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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9807-8.txt b/9807-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5db6de0 --- /dev/null +++ b/9807-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8733 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarhaven Keep, by J. S. Fletcher + +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: Scarhaven Keep + +Author: J. S. Fletcher + +Posting Date: May 7, 2010 [EBook #9807] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 19, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARHAVEN KEEP *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + + SCARHAVEN KEEP + + BY J.S. FLETCHER + + 1922 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + + I WANTED AT REHEARSAL + II GREY ROOK AND GREY SEA + III THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + IV THE ESTATE AGENT + V THE GREYLE HISTORY + VI THE LEADING LADY + VII LEFT ON GUARD + VIII RIGHT OF WAY + IX HOBKIN'S HOLE + X THE INVALID CURATE + XI BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + XII GOOD MEN AND TRUE + XIII MR. DENNIE + XIV BY PRIVATE TREATY + XV THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + XVI IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + XVII THE OLD PLAYBILL + XVIII THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + XIX THE STEAM YACHT + XX THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + XXI MAROONED + XXII THE OLD HAND + XXIII THE YACHT COMES BACK + XXIV THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + XXV THE SQUIRE + XXVI THE REAVER'S GLEN + XXVII THE PEEL TOWER + XXVIII THE FOOTPRINTS + XXIX SCARVELL'S CUT + XXX THE GREENGROCER'S CART + XXXI AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WANTED AT REHEARSAL + + +Jerramy, thirty years' stage-door keeper at the Theatre Royal, Norcaster, +had come to regard each successive Monday morning as a time for the +renewal of old acquaintance. For at any rate forty-six weeks of the +fifty-two, theatrical companies came and went at Norcaster with unfailing +regularity. The company which presented itself for patronage in the first +week of April in one year was almost certain to present itself again in +the corresponding week of the next year. Sometimes new faces came with +it, but as a rule the same old favourites showed themselves for a good +many years in succession. And every actor and actress who came to +Norcaster knew Jerramy. He was the first official person encountered on +entering upon the business of the week. He it was who handed out the +little bundles of letters and papers, who exchanged the first greetings, +of whom one could make useful inquiries, who always knew exactly what +advice to give about lodgings and landladies. From noon onwards of +Mondays, when the newcomers began to arrive at the theatre for the +customary one o'clock call for rehearsal, Jerramy was invariably employed +in hearing that he didn't look a day older, and was as blooming as ever, +and sure to last another thirty years, and his reception always +culminated in a hearty handshake and genial greeting from the great man +of the company, who, of course, after the fashion of magnates, always +turned up at the end of the irregular procession, and was not seldom late +for the fixture which he himself had made. + +At a quarter past one of a certain Monday afternoon in the course of a +sunny October, Jerramy leaned over the half-door of his sanctum in +conversation with an anxious-eyed man who for the past ten minutes had +hung about in the restless fashion peculiar to those who are waiting for +somebody. He had looked up the street and down the street a dozen times; +he had pulled out his watch and compared it with the clock of a +neighbouring church almost as often; he had several times gone up the +dark passage which led to the dressing-rooms, and had come back again +looking more perplexed than ever. The fact was that he was the business +manager of the great Mr. Bassett Oliver, who was opening for the week at +Norcaster in his latest success, and who, not quite satisfied with the +way in which a particular bit of it was being played called a special +rehearsal for a quarter to one. Everything and everybody was ready for +that rehearsal, but the great man himself had not arrived. Now Mr. +Bassett Oliver, as every man well knew who ever had dealings with him, +was not one of the irregular and unpunctual order; on the contrary, he +was a very martinet as regarded rule, precision and system; moreover, he +always did what he expected each member of his company to do. Therefore +his non-arrival, his half hour of irregularity, seemed all the more +extraordinary. + +"Never knew him to be late before--never!" exclaimed the business +manager, impatiently pulling out his watch for the twentieth time. "Not +in all my ten years' experience of him--not once." + +"I suppose you've seen him this morning, Mr. Stafford?" inquired Jerramy. +"He's in the town, of course?" + +"I suppose he's in the town," answered Mr. Stafford. "I suppose he's at +his old quarters--the 'Angel.' But I haven't seen him; neither had +Rothwell--we've both been too busy to call there. I expect he came on to +the 'Angel' from Northborough yesterday." + +Jerramy opened the half-door, and going out to the end of the passage, +looked up and down the street. + +"There's a taxi-cab coming round the corner now," he announced presently. +"Coming quick, too--I should think he's in it." + +The business manager bustled out to the pavement as the cab came to a +halt. But instead of the fine face and distinguished presence of Mr. +Bassett Oliver, he found himself confronting a young man who looked like +a well-set-up subaltern, or a cricket-and-football loving undergraduate; +a somewhat shy, rather nervous young man, scrupulously groomed, and +neatly attired in tweeds, who, at sight of the two men on the pavement, +immediately produced a card-case. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver?" he said inquiringly. "Is he here? I--I've got an +appointment with him for one o'clock, and I'm sorry I'm late--my train--" + +"Mr. Oliver is not here yet," broke in Stafford. "He's late, +too--unaccountably late, for him. An appointment, you say?" + +He was looking the stranger over as he spoke, taking him for some +stage-struck youth who had probably persuaded the good-natured actor to +give him an interview. His expression changed, however; as he glanced at +the card which the young man handed over, and he started a little and +held out his hand with a smile. + +"Oh!--Mr. Copplestone?" he exclaimed. "How do you do? My name's +Stafford--I'm Mr. Oliver's business manager. So he made an +appointment with you, did he--here, today? Wants to see you about +your play, of course." + +Again he looked at the newcomer with a smiling interest, thinking +secretly that he was a very youthful and ingenuous being to have written +a play which Bassett Oliver, a shrewd critic, and by no means easy to +please, had been eager to accept, and was about to produce. Mr. Richard +Copplestone, seen in the flesh, looked very young indeed, and very +unlike anything in the shape of a professional author. In fact he very +much reminded Stafford of the fine and healthy young man whom one sees +on the playing fields, and certainly does not associate with pen and +ink. That he was not much used to the world on whose edge he just then +stood Stafford gathered from a boyish trick of blushing through the tan +of his cheeks. + +"I got a wire from Mr. Oliver yesterday--Sunday," replied Mr. +Copplestone. "I ought to have had it in the morning, I suppose, but I'd +gone out for the day, you know--gone out early. So I didn't find it until +I got back to my rooms late at night. I got the next train I could from +King's Cross, and it was late getting in here." + +"Then you've practically been travelling all night?" remarked Stafford. +"Well, Mr. Oliver hasn't turned up--most unusual for him. I don't know +where--" Just then another man came hurrying down the passage from the +dressing-rooms, calling the business manager by name. + +"I say, Stafford!" he exclaimed, as he emerged on the street. "This is a +queer thing!--I'm sure there's something wrong. I've just rung up the +'Angel' hotel. Oliver hasn't turned up there! His rooms were all ready +for him as usual yesterday, but he never came. They've neither seen nor +heard of him. Did you see him yesterday?" + +"No!" replied Stafford. "I didn't. Never seen him since last thing +Saturday night at Northborough. He ordered this rehearsal for one--no, a +quarter to one, here, today. But somebody must have seen him yesterday. +Where's his dresser--where's Hackett?" + +"Hackett's inside," said the other man. "He hasn't seen him either, since +Saturday night. Hackett has friends living in these parts--he went off to +see them early yesterday morning, from Northborough, and he's only just +come. So he hasn't seen Oliver, and doesn't know anything about him; he +expected, of course, to find him here." + +Stafford turned with a wave of the hand towards Copplestone. + +"So did this gentleman," he said. "Mr. Copplestone, this is our +stage-manager, Mr. Rothwell. Rothwell, this is Mr. Richard Copplestone, +author of the new play that Mr. Oliver's going to produce next month. Mr. +Copplestone got a wire from him yesterday, asking him to come here today +at one o'clock, He's travelled all night to get here." + +"Where was the wire sent from?" asked Rothwell, a sharp-eyed, +keen-looking man, who, like Stafford, was obviously interested in the new +author's boyish appearance. "And when?" + +Copplestone drew some letters and papers from his pocket and selected +one. "That's it," he said. "There you are--sent off from Northborough at +nine-thirty, yesterday morning--Sunday." + +"Well, then he was at Northborough at that time," remarked Rothwell. +"Look here, Stafford, we'd better telephone to Northborough, to his +hotel. The 'Golden Apple,' wasn't it?" + +"No good," replied Stafford, shaking his head. "The 'Golden Apple' isn't +on the 'phone--old-fashioned place. We'd better wire." + +"Too slow," said Rothwell. "We'll telephone to the theatre there, and ask +them to step across and make inquiries. Come on!--let's do it at once." + +He hurried inside again, and Stafford turned to Copplestone. + +"Better send your cab away and come inside until we get some news," he +said. "Let Jerramy take your things into his sanctum--he'll keep an eye +on them till you want them--I suppose you'll stop at the 'Angel' with +Oliver. Look here!" he went on, turning to the cab driver, "just you wait +a bit--I might want you; wait ten minutes, anyway. Come in, Mr. +Copplestone." + +Copplestone followed the business manager up the passage to a +dressing-room, in which a little elderly man was engaged in unpacking +trunks and dress-baskets. He looked up expectantly at the sound of +footsteps; then looked down again at the work in hand and went silently +on with it. + +"This is Hackett, Mr. Oliver's dresser," said Stafford. "Been with +him--how long, Hackett?" + +"Twenty years next January, Mr. Stafford," answered the dresser quietly. + +"Ever known Mr. Oliver late like this?" inquired Stafford. + +"Never, sir! There's something wrong," replied Hackett. "I'm sure of it. +I feel it! You ought to go and look for him, some of you gentlemen." + +"Where?" asked Stafford. "We don't know anything about him. He's not come +to the 'Angel,' as he ought to have done, yesterday. I believe you're the +last person who saw him, Hackett. Aren't you, now?" + +"I saw him at the 'Golden Apple' at Northborough at twelve o'clock +Saturday night, sir," answered Hackett. "I took a bag of his to his rooms +there. He was all right then. He knew I was going off first thing next +morning to see an uncle of mine who's a farmer on the coast between here +and Northborough, and he told me he shouldn't want me until one o'clock +today. So of course, I came straight here to the theatre--I didn't call +in at the 'Angel' at all this morning." + +"Did he say anything about his own movements yesterday?" asked Stafford. +"Did he tell you that he was going anywhere?" + +"Not a word, Mr. Stafford," replied Hackett. "But you know his habits as +well as I do." + +"Just so," agreed Stafford. "Mr. Oliver," he continued, turning to +Copplestone, "is a great lover of outdoor life. On Sundays, when we're +travelling from one town to another, he likes to do the journey by +motor--alone. In a case like this, where the two towns are not very far +apart, it's his practice to find out if there's any particular beauty +spot or place of interest between them, and to spend his Sunday there. I +daresay that's what he did yesterday. You see, all last week we were at +Northborough. That, like Norcaster, is a coast town--there's fifty miles +between them. If he followed out his usual plan he'd probably hire a +motor-car and follow the coast-road, and if he came to any place that was +of special interest, he'd stop there. But--in the usual way of +things--he'd have turned up at his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel here last +night. He didn't--and he hasn't turned up here, either. So where is he?" + +"Have you made inquiries of the company, Mr. Stafford?" asked Hackett. +"Most of 'em wander about a bit of a Sunday--they might have seen him." + +"Good idea!" agreed Stafford. He beckoned Copplestone to follow him on +to the stage, where the members of the company sat or stood about in +groups, each conscious that something unusual had occurred. "It's really +a queer, and perhaps a serious thing," he whispered as he steered his +companion through a maze of scenery. "And if Oliver doesn't turn up, we +shall be in a fine mess. Of course, there's an understudy for his part, +but--I say!" he went on, as they stepped upon the stage, "Have any of you +seen Mr. Oliver, anywhere, since Saturday night? Can anybody tell +anything about him--anything at all? Because--it's useless to deny the +fact--he's not come here, and he's not come to town at all, so far as we +know. So--" + +Rothwell came hurrying on to the stage from the opposite wings. He +hastened across to Stafford and drew him and Copplestone a little aside. + +"I've heard from Northborough," he said. "I 'phoned Waters, the manager +there, to run across to the 'Golden Apple' and make inquiries. The +'Golden Apple' people say that Oliver left there at eleven o'clock +yesterday morning. He was alone. He simply walked out of the hotel. And +they know nothing more." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GREY ROCK AND GREY SEA + + +The three men stood for a while silently looking at each other. +Copplestone, as a stranger, secretly wondered why the two managers seemed +so concerned; to him a delay of half an hour in keeping an appointment +did not appear to be quite as serious as they evidently considered it. +But he had never met Bassett Oliver, and knew nothing of his ways; he +only began to comprehend matters when Rothwell turned to Stafford with an +air of decision. + +"Look here!" he said. "You'd better go and make inquiry at Northborough. +See if you can track him. Something must be wrong--perhaps seriously +wrong. You don't quite understand, do you, Mr. Copplestone?" he went on, +giving the younger man a sharp glance. "You see, we know Mr. Oliver so +well--we've both been with him a good many years. He's a model of system, +regularity, punctuality, and all the rest of it. In the ordinary course +of events, wherever he spent yesterday, he'd have been sure to turn up at +his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel last night, and he'd have walked in here +this morning at half-past twelve. As he hasn't done either, why, then, +something unusual has happened. Stafford, you'd better get a move on." + +"Wait a minute," said Stafford. He turned again to the groups behind him, +repeating his question. + +"Has anybody anything to tell?" he asked anxiously. "We've just heard +that Mr. Oliver left his hotel at Northborough yesterday morning at +eleven o'clock, alone, walking. Has anybody any idea of any project, any +excursion, that he had in mind?" + +An elderly man who had been in conversation with the leading lady +stepped forward. + +"I was talking to Oliver about the coast scenery between here and +Northborough the other day--Friday," he remarked. "He'd never seen it--I +told him I used to know it pretty well once. He said he'd try and see +something of it on Sunday--yesterday, you know. And, I say--" here he +came closer to the two managers and lowered his voice--"that coast is +very wild, lonely, and a good bit dangerous--sharp and precipitous +cliffs. Eh?" + +Rothwell clapped a hand on Stafford's arm. + +"You'd really better be off to Northborough," he said with decision. +"You're sure to come across traces of him. Go to the 'Golden +Apple'--then the station. Wire or telephone me--here. Of course, this +rehearsal's off. About this evening--oh, well, a lot may happen before +then. But go at once--I believe you can get expresses from here to +Northborough pretty often." + +"I'll go with you--if I may," said Copplestone suddenly. "I might be of +use. There's that cab still at the door, you know--shall we run up to +the station?" + +"Good!" assented Stafford. "Yes, come by all means." He turned to +Rothwell for a moment. "If he should turn up here, 'phone to Waters at +the Northborough theatre, won't you?" he said. "We'll look in there as +soon as we arrive." + +He hurried out with Copplestone and together they drove up to the +station, where an express was just leaving for the south. Once on their +way to Northborough, Stafford turned to his companion with a grave shake +of the head. + +"I daresay you don't quite see the reason of our anxiety," he observed. +"You see, we know Oliver. He's a trick of wandering about by himself on +Sundays--when he gets the chance. Of course when there's a long journey +between two towns, he doesn't get the chance, and then he's all right. +But when, as in this case, the town of one week is fairly close to the +town of the next, he invariably spots some place of interest, an old +castle, or a ruined abbey, or some famous house, and goes looking round +it. And if he's been exploring some spot on this coast yesterday, and +it's as that chap Rutherford said, wild and dangerous, why, then--" + +"You think he may have had an accident--fallen over the cliffs or +something?" suggested Copplestone. + +"I don't like to think anything," replied Stafford. "But I shall be a +good deal relieved if we can get some definite news about him." + +The first half-hour at Northborough yielded nothing definite. A telephone +message from Rothwell had just come to the theatre when they drove up to +it--nothing had so far been heard of the missing man at Norcaster--either +at theatre or hotel. Stafford and Copplestone hurried across to the +"Golden Apple" and interviewed its proprietor; he, keenly interested in +the affair, could tell no more than that Mr. Bassett Oliver, having sent +his luggage forward to Norcaster, had left the house on foot at eleven +o'clock the previous morning, and had been seen to walk across the +market-place in the direction of the railway station. But an old +head-waiter, who had served the famous actor's breakfast, was able to +give some information; Mr. Oliver, he said, had talked a little to him +about the coast scenery between Northborough and Norcaster, and had asked +him which stretch of it was worth seeing. It was his impression that Mr. +Oliver meant to break his journey somewhere along the coast. + +"Of course, that's it," said Stafford, as he and Copplestone drove off +again. "He's gone to some place between the two towns. But where? Anyhow, +nobody's likely to forget Oliver if they've once seen him, and wherever +he went, he'd have to take a ticket. Therefore--the booking-office." + +Here at last, was light. One of the clerks in the booking-office came +forward at once with news. Mr. Bassett Oliver, whom he knew well enough, +having seen him on and off the stage regularly for the past five years, +had come there the previous morning, and had taken a first-class single +ticket for Scarhaven. He would travel to Scarhaven by the 11.35 train, +which arrived at Scarhaven at 12.10. Where was Scarhaven? On the coast, +twenty miles off, on the way to Norcaster; you changed for it at Tilmouth +Junction. Was there a train leaving soon for Scarhaven? There was--in +five minutes. + +Stafford and Copplestone presently found themselves travelling back along +the main line. A run of twenty minutes brought them to the junction, +where, at an adjacent siding they found a sort of train in miniature +which ran over a narrow-gauge railway towards the sea. Its course lay +through a romantic valley hidden between high heather-clad moorland; they +saw nothing of their destination nor of the coast until, coming to a stop +in a little station perched high on the side of a hill they emerged to +see shore and sea lying far beneath them. With a mutual consent they +passed outside the grey walls of the station-yard to take a comprehensive +view of the scene. + +"Just the place to attract Oliver!" muttered Stafford, as he gazed around +him. "He'd revel in it--fairly revel!" + +Copplestone gazed at the scene in silence. That was the first time he had +ever seen the Northern coast, and the strange glamour and romance of this +stretch of it appealed strongly to his artistic senses. He found himself +standing high above the landward extremity of a narrow bay or creek, much +resembling a Norwegian fiord in its general outlines; it ran in from the +sea between high shelving cliffs, the slopes of which were thickly wooded +with the hardier varieties of tree and shrub, through which at intervals +great, gaunt masses of grey rock cropped out. On the edge of the water at +either side of the bay were lines of ancient houses and cottages of grey +walls and red roofs, built and grouped with the irregularity of +individual liking; on the north side rose the square tower and low nave +of a venerable church; amidst a mass of wood on the opposite side stood a +great Norman keep, half ruinous, which looked down on a picturesque house +at its foot. Quays, primitive and quaint, ran along between the old +cottages and the water's edge; in the bay itself or nestling against the +worn timbers of the quays, were small craft whose red sails hung idly +against their tall masts and spars. And at the end of the quays and the +wooded promontories which terminated the land view, lay the North Sea, +cold, grey, and mysterious in the waning October light, and out of its +bosom rose, close to the shore, great masses of high grey rocks, strong +and fantastic of shape, and further away, almost indistinct in the +distance, an island, on the highest point of which the ruins of some old +religious house were silhouetted against the horizon. + +"Just the place!" repeated Stafford. "He'd have cheerfully travelled a +thousand miles to see this. And now--we know he came here--what we next +want to know is, what he did when he got here?" + +Copplestone, who had been taking in every detail of the scene before him, +pointed to a house of many gables and queer chimneys which stood a little +way beneath them at the point where the waters of a narrow stream ran +into the bay. + +"That looks like an inn," he said. "I think I can make out a sign on the +gable-end. Let's go down there and inquire. He would get here just about +time for lunch, wouldn't he, and he'd probably turn in there. Also--they +may have a telephone there, and you can call up the theatre at Norcaster +and find out if anything's been heard yet." + +Stafford smiled approvingly and started out in the direction of the +buildings towards which Copplestone had pointed. + +"Excellent notion!" he said. "You're quite a business man--an unusual +thing in authors, isn't it? Come on, then--and that is an inn, too--I can +make out the sign now--The 'Admiral's Arms'--Mary Wooler. Let's hope Mary +Wooler, who's presumably the landlady, can give us some useful news!" + +The "Admiral's Arms" proved to be an old-fashioned, capacious hostelry, +eminently promising and comfortable in appearance, which stood on the +edge of a broad shelf of headland, and commanded a fine view of the +little village and the bay. Stafford and Copplestone, turning in at the +front door, found themselves in a deep, stone-paved hall, on one side of +which, behind a bar window, a pleasant-faced, buxom woman, silk-aproned +and smartly-capped, was busily engaged in adding up columns of figures in +a big account-book. At sight of strangers she threw open a door and +smilingly invited them to walk into a snugly furnished bar-parlour where +a bright fire burned in an open hearth. Stafford gave his companion a +look--this again was just the sort of old-world place which would appeal +to Basset Oliver, supposing he had come across it. + +"I wonder if you can give me some information?" he asked presently, when +the good-looking landlady had attended to their requests for refreshment. +"I suppose you are the landlady--Mrs. Wooler? Well, now, Mrs. Wooler, did +you have a tall, handsome, slightly grey-haired gentleman in here to +lunch yesterday--say about one o'clock?" + +The landlady turned on her questioner with an intelligent smile. + +"You mean Mr. Oliver, the actor?" she said. + +"Good!" exclaimed Stafford, with a hearty sigh of relief. "I do! You know +him, then?" + +"I've often seen him, both at Northborough and at Norcaster," replied +Mrs. Wooler. "But I never saw him here before yesterday. Oh, yes! of +course I knew him as soon as he walked in, and I had a bit of chat with +him before he went out, and he remarked that though he'd been coming into +these parts for some years, he'd never been to Scarhaven before--usually, +he said, he'd gone inland of a Sunday, amongst the hills. Oh, yes, he was +here--he had lunch here." + +"We're seeking him," said Stafford, going directly to the question. "He +ought to have turned up at the 'Angel Hotel' at Norcaster last night, +and at the theatre today at noon--he did neither. I'm his business +manager, Mrs. Wooler. Now can you tell us anything--more than you've +already told, I mean?" + +The landlady, whose face expressed more and more concern as Stafford +spoke, shook her head. + +"I can't!" she answered. "I don't know any more. He was here perhaps an +hour or so. Then he went away, saying he was going to have a look round +the place. I expected he'd come in again on his way to the station, but +he never did. Dear, dear! I hope nothing's happened to him--such a fine, +pleasant man. And--" + +"And--what?" asked Stafford. + +"These cliffs and rocks are so dangerous," murmured Mrs. Wooler. "I +often say that no stranger ought to go alone here. They aren't safe, +these cliffs." + +Stafford set down his glass and rose. + +"I think you've got a telephone in your hall," he said. "I'll just call +up Norcaster and find out if they've heard anything. If they haven't--" + +He shook his head and went out, and Copplestone glanced at the landlady. + +"You say the cliffs are dangerous," he said. "Are they particularly so?" + +"To people who don't know them, yes," she replied. "They ought to be +protected, but then, of course, we don't get many tourists here, and the +Scarhaven people know the danger spots well enough. Then again at the end +of the south promontory there, beyond the Keep--" + +"Is the Keep that high square tower amongst the woods?" asked +Copplestone. + +"That's it--it's all that's left of the old castle," answered Mrs. +Wooler. "Well, off the point beneath that, there's a group of +rocks--you'd perhaps noticed them as you came down from the station? +They've various names--there's the King, the Queen, the Sugar-Loaf, and +so on. At low tide you can walk across to them. And of course, some +people like to climb them. Now, they're particularly dangerous! On the +Queen rock there's a great hole called the Devil's Spout, up which the +sea rushes. Everybody wants to look over it, you know, and if a man was +there alone, and his foot slipped, and he fell, why--" + +Stafford came back, looking more cast down than ever. + +"They've heard nothing there," he announced. "Come on--we'll go down and +see if we can hear anything from any of the people. We'll call in and see +you later, Mrs. Wooler, and if you can make any inquiries in the +meantime, do. Look here," he went on, when he and Copplestone had got +outside, "you take this south side of the bay, and I'll take the north. +Ask anybody you see--any likely person--fishermen and so on. Then come +back here. And if we've heard nothing--" + +He shook his head significantly, as he turned away, and Copplestone, +taking the other direction, felt that the manager's despondency was +influencing himself. A sudden disappearance of this sort was surely not +to be explained easily--nothing but exceptional happenings could have +kept Bassett Oliver from the scene of his week's labours. There must have +been an accident--it needed little imagination to conjure up its easy +occurrence. A too careless step, a too near approach, a loose stone, a +sudden giving way of crumbling soil, the shifting of an already detached +rock--any of these things might happen, and then--but the thought of what +might follow cast a greyer tint over the already cold and grey sea. + +He went on amongst the old cottages and fishing huts which lay at the +foot of the wooded heights on the tops of whose pines and firs the gaunt +ruins of the old Keep seemed to stand sentinel. He made inquiry at open +doors and of little groups of men gathered on the quay and by the +drawn-up boats--nobody knew anything. According to what they told him, +most of these people had been out and about all the previous afternoon; +it had been a particularly fine day, that Sunday, and they had all been +out of doors, on the quay and the shore, in the sunshine. But nobody had +any recollection of the man described, and Copplestone came to the +conclusion that Oliver had not chosen that side of the bay. There was, +however, one objection to that theory--so far as he could judge, that +side was certainly the more attractive. And he himself went on to the end +of it--on until he had left quay and village far behind, and had come to +a spit of sand which ran out into the sea exactly opposite the group of +rocks of which Mrs. Wooler had spoken. There they lay, rising out of the +surf like great monsters, a half-mile from where he stood. The tide was +out at that time, and between him and them stretched a shining expanse of +glittering wet sand. And, coming straight towards him across it, +Copplestone saw the slim and graceful figure of a girl. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + + +It was not from any idle curiosity that Copplestone made up his mind to +await the girl's nearer approach. There was no other human being in view, +and he was anxious to get some information about the rocks whose grim +outlines were rapidly becoming faint and indistinct in the gathering +darkness. And so as the girl came towards him, picking her way across the +pools which lay amidst the brown ribs of sand, he went forward, throwing +away all formality and reserve in his eagerness. + +"Forgive me for speaking so unceremoniously," he said as they met. "I'm +looking for a friend who has disappeared--mysteriously. Can you tell me +if, any time yesterday, afternoon or evening, you saw anywhere about here +a tall, distinguished-looking man--the actor type. In fact, he is an +actor--perhaps you've heard of him? Mr. Bassett Oliver." + +He was looking narrowly at the girl as he spoke, and she, too, looked +narrowly at him out of a pair of grey eyes of more than ordinary +intelligence and perception. And at the famous actor's name she started a +little and a faint colour stole over her cheeks. