chair, and he +turned his head to smile into 'Toinette's wet eyes. In their depths +gratitude and sorrow were inexplicably mingled. His hand went out to her; +she ran toward him from her place, and in spite of judge and jury, in +spite of the order of the law, knelt down there at his side and pressed +her warm lips against his hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +"TOWARD MORNING...." + + +The flower in Cleek's buttonhole was jauntily erect, his immaculately +garbed figure fitted in perfectly with every detail of the whole scene +of which he was a part. He looked--and was--the exquisitely turned-out +man-about-town. Only his eyes told of other things, and they, as the +organs welled to the sounds of the wedding march lighted up with +something that spoke of the man within rather than the man without. He +turned from his position at the altar (where he was fulfilling his duties +as best man to Sir Nigel Merriton) and glanced back over the curve of +his shoulder to where a girl sat, bending forward in the empty pew, her +face alight, her eyes, beneath the curving hat-brim, swimming with +tears.... She nodded as he saw her, and smiled, the promise of their +future together curving the sweet lips into gracious, womanly lines. +Behind her, on guard as usual, and gay in a gorgeous garment of +black-and-white checks, white waistcoat and flaming scarlet buttonhole, +sat Dollops, faithfully watching while Cleek assisted at the ceremony +that was uniting two souls in one, and casting aside forever the smirch +of a name that must rankle in the heart of her who had owned it in common +with the man who had so nearly wrought her soul's desolation. + +... Then it was all over. The organ swelled once more with its tidings of +joy; upon her husband's arm 'Toinette passed down the tiny aisle, tears +running down her cheeks unchecked, and mingling with the smiles that +chased each other like sunbeams across her happy face. Cleek was at the +porch waiting for them as they came out. He reached forth a hand to each. + +"Good luck--and God bless you both," he said. "This is a fitting end, +Merriton, and a new and glorious beginning." + +"And every moment of it, every second of it we owe to you, Mr. Cleek," +returned Sir Nigel, in a deep, happy voice. "Time alone can show our +gratitude--I can't." + +Cleek bowed, and his hand went out suddenly to Ailsa Lorne, who had +stolen up beside him, went out and caught her hand and held it in a grip +that hurt. "I know, boy. And one day in the glad future I shall call upon +you--who knows?--to attend a similar ceremony on my behalf, and in which +Mr. Narkom here has promised to act as best man--with Dollops to bolster +him up if he should be attacked with nerves. Now be off with you and--be +happy. We'll see you later at the Towers, Merriton. Good-bye to you +both." + +The door closed, the engine started, Dollops sprang back and they were +off. The boy turned suddenly, looked at Cleek and Ailsa standing there in +the sunshine of the little porch, at Mr. Narkom chuckling quietly behind +them, and--remarked: + +"Gawd! Dunno which is the best--weddings or funerals! Strite I don't. Yer +snivels at bofe like a blinkin' fool wiv a cold in 'is 'ead. And when it +comes to _your_ time, Guv'nor! well, if yer don't let me myke a third at +the funnymoon, I'll commit hurry-skurry on yer wery doorstep!... An' +jolly good riddance ter bad rubbish, too!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Riddle of the Frozen Flame +by Mary E. Hanshew +Thomas W. Hanshew + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIDDLE OF THE FROZEN FLAME *** + +***** This file should be named 17180.txt or 17180.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/1/8/17180/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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