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver!" she exclaimed in a clear, cultured voice. "My +mother and I saw Mr. Oliver at the Northborough Theatre on Friday +evening. Do you mean that he--" + +"I mean--to put it bluntly--that Bassett Oliver is lost," answered +Copplestone. "He came to this place yesterday, Sunday, morning, to look +round; he lunched at the 'Admiral's Arms,' he went out, after a chat with +the landlady, and he's never been seen since. He should have turned up at +the 'Angel' at Norcaster last night, and at a rehearsal at the Theatre +Royal there today at noon--but he didn't. His manager and I have tracked +him here--and so far I can't hear of him. I've asked people all through +the village--this side, anyway--nobody knows anything." + +He and the girl still looked attentively at each other; Copplestone, +indeed, was quietly inspecting her while he talked. He judged her to be +twenty-one or two; she was a little above medium height, slim, graceful, +pretty, and he was quick to notice that her entire air and appearance +suggested their present surroundings. Her fair hair escaped from a +knitted cap such as fisher-folk wear; her slender figure was shown to +advantage by a rough blue jersey; her skirt of blue serge was short and +practical; she was shod in brogues which showed more acquaintance with +sand and salt water than with polish. And her face was tanned with the +strong northern winds, and the ungloved hands, small and shapely as they +were, were brown as the beach across which she had come. + +"I have not seen--nor heard--of Mr. Bassett Oliver--here," she answered. +"I was out and about all yesterday afternoon and evening, too--not on +this side of the bay, though. Have you been to the police-station?" + +"The manager may have been there," replied Copplestone. "He's gone along +the other shore. But--I don't think he'll get any help there. I'm afraid +Mr. Oliver must have met with an accident. I wanted to ask you a +question--I saw you coming from the direction of those rocks just now. +Could he have got out there across those sands, yesterday afternoon?" + +"Between three o'clock and evening--yes," said the girl. + +"And--is it dangerous out there?" + +"Very dangerous indeed--to any one who doesn't know them." + +"There's something there called the Devil's Spout?" + +"Yes--a deep fissure up which the sea boils. Oh! it seems dreadful to +think of--I hope he didn't fall in there. If he did--" + +"Well?" asked Copplestone bluntly, "what if he did?" + +"Nothing ever came out that once went in," she answered. "It's a sort of +whirlpool that's sucked right away into the sea. The people hereabouts +say it's bottomless." + +Copplestone turned his face towards the village. + +"Oh, well," he said, with an accent of hopelessness. "I can't do any more +down here, it's growing dusk. I must go back and meet the manager." + +The girl walked along at his side as he turned towards the village. + +"I suppose you are one of Mr. Oliver's company?" she observed presently. +"You must all be much concerned." + +"They're all greatly concerned," answered Copplestone. "But I don't +belong to the company. No--I came to Norcaster this morning to meet Mr. +Oliver--he's going--I hope I oughtn't to say was going!--to produce a +play of mine next month, and he wanted to talk about the rehearsals. +Everything, of course, was at a standstill when I reached Norcaster at +one o'clock, so I came with Stafford, the business manager, to see +what we could do about tracking Mr. Oliver. And I'm afraid, I'm very +much afraid--" + +He paused, as a gate, set in the thick hedge of a garden at this point of +the village, suddenly opened to let out a man, who at sight of the girl +stopped, hesitated, and then waited for her approach. He was a tall, +well-built man of apparently thirty years, dressed in a rough tweed +knickerbocker suit, but the dusk had now so much increased that +Copplestone could only gather an impression of ordinary good-lookingness +from the face that was turned inquiringly on his companion. The girl +turned to him and spoke hurriedly. + +"This is my cousin, Mr. Greyle, of Scarhaven Keep," she murmured. "He may +be able to help. Marston!" she went on, raising her voice, "can you give +any help here? This gentleman--" she paused, looking at Copplestone. + +"My name is Richard Copplestone," he said. + +"Mr. Copplestone is looking for Mr. Bassett Oliver, the famous actor," +she continued, as the three met. "Mr. Oliver has mysteriously +disappeared. Mr. Copplestone has traced him here, to Scarhaven--he was +here yesterday, lunching at the inn--but he can't get any further news. +Did you see anything, or hear anything of him?" + +Marston Greyle, who had been inspecting the stranger narrowly in the +fading light, shook his head. + +"Bassett Oliver, the actor," he said. "Oh, yes, I saw his name on the +bills in Norcaster the other day. Came here, and has disappeared, you +say? Under what circumstances?" + +Copplestone had listened carefully to the newcomer's voice; more +particularly to his accent. He had already gathered sufficient knowledge +of Scarhaven to know that this man was the Squire, the master of the old +house and grey ruin in the wood above the cliff; he also happened to +know, being something of an archaeologist and well acquainted with family +histories, that there had been Greyles of Scarhaven for many hundred +years. And he wondered how it was that though this Greyle's voice was +pleasant and cultured enough, its accent was decidedly American. + +"Perhaps I'd better explain," said Copplestone. "I've already told most +of it to this lady, but you will both understand more fully if I tell you +more. It's this way--" and he went on to tell everything that had +happened and come to light since one o'clock that day. "So you see, it's +here," he concluded; "we're absolutely certain that Oliver went out of +the 'Admiral's Arms' up there about half-past two yesterday, but--where? +From that moment, no one seems to have seen him. Yet how he could come +along this village street, this quay, without being seen--" + +"He need not have come along the quayside," interrupted the girl. "There +is a cliff path just below the inn which leads up to the Keep." + +"Also, he mayn't have taken this side of the bay, either." remarked +Greyle. "He may have chosen the other. You didn't see or hear of him on +your side, Audrey?" + +"Nothing!" replied the girl. "Nothing!" + +Marston Greyle had fallen into line with the other two, and they were now +walking along the quay in the direction of the "Admiral's Arms." And +presently Stafford, accompanied by a policeman, came hurriedly round a +corner and quickened his steps at sight of Copplestone. The policeman, +evidently much puzzled and interested, saluted the Squire obsequiously as +the two groups met. + +"No news at all!" exclaimed Stafford, glancing at Copplestone's +companions. "You got any?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "Not a word. This is Mr. Greyle, of the +Keep--he has heard nothing. This lady--Miss Greyle?--was out a good deal +yesterday afternoon; she knows Oliver quite well by sight, but she did +not see him. So if you've no news--" + +Marston Greyle interrupted, turning to the policeman. + +"What ought to be done, Haskett?" he asked. "You've had cases of +disappearance to deal with before, eh?" + +"Can't say as I have, sir, in my time," answered the policeman. +"Leastways, not of this sort. Of course, we can get search parties +together, and one of 'em can go along the coast north'ards, and the other +can go south'ards, and we might have a look round the rocks out yonder, +tomorrow, as soon as it's light. But if the gentleman went out there, and +had the bad luck to fall into that Devil's Spout, why, then, sir, I'm +afraid all the searching in the world'll do no good. And the queer thing +is, gentlemen, if I may express an opinion, that nobody ever saw the +gentleman after he had left Mrs. Wooler's! That seems--" + +A fisherman came lounging across the quay from the shadow of one of the +neighbouring cottages. He touched his cap to Marston Greyle, and looked +inquiringly at the two strangers. + +"Are you the gentlemen as is asking after another gentleman?" he said. +"'Cause if so, I make no doubt as how I had a word or two with him +yesterday afternoon." + +Stafford and Copplestone turned sharply on the newcomer--an elderly +man of plain and homely aspect who responded frankly to their +questioning glances. He went on at once, before they could put their +questions into words. + +"It 'ud be about half-past two, or maybe a bit nearer three o'clock," he +said. "Up yonder it was, about a hundred yards this side of the +'Admiral's Arms.' I was sitting on a baulk o' timber there, doing +nothing, when he comes along--a tall, fine-looking man. He gives me a +pleasant sort o' nod, and said it was a grand day, and we got talking a +bit, about the scenery and such-like, and he said he'd never been here +before. Then he pointed up to the big house and the old Keep yonder, and +asked whose place that might be, and I said that was the Squire's. 'And +who may the Squire be?' says he. 'Mr. Marston Greyle,' says I, 'Recent +come into the property.' 'Marston Greyle!' he says, sharp-like. 'Why, I +used to know a young man of that very name in America!' he says. 'Very +like,' says I, 'I have heard as how the Squire had been in them parts +before he came here.' 'Bless me!' he says, 'I've a good mind to call on +him. How do you get up there?' he says. So I showed him that side path +that runs up through the plantation to near the top, and I told him that +if he followed that till he came to the Keep, he'd find another path +there as would take him to the door of the house. And he gave me a +shilling to drink his health, and off he went, the way as I'd pointed +out. D'ye think that'll be the same gentleman, now?" + +Nobody answered this question. Everybody there was looking at Marston +Greyle. The little group had drawn near to the light of one of the three +gas-lamps which feebly illuminated the quay; it seemed to Copplestone +that the Squire's face had paled when the fisherman arrived at the middle +of his story. But it flushed as his companion turned to him, and he +laughed, a little uneasily. + +"Said he knew me--in America?" he exclaimed. "I don't remember meeting +Mr. Bassett Oliver out there. But then I met so many Englishmen in one +place or another that I may have been introduced to him somewhere, at +some time, and--forgotten all about it." + +Stafford spoke--with unnecessary abruptness, in Copplestone's opinion. + +"I don't think it very likely that any one would forget Bassett Oliver," +he said. "He isn't--or wasn't--the sort of man anybody could forget, once +they'd met him. Anyhow--did he come to your house yesterday afternoon as +this man suggests?" + +Marston Greyle drew himself up. He looked Stafford up and down. Then he +made a slight gesture to the girl, whose face had already assumed a +troubled expression. + +"If I had seen Mr. Bassett Oliver yesterday, sir, we should not be +discussing his possible whereabouts now," said Greyle, icily. "Are you +coming, Audrey?" + +The girl hesitated, glanced at Copplestone, and then walked away with her +cousin. Stafford sniffed contemptuously. + +"Ass!" he muttered. "Couldn't he see that what I meant was that Oliver +must either have been mistaken, or have referred to some other Greyle +whom he met? Hang his pride! Well, now," he went on, turning to the +fisherman, "you're dead certain about what you've told us?" + +"As certain as mortal man can be of aught there is!" answered the +informant. "Sure certain, mister." + +"Make a note of it, constable," said Stafford. "Mr. Oliver was last seen +going up the path to the Keep, having said he meant to call on Mr. +Marston Greyle. I'll call on you again tomorrow morning. Copplestone!" he +went on, drawing his companion away, "I'm off to Norcaster--I shall see +the police there and get detectives. There's something seriously wrong +here--and by heaven, we've got to get to the bottom of it! Now, look +here--will you stay here for the night, so as to be on the spot? I'll +come back first thing in the morning and bring your luggage--I can't come +sooner, for there are heaps of business matters to deal with. You +will--good! Now I can just catch a train. Copplestone!--keep your eyes +and ears open. It's my firm belief--I don't know why--that there's been +foul play. Foul play!" + +Stafford hurried away up hill to the station, and Copplestone, after +waiting a minute or two, turned along the quay on the north of the +bay--following Audrey Greyle, who was in front, alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ESTATE AGENT + + +Copplestone had kept a sharp watch on Marston Greyle and his cousin when +they walked off, and he had seen that they had parted at a point a little +farther along the shore road--the man turning up into the wood, the girl +going forward along the quay which led to the other half of the village. +He quickened his pace and followed her, catching her up as she came to a +path which led towards the old church. At the sound of his hurrying steps +she turned and faced him, and he saw in the light of a cottage lamp that +she still looked troubled and perplexed. + +"Forgive me for running after you," said Copplestone as he went up to +her. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about--about that little scene +down there, you know. Your cousin misunderstood Mr. Stafford--what +Stafford meant was that--" + +"I saw what Mr. Stafford meant," she broke in quickly. "I'm sorry my +cousin didn't see it. It was--obvious." + +"All the same, Stafford put it rather--shall we say, brusquely," remarked +Copplestone. "Of course, he's terribly upset about Oliver's +disappearance, and he didn't consider the effect of his words. And it was +rather a surprise to hear that Oliver had known some man of your +cousin's name over there in America, wasn't it?" + +"And that Mr. Oliver should mysteriously disappear just after making such +an announcement," said Audrey. "That certainly seems very surprising." + +The two looked at each other, a question in the eyes of each, and +Copplestone knew that the trouble in the girl's eyes arose from inability +to understand what was already a suspicious circumstance. + +"But after all, that may have been a mere coincidence," he hastened to +say. "Let's hope things may be cleared. I only hope that Oliver hasn't +met with an accident and is lying somewhere without help. I'm going to +remain here for the night, however, and Stafford will come back early in +the morning and go more thoroughly into things--I suppose there'll have +to be a search of the neighbourhood." + +They had walked slowly up a path on the side of the cliff as they talked, +and now the girl stopped before a small cottage which stood at the end of +the churchyard, set in a tree-shaded garden, and looking out on the bay. +She laid her hand on the gate, glancing at Copplestone, and suddenly she +spoke, a little impulsively. + +"Will you come in and speak to my mother?" she said. "She was a great +admirer of Mr. Oliver's acting--and she knew him at one time. She will be +interested--and grieved." + +Copplestone followed her up the garden and into the house, where she led +the way into a small old-fashioned parlour in which a grey-haired woman, +who had once been strikingly handsome, and whose face seemed to the +visitor to bear traces of great trouble, sat writing at a bureau. She +turned in surprise as her daughter led Copplestone in, but her manner +became remarkably calm and collected as Audrey explained who he was and +why he was there. And Copplestone, watching her narrowly, fancied that he +saw interest flash into her eyes when she heard of Bassett Oliver's +remark to the fisherman. But she made no comment, and when Audrey had +finished the story, she turned to Copplestone as if she had already +summed up the situation. + +"We know this place so well--having lived here so long, you know," she +said, "that we can make a fairly accurate guess at what Mr. Oliver might +do. There seems no doubt that he went up the path to the Keep. According +to Mr. Marston Greyle's statement, he certainly did not go to the house. +Well, he might have done one of two other things. There is a path which +leads from the Keep down to the beach, immediately opposite the big rocks +which you have no doubt seen. There is another path which turns out of +the woods and follows the cliffs towards Lenwick, a village along the +coast, a mile away. But--at that time, on a Sunday afternoon, both paths +would be frequented. Speaking from knowledge, I should say that Mr. +Oliver cannot have left the woods--he must have been seen had he done so. +It's impossible that he could have gone down to the shore or along the +cliffs without being seen, too--impossible!" + +There was a certain amount of insistence in the last few words which +puzzled Copplestone--also they conveyed to him a queer suggestion which +repulsed him; it was almost as if the speaker was appealing to him to use +his own common-sense about a difficult question. And before he could make +any reply Mrs. Greyle put a direct inquiry to him. + +"What is going to be done?" + +"I don't know, exactly," answered Copplestone. "I'm going to stay here +for the night, anyway, on the chance of hearing something. Stafford is +coming back in the morning--he spoke of detectives." + +He looked a little doubtfully at his questioner as he uttered the last +word, and again he saw the sudden strange flash of unusual interest in +her eyes, and she nodded her head emphatically. + +"Precisely!--the proper thing to do," she said. "There must have been +foul play--must!" + +"Mother!" exclaimed Audrey, half doubtfully. "Do you really think--that?" + +"I don't think anything else," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I certainly don't +believe that Bassett Oliver would put himself into any position of danger +which would result in his breaking his neck. Bassett Oliver never left +Scarhaven Wood!" + +Copplestone made no comment on this direct assertion. + +Instead, after a brief silence, he asked Mrs. Greyle a question. + +"You knew Mr. Oliver--personally?" + +"Five and twenty years ago--yes," she answered. "I was on the stage +myself before my marriage. But I have never met him since then. I have +seen him, of course, at the local theatres." + +"He--you won't mind my asking?" said Copplestone, diffidently, "he didn't +know that you lived here?" + +Mrs. Greyle smiled, somewhat mysteriously. + +"Not at all--my name wouldn't have conveyed anything to him," she +answered. "He never knew whom I married. Otherwise, if he met some one +named Marston Greyle in America he would have connected him with me, and +have made inquiry about me, and had he known I lived here, he would have +called. It is odd, Audrey, that if your cousin met Mr. Oliver over there +he should have forgotten him. For one doesn't easily forget a man of +reputation--and Mr. Oliver was that of course!--and on the other hand, +Marston Greyle is not a common name. Did you ever hear the name before, +Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Only in connection with your own family--I have read of the Greyles of +Scarhaven," replied Copplestone. "But, after all, I suppose it is not +confined to your family. There may be Greyles in America. Well--it's all +very queer," he went on, as he rose to leave. "May I come in tomorrow and +tell you what's being done?--I'm sure Stafford means to leave no stone +unturned--he's tremendously keen about it." + +"Do!" said Mrs. Greyle, heartily. "But the probability is that you'll see +us out and about in the morning--we spend most of our time out of doors, +having little else to do." + +Copplestone went away feeling more puzzled than ever. + +Now that he was alone, for the first time since meeting Audrey Greyle on +the beach, he was able to reflect on certain events of the afternoon in +uninterrupted fashion. He thought over them as he walked back towards the +"Admiral's Arms." It was certainly a strange thing that Bassett Oliver, +after remarking to the fisherman that he had known a Mr. Marston Greyle +in America, and hearing that the Squire of Scarhaven had been in that +country, should have gone up to the house saying that he would call on +the Squire and should never have been seen again. It was certainly +strange that if this Marston Greyle, of Scarhaven, had met Bassett Oliver +in America he should have completely forgotten the fact. Bassett Oliver +had a considerable reputation in the United States--he was, in fact, more +popular in that country than in his own, and he had toured in the +principal towns and cities across there regularly for several years. To +meet him there was to meet a most popular celebrity--could any man forget +it? Therefore, were there two men of the name of Marston Greyle? + +That was one problem--closely affecting Oliver's disappearance. The other +had nothing to do with Oliver's disappearance--nevertheless, it +interested Richard Copplestone. He was a young man of quick perception +and accurate observation, and his alert eyes had seen that the Squire of +Scarhaven occupied a position suggestive of power and wealth. The house +which stood beneath the old Keep was one of size and importance, the sort +of place which could only be kept up by a rich man--Copplestone's glances +at its grounds, its gardens, its entrance lodge, its entire surroundings +had shown him that only a well-to-do man could live there. How came it, +then, that the Squire's relations--his cousin and her mother--lived in a +small and unpretentious cottage, and were obviously not well off as +regards material goods? Copplestone had the faculty of seeing things at a +glance, and refined and cultivated as the atmosphere of Mrs. Greyle's +parlour was, it had taken no more than a glance from his perceptive eyes +to see that he was there confronted with what folk call genteel poverty. +Mrs. Greyle's almost nun-like attire of black had done duty for a long +time; the carpet was threadbare; there was an absence of those little +touches of comfort with which refined women of even modest means love to +surround themselves; a sure instinct told him that here were two women +who had to carefully count their pence, and lay out their shillings with +caution. Genteel, quiet poverty, without doubt--and yet, on the other +side of the little bay, a near kinsman whose rent-roll must run to a few +thousands a year! + +And yet one more curious occasion of perplexity--to add to the other two. +Copplestone had felt instinctively attracted to Audrey Greyle when he met +her on the sands, and the attraction increased as he walked at her side +towards the village. In his quiet unobtrusive fashion he had watched her +closely when they encountered the man whom she introduced as her cousin; +and he had fancied that her manner underwent a curious change when +Marston Greyle came on the scene--she had seemed to become constrained, +chilled, distant, aloof--not with the stranger, himself, but with her +kinsman. This fancy had become assurance during the conversation which +had abruptly ended when Greyle took offence at Stafford's brusque remark. +Copplestone had seen a sudden look in the girl's eyes when the fisherman +repeated what Oliver had said about meeting a Mr. Marston Greyle in +America; it was a look of sharply awakened--what? Suspicion? +apprehension?--he could not decide. But it was the same look which had +come into her mother's eyes later on. Moreover, when the Squire turned +huffily away, taking his cousin with him, Copplestone had noticed that +there was evidently a smart passage of words between them after leaving +the little group on the quay, and they had parted unceremoniously, the +man turning on his heel up a side path into his own grounds and the girl +going forward with a sudden acceleration of pace. All this made +Copplestone draw a conclusion. + +"There's no great love lost between the gentleman at the big house and +his lady relatives in the little cottage," he mused. "Also, around the +gentleman there appears to be some cloud of mystery. What?--and has it +anything to do with the Oliver mystery?" + +He went back to the inn and made his arrangements with its landlady, who +by that time was full to overflowing with interest and amazement at the +strange affair which had brought her this guest. But Mrs. Wooler had eyes +as well as ears, and noticing that Copplestone was already looking weary +and harassed, she hastened to provide a hot dinner for him, and to +recommend a certain claret which in her opinion possessed remarkable +revivifying qualities. Copplestone, who had eaten nothing for several +hours, accepted her hospitable attentions with gratitude, and he was +enjoying himself greatly in a quaint old-world parlour, in close +proximity to a bright fire, when Mrs. Wooler entered with a countenance +which betokened mystery in every feature. + +"There's the estate agent, Mr. Chatfield, outside, very anxious to have a +word with you about this affair," she said. "Would you be for having him +in? He's the sort of man," she went on, sinking her tones to a whisper, +"who must know everything that's going on, and, of course, having the +position he has, he might be useful. Mr. Peter Chatfield, Mr. Greyle's +agent, and his uncle's before him--that's who he is--Peeping Peter, they +call him hereabouts, because he's fond of knowing everybody's business." + +"Bring him in," said Copplestone. He was by no means averse to having a +companion, and Mrs. Wooler's graphic characterization had awakened his +curiosity. "Tell him I shall be glad to see him." + +Mrs. Wooler presently ushered in a figure which Copplestone's dramatic +sense immediately seized on. He saw before him a tall, heavily-built +man, with a large, solemn, deeply-lined face, out of which looked a +pair of the smallest and slyest eyes ever seen in a human being--queer, +almost hidden eyes, set beneath thick bushy eyebrows above which rose +the dome of an unusually high forehead and a bald head. As for the rest +of him, Mr. Peter Chatfield had a snub nose, a wide slit of a mouth, and +a flabby hand; his garments were of a Quaker kind in cut and hue; he +wore old-fashioned stand-up collars and a voluminous black stock; in one +hand he carried a stout oaken staff, in the other a square-crowned +beaver hat; altogether, his mere outward appearance would have gained +notice for him anywhere, and Copplestone rejoiced in him as a character. +He rose, greeted his visitor cordially, and invited him to a seat by the +fire. The estate agent settled his heavy figure comfortably, and made a +careful inspection of the young stranger before he spoke. At last he +leaned forward. + +"Sir!" he whispered in a confidential tone. "Do you consider this here a +matter of murder?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GREYLE HISTORY + + +If Copplestone had followed his first natural impulse, he would have +laughed aloud at this solemnly propounded question: as it was, he found +it difficult to content himself with a smile. + +"Isn't it a little early to arrive at any conclusion, of any sort, Mr. +Chatfield?" he asked. "You haven't made up your own mind, surely?" +Chatfield pursed up his long thin lips and shook his head, continuing to +stare fixedly at Copplestone. + +"Now I may have, and I may not have, mister," he said at last, suddenly +relaxing. "What I was asking of was--what might you consider?" + +"I don't consider at all--yet," answered Copplestone. "It's too soon. Let +me offer you a glass of claret." + +"Many thanks to you, sir, but it's too cold for my stomach," responded +the visitor. "A drop of gin, now, is more in my line, since you're so +kind. Ah, well, in any case, sir, this here is a very unfortunate affair. +I'm a deal upset by it--I am indeed!" + +Copplestone rang the bell, gave orders for Mr. Chatfield's suitable +entertainment with gin and cigars, and making an end of his dinner, drew +up a chair to the fire opposite his visitor. + +"You are upset, Mr. Chatfield?" he remarked. "Now, why?" + +Chatfield sipped his gin and water, and flourished a cigar with a +comprehensive wave of his big fat hand. + +"Oh, in general, sir!" he said. "Things like this here are not pleasant +to have in a quiet, respectable community like ours. There's very wicked +people in this world, mister, and they will not control what's termed the +unruly member. They will talk. You'll excuse me, but I doubt not that I'm +a good deal more than twice your age, and I've learnt experience. My +experience, sir, is that a wise man holds his tongue until he's called +upon to use it. Now, in my opinion, it was a very unwise thing of yon +there sea-going man, Ewbank, to say that this unfortunate play-actor told +him that he'd met our Squire in America--very unfortunate!" + +Copplestone pricked his ears. Had the estate agent come there to tell him +that? And if so, why? + +"Oh!" he said. "You've heard that, have you? Now who told you that, Mr. +Chatfield? For I don't think that's generally known." + +"If you knew this here village, mister, as well as what I do," replied +Chatfield coolly, "you'd know that there is known all over the place by +this time. The constable told me, and of course yon there man, Ewbank, +he'll have told it all round since he had that bit of talk with you and +your friend. He'll have been in to every public there is in Scarhaven, +repeating of it. And a very, very serious complexion, of course, could be +put on them words, sir." + +"How?" asked Copplestone. + +"Put it to yourself, sir," replied Chatfield. "The unfortunate man comes +here, tells Ewbank he knew Mr. Greyle in that far-away land, says he'll +call on him, is seen going towards the big house--and is never seen no +more! Why, sir, what does human nature--which is wicked--say?" + +"What does your human nature--which I'm sure is not wicked, say?" +suggested Copplestone. "Come, now!" + +"What I say, sir, is neither here nor there," answered the agent. "It's +what evil-disposed tongues says." + +"But they haven't said anything yet," said Copplestone. + +"I should say they've said a deal, sir," responded Chatfield, +lugubriously. "I know Scarhaven tongues. They'll have thrown out a deal +of suspicious talk about the Squire." + +"Have you seen Mr. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. He was already sure that +the agent was there with a purpose, and he wanted to know its precise +nature. "Is he concerned about this?" + +"I have seen Mr. Greyle, mister, and he is concerned about what yon man, +Ewbank, related," replied Chatfield. "Mr. Greyle, sir, came straight to +me--I reside in a residence within the park. Mr. Greyle, mister, says +that he has no recollection whatever of meeting this play-actor person in +America--he may have done and he mayn't. But he doesn't remember him, and +it isn't likely he should--him, an English landlord and a gentleman +wouldn't be very like to remember a play-actor person that's here today +and gone tomorrow! I hope I give no offence, sir--maybe you're a +play-actor yourself." + +"I am not," answered Copplestone. He sat staring at his visitor for +awhile, and when he spoke again his voice had lost its cordial tone. +"Well," he said, "and what have you called on me about?" + +Chatfield looked up sharply, noticing the altered tone. + +"To tell you--and them as you no doubt represent--that Mr. Greyle will be +glad to help in any possible way towards finding out something in this +here affair," he answered. "He'll welcome any inquiry that's opened." + +"Oh!" said Copplestone. "I see! But you're making a mistake, Mr. +Chatfield. I don't represent anybody. I'm not even a relation of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. In fact, I never met Mr. Oliver in my life: never spoke +to him. So--I'm not here in any representative or official sense." + +Chatfield's small eyes grew smaller with suspicious curiosity. + +"Oh?" he said questioningly. "Then--what might you be here for, mister?" + +Copplestone stood up and rang the bell. + +"That's my business." he answered. "Sorry I can't give you any more +time," he went on as Mrs. Wooler opened the door. "I'm engaged now. If +you or Mr. Greyle want to see Mr. Oliver's friends I believe his brother, +Sir Cresswell Oliver, will be here tomorrow--he's been wired for anyhow." + +Chatfield's mouth opened as he picked up his hat. He stared at this +self-assured young man as if he were something quite new to him. + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver!" he exclaimed. "Did you say, sir?" + +"I said Sir Cresswell Oliver--quite plainly," answered Copplestone. + +Chatfield's mouth grew wider. + +"You don't mean to tell me that a play-actor's own brother to a titled +gentleman!" he said. + +"Good-night!" replied Copplestone, motioning his visitor towards the +door. "I can't give you any more time, really. However, as you seem +anxious, Mr. Bassett Oliver is the younger brother of Rear-Admiral Sir +Cresswell Oliver, Baronet, and I should imagine that Sir Cresswell will +want to know a lot about what's become of him. So you'd better--or Mr. +Greyle had better--speak to him. Now once more--good-night." + +When Chatfield had gone, Copplestone laughed and flung himself into an +easy chair before the fire. Of course, the stupid, ignorant, +self-sufficient old fool had come fishing for news--he and his master +wanted to know what was going to be done in the way of making inquiry. +But why?--why so much anxiety if they knew nothing whatever about Bassett +Oliver's strange disappearance? "Why this profession of eager willingness +to welcome any inquiry that might be made? Nobody had accused Marston +Greyle of having anything to do with Bassett Oliver's strange exit--if it +was an exit--why, then-- + +"But it's useless speculating," he mused. "I can't do anything--and here +I am, with nothing to do!" + +He had pleaded an engagement, but he had none, of course. There was a +shelf of old books in the room, but he did not care to read. And +presently, hands in pockets, he lounged out into the hall and saw Mrs. +Wooler standing at the door of the little parlour into which she had +shown him and Stafford earlier in the day. + +"There's nobody in here, sir," she said, invitingly; "if you'd like to +smoke your pipe here--" + +"Thank you--I will," answered Copplestone. "I got rid of that old +fellow," he observed confidentially when he had followed the landlady +within, and had dropped into a chair near her own. "I think he had +come--fishing." + +"That's his usual occupation," said Mrs. Wooler, with a meaning smile. "I +told you he was called Peeping Peter. He's the sort of man who will have +his nose in everybody's affairs. But," she added, with a shake of the +head which seemed to mean a good deal more than the smile, "he doesn't +often come here. This is almost the only house in Scarhaven that doesn't +belong to the Greyle estate. This house, and the land round it, have +belonged to the Wooler family as long as the rest of the place has +belonged to the Greyles. And many a Greyle has wanted to buy it, and +every Wooler has refused to sell it--and always will!" + +"That's very interesting," said Copplestone. "Does the present Greyle +want to buy?" + +The landlady picked up a piece of sewing and sat down in a chair which +seemed to be purposely placed so that she could keep an eye on the +adjacent bar-parlour on one side and the hall on the other. + +"I don't know much about what the present Squire would like," she said. +"Nobody does. He's a newcomer, and nobody knows anything about him. You +saw him this afternoon?" + +"I met a young lady on the sands who turned out to be his cousin, and he +came up while I was talking to her," replied Copplestone. "Yes, I saw +him. I'm afraid Mr. Stafford, who came in here with me, you know, +offended him," he continued, and gave Mrs. Wooler an account of what had +happened. "Is he rather--touchy?" he concluded. + +"I don't know that he is," she said. "No one sees much of him. You see +he's a stranger: although he's a Greyle, he's not a Scarhaven man. Of +course, I know all his family history--I'm Scarhaven born and bred. In my +time there have been three generations of Greyles. The first one I knew +was this Squire's grandfather, old Mr. Stephen Greyle: he died when I was +a girl in my 'teens. He had three sons and no daughters. The three sons +were all different in their tastes and ideas; the eldest, Stephen John, +who came into the estates on his father's death, was a real home bird--he +never left Scarhaven for more than a day or two at a time all his life. +And he never married--he was a real old bachelor, almost a woman-hater. +The next one, Marcus, went out to America and settled there--he was the +father of this present Squire, Mr. Marston Greyle. Then there was the +third son, Valentine--he went to live in London. And years after he came +back here, very poor, and settled down in a little house near Scarhaven +Church with his wife and daughter--that was the daughter you met this +afternoon, Miss Audrey. I don't know why, and nobody else knows, either, +but the last Squire, Stephen John, never had anything to do with +Valentine and his family; what's more, when Valentine died and left the +widow and daughter very poorly off, Stephen John did nothing for them. +But he himself died very soon after Valentine, and then of course, as +Marcus had already died in America, everything came to this Mr. Marston. +And, as I said, he's a stranger to Scarhaven folk and Scarhaven ways. +Indeed, you might say to England and English ways, for I understand he'd +never been in England until he came to take up the family property." + +"Is he more friendly with the mother and daughter than the last Squire +was?" asked Copplestone, who had been much interested in this chapter of +family history. + +Mrs. Wooler made several stitches in her sewing before she answered this +direct question, and when, she spoke it was in lower tones and with a +glance of caution. + +"He would be, if he could!" she said. "There are those in the village who +say that he wants to marry his cousin. But the truth is--so far as one +can see or learn it--that for some reason or other, neither Mrs. +Valentine Greyle nor Miss Audrey can bear him! They took some queer +dislike to the young man when he first came, and they've kept it up. Of +course, they're outwardly friendly, and he occasionally, I believe, goes +to the cottage, but they rarely go to the big house, and it's very seldom +they're ever seen together. I have heard--one does hear things in +villages--that he'd be very glad to do something handsome for them, but +they're both as proud as they're poor, and not the sort to accept aught +from anybody. I believe they've just enough to live on, but it can't be a +great deal, for everybody knows that Valentine Greyle made ducks and +drakes of his fortune long before he came back to Scarhaven, and old +Stephen John only left them a few hundreds of pounds. However--there it +is. However much the new Squire wants to marry his cousin, it's very flat +she'll not have anything to say to him. I've once or twice had an +opportunity of seeing those two together, and it's my private opinion +that Miss Audrey dislikes that young man just about as heartily as she +possibly could!" + +"What does Mr. Marston Greyle find to do with himself in this place?" +asked Copplestone, turning the conversation. "Can't be very lively for +him if he's a man of any activity." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Mrs. Wooler. "I think he's a good deal like +his uncle, the last squire--he certainly never goes anywhere, except out +to sea in his yacht. He shoots a bit, and fishes a bit, and so on, and +spends a lot of time with Peeping Peter--he's a widower, is Chatfield, and +lives alone, except when his daughter runs down to see him. And that +daughter, bye-the-bye, Mr. Copplestone, is on the stage." + +"Dear me!" said Copplestone. "That is surprising! Her father made several +contemptuous references to play-actors when he was talking to me." + +"Oh, he hates them, and all connected with them!" replied Mrs. Wooler, +laughing. "All the same, his own daughter has been on the stage for a +good five years, and I fancy she's doing well. A fine, handsome girl she +is, too--she's been down here a good deal lately, and--" + +The landlady suddenly paused, hearing a light step in the hall. She +glanced through the window and then turned to Copplestone with an +arch smile. + +"Talk of the--you know," she exclaimed. "Here's Addie Chatfield herself!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LEADING LADY + + +Copplestone looked up with interest as the door of the private parlour +was thrown open, and a tall, handsome young woman burst in with a +briskness of movement which betokened unusual energy and vivacity. He +got an impression of the old estate agent's daughter in one glance, +and wondered how Chatfield came to have such a good-looking girl as +his progeny. The impression was of dark, sparkling eyes, a mass of +darker, highly-burnished hair, bright colour, a flashing vivacious +smile, a fine figure, a general air of sprightliness and glowing +health--this was certainly the sort of personality that would +recommend itself to a considerable mass of theatre-goers, and +Copplestone, as a budding dramatist, immediately began to cast Addie +Chatfield for an appropriate part. + +The newcomer stopped short on the threshold as she caught sight of a +stranger, and she glanced with sharp inquisitiveness at Copplestone as he +rose from his chair. + +"Oh!--I supposed you were alone, Mrs. Wooler," she exclaimed. "You +usually are, you know, so I came in anyhow--sorry!" + +"Come in," said the landlady. "Don't go, Mr. Copplestone. This is Miss +Adela Chatfield. Your father has just been to see this gentleman, +Addie--perhaps he told you?" + +Addie Chatfield dropped into a chair at Mrs. Wooler's side, and looked +the stranger over slowly and carefully. + +"No," she answered. "My father didn't tell me--he doesn't tell me +anything about his own affairs. All his talk is about mine--the iniquity +of them, and so on." + +She showed a fine set of even white teeth as she made this remark, and +her eyes sought Copplestone's again with a direct challenge. Copplestone +looked calmly at her, half-smiling; he was beginning, in his youthful +innocence, to think that he already understood this type of young woman. +And seeing him smile, Addie also smiled. + +"Now I wonder whatever my father wanted to see you about?" she said, with +a strong accent on the personal pronoun. "For you don't look his sort, +and he certainly isn't yours--unless you're deceptive." + +"Perhaps I am," responded Copplestone, still keeping his eyes on her. +"Your father wanted to see me about the strange disappearance of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. That was all." + +The girl's glance, bold and challenging, suddenly shifted before +Copplestone's steady look. She half turned to Mrs. Wooler, and her colour +rose a little. + +"I've heard of that," she said, with an affectation of indifference. "And +as I happen to know a bit of Bassett Oliver, I don't see what all this +fuss is about. I should say Bassett Oliver took it into his head to go +off somewhere yesterday on a little game of his own, and that he's turned +up at Norcaster by this time, and is safe in his dressing-room, or on the +stage. That's my notion." + +"I wish I could think it the correct one," replied Copplestone. "But we +can soon find out if it is--there's a telephone in the hall. Yet--I'm so +sure that you're wrong, that I'm not even going to ring Norcaster up. Mr. +Bassett Oliver has--disappeared here!" + +"Are you a member of his company?" asked Addie, again looking Copplestone +over with speculative glances. + +"Not at all! I'm a humble person whose play Mr. Oliver was about to +produce next month, in consequence of which I came down to see him, and +to find this state of affairs. And--having nothing else to do--I'm now +here to help to find him--alive or dead." + +"Oh!" said Addie. "So--you're a writer?" + +"I understand that you are an actress?" responded Copplestone. "I wonder +if I've ever seen you anywhere?" + +Addie bowed her head and gave him a sharp glance. + +"Evidently not!" she retorted. "Or you wouldn't wonder! As if anybody +could forget me, once they'd seen me! I believe you're pulling my leg, +though. Do you live in town?" + +"I live," replied Copplestone slowly and with affected solemnity, "in +chambers in Jermyn Street." + +"And do you mean to tell me that you didn't see me last year in _The +Clever Lady Hartletop?_" she exclaimed. + +Copplestone put the tips of his fingers together and his head on one side +and regarded her critically. + +"What part did you play?" he asked innocently. + +"Part? Why, _the_ part, of course!" she retorted. "Goodness! Why, I +created it! And played it to crowded houses for nearly two hundred +nights, too!" + +"Ah!" said Copplestone. "But I'll make a confession to you. I rarely +visit the theatre. I never saw _Lady Hartletop._ I haven't been in a +theatre of any sort for two years. So you must forgive me. I congratulate +you on your success." + +Addie received this tribute with a mollified smile, which changed to a +glance of surprised curiosity. + +"You never go to the theatre?--and yet you write plays!" she exclaimed. +"That's queer, isn't it? But I believe writing people are queer--they +look it, anyhow. All the same, you don't look like a writer--what does he +look like, Mrs. Wooler? Oh, I know--a sort of nice little officer boy, +just washed and tidied up!" + +The landlady, who had evidently enjoyed this passage at arms, laughed as +she gave Copplestone a significant glance. + +"And when did you come down home, Addie?" she asked quietly. "I didn't +know you were here again." + +"Came down Saturday night," said Addie. "I'm on my way to +Edinburgh--business there on Wednesday. So I broke the journey here--just +to pay my respects to my worshipful parent." + +"I think I heard you say that you knew Mr. Bassett Oliver?" asked +Copplestone. "You've met him?" + +"Met him in this country and in America," replied Addie, calmly. "He was +on tour over there when I was--three years ago. We were in two or three +towns together at the same time--different houses, of course. I never saw +much of him in London, though." + +"You didn't see anything of him yesterday, here?" suggested Copplestone. + +Addie stared and glanced at the landlady. + +"Here?" she exclaimed. "Goodness, no! When I'm here of a Sunday, I lie in +bed all day, or most of it. Otherwise, I'd have to walk with my parent to +the family pew. No--my Sundays are days of rest! You really think this +disappearance is serious?" + +"Oliver's managers--who know him best, of course--think it most serious," +replied Copplestone. "They say that nothing but an accident of a really +serious nature would have kept him from his engagements." + +"Then that settles it!" said Addie. "He's fallen down the Devil's Spout. +Plain as plain can be, that! He's made his way there, been a bit too +daring, and slipped over the edge. And whoever falls in there never comes +out again!--isn't that it, Mrs. Wooler?" + +"That's what they say," answered the landlady. + +"But I don't remember any accident at the Devil's Spout in my time." + +"Well, there's been one now, anyway--that's flat," remarked Addie. "Poor +old Bassett--I'm sorry for him! Well, I'm off. Good-night, Mr. +Copplestone--and perhaps you'll so far overcome your repugnance to the +theatre as to come and see me in one some day?" + +"Supposing I escort you homeward instead--now?" suggested Copplestone. +"That will at least show that I am ready to become your devoted--" + +"Admirer, I suppose," said Addie. "I'm afraid he's not quite as innocent +as he looks, Mrs. Wooler. Well--you can escort me as far as the gates of +the park, then--I daren't take you further, because it's so dark in there +that you'd surely lose your way, and then there'd be a second +disappearance and all sorts of complications." + +She went out of the inn, laughing and chattering, but once outside she +suddenly became serious, and she involuntarily laid her hand on +Copplestone's arm as they turned down the hillside towards the quay. + +"I say!" she said in a low voice. "I wasn't going to ask questions in +there, but--what's going to be done about this Oliver affair? Of course +you're stopping here to do something. What?" + +Copplestone hesitated before answering this direct question. He had not +seen anything which would lead him to suppose that Miss Adela Chatfield +was a disingenuous and designing young woman, but she was certainly +Peeping Peter's daughter, and the old man, having failed to get anything +out of Copplestone himself, might possibly have sent her to see what she +could accomplish. He replied noncommittally. + +"I'm not in a position to do anything," he said. "I'm not a relative--not +even a personal friend. I daresay you know that Bassett Oliver was--one's +already talking of him in the past tense!--the brother of Rear-Admiral +Sir Cresswell Oliver, the famous seaman?" + +"I knew he was a man of what they call family, but I didn't know that," +she answered. "What of it?" + +"Stafford's wired to Sir Cresswell," replied Copplestone. "He'll be down +here some time tomorrow, no doubt. And of course he'll take everything +into his own hands." + +"And he'll do--what?" she asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Copplestone. "Set the police to work, I +should think. They'll want to find out where Bassett Oliver went, where +he got to, when he turned up to the Keep, saying he'd go and call on +the Squire, as he'd met some man of that name in America. By-the-bye, +you said you'd been in America. Did you meet anybody of the Squire's +name there?" + +They were passing along the quay by that time, and in the light of one of +its feeble gas-lamps he turned and looked narrowly at his companion. He +fancied that he saw her face change in expression at his question; if +there was any change, however, it was so quick that it was gone in a +second. She shook her head with emphatic decision. + +"I?" she exclaimed. "Never! It's a most uncommon name, that. I never +heard of anybody called Greyle except at Scarhaven." + +"The present Mr. Greyle came from America," said Copplestone. + +"I know, of course," she answered. "But I never met any Greyles out +there. Bassett Oliver may have done, though. I know he toured in a lot +of American towns--I only went to three--New York, Chicago, St. Louis. +I suppose," she continued, turning to Copplestone with a suggestion of +confidence in her manner, "I suppose you consider it a very damning +thing that Bassett Oliver should disappear, after saying what he did +to Ewbank." + +It was very evident to Copplestone that whether Miss Chatfield had spoken +the truth or not when she said that her father had not told her of his +visit to the "Admiral's Arms," she was thoroughly conversant with all the +facts relating to the Oliver mystery, and he was still doubtful as to +whether she was not seeking information. + +"Does it matter at all what I think," he answered evasively. "I've no +part in this affair--I'm a mere spectator. I don't know how what you +refer to might be considered by people who are accustomed to size things +up. They might say all that was a mere coincidence." + +"But what do you think?" she said with feminine persistence. "Come, now, +between ourselves?" + +Copplestone laughed. They had come to the edge of the wooded park in +which the estate agent's house stood, and at a gate which led into it, +he paused. + +"Between ourselves, then, I don't think at all--yet," he answered. "I +haven't sized anything up. All I should say at present is that if--or +as, for I'm sure the fisherman repeated accurately what he heard--as +Oliver said he met somebody called Marston Greyle in America, why--I +conclude he did. That's all. Now, won't you please let me see you +through these dark woods?" + +But Addie said her farewell, and left him somewhat abruptly, and he +watched her until she had passed out of the circle of light from the lamp +which swung over the gate. She passed on into the shadows--and +Copplestone, who had already memorized the chief geographical points of +his new surroundings, noticed what she probably thought no stranger would +notice--that instead of going towards her father's house, she turned up +the drive to the Squire's. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +LEFT ON GUARD + + +Stafford was back at Scarhaven before breakfast time next morning, +bringing with him a roll of copies of the _Norcaster Daily Chronicle_, +one of which he immediately displayed to Copplestone and Mrs. Wooler, who +met him at the inn door. He pointed with great pride to certain staring +headlines. + +"I engineered that!" he exclaimed. "Went round to the newspaper office +last night and put them up to everything. Nothing like publicity in these +cases. There you are! + + MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF FAMOUS ACTOR! + BASSETT OLIVER MISSING! + INTERVIEW WITH MAN WHO SAW HIM LAST! + +That's the style, Copplestone!--every human being along this coast'll be +reading that by now!" + +"So there was no news of him last night?" asked Copplestone. + +"Neither last night nor this morning, my boy," replied Stafford. "Of +course not! No--he never left here, not he! Now then, let Mrs. Wooler +serve us that nice breakfast which I'm sure she has in readiness, and +then we're going to plunge into business, hot and strong. There's a +couple of detectives coming on by the nine o'clock train, and we're going +to do the whole thing thoroughly." + +"What about his brother?" inquired Copplestone. + +"I wired him last night to his London address, and got a reply first +thing this morning," said Stafford. "He's coming along by the 5:15 A.M. +from King's Cross--he'll be here before noon. I want to get things to +work before he arrives, though. And the first thing to do, of course, is +to make sympathetic inquiry, and to search the shore, and the cliffs, and +these woods--and that Keep. All that we'll attend to at once." + +But on going round to the village police-station they found that +Stafford's ideas had already been largely anticipated. The news of the +strange gentleman's mysterious disappearance had spread like wild-fire +through Scarhaven and the immediate district during the previous evening, +and at daybreak parties of fisher-folk had begun a systematic search. +These parties kept coming in to report progress all the morning: by noon +they had all returned. They had searched the famous rocks, the woods, the +park, the Keep, and its adjacent ruins, and the cliffs and shore for some +considerable distance north and south of the bay, and there was no +result. Not a trace, not a sign of the missing man was to be found +anywhere. And when, at one o'clock, Stafford and Copplestone walked up to +the little station to meet Sir Cresswell Oliver, it was with the +disappointing consciousness that they had no news to give him. + +Copplestone, who nourished a natural taste for celebrities of any sort, +born of his artistic leanings and tendencies, had looked forward with +interest to meeting Sir Cresswell Oliver, who, only a few months +previously, had made himself famous by a remarkable feat of seamanship in +which great personal bravery and courage had been displayed. He had a +vague expectation of seeing a bluff, stalwart, sea-dog type of man; +instead, he presently found himself shaking hands with a very +quiet-looking, elderly gentleman, who might have been a barrister or a +doctor, of pleasant and kindly manners. With him was another gentleman of +a similar type, and of about the same age, whom he introduced as the +family solicitor, Mr. Petherton. And to these two, in a private +sitting-room at the "Admiral's Arms," Stafford, as Bassett Oliver's +business representative, and Copplestone, as having remained on the spot +since the day before, told all and every detail of what had transpired +since it was definitely established that the famous actor was missing. +Both listened in silence and with deep attention; when all the facts had +been put before them, they went aside and talked together; then they +returned and Sir Cresswell besought Stafford and Copplestone's attention. + +"I want to tell you young gentlemen precisely what Mr. Petherton and I +think it best to do," he said in the mild and bland accents which had so +much astonished Copplestone. "We have listened, as you will admit, with +our best attention. Mr. Petherton, as you know, is a man of law; I +myself, when I have the good luck to be ashore, am a Chairman of +Quarter Sessions, so I'm accustomed to hearing and weighing evidence. We +don't think there's any doubt that my poor brother has met with some +curious mishap which has resulted in his death. It seems impossible, +going on what you tell us from the evidence you've collected, that he +could ever have approached that Devil's Spout place unseen; it also +seems impossible that he could have had a fatal fall over the cliffs, +since his body has not been found. No--we think something befell him in +the neighbourhood of Scarhaven Keep. But what? Foul play? Possibly! If +it was--why? And there are three people Mr. Petherton and I would like +to speak to, privately--the fisherman, Ewbank, Mr. Marston Greyle, and +Mrs. Valentine Greyle. We should like to hear Ewbank's story for +ourselves; we certainly want to see the Squire; and I, personally, wish +to see Mrs. Greyle because, from what Mr. Copplestone there has told us, +I am quite sure that I, too, knew her a good many years ago, when she +was acquainted with my brother Bassett. So we propose, Mr. Stafford, to +go and see these three people--and when we have seen them, I will tell +you and Mr. Copplestone exactly what I, as my brother's representative, +wish to be done." + +The two younger men waited impatiently in and about the hotel while their +elders went on their self-appointed mission. Stafford, essentially a man +of activity, speculated on their reasons for seeing the three people whom +Sir Cresswell Oliver had specifically mentioned: Copplestone was +meanwhile wondering if he could with propriety pay another visit to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage that night. It was drawing near to dusk when the two +quiet-looking, elderly gentlemen returned and summoned the younger ones +to another conference. Both looked as reserved and bland as when they had +set out, and the old seaman's voice was just as suave as ever when he +addressed them. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, "we have paid our visits, and I suppose I had +better tell you at once that we are no wiser as to actual facts than we +were when we left you earlier in the afternoon. The man Ewbank stands +emphatically by his story; Mr. Marston Greyle says that he cannot +remember any meeting with my brother in America, and that he certainly +did not call on him here on Sunday: Mrs. Valentine Greyle has not met +Bassett for a great many years. Now--there the matter stands. Of course, +it cannot rest there. Further inquiries will have to be made. Mr. +Petherton and I are going on to Norcaster this evening, and we shall have +a very substantial reward offered to any person who can give any +information about my brother. That may result in something--or in +nothing. As to my brother's business arrangements, I will go fully into +that matter with you, Mr. Stafford, at Norcaster, tomorrow. Now, Mr. +Copplestone, will you have a word or two with me in private?" + +Copplestone followed the old seaman into a quiet corner of the room, +where Sir Cresswell turned on him with a smile. + +"I take it," he said, "that you are a young gentleman of leisure, and +that you can abide wherever you like, eh?" + +"Yes, you may take that as granted," answered Copplestone, wondering what +was coming. + +"Doesn't much matter if you write your plays in Jermyn Street +or--anywhere else, eh?" questioned Sir Cresswell with a humorous smile. + +"Practically, no," replied Copplestone. + +Sir Cresswell tapped him on the shoulder. + +"I want you to do me a favour," he said. "I shall take it as a kindness +if you will. I don't want to talk about certain ideas which Petherton and +I have about this affair, yet, anyway--not even to you--but we _have_ +formed some ideas this afternoon. Now, do you think you could manage to +stay where you are for a week or two?" + +"Here?" exclaimed Copplestone. + +"This seems very comfortable," said Sir Cresswell, looking round. "The +landlady is a nice, motherly person; she gave me a very well-cooked +lunch; this is a quiet room in which to do your writing, eh?" + +"Of course I can stay here," answered Copplestone, who was a good deal +bewildered. "But--mayn't I know why--and in what capacity?" + +"Just to keep your eyes and your ears open," said Sir Cresswell. "Don't +seem to make inquiries--in fact, don't make any inquiry--do nothing. I +don't want you to do any private detective work--not I! Just stop here +a bit--amuse yourself--write--read--and watch things quietly. And--don't +be cross--I've an elderly man's privilege, you know--you'll send your +bills to me." + +"Oh, that's all right, thanks!" said Copplestone, hurriedly. "I'm pretty +well off as regards this world's goods." + +"So I guessed when I found that you lived in the expensive atmosphere of +Jermyn Street," said Sir Cresswell, with a sly laugh. "But all the same, +you'll let me be paymaster here, you know--that's only fair." + +"All right--certainly, if you wish it," agreed Copplestone. "But look +here--won't you trust me? I assure you I'm to be trusted. You suspect +somebody! Hadn't you better give me your confidence? I won't tell a +soul--and when I say that, I mean it literally. I won't tell one +single soul!" + +Sir Cresswell waited a moment or two, looking quietly at Copplestone. +Then he clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"All right, my lad," he said. "Yes!--we do suspect somebody. Marston +Greyle! Now you know it." + +"I expected that," answered Copplestone. "All right, sir. And my orders +are--just what you said." + +"Just what I said," agreed Sir Cresswell. "Carry on at that--eyes and +ears open; no fuss; everything quiet, unobtrusive, silent. +Meanwhile--Petherton will be at work. And I say--if you want company, +you know--I think you'll find it across the bay there at Mrs. +Greyle's--eh?" + +"I was there last night," said Copplestone. "I liked both of them +very much. You knew Mrs. Greyle once upon a time, I think; you and +your brother?" + +"We did!" replied Sir Cresswell, with a sigh. "Um!--the fact is, both +Bassett and I were in love with her at that time. She married another man +instead. That's all!" + +He gave Copplestone a squeeze of the elbow, laughed, and went across to +the solicitor, who was chatting to Stafford in one of the bow windows. +Ten minutes later all three were off to Norcaster, and Copplestone was +alone, ruminating over this sudden and extraordinary change in the +hitherto even tenor of his life. Little more than twenty-four hours +previously, all he had been concerned about was the production of his +play by Bassett Oliver--here he was now, mixed up in a drama of real +life, with Bassett Oliver as its main figure, and the plot as yet +unrevealed. And he himself was already committed to play in it--but +what part? + +Now that the others had gone, Copplestone began to feel strangely alone. +He had accepted Sir Cresswell Oliver's commission readily, feeling +genuinely interested in the affair, and being secretly conscious that he +would be glad of the opportunity of further improving his acquaintance +with Audrey Greyle. But now that he considered things quietly, he began +to see that his position was a somewhat curious and possibly invidious +one. He was to watch--and to seem not to watch. He was to listen--and +appear not to listen. The task would be difficult--and perhaps +unpleasant. For he was very certain that Marston Greyle would resent his +presence in the village, and that Chatfield would be suspicious of it. +What reason could he, an utter stranger, have for taking up his quarters +at the "Admiral's Arms?" The tourist season was over: Autumn was well set +in; with Autumn, on that coast, came weather which would send most +southerners flying homewards. Of course, these people would say that he +was left there to peep and pry--and they would all know that the Squire +was the object of suspicion. It was all very well, his telling Mrs. +Wooler that being an idle man he had taken a fancy to Scarhaven, and +would stay in her inn for a few weeks, but Mrs. Wooler, like everybody +else, would see through that. However, the promise had been given, and he +would keep it--literally. He would do nothing in the way of active +detective work--he would just wait and see what, if anything, turned up. + +But upon one thing Copplestone had made up his mind determinedly before +that second evening came--he would make no pretence to Audrey Greyle and +her mother. And availing himself of their permission to call again, he +went round to the cottage, and before he had been in it five minutes told +them bluntly that he was going to stay at Scarhaven awhile, on the +chance of learning any further news of Bassett Oliver. + +"Which," he added, with a grim smile, "seems about as likely as that +I should hear that I am to be Lord Chancellor when the Woolsack is +next vacant!" + +"You don't know," remarked Mrs. Greyle. "A reward for information is to +be offered, isn't it?" + +"Do you think that will do much good?" asked Copplestone. + +"It depends upon the amount," replied Mrs. Greyle. "We know these people. +They are close and reserved--no people could keep secrets better. For all +one knows, somebody in this village may know something, and may at +present feel it wisest to keep the knowledge to himself. But if +money--what would seem a lot of money--comes into question--ah!" + +"Especially if the information could be given in secret," said Audrey. +"Scarhaven folk love secrecy--it's the salt of life to them: it's in +their very blood. Chatfield is an excellent specimen. He'll watch you as +a cat watches a mouse when he finds you're going to stay here." + +"I shall be quite open," said Copplestone. "I'm not going to indulge in +any secret investigations. But I mean to have a thorough look round the +place. That Keep, now?--may one look round that?" + +"There's a path which leads close by the Keep, from which you can get a +good outside view of it," replied Audrey. "But the Keep itself, and the +rest of the ruins round about it are in private ground." + +"But you have a key, Audrey, and you can take Mr. Copplestone in there," +said Mrs. Greyle. "And you would show him more than he would find out for +himself--Audrey," she continued, turning to Copplestone, "knows every +inch of the place and every stone of the walls." + +Copplestone made no attempt to conceal his delight at this suggestion. He +turned to the girl with almost boyish eagerness. + +"Will you?" he exclaimed. "Do! When?" + +"Tomorrow morning, if you like," replied Audrey. "Meet me on the south +quay, soon after ten." + +Copplestone was down on the quay by ten o'clock. He became aware as he +descended the road from the inn that the fisher-folk, who were always +lounging about the sea-front, were being keenly interested in something +that was going on there. Drawing nearer he found that an energetic +bill-poster was attaching his bills to various walls and doors. Sir +Cresswell and his solicitor had evidently lost no time, and had set a +Norcaster printer to work immediately on their arrival the previous +evening. And there the bill was, and it offered a thousand pounds reward +to any person who should give information which would lead to the finding +of Bassett Oliver, alive or dead. + +Copplestone purposely refrained from mingling with the groups of men and +lads who thronged about the bills, eagerly discussing the great affair of +the moment. He sauntered along the quay, waiting for Audrey. She came at +last with an enigmatic smile on her lips. + +"Our particular excursion is off, Mr. Copplestone," she said. +"Extraordinary events seem to be happening. Mr. Chatfield called on us an +hour ago, took my key away from me, and solemnly informed us that +Scarhaven Keep is strictly closed until further notice!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RIGHT OF WAY + + +The look of blank astonishment which spread over Copplestone's face on +hearing this announcement seemed to afford his companion great +amusement, and she laughed merrily as she signed to him to turn back +towards the woods. + +"All the same," she observed, "I know how to steal a countermarch on +Master Chatfield. Come along!--you shan't be disappointed." + +"Does your cousin know of that?" asked Copplestone. "Are those his +orders?" + +Audrey's lips curled a little, and she laughed again--but this time the +laughter was cynical. + +"I don't think it much matters whether my cousin knows or not," she said. +"He's the nominal Squire of Scarhaven, but everybody knows that the real +over-lord is Peter Chatfield. Peter Chatfield does--everything. And--he +hates me! He won't have had such a pleasant moment for a long time as he +had this morning when he took my key away from me and warned me off." + +"But why you?" asked Copplestone. + +"Oh--Peter is deep!" she said. "Peter, no doubt, knew that you came to +see us last night--Peter knows all that goes on in Scarhaven. And he put +things together, and decided that I might act as your cicerone over the +Keep and the ruins, and so--there you are!" + +"Why should he object to my visiting the Keep?" demanded Copplestone. + +"That's obvious! He considers you a spy," replied Audrey. "And--there may +be reasons why he doesn't desire your presence in those ancient regions. +But--we'll go there, all the same, if you don't mind breaking rules and +defying Peter." + +"Not I!" said Copplestone. "Hang Peter!" + +"There are people who firmly believe that Peter Chatfield should have +been hanged long since," she remarked quietly. "I'm one of them. +Chatfield is a bad old man--thoroughly bad! But I'll circumvent him in +this, anyhow. I know how to get into the Keep in spite of him and of his +locks and bolts. There's a big curtain wall, twenty feet high, all round +the Keep, but I know where there's a hole in it, behind some bushes, and +we'll get in there. Come along!" + +She led him up the same path through the woods along which Bassett Oliver +had gone, according to Ewbank's account. It wound through groves of fir +and pine until it came out on a plateau, in the midst of which, +surrounded by a high irregular wall, towered at the angles and buttressed +all along its length, stood Scarhaven Keep. And there, at the head of a +path which evidently led up from the big house, stood Chatfield, angry +and threatening. Beyond him, distributed at intervals about the other +paths which converged on the plateau were other men, obviously estate +labourers, who appeared to be mounting guard over the forbidden spot. + +"Now there's going to be a row!--between me and Chatfield," murmured +Audrey. "You play spectator--don't say a word. Leave it to me. We are on +our rights along this path--take no notice of Peter." + +But Chatfield was already bearing down on them, his solemn-featured face +dark with displeasure. He raised his voice while he was yet a dozen +yards away. + +"I thought I'd told you as you wasn't to come near these here ruins!" he +said, addressing Audrey in a fashion which made Copplestone's fingers +itch to snatch the oak staff from the agent and lay it freely about his +person. "My orders was to that there effect! And when I give orders I +mean 'em to be obeyed. You'll turn straight back where you came from, +miss, and in future do as I instruct--d'ye hear that, now?" + +"If you expect me to keep quiet or dumb under that sort of thing," +whispered Copplestone, bending towards Audrey, "you're very much mistaken +in me! I shall give this fellow a lesson in another minute if--" + +"Well, wait another minute, then," said Audrey, who had continued to walk +forward, steadily regarding the agent's threatening figure. "Let me talk +a little, first--I'm enjoying it. Are you addressing me, Mr. Chatfield?" +she went on in her sweetest accents. "I hear you speaking, but I don't +know if you are speaking to me. If so, you needn't shout." + +"You know very well who I'm a-speaking to," growled Chatfield. "I told +you you wasn't to come near these ruins--it's forbidden, by order. You'll +take yourself off, and that there young man with you--we want no paid +spies hereabouts!" + +"If you speak to me like that again I'll knock you down!" exclaimed +Copplestone, stepping forward before Audrey could stop him. "Or to this +lady, either. Stand aside, will you?" + +Chatfield twisted on his heel with a surprising agility--not to stand +aside, but to wave his arm to the men who stood here and there, +behind him. + +"Here, you!" he shouted. "Here, this way, all of you! This here fellow's +threatening me with assault. You lay a finger on me, you young snapper, +and I'll have you in the lock-up in ten minutes. Stand between us, you +men!--he's for knocking me down. Now then!" he went on, as the bodyguard +got between him and Copplestone, "off you go, out o' these grounds, both +of you--quick! I'll have no defiance of my orders from neither gel nor +boy, man nor woman. Out you go, now--or you'll be put out." + +But Audrey continued to advance, still watching the agent. "You're under +a mistake, Mr. Chatfield," she said calmly. "You will observe that Mr. +Copplestone and I are on this path. You know very well that this is a +public foot-path, with a proper and legal right-of-way from time +immemorial. You can't turn us off it, you know--without exposing yourself +to all sorts of pains and penalties. You men know that, too," she +continued, turning to the labourers and dropping her bantering tone. "You +all know this is a public footpath. So stand out of our way, or I'll +summon every one of you!" + +The last words were spoken with so much force and decision that the three +labourers involuntarily moved aside. But Chatfield hastened to oppose +Audrey's progress, planting himself in front of a wicket-gate which there +stood across the path, and he laughed sneeringly. + +"And where would you find money to take summonses out?" he said, with a +look of contempt, "I should think you and your mother's something better +to do with your bit o' money than that. Now then, no more words!--back +you turn!" + +Copplestone's temper had been gradually rising during the last few +minutes. Now, at the man's carefully measured taunts, he let it go. +Before Chatfield or the labourers saw what he was at, he sprang on the +agent's big form, grasped him by the neck with one hand, twisted his oak +staff away from him with the other, flung him headlong on the turf, and +raised the staff threateningly. + +"Now!" he said, "beg Miss Greyle's pardon, instantly, or I'll split your +wicked old head for you. Quick, man--I mean it!" + +Before Chatfield, moaning and groaning, could find his voice capable +of words, Marston Greyle, pale and excited, came round a corner of +the ruins. + +"What's this, what's all this?" he demanded. "Here, yon sir, what are +you doing with that stick! What--" + +"I'm about to chastise your agent for his scoundrelly insolence to your +cousin," retorted Copplestone with cheerful determination. "Now then, my +man, quick--I always keep my word!" + +"Hand the stick to Mr. Marston Greyle, Mr. Copplestone," said Audrey in +her demurest manner. "I'm sure he would beat Chatfield soundly if he had +heard what he said to me--his cousin." + +"Thank you, but I'm in possession," said Copplestone, grimly. "Mr. +Marston Greyle can kick him when I've thrashed him. Now, then--are you +going to beg Miss Greyle's pardon, you hoary sinner?" + +"What on earth is it all about?" exclaimed Greyle, obviously upset and +afraid. "Chatfield, what have you been saying? Go away, you men--go away, +all of you, at once. Mr. Copplestone, don't hit him. Audrey, what is it? +Hang it all!--I seem to have nothing but bother--it's most annoying. What +is it, I say?" + +"It is merely, Marston, that your agent there, after trying to turn Mr. +Copplestone and myself off this public foot-path, insulted me with +shameful taunts about my mother's poverty," replied Audrey. "That's all! +Whereupon--as you were not here to do it--Mr. Copplestone promptly and +very properly knocked him down. And now--is Mr. Copplestone to punish him +or--will you?" + +Copplestone, keeping a sharp eye on the groaning and sputtering agent, +contrived at the same time to turn a corner of it on Marston Greyle. That +momentary glance showed him much. The Squire was mortally afraid of his +man. That was certain--as certain as that they were there. He stood, a +picture of vexation and indecision, glancing furtively at Chatfield, then +at Audrey, and evidently hating to be asked to take a side. + +"Confound it all, Chatfield!" he suddenly burst out. "Why don't you mind +what you're saying? It's all very well, Audrey, but you shouldn't have +come along here--especially with strangers. The fact is, I'm so upset +about this Oliver affair that I'm going to have a thorough search and +examination of the Keep and the ruins, and, of course, we can't allow any +one inside the grounds while it's going on. You should have kept to +Chatfield's orders--" + +"And since when has a Greyle of Scarhaven kept to a servant's orders?" +interrupted Audrey, with a sneer that sent the blood rushing to the +Squire's face. "Never!--until this present régime, I should think. +Orders, indeed!--from an agent! I wonder what the last Squire of +Scarhaven would have said to a proposition like that? Mr. +Copplestone--you've punished that bad old man quite sufficiently. Will +you open the gate for me--and we'll go on our way." + +The girl spoke with so much decision that Copplestone moved away from +Chatfield, who struggled to his feet, muttering words that sounded very +much like smothered curses. + +"I'll have the law on you!" he growled, shaking his fist at Copplestone. +"Before this day's out, I'll have the law!" + +"Sooner the better," retorted Copplestone. "Nothing will please me so +much as to tell the local magistrates precisely what you said to your +master's kinswoman. You know where I'm to be found--and there," he +added, throwing a card at the agent's feet, "there you'll find my +permanent address." + +"Give me my walking-stick!" demanded Chatfield. + +"Not I!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That's mine, my good man, by right of +conquest. You can summon me, or arrest me, if you like, for stealing it." + +He opened the wicket-gate for Audrey, and together they passed through, +skirted the walls of the ruins, and went away into the higher portion of +the woods. Once there the girl laughed. + +"Now there'll be another row!" she said. "Between master and man +this time." + +"I think not!" observed Copplestone, with unusual emphasis. "For the +master is afraid of the man." + +"Ah!--but which is master and which is man?" asked Audrey in a low voice. + +Copplestone stopped and looked narrowly at her. + +"Oh?" he said quietly, "so you've seen that?" + +"Does it need much observation?" she replied. "My mother and I have known +for some time that Marston Greyle is entirely under Peter Chatfield's +thumb. He daren't do anything--save by Chatfield's permission." + +Copplestone walked on a few yards, ruminating. + +"Why!" he asked suddenly. + +"How do we know?" retorted Audrey. + +"Well, in cases like that," said Copplestone, "it generally means that +one man has a hold on the other. What hold can Chatfield have on your +cousin? I understand Mr. Marston Greyle came straight to his inheritance +from America. So what could Chatfield know of him--to have any hold?" + +"Oh, I don't know--and I don't care--much," replied Audrey, as they +passed out of the woods on to the headlands beyond. "Never mind all +that--here's the sea and the open sky--hang Chatfield, and Marston, too! +As we can't see the Keep, let's enjoy ourselves some other way. What +shall we do?" + +"You're the guide, conductress, general boss!" answered Copplestone. +"Shall I suggest something that sounds very material, though? Well, then, +can't we go along these cliffs to some village where we can find a nice +old fishing inn and get a simple lunch of some sort?" + +"That's certainly material and eminently practical," laughed Audrey. "We +can--that place, along there to the south--Lenwick. And so, come on--and +no more talk of Squire and agent. I've a remarkable facility in throwing +away unpleasant things." + +"It's a grand faculty--and I'll try to imitate you," said Copplestone. +"So--today's our own, eh? Is that it?" + +"Say until the middle of this afternoon," responded Audrey. "Don't forget +that I have a mother at home." + +It was, however, well past the middle of the afternoon when these two +returned to Scarhaven, very well satisfied with themselves. They had +found plenty to talk about without falling back on Marston Greyle, or +Peter Chatfield, or the event of the morning, and Copplestone suddenly +remembered, almost with compunction, that he had been so engrossed in +his companion that he had almost forgotten the Oliver mystery. But that +was sharply recalled to him as he entered the "Admiral's Arms." Mrs. +Wooler came forward from her parlour with a mysterious smile on her +good-looking face. + +"Here's a billet-doux for you, Mr. Copplestone," she said. "And I can't +tell you who left it. One of the girls found it lying on the hall table +an hour ago." With that she handed Copplestone a much thumbed, very +grimy, heavily-sealed envelope. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOBKIN'S HOLE + + +Copplestone carried the queer-looking missive into his private +sitting-room and carefully examined it, back and front, before slitting +it open. The envelope was of the cheapest kind, the big splotch of red +wax at the flap had been pressed into flatness by the summary method of +forcing a coarse-grained thumb upon it; the address was inscribed in +ill-formed characters only too evidently made with difficulty by a bad +pen, which seemed to have been dipped into watery ink at every third or +fourth letter. And it read thus:-- + +"THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN STAYING AT 'THE ADMIRAL'--PRIVATE" + +The envelope contained nothing but a scrap of paper obviously torn from a +penny cash book. No ink had been used in transcribing the two or three +lines which were scrawled across this scrap--the vehicle this time was an +indelible pencil, which the writer appeared to have moistened with his +tongue every now and then, some letters being thicker and darker than +others. The message, if mysterious, was straightforward enough. "_Sir,"_ +it ran, "_if so be as you'd like to have a bit of news from one as has +it, take a walk through Hobkin's Hole tomorrow morning and look out for +Yours truly--Him as writes this_." + +Like most very young men Copplestone on arriving at what he called +manhood (by which he meant the age of twenty-one years), had drawn up for +himself a code of ethics, wherein he had mentally scheduled certain +things to be done and certain things not to be done. One of the things +which he had firmly resolved never to do was to take any notice of an +anonymous letter. Here was an anonymous letter, and with it a conflict +between his principles and his inclinations. In five minutes he learnt +that cut-and-dried codes are no good when the hard facts of every-day +life have to be faced and that expediency is a factor in human existence +which has its moral values. In plain English, he made up his mind to +visit Hobkin's Hole next morning and find out who the unknown +correspondent was. + +He was half tempted to go round to the cottage and show the queer scrawl +to Audrey Greyle, of whom, having passed six delightful hours in her +company--he was beginning to think much more than was good for him, +unless he intended to begin thinking of her always. But he was still +young enough to have a spice of bashfulness about him, and he did not +want to seem too pushing or forward. Again, it seemed to him that the +anonymous letter conveyed, in some subtle fashion, a hint that it was to +be regarded as sacred and secret, and Copplestone had a strong sense of +honour. He knew that Mrs. Wooler was femininely curious to hear all about +that letter, but he took care not to mention it to her. Instead he +quietly consulted an ordnance map of the district which hung framed and +glazed in the hall of the inn, and discovering that Hobkin's Hole was +marked on it as being something or other a mile or two out of Scarhaven +on the inland side, he set out in its direction next morning after +breakfast, without a word to anyone as to where he was going. And that he +might not be entirely defenceless he carried Peter Chatfield's oaken +staff with him--that would certainly serve to crack any ordinary skull, +if need arose for measure of defence. + +The road which Copplestone followed out of the village soon turned off +into the heart of the moorlands that lay, rising and falling in irregular +undulations, between the sea and the hills. He was quickly out of sight +of Scarhaven, and in the midst of a solitude. All round him stretched +wide expanses of heather and gorse, broken up by great masses of rock: +from a rise in the road he looked about him and saw no sign of a human +habitation and heard nothing but the rush of the wind across the moors +and the plaintive cry of the sea-birds flapping their way to the +cultivated land beyond the barrier of hills. And from that point he saw +no sign of any fall or depression in the landscape to suggest the place +which he sought. But at the next turn he found himself at the mouth of a +narrow ravine, which cut deep into the heart of the hill, and was dark +and sombre enough to seem a likely place for secret meetings, if for +nothing more serious and sinister. It wound away from a little bridge +which carried the road over a brawling stream; along the side of that +stream were faint indications of a path which might have been made by +human feet, but was more likely to have been trodden out by the mountain +sheep. This path was quickly obscured by dwarf oaks and alder bushes, +which completely roofed in the narrow valley, and about everything hung a +suggestion of solitude that would have caused any timid or suspicious +soul to have turned back. But Copplestone was neither timid nor +suspicious, and he was already intensely curious about this adventure; +wherefore, grasping Peter Chatfield's oaken cudgel firmly in his right +hand, he jumped over the bridge and followed the narrow path into the +gloom of the trees. + +He soon found that the valley resolved itself into a narrow and rocky +defile. The stream, level at first, soon came tumbling down amongst huge +boulders; the path disappeared; out of the oaks and alder high cliffs of +limestones began to lift themselves. The morning was unusually dark and +grey, even for October, and as leaves, brown and sere though they were, +still clustered thickly on the trees, Copplestone quickly found himself +in a gloom that would have made a nervous person frightened. He also +found that his forward progress became increasingly difficult. At the +foot of a tall cliff which suddenly rose up before him he was obliged to +pause; on that side of the stream it seemed impossible to go further. But +as he hesitated, peering here and there under the branches of the dwarf +oaks, he heard a voice, so suddenly, that he started in spite of himself. + +"Guv'nor!" + +Copplestone looked around and saw nothing. Then came a low laugh, as if +the unseen person was enjoying his perplexity. + +"Look overhead, guv'nor," said the voice. "Look aloft!" + +Copplestone glanced upward, and saw a man's head and face, framed in a +screen of bushes which grew on a shelf of the limestone cliff. The head +was crowned by a much worn fur cap; the face, very brown and seamed and +wrinkled, was ornamented by a short, well-blackened clay pipe, from the +bowl of which a wisp of blue smoke curled upward. And as he grew +accustomed to the gloom he was aware of a pair of shrewd, twinkling eyes, +and a set of very white teeth which gleamed like an animal's. + +"Hullo!" said Copplestone. "Come out of that!" + +The white teeth showed themselves still more; their owner laughed again. + +"You come up, guv'nor," he said. "There's a natural staircase round the +corner. Come up and make yourself at home. I've a nice little parlour +here, and a matter of refreshment in it, too." + +"Not till you show yourself," answered Copplestone. "I want to see what +I'm dealing with. Come out, now!" + +The unseen laughed again, moved away from his screen, and presently +showed himself on the edge of the shelf of rock. And Copplestone found +himself staring at a queer figure of a man--an under-sized, +quaint-looking fellow, clad in dirty velveteens, a once red waistcoat, +and leather breeches and gaiters, a sort of compound between a poacher, a +game-keeper, and an ostler. But quainter than figure or garments was the +man's face--a gnarled, weather-beaten, sea-and-wind stained face, which, +in Copplestone's opinion, was honest enough and not without abundant +traces of a sense of humour. + +Copplestone at once trusted that face. He swung himself up by the nooks +and crannies of the rock, and joined the man on his ledge. + +"Well?" he said. "You're the chap who sent me that letter? Why?" + +"Come this way, guv'nor," replied the brown-faced one. "Well talk more +comfortable, like, in my parlour. Here you are!" + +He led Copplestone along the ridge behind the bushes, and presently +revealed a cave in the face of the overhanging limestone, mostly natural, +but partly due to artifice, wherein were rude seats, covered over with +old sacking, a box or two which evidently served for pantry and larder, +and a shelf on which stood a wicker-covered bottle in company with a row +of bottles of ale. + +The lord of this retreat waved a hospitable hand towards his cellar. + +"You'll not refuse a poor man's hospitality, guv'nor?" he said politely. +"I can give you a clean glass, and if you'll try a drop of rum, there's +fresh water from the stream to mix it with--good as you'll find in +England. Or, maybe, it being the forepart of the day, you'd prefer ale, +now? Say the word!" + +"A bottle of ale, then, thank you," responded Copplestone, who saw that +he had to deal with an original, and did not wish to appear +stand-offish. "And whom am I going to drink with, may I ask?" + +The man carefully drew the cork of a bottle, poured out its contents with +the discrimination of a bartender, handed the glass to his visitor with a +bow, helped himself to a measure of rum, and bowed again as he drank. + +"My best respects to you, guv'nor," he said. "Glad to see you in Hobkin's +Hole Castle--that's here. Queer place for gentlemen to meet in, ain't it? +Who are you talking to, says you? My name, guv'-nor--well-known +hereabouts--is Zachary Spurge!" + +"You sent me that note last night?" asked Copplestone, taking a seat and +filling his pipe. "How did you get it there--unseen?" + +"Got a cousin as is odd-job man at the 'Admiral's Arms,'" replied +Spurge. "He slipped it in for me. You may ha' seen him there, +guv'nor--chap with one eye, and queer-looking, but to be trusted. As I +am!--down to the ground." + +"And what do you want to see me about?" inquired Copplestone. "What's +this bit of news you've got to tell?" + +Zachary Spurge thrust a hand inside his velveteen jacket and drew out a +much folded and creased paper, which, on being unwrapped, proved to be +the bill which offered a reward for the finding of Bassett Oliver. He +held it up before his visitor. + +"This!" he said. "A thousand pound is a vast lot o' money, guv'nor! Now, +if I was to tell something as I knows of, what chances should I have of +getting that there money?" + +"That depends," replied Copplestone. "The reward is to be given to--but +you see the plain wording of it. Can you give information of that sort?" + +"I can give a certain piece of information, guv'nor," said Spurge. +"Whether it'll lead to the finding of that there gentleman or not I can't +say. But something I do know--certain sure!" + +Copplestone reflected awhile. + +"Ill tell you what, Spurge," he said. "I'll promise you this much. If you +can give any information I'll give you my word that--whether what you can +tell is worth much or little--you shall be well paid. That do?" + +"That'll do, guv'nor," responded Spurge. "I take your word as between +gentlemen! Well, now, it's this here--you see me as I am, here in a +cave, like one o' them old eremites that used to be in the ancient days. +Why am I here! 'Cause just now it ain't quite convenient for me to show +my face in Scarhaven. I'm wanted for poaching, guv'nor--that's the fact! +This here is a safe retreat. If I was tracked here, I could make my way +out at the back of this hole--there's a passage here--before anybody +could climb that rock. However, nobody suspects I'm here. They +think--that is, that old devil Chatfield and the police--they think I'm +off to sea. However, here I am--and last Sunday afternoon as ever was, I +was in Scarhaven! In the wood I was, guv'nor, at the back of the Keep. +Never mind what for--I was there. And at precisely ten minutes to three +o'clock I saw Bassett Oliver." + +"How did you know him?" demanded Copplestone. + +"Cause I've had many a sixpenn'orth of him at both Northborough and +Norcaster," answered Spurge. "Seen him a dozen times, I have, and knew +him well enough, even if I'd only viewed him from the the-ayter gallery. +Well, he come along up the path from the south quay. He passed within a +dozen yards of me, and went up to the door in the wall of the ruins, +right opposite where I was lying doggo amongst some bushes. He poked the +door with the point of his stick--it was ajar, that door, and it went +open. And so he walks in--and disappears. Guv'nor!--I reckon that'ud be +the last time as he was seen alive!--unless--unless--" + +"Unless--what?" asked Copplestone eagerly. + +"Unless one other man saw him," replied Spurge solemnly. "For there was +another man there, guv'nor. Squire Greyle!" + +Copplestone looked hard at Spurge; Spurge returned the stare, and nodded +two or three times. + +"Gospel truth!" he said. "I kept where I was--I'd reasons of my own. May +be eight minutes or so--certainly not ten--after Bassett Oliver walked in +there, Squire Greyle walked out. In a hurry, guv'nor. He come out quick. +He looked a bit queer. Dazed, like. You know how quick a man can think, +guv'nor, under certain circumstances? I thought quicker'n lightning. I +says to myself 'Squire's seen somebody or something he hadn't no taste +for!' Why, you could read it on his face! plain as print. It was there!" + +"Well?" said Copplestone. "And then?" + +"Then," continued Spurge. "Then he stood for just a second or two, +looking right and left, up and down. There wasn't a soul in +sight--nobody! But--he slunk off--sneaked off--same as a fox sneaks away +from a farm-yard. He went down the side of the curtain-wall that shuts in +the ruins, taking as much cover as ever he could find--at the end of the +wall, he popped into the wood that stands between the ruins and his +house. And then, of course, I lost all sight of him." + +"And--Mr. Oliver?" said Copplestone. "Did you see him again?" + +Spurge took a pull at his rum and water, and relighted his pipe. + +"I did not," he answered. "I was there until a quarter-past three--then I +went away. And no Oliver had come out o' that door when I left." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INVALID CURATE + + +Spurge and his visitor sat staring at each other in silence for a few +minutes; the silence was eventually broken by Copplestone. + +"Of course," he said reflectively, "if Mr. Oliver was looking round those +ruins he could easily spend half an hour there." + +"Just so," agreed Spurge. "He could spend an hour. If so be as he was one +of these here antiquarian-minded gents, as loves to potter about old +places like that, he could spend two hours, three hours, profitable-like. +But he'd have come out in the end, and the evidence is, guv'nor, that he +never did come out! Even if I am just now lying up, as it were, I'm fully +what they term o-fay with matters, and, by all accounts, after Bassett +Oliver went up that there path, subsequent to his bit of talk with +Ewbank, he was never seen no more 'cepting by me, and possibly by Squire +Greyle. Them as lives a good deal alone, like me guv'nor, develops what +you may call logical faculties--they thinks--and thinks deep. I've +thought. B.O.--that's Oliver--didn't go back by the way he'd come, or +he'd ha' been seen. B.O. didn't go forward or through the woods to the +headlands, or he'd ha' been seen, B.O. didn't go down to the shore, or +he'd ha' been seen. 'Twixt you and me, guv'nor, B.O.'s dead body is in +that there Keep!" + +"Are you suggesting anything?" asked Copplestone. + +"Nothing, guv'nor--no more than that," answered Spurge. "I'm making no +suggestion and no accusation against nobody. I've seen a bit too much of +life to do that. I've known more than one innocent man hanged there at +Norcaster Gaol in my time all through what they call circumstantial +evidence. Appearances is all very well--but appearances may be against a +man to the very last degree, and yet him be as innocent as a new born +baby! No--I make no suggestions. 'Cepting this here--which has no doubt +occurred to you, or to B.O.'s brother. If I were the missing gentleman's +friends I should want to know a lot! I should want to know precisely what +he meant when he said to Dan'l Ewbank as how he'd known a man called +Marston Greyle in America. 'Taint a common name, that, guv'nor." + +Copplestone made no answer to these observations. His own train of +thought was somewhat similar to his host's. And presently he turned to a +different track. + +"You saw no one else about there that afternoon?" he asked. + +"No one, guv'nor," replied Spurge. + +"And where did you go when you left the place?" inquired Copplestone. + +"To tell you the truth, guv'nor, I was waiting there for that cousin o' +mine--him as carried you the letter," answered Spurge. "It was a fixture +between us--he was to meet me there about three o'clock that day. If he +wasn't there, or in sight, by a quarter-past three I was to know he +wasn't able to get away. So as he didn't come, I slipped back into the +woods, and made my way back here, round by the moors." + +"Are you going to stay in this place?" asked Copplestone. + +"For a bit, guv'nor--till I see how things are," replied Spurge. "As I +say, I'm wanted for poaching, and Chatfield's been watching to get his +knife into me this long while. All the same, if more serious things drew +his attention off, he might let it slide. What do you ask for, guv'nor?" + +"I wanted to know where you could be found in case you were required to +give evidence about seeing Mr. Oliver," replied Copplestone. "That +evidence may be wanted." + +"I've thought of that," observed Spurge. "And you can always find that +much out from my cousin at the 'Admiral.' He keeps in touch with me--if +it got too hot for me here, I should clear out to Norcaster--there's a +spot there where I've laid low many a time. You can trust my cousin--Jim +Spurge, that's his name. One eye, no mistaking of him--he's always about +the yard there at Mrs. Wooler's." + +"All right," said Copplestone. "If I want you, I'll tell him. By-the-bye, +have you told this to anybody?" + +"Not to a soul, guv'nor," replied Spurge. "Not even to Jim. No--I kept it +dark till I could see you. Considering, of course, that you are left in +charge of things, like." + +Copplestone presently went away and returned slowly to Scarhaven, +meditating deeply on what he had heard. He saw no reason to doubt the +truth of Zachary Spurge's tale--it bore the marks of credibility. But +what did it amount to? That Spurge saw Bassett Oliver enter the ruins of +the Keep, by the one point of ingress; that a few moments later he saw +Marston Greyle come away from the same place, evidently considerably +upset, and sneak off in a manner which showed that he dreaded +observation. That was all very suspicious, to say the least of it, taken +in relation to Oliver's undoubted disappearance--but it was only +suspicion; it afforded no direct proof. However, it gave material for a +report to Sir Cresswell Oliver, and he determined to write out an account +of his dealings with Spurge that afternoon, and to send it off at once by +registered letter. + +He was busily engaged in this task when Mrs. Wooler came into his +sitting-room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that +she was full of news. + +"Never rains but it pours!" she said with a smile. "Though, to be sure, +it isn't a very heavy shower. I've got another visitor now, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Oh?" responded Copplestone, not particularly interested. "Indeed!" + +"A young clergyman from London--the Reverend Gilling," continued the +landlady. "Been ill for some time, and his doctor has recommended him to +try the north coast air. So he came down here, and he's going to stop +awhile to see how it suits him." + +"I should have thought the air of the north coast was a bit strong for +an invalid," remarked Copplestone. "I'm not delicate, but I find it quite +strong enough for me." + +"I daresay it's a case of kill or cure," replied Mrs. Wooler. "Chest +complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks +particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he's a very good +appetite and that his doctor says he's to live well and to eat as much as +ever he can." + +Copplestone got a view of his fellow-visitor that afternoon in the hall +of the inn, and agreed with the landlady that he showed no evident signs +of delicacy of health. He was a good type of the conventional curate, +with a rather pale, good-humoured face set between his round collar and +wide brimmed hat, and he glanced at Copplestone with friendly curiosity +and something of a question in his eyes. And Copplestone, out of good +neighbourliness, stopped and spoke to him. + +"Mrs. Wooler tells me you're come here to pick up," he remarked. "Pretty +strong air round this quarter of the globe!" + +"Oh, that's all right!" said the new arrival. "The air of Scarhaven +will do me good--it's full of just what I want." He gave Copplestone +another look and then glanced at the letters which he held in his hand. +"Are you going to the post-office?" he asked. "May I come?--I want to +go there, too." + +The two young men walked out of the inn, and Copplestone led the way +down the road towards the northern quay. And once they were well out +of earshot of the "Admiral's Arms," and the two or three men who +lounged near the wall in front of it, the curate turned to his +companion with a sly look. + +"Of course you're Mr. Copplestone?" he remarked. "You can't be anybody +else--besides, I heard the landlady call you so." + +"Yes," replied Copplestone, distinctly puzzled by the other's manner. +"What then?" + +The curate laughed quietly, and putting his fingers inside his heavy +overcoat, produced a card which he handed over. + +"My credentials!" he said. + +Copplestone glanced at the card and read "Sir Cresswell Oliver," He +turned wonderingly to his companion, who laughed again. + +"Sir Cresswell told me to give you that as soon as I conveniently could," +he said. "The fact is, I'm not a clergyman at all--not I! I'm a private +detective, sent down here by him and Petherton. See?" + +Copplestone stared for a moment at the wide-brimmed hat, the round +collar, the eminently clerical countenance. Then he burst into laughter. +"I congratulate you on your make-up, anyway!" he exclaimed. "Capital!" + +"Oh, I've been on the stage in my time," responded the private detective. +"I'm a good hand at fitting myself to various parts; besides I've played +the conventional curate a score of times. Yes, I don't think anybody +would see through me, and I'm very particular to avoid the clergy." + +"And you left the stage--for this?" asked Copplestone. "Why, now?" + +"Pays better--heaps better," replied the other calmly. "Also, it's more +exciting--there's much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I +am--my name, by-the-bye is Gilling, though I'm not the Reverend Gilling, +as Mrs. Wooler will call me. And so--as I've made things plain--how's +this matter going so far?" + +Copplestone shook his head. + +"My orders," he said, with a significant look, "are--to say nothing +to any one." + +"Except to me," responded Gilling. "Sir Cresswell Oliver's card is my +passport. You can tell me anything." + +"Tell me something first," replied Copplestone. "Precisely what are you +here for? If I'm to talk confidentially to you, you must talk in the same +fashion to me." + +He stopped at a deserted stretch of the quay, and leaning against the +wall which separated it from the sand, signed to Gilling to stop also. + +"If we're going to have a quiet talk," he went on, "we'd better have it +now--no one's about, and if any one sees us from a distance they'll +only think we're, what we look to be--casual acquaintances. Now--what +is your job?" + +Gilling looked about him and then perched himself on the wall. + +"To watch Marston Greyle," he replied. + +"They suspect him?" asked Copplestone. + +"Undoubtedly!" + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver said as much to me--but no more. Have they said +more to you?" + +"The suspicion seemed to have originated with Petherton. Petherton, in +spite of his meek old-fashioned manners, is as sharp an old bird as +you'll find in London! He fastened at once on what Bassett Oliver said +to that fisherman, Ewbank. A keen nose for a scent, Petherton's! And he +'s determined to find out who it was that Bassett Oliver met in the +United States under the name of Marston Greyle. He's already set the +machinery in motion. And in the meantime, I'm to keep my eye on this +Squire--as I shall!" + +"Why watch him particularly?" + +"To see that he doesn't depart for unknown regions--or, if he does, to +follow in his track. He's not to be lost sight of until this mystery is +cleared. Because--something is wrong." + +Copplestone considered matters in silence for a few moments, and decided +not to reveal the story of Zachary Spurge to Gilling--yet awhile at any +rate. However, he had news which there was no harm in communicating. + +"Marston Greyle," he said, presently, "or his agent, Peter Chatfield, or +both, in common agreement, are already doing something to solve the +mystery--so far as Greyle's property is concerned. They've closed the +Keep and its surrounding ruins to the people who used to be permitted to +go in, and they're conducting an exhaustive search--for Bassett Oliver, +of course." + +Gilling made a grimace. + +"Of course!" he said, cynically. "Just so! I expected something of that +sort. That's all part of a clever scheme." + +"I don't understand you," remarked Copplestone. "How--a clever scheme?" + +"Whitewash!" answered Gilling. "Sheer whitewash! You don't suppose that +either Greyle or Chatfield are fools?--I should say they're far from it, +from what little I've heard of 'em. Well--don't they know very well that +Marston Greyle is under suspicion? All right--they want to clear him. So +they close their ruins and make a search--a private search, mind you--and +at the end they announce that nothing's been found--and there you are! +And--supposing they did find something--supposing they found Bassett +Oliver's body--What is it?" he asked suddenly, seeing Copplestone staring +hard across the sands at the opposite quay. "Something happened?" + +"By Gad!--I believe something has happened!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Look +there--men running down the hillside from the Keep. And listen--they're +shouting to those fellows on the other quay. Come on across! Will it be +out of keeping with your invalid pose if you run?" + +Gilling answered that question by lightly vaulting the wall and dropping +to the sands beneath. + +"I'm not an invalid in my legs, anyhow," he answered, as they began to +splash across the pools left by the recently retreated tide. "By +George!--I believe something has happened, too! Look at those people, +running out of their cottages!" + +All along the south quay the fisher-folk, men, women, and children, were +crowding eagerly towards the gate of the path by which Bassett Oliver had +gone up towards the Keep. When Copplestone and his companion gained the +quay and climbed up its wall they were pouring in at this gate, and +swarming up to the woods, all talking at the top of their voices. +Copplestone suddenly recognized Ewbank on the fringe of the crowd and +called to him. + +"What is it?" he demanded. "What's happened?" + +Ewbank, a man of leisurely movement, paused and waited for the two young +men to come up. At their approach he took his pipe out of his mouth, and +inclined his head towards the Keep. + +"They're saying something's been found up there." he replied. "I don't +know what. But Chatfield, he's sent two men down here to the village. One +of 'em's gone for the police and the doctor, and t'other's gone to the +'Admiral,' looking for you. You're wanted up there--partiklar!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + + +By the time Copplestone and the pseudo-curate had reached the plateau of +open ground surrounding the ruins it seemed as if half the population of +Scarhaven had gathered there. Men, women and children were swarming about +the door in the curtain wall, all manifesting an eager desire to pass +through. But the door was strictly guarded. Chatfield, armed with a new +oak cudgel stood there, masterful and lowering; behind him were several +estate labourers, all keeping the people back. And within the door stood +Marston Greyle, evidently considerably restless and perturbed, and every +now and then looking out on the mob which the fast-spreading rumour had +called together. In one of these inspections he caught sight of +Copplestone, and spoke to Chatfield, who immediately sent one of his +body-guard through the throng. + +"Mr. Greyle says will you go forward, sir?" said the man. "Your friend +can go in too, if he likes." + +"That's your clerical garb," whispered Copplestone as he and Gilling made +their way to the door. "But why this sudden politeness?" + +"Oh, that's easy to reckon up," answered Gilling. "I see through it. They +want creditable and respectable witnesses to something or other. This +big, heavy-jowled man is Chatfield, of course?" + +"That's Chatfield," responded Copplestone. "What's he after?" + +For the agent, as the two young men approached, ostentiously turned away +from them, moving a few steps from the door. He muttered a word or two to +the men who guarded it and they stood aside and allowed Copplestone and +the curate to enter. Marston Greyle came forward, eyeing Gilling with a +sharp glance of inspection. He turned from him to Copplestone. + +"Will you come in?" he asked, not impolitely and with a certain anxiety +of manner. "I want you to--to be present, in fact. This gentleman is a +friend of yours?" + +"An acquaintance of an hour," interposed Gilling, with ready wit. "I have +just come to stay at the inn--for my health's sake." + +"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to accompany us?" said Greyle. "The fact +is, Mr. Copplestone, we've found Mr. Bassett Oliver's body." + +"I thought so," remarked Copplestone. + +"And as soon as the police come up," continued Greyle, "I want you all to +see exactly where it is. No one's touched it--no one's been near it. Of +course, he's dead!" + +He lifted his hand with a nervous gesture, and the two others, who were +watching him closely, saw that he was trembling a good deal, and that his +face was very pale. + +"Dead!--of course," he went on. "He--he must have been killed +instantaneously. And you'll see in a minute or two why the body wasn't +found before--when we made that first search. It's quite explainable. The +fact is--" + +A sudden bustle at the door in the wall heralded the entrance of two +policemen. The Squire went forward to meet them. The prospect of +immediate action seemed to pull him together and his manner changed to +one of assertive superintendence of things. + +"Now, Mr. Chatfield!" he called out. "Keep all these people away! Close +the door and let no one enter on any excuse. Stay there yourself and see +that we are not interrupted. Come this way now," he went on, addressing +the policemen and the two favoured spectators. + +"You've found him, then, sir?" asked the police-sergeant in a thick +whisper, as Greyle led his party across the grass to the foot of the +Keep. "I suppose it's all up with the poor gentleman; of course? The +doctor, he wasn't in, but they'll send him up as soon--" + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver is dead," interrupted Greyle, almost harshly. "No +doctors can do any good. Now, look here," he continued, pulling them to a +sudden halt, "I want all of you to take particular notice of this old +tower--the Keep. I believe you have not been in here before, Mr. +Copplestone--just pay particular attention to this place. Here you see is +the Keep, standing in the middle of what I suppose was the courtyard of +the old castle. It's a square tower, with a stair-turret at one angle. +The stair in that turret is in a very good state of preservation--in +fact, it is quite easy to climb to the top, and from the top there's a +fine view of land and sea: the Keep itself is nearly a hundred feet in +height. Now the inside of the Keep is completely gutted, as you'll +presently see--there isn't a floor left of the five or six which were +once there. And I'm sorry to say there's very little protection when +one's at the top--merely a narrow ledge with a very low parapet, which in +places is badly broken. Consequently, any one who climbs to the top must +be very careful, or there's the danger of slipping off that ledge and +falling to the bottom. Now in my opinion that's precisely what happened +on Sunday afternoon. Oliver evidently got in here, climbed the stairs in +the turret to enjoy the view and fell from the parapet. And why his body +hasn't been found before I'll now show you." + +He led the way to the extreme foot of the Keep, and to a very low-arched +door, at which stood a couple of the estate labourers, one of whom +carried a lighted lantern. To this man the Squire made a sign. + +"Show the way," he said, in a low voice. + +The man turned and descended several steps of worn and moss-covered stone +which led through the archway into a dark, cellar-like place smelling +strongly of damp and age. Greyle drew the attention of his companions to +a heap of earth and rubbish at the entrance. + +"We had to clear all that out before we could get in here," he said. +"This archway hadn't been opened for ages. This, of course, is the very +lowest story of the Keep, and half beneath the level of the ground +outside. Its roof has gone, like all the rest, but as you see, something +else has supplied its place. Hold up your lantern, Marris!" + +The other men looked up and saw what the Squire meant. Across the tower, +at a height of some fifteen or twenty feet from the floor, Nature, left +unchecked, had thrown a ceiling of green stuff. Bramble, ivy, and other +spreading and climbing plants had, in the course of years, made a +complete network from wall to wall. In places it was so thick that no +light could be seen through it from beneath; in other places it was thin +and glimpses of the sky could be seen from above the grey, tunnel-like +walls. And in one of those places, close to the walls, there was a +distinct gap, jagged and irregular, as if some heavy mass had recently +plunged through the screen of leaf and branch from the heights above, and +beneath this the startled searchers saw the body, lying beside a heap of +stones and earth in the unmistakable stillness of death. + +"You see how it must have happened," whispered Greyle, as they all bent +round the dead man. "He must have fallen from the very top of the +Keep--from the parapet, in fact--and plunged through this mass of green +stuff above us. If he had hit that where it's so thick--there!--it might +have broken his fall, but, you see, he struck it at the very thinnest +part, and being a big and heavyish man, of course, he'd crash right +through it. Now of course, when we examined the Keep on Monday morning, +it never struck us that there might be something down here--if you go up +the turret stairs to the top and look down on this mass of green stuff +from the very top, you'll see that it looks undisturbed; there's scarcely +anything to show that he fell through it, from up there. But--he did!" + +"Whose notion was it that he might be found here?" asked Copplestone. + +"Chatfield's," replied the Squire. "Chatfield's. He and I were up at the +top there, and he suddenly suggested that Oliver might have fallen from +the parapet and be lying embedded in that mass of green stuff beneath. We +didn't know then--even Chatfield didn't know--that there was this empty +space beneath the green stuff. But when we came to go into it, we found +there was, so we had that archway cleared of all the stone and rubbish +and of course we found him." + +"The body'll have to be removed, sir," whispered the police-sergeant. +"It'll have to be taken down to the inn, to wait the inquest." + +Marston Greyle started. + +"Inquest!" he said. "Oh!--will that have to be held? I suppose so--yes. +But we'd better wait until the doctor comes, hadn't we? I want him--" + +The doctor came into the gloomy vault at that moment, escorted by +Chatfield, who, however, immediately retired. He was an elderly, +old-fashioned somewhat fussy-mannered person, who evidently attached +much more importance to the living Squire than to the dead man, and he +listened to all Marston Greyle's explanations and theories with great +deference and accepted each without demur. "Ah yes, to be sure!" he said, +after a perfunctory examination of the body. "The affair is easily +understood. It is precisely as you suggest, Squire. The unfortunate man +evidently climbed to the top of the tower, missed his footing, and fell +headlong. That slight mass of branch and leaf would make little +difference--he was, you see, a heavy man--some fourteen or fifteen stone, +I should think. Oh, instantaneous death, without a doubt! Well, well, +these constables must see to the removal of the body, and we must let my +friend the coroner know--he will hold the inquest tomorrow, no doubt. +Quite a mere formality, my dear sir!--the whole thing is as plain as a +pikestaff. It will be a relief to know that the mystery is now +satisfactorily solved." + +Outside in the welcome freshness, Copplestone turned to the doctor. + +"You say the inquest will be held tomorrow?" he asked. The doctor looked +his questioner up and down with an inquiry which signified doubt as to +Copplestone's right to demand information. + +"In the usual course," he replied stiffly. + +"Then his brother, Sir Cresswell Oliver, and his solicitor, Mr. +Petherton, must be wired for from London," observed Copplestone, turning +to Greyle. "I'll communicate with them at once. I suppose we may go up +the tower?" he continued as Greyle nodded his assent. "I'd like to see +the stairs and the parapet." + +Greyle looked a little doubtful and uneasy. + +"Well, I had meant that no one should go up until all this was gone +into," he answered. "I don't want any more accidents. You'll be careful?" + +"We're both young and agile," responded Copplestone. + +"There's no need for alarm. Do you care to go up, Mr. Gilling?" + +The pseudo-curate accepted the invitation readily, and he and +Copplestone entered the turret. They had climbed half its height before +Copplestone spoke. + +"Well?" he whispered. "What do you think?" + +"It may be accident," muttered Gilling. "It--mayn't." + +"You think he might have been--what?--thrown down?" + +"Might have been caught unawares, and pushed over. Let's see what there +is up above, anyway." + +The stair in the turret, much worn, but comparatively safe, and lighted +by loopholes and arrow-slits, terminated in a low arched doorway, through +which egress was afforded to a parapet which ran completely round the +inner wall of the Keep. It was in no place more than a yard wide; the +balustrading which fenced it in was in some places completely gone, a +mere glance was sufficient to show that only a very cool-headed and +extremely sure-footed person ought to traverse it. Copplestone contented +himself with an inspection from the archway; he looked down and saw at +once that a fall from that height must mean sure and swift death: he saw, +too, that Greyle had been quite right in saying that the sudden plunge of +Oliver's body through the leafy screen far beneath had made little +difference to the appearance of that screen as seen from above. And now +that he saw everything it seemed to him that the real truth might well +lie in one word--accident. + +"Coming round this parapet?" asked Gilling, who was looking narrowly +about him. + +"No!" replied Copplestone. "I can't stand looking down from great +heights. It makes my head swim. Are you?" + +"Sure!" answered Gilling. He took off his heavy overcoat and handed it to +his companion. "Mind holding it?" he asked. "I want to have a good look +at the exact spot from which Oliver must have fallen. There's the +gap--such as it is, and it doesn't look much from here, does it?--in the +green stuff, down below, so he must have been here on the parapet exactly +above it. Gad! it's very narrow, and a bit risky, this, when all's said +and done!" + +Copplestone watched his companion make his way round to the place from +which it was only too evident Oliver must have fallen. Gilling went +slowly, carefully inspecting every yard of the moss and lichen-covered +stones. Once he paused some time and seemed to be examining a part of the +parapet with unusual attention. When he reached the precise spot at which +he had aimed, he instantly called across to Copplestone. + +"There's no doubt about his having fallen from here!" he said. "Some of +the masonry on the very edge of this parapet is loose. I could dislodge +it with a touch." + +"Then be careful," answered Copplestone. "Don't cross that bit!" + +But Gilling quietly continued his progress and returned to his companion +by the opposite side from which he had set out, having thus accomplished +the entire round. He quietly reassumed his overcoat. + +"No doubt about the fall," he said as they turned down the stair. "The +next thing is--was it accidental?" + +"And--as regards that--what's to be done next?" asked Copplestone. + +"That's easy. We must go at once and wire for Sir Cresswell and old +Petherton," replied Gilling. "It's now four-thirty. If they catch an +evening express at King's Cross they'll get here early in the morning. If +they like to motor from Norcaster they can get here in the small hours. +But--they must be here for that inquest." + +Greyle was talking to Chatfield at the foot of the Keep when they got +down. The agent turned surlily away, but the Squire looked at both with +an unmistakable eagerness. + +"There's no doubt whatever that Oliver fell from the parapet," said +Copplestone. "The marks of a fall are there--quite unmistakably." + +Greyle nodded, but made no remark, and the two made their way through +the still eager crowd and went down to the village post-office. Both were +wondering, as they went, about the same thing--the evident anxiety and +mental uneasiness of Marston Greyle. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GOOD MEN AND TRUE + + +Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in the +evening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he and +Petherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon after +midnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival. +Copplestone made all arrangements for their reception, and after +snatching a couple of hours' sleep was up to receive them. By two o'clock +in the morning Sir Cresswell and the old solicitor and Gilling--smuggled +into their sitting-room--had heard all he had to tell about Zachary +Spurge and his story. + +"We must have that fellow at the inquest," said Petherton. "At any cost +we must have him! That's flat!" + +"You think it wise?" asked Sir Cresswell. "Won't it be a bit previous? +Wouldn't it be better to wait until we know more?" + +"No--we must have his evidence," declared Petherton. "It will serve as an +opening. Besides, this inquest will have to be adjourned--I shall ask for +that. No--Spurge must be produced." + +"If Spurge comes into Scarhaven," observed Copplestone, "he'll be +promptly collared by the police. They want him for poaching." + +"Then they can get him when the proceedings are over," retorted the old +lawyer, dryly. "They daren't touch him while he's giving evidence and +that's all we want. Perhaps he won't come?--Oh he'll come all right if +we make it worth his while. A month in Norcaster gaol will mean nothing +to him if he knows there's a chance of that reward or something +substantial out of it at the end of his sentence. You must go out to +this retreat of his and bring him in--we must have him. Better go very +early in the morning. + +"I'll go now," said Copplestone. "It's as easy to go by night as by day." +He left the other three to seek their beds, and himself slipped quietly +out of the hotel by one of the ground-floor windows and set off in a +pitch-black night to seek Spurge in his lair. And after sundry barkings +of his shins against the rocks and scratchings of his hands and cheeks by +the undergrowth of Hobkin's Hole he rounded the poacher out and delivered +his message. + +Spurge, blinking at his visitor in the pale light of a guttering candle, +shook his head. + +"I'll come, guv'nor," he said. "Of course. I'll come--and I'll trust to +luck to get away, and it don't matter a deal if the luck's agen me--I've +done a month in Norcaster before today, and it ain't half a bad +rest-cure, if you only take it that way. But guv'nor--that old lawyer's +making a mistake! You didn't ought to have my bit of evidence at this +stage. It's too soon. You want to work up the case a bit. There's such a +thing, guv'nor, in this world as being a bit previous. This here's too +previous--you want to be surer of your facts. Because you know, guv'nor +nobody'll believe my word agen Squire Greyle's. Guv'nor--this here +inquest'll be naught but a blooming farce! Mark me! You ain't a native o' +this part--I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aught +agen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor--all a blooming +farce! Mark my words!" + +"All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly of +Spurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run." + +"Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothing +else. You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call my +name out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward." + +There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like him +in the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten o'clock +that morning. It seemed to Copplestone that it would have been a physical +impossibility to crowd more people within the walls than had assembled +when the coroner, a local solicitor, who was obviously testy, irritable, +self-important and afflicted with deafness, took his seat and looked +sourly on the crowd of faces. Copplestone had already seen him in +conversation with the village doctor, the village police, Chatfield, and +Marston Greyle's solicitor, and he began to see the force of Spurge's +shrewd remarks. What, of course, was most desired was secrecy and +privacy--the Scarhaven powers had no wish that the attention of all the +world should be drawn to this quiet place. But outsiders were there in +plenty. Stafford and several members of Bassett Oliver's company had +motored over from Norcaster and had succeeded in getting good places: +there were half-a-dozen reporters from Norcaster and Northborough, and +plain-clothes police from both towns. And there, too, were all the +principal folk of the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, +and, a little distance from Audrey, alert and keenly interested, was +Addie Chatfield. + +It needed very little insight or observation on the part of an +intelligent spectator to see how things were going. The twelve good men +and true, required under the provisions of the old statute to form a +jury, were all of them either Scarhaven tradesmen or Scarhaven +householders or labourers on the estate. Their countenances, as they took +their seats under the foremanship of a man whom Copplestone already knew +as Chatfield's under-steward, showed plainly that they regarded the whole +thing as a necessary formality and that they were already prepared with a +verdict. This impression was strengthened by the coroner's opening +remarks. In his opinion, the whole affair--to which he did not even refer +as unfortunate--was easily and quickly explained and understood. The +deceased had come to the village to look round--on a Sunday be it +observed--had somehow obtained access to the Keep, where, the ruins being +strictly private and not open to the public on any consideration on +Sunday, he had no right to be; had indulged his curiosity by climbing to +the top of the ancient tower and had paid for it by falling down from +that terrible height and breaking his neck. All that was necessary was +for them to hear evidence bearing out these facts--after which they would +return a verdict in accordance with what they had heard. Very fortunately +the facts were plain, and it would not be necessary to call many +witnesses. + +Sir Cresswell Oliver turned to Copplestone who sat at one side of him, +while Petherton sat on the other. + +"I don't know if you notice that Greyle isn't here?" he whispered grimly. +"In my opinion, he doesn't intend to show! We'll see!" + +Certainly the Squire was not in the place. And there were soon signs that +those who conducted the proceedings evidently did not consider his +presence necessary. The witnesses were few; their examinations was +perfunctory; they were out of the extemporised witness-box as soon as +they were in it. Sir Cresswell Oliver--to give formal identification. +Mrs. Wooler--to prove that the deceased man came to her house. One of the +foremen of the estate--to prove the great care with which the Squire had +searched for traces of the missing man. One of the estate labourers--to +prove the actual finding of the body. The doctor--to prove, beyond all +doubt, that the deceased had broken his neck. + +The coroner, an elderly man, obviously well satisfied with the trend of +things, took off his spectacles and turned to the jury. + +"You have heard everything there is to be heard, gentlemen," said he. "As +I remarked at the opening of this inquest, the case is one of great +simplicity. You will have no difficulty in deciding that the deceased +came to his death by accident--as to the exact wording of your verdict, +you had better put it in this way:--that the deceased Bassett Oliver died +as the result--" + +Petherton, who, noticing the coroner's deafness, had contrived to seat +himself as close to his chair of office as possible, quietly rose. + +"Before the jury consider any verdict," he said in his loudest tones, +"they must hear certain evidence which I wish to call. And first of +all--is Mr. Marston Greyle present in this room?" + +The coroner frowned, and the Squire's solicitor turned to Petherton. + +"Mr. Greyle is not present," he said. "He is not at all well. There is no +need for his presence--he has no evidence to give." + +"If you don't have Mr. Greyle down here at once," said Petherton, +quietly, "this inquest will have to be adjourned for his attendance. +You had better send for him--or I'll get the authorities to do so. In +the meantime, we'll call one or two witnesses,--Daniel Ewbank!--to +begin with." + +There was a brief and evidently anxious consultation between Greyle's +solicitor and the coroner; there were dark looks at Petherton and his +companions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly. + +"We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, us +as sits here. Our verdict is--" + +"You'll have to bear Ewbank and anybody I like to call, my good sir," +retorted Petherton quietly. "I am better acquainted with the law than you +are." He turned to the coroner's officer. "I warned you this morning to +produce Ewbank," he said. "Now, where is he?" + +Out of a deep silence a shrill voice came from the rear of the crowd. + +"Knows better than to be here, does Dan'l Ewbank, mister! He's off!" + +"Very good--or bad--for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly. +"Then--until Mr. Marston Greyle comes--we will call Zachary Spurge." + +The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurge +suddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and it +was at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say, +no one there would attach any importance to it. The laughter continued +and increased while Spurge was under examination. Petherton appealed to +the coroner; the coroner affected not to hear. And once more the foreman +of the jury interrupted. + +"We don't want to hear no more o' this stuff!" he said. "It's an insult +to us to put a fellow like that before us. We don't believe a word o' +what he says. We don't believe he was within a mile o' them ruins on +Sunday afternoon. It's all a put-up job!" + +Petherton leaned towards the reporters. + +"I hope you gentlemen of the press will make a full note of these +proceedings," he observed suavely. "You at any rate are not biassed or +prejudiced." + +The coroner heard that in spite of his deafness, and he grew purple. + +"Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is a most improper observation! It's a +reflection on my position, sir, and I've a great mind--" + +"Mr. Coroner," observed Petherton, leaning towards him, "I shall hand in +a full report concerning your conduct of these proceedings to the Home +Office tomorrow. If you attempt to interfere with my duty here, all the +worse for you. Now, Spurge, you can stand down. And as I see Mr. Greyle +there--call Marston Greyle!" + +The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and had +heard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, and +disturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and his +party were distinctly those of displeasure. + +"Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle--" + +But Greyle's own solicitor was on his legs, insisting on his right to put +a first question. In spite of Petherton, he put it. + +"You heard the evidence of the last witness?--Spurge. Is there a word of +truth in it?" + +Marston Greyle--who certainly looked very unwell--moistened his lips. + +"Not one word!" he answered. "It's a lie!" + +The solicitor glanced triumphantly at the Coroner and the jury, and the +crowd raised unchecked murmurs of approval. Again the foreman endeavoured +to stop the proceedings. + +"We regard all this here as very rude conduct to Mr. Greyle," he said +angrily. "We're not concerned--" + +"Mr. Foreman!" said Petherton. "You are a foolish man--you are +interfering with justice. Be warned!--I warn you, if the Coroner doesn't. +Mr. Greyle, I must ask you certain questions. Did you see the deceased +Bassett Oliver on Sunday last?" + +"No!" + +"I needn't remind you that you are on your oath. Have you ever met the +deceased man in your life?" + +"Never!" + +"You never met him in America?" + +"I may have met him--but not to my recollection. If I did, it was in such +a casual fashion that I have completely forgotten all about it." + +"Very well--you are on your oath, mind. Where did you live in America, +before you succeeded to this estate?" + +The Squire's solicitor intervened. + +"Don't answer that question!" he said sharply. "Don't answer any more. I +object altogether to your line," he went on, angrily, turning to +Petherton. "I claim the Coroner's protection for the witness." + +"I quite agree," said the Coroner. "All this is absolutely irrelevant. +You can stand down," he continued, turning to the Squire. "I will have no +more of this--and I will take the full responsibility!" + +"And the consequences, Mr. Coroner," replied Petherton calmly. "And the +first consequence is that I now formally demand an adjournment of this +inquest, _sine die_." + +"On what grounds, sir?" demanded the Coroner. + +"To permit me to bring evidence from America," replied Petherton, with a +side glance at Marston Greyle. "Evidence already being prepared." + +The Coroner hesitated, looked at Greyle's solicitor, and then turned +sharply to the jury. + +"I refuse that application!" he said. "You have heard all I have to say, +gentlemen," he went on, "and you can return your verdict." + +Petherton quietly gathered up his papers and motioned to his friends to +follow him out of the schoolroom. The foreman of the jury was returning a +verdict of accidental death as they passed through the door, and they +emerged into the street to an accompaniment of loud cheers for the Squire +and groans for themselves. + +"What a travesty of justice!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "That fellow +Spurge was right, you see, Copplestone. I wish we hadn't brought him +into danger." + +Copplestone suddenly laughed and touched Sir Cresswell's arm. He pointed +to the edge of the moorland just outside the school-yard. Spurge was +disappearing over that edge, and in a moment had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MR. DENNIE + + +Amongst the little group of actors and actresses who had come over from +Norcaster to hear all that was to be told concerning their late manager, +sat an old gentleman who, hands folded on the head of his walking cane, +and chin settled on his hands, watched the proceedings with silent and +concentrated attention. He was a striking figure of an old +gentleman--tall, distinguished-looking, handsome, with a face full of +character, the strong lines and features of which were further +accentuated by his silvery hair. He was a smart old gentleman, too, well +and scrupulously attired and groomed, and his blue bird's-eye necktie, +worn at a rakish angle, gave him the air of something of a sporting man +rather than of a follower of Thespis. His fellow members of the Oliver +company seemed to pay him great attention, and at various points of the +proceedings whispered questions to him as to an acknowledged authority. + +This old gentleman, when the inquest came to its extraordinary end and +the crowd went out murmuring and disputing, separated himself from his +companions and made his way towards Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, who +were quietly setting out homewards. To Audrey's surprise the two elders +shook hands in silence, and inspected each other with a palpable +wistfulness of look. + +"And yet it's twenty-five years since we met, isn't it?" said the old +gentleman, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But I knew you at +once--I was wondering if you remembered me?" + +"Why, of course," responded Mrs. Greyle. "Besides, I've had an +advantage over you. I've seen you, you know, several times--at +Norcaster. We go to the theatre now and then. Audrey--this is Mr. +Dennie--you've seen him, too." + +"On the stage--on the stage!" murmured the old actor, as he shook hands +with the girl. "Um!--I wonder if any of us are ever really off it! This +affair, for instance--there's a drama for you! By the-bye--this young +Squire--he's your relation, of course?" + +"My nephew-in-law, and Audrey's cousin," replied Mrs. Greyle. Mr. Dennie, +who had walked along with them towards their cottage, stopped in a quiet +stretch of the quay, and looked meditatively at Audrey. + +"Then this young lady," he said, "is next heir to the Greyle estates, eh? +For I understand this present Squire isn't married. Therefore--" + +"Oh, that's something that isn't worth thinking about," replied Mrs. +Greyle hastily. "Don't put such notions into the girl's head, Mr. Dennie. +Besides, the Greyle estates are not entailed, you know. The present owner +can do what he pleases with them--besides that, he's sure to marry." + +"All the same," observed Mr. Dennie, imperturbably, "if this young man +had not been in existence, this child would have succeeded, eh?" + +"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Greyle a little impatiently. "But what's +the use of talking about that, my old friend! The young man is in +possession--and there you are!" + +"Do you like the young man?" asked Mr. Dennie. "I take an old fellow's +privilege in asking direct questions, you know. And--though we haven't +seen each other for all these years--you can say anything to me." + +"No, we don't," replied Mrs. Greyle. "And we don't know why we don't--so +there's a woman's answer for you. Kinsfolk though we are, we see little +of each other." + +Mr. Dennie made no remark on this. He walked along at Audrey's side, +apparently in deep thought, and suddenly he looked across at her mother. + +"What do you think about this extraordinary story of Bassett Oliver's +having met a Marston Greyle over there in America?" he asked abruptly. +"What do people here think about it?" + +"We're not in a position to hear much of what other people think," +answered Mrs. Greyle. "What I think is that if this Marston Greyle ever +did meet such a very notable and noticeable man as Bassett Oliver it's a +very, very strange thing that he's forgotten all about it!" + +Mr. Dennie laughed quietly. + +"Aye, aye!" he said. "But--don't you think we folk of the profession are +a little bit apt to magnify our own importance? You say 'Bless me, how +could anybody ever forget an introduction to Bassett Oliver!' But we must +remember that to some people even a famous actor is of no more importance +than--shall we say a respectable grocer? Marston Greyle may be one of +those people--it's quite possible he may have been introduced, quite +casually, to Oliver at some club, or gathering, something-or-other, over +there and have quite forgotten all about it. Quite possible, I think." + +"I agree with you as to the possibility, but certainly not as to the +probability," said Mrs. Greyle, dryly. "Bassett Oliver was the sort of +man whom nobody would forget. But here we are at our cottage--you'll come +in, Mr. Dennie?" + +"It will only have to be for a little time, my dear lady," said the old +actor, pulling out his watch. "Our people are going back very soon, and I +must join them at the station." + +"I'll give you a glass of good old wine," said Mrs. Greyle as they went +into the cottage. "I have some that belonged to my father-in-law, the old +Squire. You must taste it--for old times' sake." + +Mr. Dennie followed Audrey into the little parlour as Mrs. Greyle +disappeared to another part of the house. And the instant they were +alone, he tapped the girl's arm and gave her a curiously warning look. + +"Hush, my dear!" he whispered. "Not a word--don't want your mother to +know! Listen--have you a specimen--letter--anything--of your cousin, the +Squire's handwriting? Anything so long as it's his. You have? Give it to +me--say nothing to your mother. Wait until tomorrow morning. I'll run +over to see you again--about noon. It's important--but silence!" + +Audrey, scarcely understanding the old man's meaning, opened a desk and +drew out one or two letters. She selected one and handed it to Mr. +Dennie, who made haste to put it away before Mrs. Greyle returned. He +gave Audrey another warning look. + +"That was what I wanted!" he said mysteriously. "I thought of it during +the inquest. Never mind why, just now--you shall know tomorrow." + +He lingered a few minutes, chatting to his hostess about old times as he +sipped the old Squire's famous port; then he went off to the little +station, joined Stafford and his fellow actors and actresses, and +returned with them to Norcaster. And at Norcaster Mr. Dennie separated +himself from the rest and repaired to his quiet lodgings--rooms which he +had occupied for many years in succession whenever he went that way on +tour--and once safely bestowed in them he pulled out a certain +old-fashioned trunk, which he had owned since boyhood and lugged about +wherever he went in two continents, and from it, after much methodical +unpacking, he disinterred a brown paper parcel, neatly tied up with green +ribbon. From this parcel he drew a thin packet of typed matter and a +couple of letters--the type script he laid aside, the letters he opened +out on his table. Then he took from his pocket the letter which Audrey +Greyle had given him and put it side by side with those taken from the +parcel. And after one brief glance at all three Mr. Dennie made +typescript and letters up again into a neat packet, restored them to his +trunk, locked them up, and turned to the two hours' rest which he always +took before going to the theatre for his evening's work. + +He was back at Scarhaven by eleven o'clock the next morning, with his +neat packet under his arm and he held it up significantly to Audrey who +opened the door of the cottage to him. + +"Something to show you," he said with a quiet smile as he walked in. +"To show you and your mother." He stopped short on the threshold of the +little parlour, where Copplestone was just then talking to Mrs. Greyle. +"Oh!" he said, a little disappointedly, "I hoped to find you +alone--I'll wait." + +Mrs. Greyle explained who Copplestone was, and Mr. Dennie immediately +brightened. "Of course--of course!" he explained. "I know! Glad to meet +you, Mr. Copplestone--you don't know me, but I know you--or your +work--well enough. It was I who read and recommended your play to our +poor dear friend. It's a little secret, you know," continued Mr. Dennie, +laying his packet on the table, "but I have acted for a great many years +as Bassett Oliver's literary adviser--taster, you might say. You know, he +had a great number of plays sent to him, of course, and he was a very +busy man, and he used to hand them over to me in the first place, to take +a look at, a taste of, you know, and if I liked the taste, why, then he +took a mouthful himself, eh? And that brings me to the very point, my +dear ladies and my dear young gentleman, that I have come specially to +Scarhaven this morning to discuss. It's a very, very serious matter +indeed," he went on as he untied his packet of papers, "and I fear that +it's only the beginning of something more serious. Come round me here at +this table, all of you, if you please." + +The other three drew up chairs, each wondering what was coming, and +the old actor resumed his eyeglasses and gave obvious signs of +making a speech. + +"Now I want you all to attend to me, very closely," he said. "I shall +have to go into a detailed explanation, and you will very soon see what +I am after. As you may be aware, I have been a personal friend of +Bassett Oliver for some years, and a member of his company without break +for the last eight years. I accompanied Bassett Oliver on his two trips +to the United States--therefore, I was with him when he was last there, +years ago. + +"Now, while we were at Chicago that time, Bassett came to me one day with +the typescript of a one-act play and told me that it had been sent to him +by a correspondent signing himself Marston Greyle; who in a covering +letter, said that he sprang from an old English family, and that the play +dealt with a historic, romantic episode in its history. The principal +part, he believed, was one which would suit Bassett--therefore he begged +him to consider the matter. Bassett asked me to read the play, and I took +it away, with the writer's letter, for that purpose. But we were just +then very busy, and I had no opportunity of reading anything for a time. +Later on, we went to St. Louis, and there, of course, Bassett, as usual, +was much fêted and went out a great deal, lunching with people and so on. +One day he came to me, 'By-the-bye, Dennie!' he said, 'I met that Mr. +Marston Greyle today who sent me that romantic one-act thing. He wanted +to know if I'd read it, and I had to confess that it was in your hands. +Have you looked at it?' I, too, had to confess--I hadn't. 'Well,' said +he, 'read it and let me know what you think--will it suit me?' I made +time to read the little play during the following week, and I told +Bassett that I didn't think it would suit him, but I felt sure it might +suit Montagu Gaines, who plays just such parts. Bassett thereupon wrote +to the author and said what I, his reader, thought, and kindly offered, +as he knew Gaines intimately, to show the little work to him on his +return to England. And this Mr. Marston Greyle wrote back, thanking +Bassett warmly and accepting his kind offer. Accordingly, I brought the +play with me to England. Montagu Gaines, however, had just set off on a +two years' tour to Australia--consequently, the play and the author's two +letters have remained in my possession ever since. And--here they are!" + +Mr. Dennie laid his hand dramatically on his packet, looked significantly +at his audience, and went on. + +"Now, when I heard all that I did hear at that inquest yesterday," he +said, "I naturally remembered that I had in my possession two letters +which were undoubtedly written to Bassett Oliver by a young man named +Marston Greyle, whom Oliver--just as undoubtedly!--had personally met in +St. Louis. And so when the inquest was over, Mr. Copplestone, I recalled +myself to Mrs. Greyle here, whom I had known many years ago, and I walked +back to this house with her and her charming daughter, and--don't be +angry, Mrs. Greyle--while the mother's back was turned--on hospitable +thoughts intent--I got the daughter to lend me--secretly--a letter +written by the present Squire of Scarhaven. Armed with that, I went home +to my lodgings in Norcaster, found the letter written by the American +Marston Greyle, and compared it with them. And--here is the result!" + +The old actor selected the two American letters from his papers, laid +them out on the table, and placed the letter which Audrey had given him +beside them. + +"Now!" he said, as his three companions bent eagerly over these exhibits, +"Look at those three letters. All bear the same signature, Marston +Greyle--but the hand-writing of those two is as different from that of +this one as chalk is from cheese!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY PRIVATE TREATY + + +There was little need for the three deeply interested listeners to look +long at the letters--one glance was sufficient to show even a careless +eye that the hand which had written one of them had certainly not written +the other two. The letter which Audrey had handed to Mr. Dennie was +penned in the style commonly known as commercial--plain, commonplace, +utterly lacking in the characteristics which are supposed to denote +imagination and a sense of artistry. It was the sort of caligraphy which +one comes across every day in shops and offices and banks--there was +nothing in any upstroke, downstroke or letter which lifted it from the +very ordinary. But the other two letters were evidently written by a man +of literary and artistic sense, possessing imagination and a liking for +effect. It needed no expert in handwriting to declare that two totally +different individuals had written those letters. + +"And now," observed Mr. Dennie, breaking the silence and putting into +words what each of the others was vaguely feeling, "the question is--what +does all this mean? To start with, Marston Greyle is a most uncommon +name. Is it possible there can be two persons of that name? That, at any +rate, is the first thing that strikes me." + +"It is not the first thing that strikes me," said Mrs. Greyle. She took +up the typescript which the old actor had brought in his packet, and held +its title-page significantly before him. "That is the first thing that +strikes me!" she exclaimed. "The Marston Greyle who sent this to Bassett +Oliver said according to your story--that he sprang from a very old +family in England, and that this is a dramatization of a romantic episode +in its annals. Now there is no other old family in England named Greyle, +and this episode is of course, the famous legend of how Prince Rupert +once sought refuge in the Keep yonder and had a love-passage with a lady +of the house. Am I right, Mr. Dennie?" + +"Quite right, ma'am, quite correct," replied the old actor. "It is +so--you have guessed correctly!" + +"Very well, then--the Marston Greyle who wrote this, and those letters, +and who met Bassett Oliver was without doubt the son of Marcus Greyle, +who went to America many years ago. He was the same Marston Greyle, who, +his father being dead, of course succeeded his uncle, Stephen John +Greyle--that seems an absolute certainty. And in that case," continued +Mrs. Greyle, looking earnestly from one to the other, "in that case--who +is the man now at Scarhaven Keep?" + +A dead silence fell on the little room. Audrey started and flushed at her +mother's eager, pregnant question; Mr. Dennie sat up very erect and took +a pinch of snuff from his old-fashioned box. Copplestone pushed his chair +away from the table and began to walk about. And Mrs. Greyle continued to +look from one face to the other as if demanding a reply to her question. + +"Mother!" said Audrey in a low voice. "You aren't suggesting--" + +"Ahem!" interrupted Mr. Dennie. "A moment, my dear. There is nothing, I +believe," he continued, waxing a little oracular, "nothing like plain +speech. We are all friends--we have a common cause--justice! It may be +that justice demands our best endeavours not only as regards our deceased +friend, Bassett Oliver, but in the interests of--this young lady. So--" + +"I wish you wouldn't, Mr. Dennie!" exclaimed Audrey. "I don't like this +at all. Please don't!" + +She turned, almost instinctively, to seek Copplestone's aid in repressing +the old man. But Copplestone was standing by the window, staring moodily +at the wind-swept quay beyond the garden, and Mr. Dennie waved his +snuff-box and went on. + +"An old man's privilege!" he said. "In your interests, my dear. Allow +me." He turned again to Mrs. Greyle. "In plain words, ma'am, you are +wondering if the present holder of the estates is really what he claims +to be. Plain English, eh?" + +"I am!" answered Mrs. Greyle with a distinct ring of challenge and +defiance. "And now that it comes to the truth, I have wondered that ever +since he came here. There!" + +"Why, mother?" asked Audrey, wonderingly. + +"Because he doesn't possess a single Greyle characteristic," replied Mrs. +Greyle, readily enough, "I ought to know--I married Valentine Greyle, +and I knew Stephen John, and I saw plenty of both, and something of their +father, too, and a little of Marcus before he emigrated. This man does +not possess one single scrap of the Greyle temperament!" + +Mr. Dennie put away his snuff-box and drumming on the table with his +fingers looked out of his eye corners at Copplestone who still stood with +his back to the rest, staring out of the window. + +"And what," said Mr. Dennie, softly, "what--er, does our good friend Mr. +Copplestone say?" + +Copplestone turned swiftly, and gave Audrey a quick glance. + +"I say," he answered in a sharp, business-like fashion, "that Gilling, +who's stopping at the inn, you know, is walking up and down outside here, +evidently looking out for me, and very anxious to see me, and with your +permission, Mrs. Greyle, I'd like to have him in. Now that things have +got to this pitch, I'd better tell you something--I don't see any good in +concealing it longer. Gilling isn't an invalid curate at all!--he's a +private detective. Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton, the solicitor, +sent him down here to watch Greyle--the Squire, you know--that's +Gilling's job. They suspect Greyle--have suspected him from the very +first--but of what I don't know. Not--not of this, I think. Anyway, they +do suspect him, and Gilling's had his eye on him ever since he came here. +And I'd like to fetch Gilling in here, and I'd like him to know all that +Mr. Dennie's told us. Because, don't you see, Sir Cresswell and +Petherton ought to know all that, immediately, and Gilling's their man." + +Audrey's brows had been gathering in lines of dismay and perplexity +all the time Copplestone was talking, but her mother showed no +signs of anything but complete composure, crowned by something very +like satisfaction, and she nodded a ready acquiescence in +Copplestone's proposal. + +"By all means!" she responded. "Bring Mr. Gilling in at once." + +Copplestone hurried out into the garden and signalled to the +pseudo-curate, who came hurrying across from the quay. One glance at him +showed Copplestone that something had happened. + +"Gad!--I thought I should never attract your attention!" said Gilling +hastily. "Been making eyes at you for ten minutes. I say--Greyle's off!" + +"Off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "How do you mean--off?" + +"Left Scarhaven, anyhow--for London," replied Gilling. "An hour ago I +happened to be at the station, buying a paper, when he drove up--luggage +and man with him, so I knew he was off for some time. And I took good +care to dodge round by the booking-office when the man took the tickets. +King's Cross. So that's all right, for the time being." + +"How do you mean--all right?" asked Copplestone. "I thought you were to +keep him in sight?" + +"All right," repeated Gilling. "I have more eyes than these, my boy! I've +a particularly smart partner in London--name of Swallow--and he and I +have a cypher code. So soon as the gentleman had left, I repaired to the +nearest post office and wired a code message to Swallow. Swallow will +meet that train when it strikes King's Cross. And it doesn't matter if +Greyle hides himself in one of the spikes on top of the Monument or +inside the lion house at the Zoo--Swallow will be there! No man ever got +away from Swallow--once Swallow had set eyes on him." + +Copplestone looked, listened, and laughed. + +"Professional pride!" he said. "All right. I want you to come in here +with me--to Mrs. Greyle's. Something's happened here, too. And of such a +serious nature that I've taken the liberty of telling them who and what +you really are. You'll forgive me when you hear what it is that we've +learnt here this morning." + +Gilling had looked rather doubtful at Copplestone's announcement, but he +immediately turned towards the cottage. + +"Oh, well!" he said good-naturedly. "I'm sure you wouldn't have told if +you hadn't felt there was good reason. What is this fresh news?--something +about--him?" + +"Very much about him," answered Copplestone. "Come in." + +He himself, at Mrs. Greyle's request, gave Gilling a brief account of +Mr. Dennie's revelations, the old actor supplementing it with a shrewd +remark or two. And then all four turned to Gilling as to an expert in +these matters. + +"Queer!" observed Gilling. "Decidedly queer! There may be some +explanation, you know: I've known stranger things than that turn out to +be perfectly straight and plain when they were gone into. But--putting +all the facts together--I don't think there's much doubt that there's +something considerably wrong in this case. I should like to repeat it to +my principals--I must go up to town in any event this afternoon. Better +let me have all those documents, Mr. Dennie--I'll give you a proper +receipt for them. There's something very valuable in them, anyhow." + +"What?" asked Copplestone. + +"The address in St. Louis from which that Marston Greyle wrote to Bassett +Oliver." replied Gilling. "We can communicate with that address--at once. +We may learn something there. But," he went on, turning to Mrs. Greyle, +"I want to learn something here--and now. I want to know where and under +what circumstances the Squire came to Scarhaven. You were here then, of +course, Mrs. Greyle? You can tell me?" + +"He came very quietly," replied Mrs. Greyle. "Nobody in Scarhaven--unless +it was Peter Chatfield--knew of his coming. In fact, nobody in these +parts, at any rate--knew he was in England. The family solicitors in +London may have known. But nothing was ever said or written to me, though +my daughter, failing this man, is the next in succession." + +"I do wish you'd leave all that out, mother!" exclaimed Audrey. "I +don't like it." + +"Whether you like it or not, it's the fact," said Mrs. Greyle +imperturbably, "and it can't be left out. Well, as I say, no one knew the +Squire had come to England, until one day Chatfield calmly walked down +the quay with him, introducing him right and left. He brought him here." + +"Ah!" said Gilling. "That's interesting. Now I wonder if you found out if +he was well up in the family history?" + +"Not then, but afterwards," answered Mrs. Greyle. "He is particularly +well up in the Greyle records--suspiciously well up." + +"Why suspiciously?" asked Cobblestone. + +"He knows more--in a sort of antiquarian and historian fashion--than +you'd suppose a young man of his age would," said Mrs. Greyle. "He gives +you the impression of having read it up--studied it deeply. And--his +usual tastes don't lie in that direction." + +"Ah!" observed Mr. Dennie, musingly. "Bad sign, ma'am,--bad sign! Looks +as if he had been--shall we say put up to overstudying his part. That's +possible! I have known men who were so anxious to be what one calls +letter-perfect, Mr. Copplestone, that though they knew their parts, they +didn't know how to play them. Fact, sir!" + +While the old actor was chuckling over this reminiscence, Gilling turned +quietly to Mrs. Greyle. + +"I think you suspect this man?" he said. + +"Frankly--yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I always have done, though I have +said so little--" + +"Mother!" interrupted Audrey. "Is it really worth while saying so much +now! After all, we know nothing, and if this is all mere +supposition--however," she broke off, rising and going away from the +group, "perhaps I had better say nothing." + +Copplestone too rose and followed her into the window recess. + +"I say!" he said entreatingly. "I hope you don't think me interfering? I +assure you--" + +"You!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no!--of course. I think you're anxious to +clear things up about Mr. Oliver. But I don't want my mother dragged into +it--for a simple reason. We've got to live here--and Chatfield is a +vindictive man." + +"You're frightened of him?" said Copplestone incredulously. "You!" + +"Not for myself," she answered, giving him a warning look and glancing +apprehensively at Mrs. Greyle, who was talking eagerly to Mr. Dennie and +Gilling. "But my mother is not as strong as she looks and it would be a +blow to her to leave this place and we are the Squire's tenants, and +therefore at Chatfield's mercy. And you know that Chatfield does as he +likes! Now do you understand?" + +"It maddens me to think that you should be at Chatfield's mercy!" +muttered Copplestone. "But do you really mean to say that if--if +Chatfield thought you--that is, your mother--were mixed up in anything +relating to the clearing up of this affair he would--" + +"Drive us out without mercy," replied Audrey. "That's dead certain." + +"And that your cousin would let him?" exclaimed Copplestone. +"Surely not!" + +"I don't think the Squire has any control over Chatfield," she answered. +"You have seen them together." + +"If that's so," said Copplestone, "I shall begin to think there is +something queer about the Squire in the way your mother suggests. It +looks as if Chatfield had a hold on him. And in that case--" + +He suddenly broke off as a smart automobile drove up to the cottage door +and set down a tall, distinguished-looking man who after a glance at the +little house walked quickly up the garden. Audrey's face showed surprise. + +"Mother!" she said, turning to Mrs. Greyle. "There's Lord Altmore here! +He must want you. Or shall I go?" + +Mrs. Greyle quitted the room hastily. The others heard her welcome the +visitor, lead him up the tiny hall; they heard a door shut. Audrey looked +at Copplestone. + +"You've heard of Lord Altmore, haven't you?" she said. "He's our +biggest man in these parts--he owns all the country at the back, +mountains, valleys, everything. The Greyle land shuts him off from the +sea. In the old days, Greyles and Altmores used to fight over their +boundaries, and--" + +Mrs. Greyle suddenly showed herself again and looked at her daughter. + +"Will you come here, Audrey?" she said. "You gentlemen will excuse both +of us for a few minutes?" + +Mother and daughter went away, and the two young men drew up their +chairs to the table at which Mr. Dennie sat and exchanged views with him +on the curious situation. Half-an-hour went by; then steps and voices +were heard in the hall and the garden; Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were seeing +their visitor out to his car. In a few minutes the car sped away, and +they came back to the parlour. One glance at their faces showed Gilling +that some new development had cropped up and he nudged Copplestone. + +"Here is remarkable news!" said Mrs. Greyle as she went back to her +chair. "Lord Altmore called to tell me of something that he thought I +ought to know. It is almost unbelievable, yet it is a fact. Marston +Greyle--if he is Marston Greyle!--has offered to sell Lord Altmore the +entire Scarhaven estate, by private treaty. Imagine it!--the estate which +has belonged to the Greyles for five hundred years!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + + +The two younger men received this announcement with no more than looks +of astonished inquiry, but the elder one coughed significantly, had +further recourse to his snuff-box and turned to Mrs. Greyle with a +knowing glance. + +"My dear lady!" he said impressively. "Now this is a matter in which I +believe I can be of service--real service! You may have forgotten the +fact--it is all so long ago--and perhaps I never mentioned it in the old +days--but the truth is that before I went on the stage, I was in the law. +The fact is, I am a duly and fully qualified solicitor--though," he +added, with a dry chuckle, "it is a good five and twenty years since I +paid the six pounds for the necessary annual certificate. But I have not +forgotten my law--or some of it--and no doubt I can furbish up a little +more, if necessary. You say that Mr. Marston Greyle, the present owner of +Scarhaven, has offered to sell his estate to Lord Altmore? But--is not +the estate entailed?" + +"No!" replied Mrs. Greyle. "It is not." + +Mr. Dennie's face fell--unmistakably. He took another pinch of snuff and +shook his head. + +"Then in that case," he said dryly, "all the lawyers in the world can't +help. It's his--absolutely--and he can do what he pleases with it. Five +hundred years, you say? Remarkable!--that a man should want to sell land +his forefathers have walked over for half a thousand years! +Extraordinary!" + +"Did Lord Altmore say if any reason had been given him as to why Mr. +Greyle wished to sell?" asked Gilling. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle, who was obviously greatly upset by the recent +news. "He did. Mr. Greyle gave as his reason that the north does not suit +him, and that he wishes to buy an estate in the south of England. He +approached Lord Altmore first because it is well-known that the Altmores +have always been anxious to extend their own borders to the coast." + +"Does Lord Altmore want to buy?" asked Gilling. + +"It is very evident that he would be quite willing to buy," said +Mrs. Greyle. + +"What made him come to you," continued Gilling. "He must have had +some reason?" + +"He had a reason," Mrs. Greyle answered, with a glance at Audrey. "He +knows the family history, of course--he is very well aware that my +daughter is at present the heir apparent. He therefore thought we ought +to know of this offer. But that is not quite all. Lord Altmore has, of +course, read the accounts of the inquest in this morning's paper. Also +his steward was present at the inquest. And from what he has read, and +from what his steward told him, Lord Altmore thinks there is something +wrong--he thinks, for instance, that Marston Greyle should explain this +mystery about the meeting with Bassett Oliver in America. At any rate, +he will go no further in any negotiations until that mystery is +properly cleared up. Shall I tell you what Lord Altmore said on that +point? He said--" + +"Is it worth while, mother?" interrupted Audrey. "It was only his +opinion." + +"It is worth while--amongst ourselves--" insisted Mrs. Greyle. "Why not? +Lord Altmore said--in so many words--'I have a sort of uneasy feeling, +after reading the evidence at that inquest, and hearing what my +steward's impressions were, that this man calling himself Marston Greyle +may not be Marston Greyle at all and I shall want good proof that he is +before I even consider the proposal he has made to me.' There! +So--what's to be done?" + +"The law, ma'am," observed Mr. Dennie, solemnly, "the law must step in. +You must get an injunction, ma'am, to prevent Mr. Marston Greyle from +dealing with the property until his own title to it has been established. +That, at any rate, is my opinion." + +"May I ask a question?" said Copplestone who had been listening +and thinking intently. "Did Lord Altmore say when this offer was +made to him?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "A week ago." + +"A week ago!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That is, before last Sunday--before +the Bassett Oliver episode. Then--the offer to sell is quite independent +of that affair!" + +"Strange--and significant!" muttered Gilling. + +He rose from his chair and looked at his watch. + +"Well," he went on, "I am going off to London. Will you give me leave, +Mrs. Greyle, to report all this to Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. +Petherton? They ought to know." + +"I'm going, too," declared Copplestone, also rising. "Mrs. Greyle, I'm +sure will entrust the whole matter to us. And Mr. Dennie will trust us +with those papers." + +"Oh, certainly, certainly!" asserted Mr. Dennie, pushing his packet +across the table. "Take care of 'em, my boy!--ye don't know how important +they may turn out to be." + +"And--Mrs. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. + +"Tell whatever you think it best to tell," replied Mrs. Greyle. "My own +opinion is that a lot will have to be told--and to come out, yet." + +"We can catch a train in three-quarters of an hour, Copplestone," said +Gilling. "Let's get back and settle up with Mrs. Wooler and be off." + +Copplestone contrived to draw Audrey aside. + +"This isn't good-bye," he whispered, with a meaning look. "You'll +see me back here before many days are over. But listen--if anything +happens here, if you want anybody's help--in any way--you know what +I mean--promise you'll wire to me at this address. Promise!--or I +won't go." + +"Very well," said Audrey, "I promise. But--why shall you come back?" + +"Tell you when I come," replied Copplestone with another look. +"But--I shall come--and soon. I'm only going because I want to be of +use--to you." + +An hour later he and Gilling were on their way to London, and from +opposite corners of a compartment which they had contrived to get to +themselves, they exchanged looks. + +"This is a queer business, Copplestone!" said Gilling. "It strikes me +it's going to be a big one, too. And--it's coming to a point round +Squire Greyle." + +"Do you think your man will have tracked him?" asked Copplestone. + +"It will be the first time Swallow's ever lost sight of anybody if he +hasn't," answered Gilling. "He's a human ferret! However, I wired to him +just before we left, telling him to meet me at King's Cross, so we'll +get his report. Oh, he'll have followed him all right--I don't imagine +for a moment that Greyle is trying to evade anybody, at this juncture, +at any rate." + +But when--four hours later--the train drew into King's Cross--and +Gilling's partner, a young and sharp-looking man, presented himself, it +was with a long and downcast face and a lugubrious shake of the head. + +"Done!--for the first time in my life!" he growled in answer to +Gilling's eager inquiry. "Lost him! Never failed before--as you know. +Well, it had to come, I suppose--can't go on without an occasional +defeat. But--I'm a bit licked as to the whole thing--unless your man is +dodging somebody. Is he?" + +"Tell your tale," commanded Gilling, motioning Copplestone to follow him +and Swallow aside. + +"I was up here in good time this afternoon to meet his train," reported +Swallow. "I spotted him and his man at once; no difficulty, as your +description of both was so full. They were together while the luggage +was got out; then he, Greyle, gave some instructions to the man and left +him. He himself got into a taxi-cab; I got into another close behind and +gave its driver certain orders. Greyle drove straight to the Fragonard +Club--you know." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Gilling. "Did he, now? That's worth knowing." + +"What's the Fragonard Club?" asked Copplestone. "Never heard of it." + +"Club of folk connected with the stage and the music-halls," answered +Gilling, testily. "In a side street, off Shaftesbury Avenue--tell you +more of it, later. Go on, Swallow." + +"He paid off his driver there, and went in," continued Swallow. "I paid +mine and hung about--there's only one entrance and exit to that spot, as +you know. He came out again within five minutes, stuffing some letters +into his pocket. He walked away across Shaftesbury Avenue into Wardour +Street--there he went into a tobacconist's shop. Of course, I hung about +again. But this time he didn't come. So at last I walked in--to buy +something. He wasn't there!" + +"Pooh!--he'd slipped out--walked out--when you weren't looking!" said +Gilling. "Why didn't you keep your eye on the ball, man?--you!" + +"You be hanged!" retorted Swallow. "Never had an eyelash off that shop +door from the time he entered until I, too, entered." + +"Then there's a side-door to that shop--into some alley or passage," +said Gilling. + +"Not that I could find," answered Swallow. "Might be at the rear of the +premises perhaps, but I couldn't ascertain, of course. Remember!--there's +another thing. He may have stopped on the premises. There's that in it. +However, I know the shop and the name." + +"Why didn't you bring somebody else with you, to follow the man and the +luggage?" demanded Gilling, half-petulantly. + +Swallow shook his head. + +"There I made a mess of it, I confess," he admitted. "But it never struck +me they'd separate. I thought, of course, they'd drive straight to some +hotel, and--" + +"And the long and the short of it is, Greyle's slipped you," said +Gilling. "Well--there's no more to be done tonight. The only thing of +value is that Greyle called at the Fragonard. What's a country +squire--only recently come to England, too!--to do with the Fragonard? +That is worth something. Well--Copplestone, we'd better meet in the +morning at Petherton's. You be there at ten o'clock, and I'll get Sir +Cresswell Oliver to be there, too." + +Copplestone betook himself to his rooms in Jermyn Street; it seemed an +age--several ages--since he had last seen the familiar things in them. +During the few days which had elapsed since his hurried setting-off to +meet Bassett Oliver so many things had happened that he felt as if he +had lived a week in a totally different world. He had met death, and +mystery, and what appeared to be sure evidence of deceit and cunning and +perhaps worse--fraud and crime blacker than fraud. But he had also met +Audrey Greyle. And it was only natural that he thought more about her +than of the strange atmosphere of mystery which wrapped itself around +Scarhaven. She, at any rate, was good to think upon, and he thought much +as he looked over the letters that had accumulated, changed his clothes, +and made ready to go and dine at his club, Already he was counting the +hours which must elapse before he would go back to her. + +Nevertheless, Copplestone's mind was not entirely absorbed by this +pleasant subject; the events of the day and of the arrival in London +kept presenting themselves. And coming across a fellow club-member +whom he knew for a thorough man about town, he suddenly plumped him +with a question. + +"I say!" he said. "Do you know the Fragonard Club?" + +"Of course!" replied the other man. "Don't you?" + +"Never even heard of it till this evening," said Copplestone. +"What is it?" + +"Mixed lot!" answered his companion. "Theatrical and music-hall folk--men +and women--both. Lively spot--sometimes. Like to have a look in when they +have one of their nights?" + +"Very much," assented Copplestone. "Are you a member?" + +"No, but I know several men who are members," said the other. "I'll fix +it all right. Worth going to when they've what they call a +house-dinner--Sunday night, of course." + +"Thanks," said Copplestone. "I suppose membership of that's confined to +the profession, eh?" + +"Strictly," replied his friend. "But they ain't at all particular about +their guests--you'll meet all sorts of people there, from judges to +jockeys, and millionairesses to milliners." + +Copplestone was still wondering what the Squire of Scarhaven could have +to do with the Fragonard Club when he went to Mr. Petherton's office the +next morning. He was late for the appointment which Gilling had made, and +when he arrived Gilling had already reported all that had taken place the +day before to the solicitor and to Sir Cresswell Oliver. And on that +Copplestone produced the papers entrusted to him by Mr. Dennie and they +all compared the handwritings afresh. + +"There is certainly something wrong, somewhere," remarked Petherton, +after a time. "However, we are in a position to begin a systematic +inquiry. Here," he went on, drawing a paper from his desk, "is a +cablegram which arrived first thing this morning from New York--from an +agent who has been making a search for me in the shipping lists. This is +what he says: 'Marston Greyle, St. Louis, Missouri, booked first-class +passenger from New York to Falmouth, England, by S.S. _Araconda_, +September 28th, 1912.' There--that's something definite. And the next +thing," concluded the old lawyer, with a shrewd glance at Sir Cresswell, +"is to find out if the Marston Greyle who landed at Falmouth is the same +man whom we have recently seen!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + + +Sir Cresswell Oliver took the cablegram from Petherton and read it over +slowly, muttering the precise and plain wording to himself. + +"Don't you think, Petherton, that we had better get a clear notion of our +exact bearings?" he said as he laid it back on the solicitor's desk. +"Seems to me that the time's come when we ought to know exactly where we +are. As I understand it, the case is this--rightly or wrongly we suspect +the present holder of the Scarhaven estates. We suspect that he is not +the rightful owner--that, in short, he is no more the real Marston Greyle +than you are. We think that he's an impostor--posing as Marston Greyle. +Other people--Mrs. Valentine Greyle, for example--evidently think so, +too. Am I right?" + +"Quite!" responded Petherton. "That's our position--exactly." + +"Then--in that case, what I want to get at is this," continued Sir +Cresswell. "How does this relate to my brother's death? What's the +connection? That--to me at any rate--is the first thing of importance. Of +course I have a theory. This, that the impostor did see my brother last +Sunday afternoon. That he knew that my brother would at once know that +he, the impostor, was not the real Marston Greyle, and that the +discovery would lead to detection. And therefore he put him out of the +way. He might accompany him to the top of the tower and fling him down. +It's possible. Do you follow me?" + +"Precisely," replied Petherton. "I, too, incline to that notion, though +I've worked it out in a different fashion. My reconstruction of what took +place at Scarhaven Keep is as follows--I think that Bassett Oliver met +the Squire--we'll call this man that for the sake of clearness--when he +entered the ruins. He probably introduced himself and mentioned that he +had met a Marston Greyle in America. Then the Squire saw the +probabilities of detection--and what subsequently took place was most +likely what you suggest. It may have been that the Squire recognized +Bassett Oliver, and knew that he'd met Marston Greyle; it may have been +that he didn't know him and didn't know anything until Bassett Oliver +enlightened him. But--either way--I firmly believe that Bassett Oliver +came to his death by violence--that he was murdered. So--there's the case +in a nutshell! Murdered!--to keep his tongue still." + +"What's to be done, then?" asked Sir Cresswell as Petherton tapped the +cablegram. + +"The first thing," he answered, "is to make use of this. We now know that +the real Marston Greyle--who certainly did live in St. Louis, where his +father had settled--left New York for England to take up his inheritance, +on September 28th, 1912, and booked a passage to Falmouth. He would land +at Falmouth from the _Araconda_ about October 5th. Probably there is +some trace of him at Falmouth. He no doubt stayed a night there. Anyway, +somebody must go to Falmouth and make inquiries. You'd better go, +Gilling, and at once. While you're away your partner had better resume +his search for the man we know as the Squire. You've two good clues--the +fact that he visited the Fragonard Club and that particular tobacconist's +shop. Urge Swallow to do his best--the man must be kept in sight. See to +both these things immediately." + +"Swallow is at work already," replied Gilling. "He's got good help, too, +and his failure yesterday has put him on his mettle. As for me, I'll go +to Falmouth by the next express. Let me have that cablegram." + +"I'll go with you," said Copplestone. "I may be of some use--and I'm +interested. But," he paused and looked questioningly at the old +solicitor. "What about the other news we brought you?" he asked. "About +this sale of the estate, you know? If this man is an impostor--" + +"Leave that to me," replied Petherton, with a shrewd glance at Sir +Cresswell. "I know the Greyle family solicitors--highly respectable +people--only a few doors away, in fact--and I'm going round to have a +quiet little chat with them in a few minutes. There will be no sale! +Leave me to deal with that matter--and if you young men are going to +Falmouth, off you go!" + +It was late that night when Copplestone and Gilling arrived at this +far-off Cornish seaport, and nothing could be done until the following +morning. To Copplestone it seemed as if they were in for a difficult +task. Over twelve months had elapsed since the real Marston Greyle left +America for England; he might not have stayed in Falmouth, might not have +held any conversation with anybody there who would recollect him! how +were they going to trace him? But Gilling--now free of his clerical +attire and presenting himself as a smart young man of the professional +classes type--was quick to explain that system, accurate and definite +system, would expedite matters. + +"We know the approximate date on which the _Araconda_ would touch here," +he said as they breakfasted together. "As things go, it would be from +October 4th to 6th, according to the quickness of her run across the +Atlantic. Very well--if Marston Greyle stayed here, he'd have to stay at +some hotel. Accordingly, we visit all the Falmouth hotels and examine +their registers of that date--first week of October, 1912. If we find his +name--good! We can then go on to make inquiries. If we don't find any +trace of him, then we know it's all up--he probably went straight away by +train after landing. We'll begin with this hotel first." + +There was no record of any Marston Greyle at that hotel, nor at the next +half-dozen at which they called. A visit to the shipping office of the +line to which the _Araconda_ belonged revealed the fact that she reached +Falmouth on October 5th at half-past ten in the evening, and that the +name of Marston Greyle was on the list of first-class passengers. +Gilling left the office in cheery mood. + +"That simplifies matters," he said. "As the _Araconda_ reached here late +in the evening, the passengers who landed from her would be almost +certain to stay the night in Falmouth. So we've only to resume our round +of these hotels in order to hit something pertinent. This is plain and +easy work, Copplestone--no corners in it. We'll strike oil before noon." + +They struck oil at the very next hotel they called at--an old-fashioned +house in close proximity to the harbour. There was a communicative +landlord there who evidently possessed and was proud of a retentive +memory, and he no sooner heard the reason of Gilling's call upon him than +he bustled into activity, and produced the register of the previous year. + +"But I remember the young gentleman you're asking about," he remarked, as +he took the book from a safe and laid it open on the table in his private +room. "Not a common name, is it? He came here about eleven o'clock of the +night you've mentioned--there you are!--there's the entry. And +there--higher up--is the name of the man who came to meet him. He came +the day before--to be here when the _Araconda_ got in." + +The two visitors, bending over the book, mutually nudged each other as +their eyes encountered the signatures on the open page. There, in the +handwriting of the letters which Mr. Dennie had so fortunately preserved, +was the name Marston Greyle. But it was not the sight of that which +surprised them; they had expected to see it. What made them both thrill +with the joy of an unexpected discovery was the sight of the signature +inserted some lines above it, under date October 4th. Lest they should +exhibit that joy before the landlord, they mutually stuck their elbows +into each other and immediately affected the unconcern of indifference. + +But there the signature was--_Peter Chatfield_. Peter Chatfield!--they +both knew that they were entering on a new stage of their quest; that the +fact that Chatfield had travelled to Falmouth to meet the new owner of +Scarhaven meant much--possibly meant everything. + +"Oh!" said Gilling, as steadily as possible. "That gentleman came to meet +the other, did he? Just so. Now what sort of man was he?" + +"Big, fleshy man--elderly--very solemn in manner and appearance," +answered the landlord. "I remember him well. Came in about five o'clock +in the afternoon of the 4th just after the London train arrived--and +booked a room. He told me he expected to meet a gentleman from New York, +and was very fidgety about fixing it up to go off in the tender to the +_Araconda_ when she came into the Bay. However, I found out for him that +she wouldn't be in until next evening, so of course he settled down to +wait. Very quiet, reserved old fellow--never said much." + +"Did he go off on the tender next night?" asked Gilling. + +"He did--and came back with this other gentleman and his baggage--this +Mr. Greyle," answered the landlord. "Mr. Chatfield had booked a room for +Mr. Greyle." + +"And what sort of man was Mr. Greyle?" inquired Gilling. "That's really +the important thing. You've an exceptionally good memory--I can see that. +Tell us all you can recollect about him." + +"I can recollect plenty," replied the landlord, shaking his head. "As for +his looks--a tallish, slightly-built young fellow, between, I should say, +twenty-five and twenty-eight. Stooped a good bit. Very dark hair and +eyes--eyes a good deal sunken in his face. Very pale--good-looking--good +features. But ill--my sakes! he was ill!" + +"Ill!" exclaimed Gilling, with a glance at Copplestone. "Really ill!" + +"He was that ill," said the landlord, "that me and my wife never expected +to see him get up that next morning. We wanted them to have a doctor but +Mr. Greyle himself said that it was nothing, but that he had some heart +trouble and that the voyage had made it worse. He said that if he took +some medicine which he had with him, and a drop of hot brandy-and-water, +and got a good night's sleep he'd be all right. And next morning he +seemed better, and he got up to breakfast--but my wife said to me that if +she'd seen death on a man's face it was on his! She's a bit of a +persuasive tongue, has my wife, and when she heard that these two +gentlemen were thinking of going a long journey--right away to the far +north, it was, I believe--she got 'em to go and see the doctor first, for +she felt that Mr. Greyle wasn't fit for the exertion." + +"Did they go?" asked Gilling. + +"They did! I talked, myself, to the old gentleman," replied the landlord. +"And I showed them the way to our own doctor--Dr. Tretheway. And as a +result of what he said to them, I heard them decide to break up their +journey into stages, as you might term it. They left here for Bristol +that afternoon--to stay the night there." + +"You're sure of that?--Bristol?" asked Gilling. + +"Ought to be," replied the landlord, with laconic assurance. "I +went to the station with them and saw them off. They booked to +Bristol--anyway--first class." + +Gilling looked at his companion. + +"I think we'd better see this Dr. Tretheway," he remarked. + +Dr. Tretheway, an elderly man of grave manners and benevolent aspect, +remembered the visit of Mr. Marston Greyle well enough when he had turned +up its date in his case book. He also remembered the visitor's companion, +Mr. Chatfield, who seemed unusually anxious and concerned about Mr. +Greyle's health. + +"And as to that," continued Dr. Tretheway, "I learnt from Mr. Greyle that +he had been seriously indisposed for some months before setting out for +England. The voyage had been rather a rough one; he had suffered much +from sea-sickness, and, in his state of health, that was unfortunate for +him. I made a careful examination of him, and I came to the conclusion +that he was suffering from a form of myocarditis which was rapidly +assuming a very serious complexion. I earnestly advised him to take as +much rest as possible, to avoid all unnecessary fatigue and all +excitement, and I strongly deprecated his travelling in one journey to +the north, whither I learnt he was bound. On my advice, he and Mr. +Chatfield decided to break that journey at Bristol, at Birmingham, and at +Leeds. By so doing, you see, they would only have a short journey each +day, and Mr. Greyle would be able to rest for a long time at a stretch. +But--I formed my own conclusions." + +"And they were--what?" asked Gilling. + +"That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent +school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could +from there, and to put himself under his treatment. But my impression was +that he had already reached a very, very serious stage." + +"You think he was then likely to die suddenly?" suggested Gilling. + +"It was quite possible. I should not have been surprised to hear of his +death," answered Dr. Tretheway. "He was, in short, very ill indeed." + +"You never heard anything?" inquired Gilling. + +"Nothing at all--though I often wondered. Of course," said the doctor +with a smile, "they were only chance visitors--I often have +trans-atlantic passengers drop in--and they forget that a physician would +sometimes like to know how a case submitted to him in that way has +turned out. No, I never heard any more." + +"Did they give you any address, either of them?" asked Copplestone, +seeing that Gilling had no more to ask. + +"No," replied the doctor, "they did not. I knew of course, from what +they told me that Mr. Greyle had come off the _Araconda_ the night +before, and that he was passing on. No--I only gathered that they were +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster from the fact that Mr. Greyle +asked if a journey to that place would be too much for him--he said +with a laugh, that over there in the United States a journey of five +hundred miles would be considered a mere jaunt! He was very plucky, +poor fellow, but--" + +Dr. Tretheway ended with a significant shake of the head, and his two +visitors left him and went out into the autumn sunlight. + +"Copplestone!" said Gilling as they walked away. "That chap--the real +Marston Greyle--is dead! That's as certain as that we're alive! And now +the next thing is to find out where he died and when. And by George, +that's going to be a big job!" + +"How are you going to set about it?" asked Copplestone. "It seems as if +we were up against a blank wall, now." + +"Not at all, my son!" retorted Gilling, cheerfully. "One step at a +time--that's the sure thing to go on, in my calling. We've found out a +lot here, and quickly, too. And--we know where our next step lies. +Bristol! Like looking for needles in a bundle of hay? Not a bit of it. +If those two broke their journey at Bristol, they'd have to stop at an +hotel. Well, now we'll adjourn to Bristol--bearing in mind that we're on +the track of Peter Chatfield!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE OLD PLAYBILL + + +Gilling's cheerful optimism was the sort of desirable quality that is a +good thing to have, but all the optimism in the world is valueless in +face of impregnable difficulty. And the difficulty of tracing Chatfield +and his sick companion in a city the size of Bristol did indeed seem +impregnable when Gilling and Copplestone had been attacking it for +twenty-four hours. They had spent a whole day in endeavouring to get +news; they had gone in and out of hotels until they were sick of the +sight of one; they had made exhaustive inquiries at the railway station +and of the cabmen who congregated there; nobody remembered anything at +all about a big, heavy-faced man and a man in his company who seemed to +be very ill. And on the second night Copplestone intimated plainly that +in his opinion they were wasting their time. + +"How do we even know that they ever came to Bristol?" he asked, as he and +Gilling refreshed themselves with a much needed dinner. "The Falmouth +landlord saw Chatfield take tickets for Bristol! That's nothing to go on! +Put it to yourself in this way. Greyle may have found even that journey +too much for him. They may, in that case, have left the train at +Plymouth--or at Exeter--or at Taunton: it would stop at each place. Seems +to me we're wasting time here--far better get nearer more tangible +things. Chatfield, for instance. Or, go back to town and find out what +your friend Swallow has done." + +"Swallow," replied Gilling, "has done nothing so far, or I should have +heard. Swallow knows exactly where I am, and where I shall be until I +give him further notice. Don't be discouraged, my friend--one is often +on the very edge of a discovery when one seems to be miles away from it. +Give me another day--and if we haven't found out something by tomorrow +evening I'll consult with you as to our next step. But I've a plan for +tomorrow morning which ought to yield some result." + +"What?" demanded Copplestone, doubtfully. + +"This! There is in every centre of population an official who registers +births, marriages, and deaths. Now we believe the real Marston Greyle to +be dead. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that he did die here, in +Bristol, whither he and Chatfield certainly set off when they left +Falmouth. What would happen? Notice of his death would have to be given +to the Registrar--by the nearest relative or by the person in attendance +on the deceased. That person would, in this case, be Chatfield. If the +death occurred suddenly, and without medical attendance, an inquest would +have to be held. If a doctor had been in attendance he would give a +signed certificate of the cause of death, which he would hand to the +relatives or friends in attendance, who, in their turn, would have to +hand it to the Registrar. Do you see the value of these points? What we +must do tomorrow morning is to see the Registrar--or, as there will be +more than one in a place this size--each of them in turn, in the +endeavour to find out if, early in October, 1912, Peter Chatfield +registered the death of Marston Greyle here. But remember--he may not +have registered it under that name. He may, indeed, not have used his own +name--he's deep enough for anything. That however, is our next best +chance--search of the registers. Let's try it, anyway, first thing in the +morning. And as we've had a stiff day, I propose we dismiss all thought +of this affair for the rest of the evening and betake ourselves to some +place of amusement--theatre, eh?" + +Copplestone made no objection to that, and when dinner was over, they +walked round to the principal theatre in time for the first act of a play +which having been highly successful in London had just started on a round +of the leading provincial theatres. Between the second and third acts of +this production there was a long interval, and the two companions +repaired to the foyer to recuperate their energies with a drink and a +cigarette. While thus engaged, Copplestone encountered an old school +friend with whom he exchanged a few words: Gilling, meanwhile strolled +about, inspecting the pictures, photographs and old playbills on the +walls of the saloon and its adjacent apartments. And suddenly, he turned +back, waited until Copplestone's acquaintance had gone away, and then +hurried up and smacked his co-searcher on the shoulder. + +"Didn't I tell you that one's often close to a thing when one seems +furthest off it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Come here, my son, and look +at what I've just found." + +He drew Copplestone away to a quiet corner and pointed out an old +playbill, framed and hung on the wall. Copplestone stared at it and saw +nothing but the title of a well-known comedy, the names of one or two +fairly celebrated actors and actresses and the usual particulars which +appear on all similar announcements. + +"Well?" he asked. "What of this?" + +"That!" replied Gilling, flicking the tip of his finger on a line in the +bill. "That my boy!" + +Copplestone looked again. He started at what he read. + +_Margaret Sayers_.......MISS ADELA CHATFIELD. + +"And now look at that!" continued Gilling, with an accentuation of his +triumphal note. "See! These people were here for a fortnight--from +October 3rd to 17th--1912. Therefore--if Peter Chatfield brought Marston +Greyle to Bristol on October 6th, Peter Chatfield's daughter would also +be in the town!" + +Copplestone looked over the bill again, rapidly realizing possibilities. + +"Would Chatfield know that?" he asked reflectively. + +"It's only likely that he would," replied Gilling. "Even if father and +daughter don't quite hit things off in their tastes, it's only reasonable +to suppose that Peter would usually know his daughter's whereabouts. And +if he brought Greyle here, ill, and they had to stop, it's only likely +that Peter would turn to his daughter for help. Anyway, Copplestone, here +are two undoubted facts:--Chatfield and Greyle booked from Falmouth for +Bristol on October 6th, 1912, and may therefore be supposed to have come +here. That's one fact. The other is--Addie Chatfield was certainly in +Bristol on that date and for eleven days after it." + +"Well--what next?" asked Copplestone. + +"I've been thinking that over while you stared at the bill," answered +Gilling. "I think the best thing will be to find out where Addie +Chatfield put herself up during her stay. I daresay you know that in most +of these towns there are lodgings which are almost exclusively devoted to +the theatrical profession. Actors and actresses go to them year after +year; their owners lay themselves out for their patrons--what's more, +your theatrical landlady always remembers names and faces, and has her +favourites. Now, in my stage experience, I never struck Bristol, so I +don't know much about it, but I know where we can get information--the +stage door-keeper. He'll tell us where the recognized lodgings are--and +then we must begin a round of inquiry. When? Just now, my boy!--and a +good time, too, as you'll see." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone. + +"Best hour of the evening," replied Gilling with glib assurance. +"Landladies enjoying an hour of ease before beginning to cook supper +for their lodgers, now busy on the stage. Always ready to talk, +theatrical landladies, when they've nothing to do. Trust me for +knowing the ropes!--come round to the stage door and let's ask the +keeper a question or two." + +But before they had quitted the foyer an interruption came in the shape +of a shrewd-looking gentleman in evening dress, who wore his opera hat at +a rakish angle and seemed to be very much at home as he strolled about, +hands in pockets, looking around him at all and sundry. He suddenly +caught sight of Gilling, smiled surprisedly and expansively, and came +forward with outstretched hand. + +"Bless our hearts, is it really yourself, dear boy!" exclaimed this +apparition. "Really, now? And what brings you here--God bless my soul and +eyes--why I haven't seen you this--how long is it, dear boy!" + +"Three years," answered Gilling, promptly clasping the outstretched hand. +"But what are you doing here--boss, eh?" + +"Lessee's manager, dear boy--nice job, too," whispered the other. "Been +here two years--good berth." He deftly steered Gilling towards the +refreshment bar, and glanced out of his eye corner at Copplestone. +"Friend of yours?" he suggested hospitably. "Introduce us, dear boy--my +name is the same as before, you know!" + +"Mr. Copplestone, Mr. Montmorency," said Gilling. "Mr. Montmorency, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Servant, sir," said Mr. Montmorency. "Pleased to meet any friend of my +friend! And what will you take, dear boys, and how are things with +you, Gilling, old man--now who on earth would have thought of seeing +you here?" + +Copplestone held his peace while Gilling and Mr. Montmorency held +interesting converse. He was sure that his companion would turn this +unexpected meeting to account, and he therefore felt no surprise when +Gilling, after giving him a private nudge, plumped the manager with a +direct question. + +"Did you see Addie Chatfield when she was here about a year ago?" he +asked. "You remember--she was here in _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_--here a +fortnight." + +"I remember very well, dear boy," responded Mr. Montmorency, with a +judicial sip at the contents of his tumbler. "I saw the lady several +times. More by token, I accidentally witnessed a curious little scene +between Miss Addie and a gentleman whom Nature appeared to have specially +manufactured for the part of heavy parent--you know the type. One morning +when that company was here, I happened to be standing in the vestibule, +talking to the box-office man, when a large, solemn-faced individual, +Quakerish in attire, and evidently not accustomed to the theatre walked +in and peered about him at our rich carpets and expensive +fittings--pretty much as if he was appraising their value. At the same +time, I observed that he was in what one calls a state--a little, perhaps +a good deal, upset about something. Wherefore I addressed myself to him +in my politest manner and inquired if I could serve him. Thereupon he +asked if he could see Miss Adela Chatfield on very important business. +Now, I wasn't going to let him see Miss Addie, for I took him to be a man +who might have a writ about him, or something nasty of that sort. But at +that very moment, Miss Addie, who had been rehearsing, and had come out +by the house instead of going through the stage door, came tripping into +the vestibule and let off a sharp note of exclamation. After which she +and old wooden-face stepped into the street together, and immediately +exchanged a few words. And that the old man told her something very +serious was abundantly evident from the expression of their respective +countenances. But, of course, I never knew what it was, nor who he was, +dear boy--not my business, don't you know." + +"They went away together, those two?" asked Gilling, favouring +Copplestone with another nudge. + +"Up the street together, certainly, talking most earnestly," replied Mr. +Montmorency. + +"Ever see that old chap again?" asked Gilling. + +"I never did, dear boy,--once was sufficient," said Mr. Montmorency, +lightly. "But," he continued, dropping his bantering tone, "are these +questions pertinent?--has this to do with this new profession of yours, +dear boy? If so--mum's the word, you know." + +"I'll tell you what, Monty," answered Gilling. "I wish you'd find out for +me where Addie Chatfield lodged when she was here that time. Can it be +done? Between you and me, I do want to know about that, old chap. Never +mind why, now--I will tell you later. But it's serious." + +Mr. Montmorency tapped the side of his handsome nose. + +"All right, my boy!" he said. "I understand--wicked, wicked world! Done? +Dear boy, it shall be done! Come down to the stage door--our man knows +every landlady in the town!" + +By various winding ways and devious passages he led the two young men +down to the stage door. Its keeper, not being particularly busy at that +time, was reading the evening newspaper in his glass-walled box, and +glanced inquiringly at the strangers as Mr. Montmorency pulled them up +before him. + +"Prickett," said Mr. Montmorency, leaning into the sanctum over its +half-door and speaking confidentially. "You keep a sort of register of +lodgings don't you, Prickett? Now I wonder if you could tell me where +Miss Adela Chatfield, of the _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_ Company stopped +when she was last here?--that's a year ago or about it. Prickett," he +went on, turning to Gilling, "puts all this sort of thing down, +methodically, so that he can send callers on, or send up urgent letters +or parcels during the day--isn't that it, Prickett?" + +"That's about it, sir," answered the door-keeper. He had taken down a +sort of ledger as the manager spoke, and was now turning over its leaves. +He suddenly ran his finger down a page and stopped its course at a +particular line. + +"Mrs. Salmon, 5, Montargis Crescent--second to the right outside," he +announced briefly. "Very good lodgings, too, are those." + +Gilling promised Mr. Montmorency that he would look him up later on, +and went away with Copplestone to Montargis Crescent. Within five +minutes they were standing in a comfortably furnished, old-fashioned +sitting-room, liberally ornamented with the photographs of actors and +actresses and confronting a stout, sharp-eyed little woman who +listened intently to all that Gilling said and sniffed loudly when he +had finished. + +"Remember Miss Chatfield being here!" she exclaimed. "I should think I do +remember! I ought to! Bringing mortal sickness into my house--and then +death--and then a funeral--and her and her father going away never giving +me an extra penny for the trouble!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + + +Gilling's glance at his companion was quiet enough, but it spoke volumes. +Here, by sheer chance, was such a revelation as they had never dreamed of +hearing!--here was the probable explanation of at least half the mystery. +He turned composedly to the landlady. + +"I've already told you who and what I am," he said, pointing to the card +which he had handed to her. "There are certain mysterious circumstances +about this affair which I want to get at. What you've said just now is +abundant evidence that you can help. If you do and will help, you'll be +well paid for your trouble. Now, you speak of sickness--death--a funeral. +Will you tell us all about it?" + +"I never knew there was any mystery about it," answered the landlady, as +she motioned her visitors to seat themselves. "It was all above-board as +far as I knew. Of course, I've always been sore about it--I'd a great +deal of trouble, and as I say, I never got anything for it--that is, +anything extra. And me doing it really to oblige her and her father!" + +"They brought a sick man here?" suggested Gilling. + +"I'll tell you how it was," said Mrs. Salmon, seating herself and showing +signs of a disposition to confidence. "Miss Chatfield, she'd been here, I +think, three days that time--I'd had her once before a year or two +previous. One morning--I'm sure it was about the third day that the +_Swayne Necklace_ Company was here--she came in from rehearsal in a +regular take-on. She said that her father had just called on her at the +theatre. She said he'd been to Falmouth to meet a relation of theirs +who'd come from America and had found him to be very ill on landing--so +ill that a Falmouth doctor had given strict orders that he mustn't travel +any further than Bristol, on his way wherever he wanted to go. They'd got +to Bristol and the young man was so done up that Mr. Chatfield had had to +drive him to another doctor--one close by here--Dr. Valdey--as soon as +they arrived. Dr. Valdey said he must go to bed at once and have at least +two days' complete rest in bed, and he advised Mr. Chatfield to get quiet +rooms instead of going to a hotel. So Mr. Chatfield, knowing that his +daughter was here, do you see, sought her out and told her all about it. +She came to me and asked me if I knew where they could get rooms. Well +now, I had my drawing-room floor empty that week, and as it was only for +two or three days that they wanted rooms I offered to take Mr. Chatfield +and the young man in. Of course, if I'd known how ill he was, I +shouldn't. What I understood--and mind you, I don't say they wilfully +deceived me, for I don't think they did--what I understood was that the +young man simply wanted a real good rest. But he was evidently a deal +worse than what even Dr. Valdey thought. He'd stopped at Dr. Valdey's +surgery while Mr. Chatfield went to see about rooms, and they moved him +from there straight in here. And as I say, he was a deal worse than they +thought, much worse, and the doctor had to be fetched to him more than +once during the afternoon. Still Dr. Valdey himself never said to me that +there was any immediate danger. But that's neither here nor there--the +young fellow died that night." + +"That night!" exclaimed Gilling, "the night he came here?" + +"Very same night," assented Mrs. Salmon. "Brought in here about two in +the afternoon and died just before midnight--soon after Miss Chatfield +came in from the theatre. Went very suddenly at the end." + +"Were you present?" asked Copplestone. + +"I wasn't. Nobody was with him but Mr. Chatfield--Miss Chatfield was +getting her supper down here," replied Mrs. Salmon. "And I was busy +elsewhere." + +"Was there an inquest then," inquired Gilling?" + +"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Salmon, shaking her head. "Oh, no!--there was no need +for that--the doctor, ye see, had been seeing him all day. Oh, no--the +cause of death was evident enough, in a way of speaking. Heart." + +"Did they bury him here, then?" asked Gilling. + +"Two days after," replied Mrs. Salmon. "Kept everything very quiet, they +did. I don't believe Miss Chatfield told any of the theatre people--she +went to her work just the same, of course. The old gentleman saw to +everything--funeral and all. I'll say this for them--they gave me no +unnecessary trouble, but still, there's trouble that is necessary when +you've death in a house and a funeral at the door, and they ought to have +given me something for what I did. But they didn't, so I considered it +very mean. Mr. Chatfield, he stayed two days after the funeral, and when +he left he just said that his daughter would settle up with me. But when +she came to pay she added nothing to my bill, and she walked out +remarking that if her father hadn't given me anything extra she was sure +she shouldn't. Shabby!" + +"Very shabby!" agreed Gilling. "Well, you won't find my clients quite so +mean, ma'am. But just a word--don't mention this matter to anybody until +you hear from me. And as I like to give some earnest of payment here's a +bank-note which you can slip into your purse--on account, you understand. +Now, just a question or two:--Did you hear the young man's name?" + +The landlady, whose spirits rose visibly on receipt of the bank-note, +appeared to reflect on hearing this question, and she shook her head as +if surprised at her own inability to answer it satisfactorily. + +"Well, now," she said, "it may seem a queer thing to say, but I don't +recollect that I ever did! You see, I didn't see much of him after he +once got here. I was never in his room with them, and they didn't mention +his name--that I can remember--when they spoke about him before me. I +understood he was a relative--cousin or something of that sort." + +"Didn't you see any name on the coffin?" asked Gilling. + +"I didn't," replied Mrs. Salmon. "You see, the undertaker fetched him +away when him and his men brought the coffin--the next day. He took +charge of the coffin for the second night, and the funeral took place +from there. But I'll tell you what--the undertaker'll know the name, and +of course the doctor does. They're both close by." + +Gilling took names and addresses and once more pledging the landlady to +secrecy, led Copplestone away. + +"That's the end of another chapter," he said when they were clear of that +place. "We know now that Marston Greyle died there--in that very house, +Copplestone!--and that Peter Chatfield was with him. That's fact!" + +"And it's fact, too, that the daughter knows," observed Copplestone in a +low voice. + +"Fact, too, that Addie Chatfield was in it," agreed Gilling. "Well--but +what happened next? However, before we go on to that, there are three +things to do in the morning. We must see this Dr. Valdey, and the +undertaker--and Marston Greyle's grave." + +"And then?" asked Copplestone. + +"Stiff, big question," sighed Gilling. "Go back to town and report, I +think--and find out if Swallow has discovered anything. And egad! there's +a lot to discover! For you see we're already certain that at the stage at +which we've arrived a conspiracy began--conspiracy between Chatfield, his +daughter, and the man who's been passing himself off as Marston Greyle. +Now, who is the man? Where did they get hold of him? Is he some relation +of theirs? All that's got to be found out. Of course, their object is +very clear, Marston Greyle, the real Simon Pure, was dead on their hands. +His legal successor was his cousin, Miss Audrey. Chatfield knew that when +Miss Audrey came into power his own reign as steward of Scarhaven would +be brief. And so--but the thing is so plain that one needn't waste breath +on it. And I tell you what's plain too, Copplestone--Miss Audrey Greyle +is the lady of Scarhaven! Good luck to her! You'll no doubt be glad to +communicate the glad tidings!" + +Copplestone made no answer. He was utterly confounded by the recent +revelations and was wondering what the mother and daughter in the little +cottage so far away in the grey north would say when all these things +were told them. + +"Let's make dead certain of everything," he said after a long pause. +"Don't let's leave any loophole." + +"Oh, we'll leave nothing--here at any rate," replied Gilling, +confidently. "But you'll find in the morning that we already know almost +everything." + +In this he was right. The doctor's story was a plain one. The young man +was very ill indeed when brought to him, and though he did not anticipate +so early or sudden an end, he was not surprised when death came, and had +of course, no difficulty about giving the necessary certificate. Just as +plain was the undertaker's account of his connection with the affair--a +very ordinary transaction in his eyes. And having heard both stories, +there was nothing to do but to visit one of the adjacent cemeteries and +find a certain grave the number of which they had ascertained from the +undertaker's books. It was easily found--and Copplestone and Gilling +found themselves standing at a new tombstone, whereon the monumental +mason had carved four lines:-- + +MARK GREY + +BORN APRIL 12TH, 1884 + +DIED OCTOBER 6TH, 1912 + +AGED 28 YEARS. + +"Short, simple, eminently suited to the purpose," murmured Gilling as the +two turned away. "Somebody thought things out quickly and well, +Copplestone, when this poor fellow died. Do you know I've been thinking +as we walked up here that if Bassett Oliver had never taken it into his +head to visit Scarhaven that Sunday this fraud would never have been +found out! The chances were all against its ever being found out. +Consider them! A young man who is an absolute stranger in England comes +to take up an inheritance, having on him no doubt, the necessary proofs +of identification. He's met by one person only--his agent. He dies next +day. The agent buries him, under a false name, takes his effects and +papers, gets some accomplice to personate him, introduces that accomplice +to everybody as the real man--and there you are! Oh, Chatfield knew what +he was doing! Who on earth, wandering in this cemetery, would ever +connect Mark Grey with Marston Greyle?" + +"Just so--but there was one danger-spot which must have given Chatfield +and his accomplices a good many uneasy hours," answered Copplestone. "You +know that Marston Greyle actually registered in his own name at Falmouth +and was known to the land lord and the doctor there." + +"Yes--and Falmouth is three hundred miles from London and five hundred +from Scarhaven," replied Gilling dryly. "And do you suppose that whoever +saw Marston Greyle at Falmouth cared two pins--comparatively--what became +of him after he left there? No--Chatfield was almost safe from detection +as soon as he'd got that unfortunate young fellow laid away in that +grave. However we know now--what we do know. And the next thing, now that +we know Marston Greyle lies behind us there, is to get back to town and +catch the chap who took his place. We'll wire to Swallow and to +Petherton and get the next express." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton were in conference with Swallow at the +solicitor's office when Gilling and Copplestone arrived there in the +early afternoon. Gilling interrupted their conversation to tell the +result of his investigations. Copplestone, watching the effect, saw that +neither Sir Cresswell nor Petherton showed surprise. Petherton indeed, +smiled as if he had anticipated all that Gilling had to say. + +"I told you that I knew the Greyle family solicitors," he observed. "I +find that they have only once seen the man whom we will call the Squire. +Chatfield brought him there. He produced proofs of identification--papers +which Chatfield no doubt took from the dead man. Of course, the +solicitors never doubted for a moment that he was the real Marston +Greyle!--never dreamed of fraud: Well--the next step. We must concentrate +on finding this man. And Swallow has nothing to tell--yet. He has never +seen anything more of him. You'd better turn all your attention to that, +Gilling--you and Swallow. As for Chatfield and his daughter, I suppose we +shall have to approach the police." + +Copplestone presently went home to his rooms in Jermyn Street, puzzled +and wondering; And there, lying on top of a pile of letters, he found a +telegram--from Audrey Greyle. It had been dispatched from Scarhaven at an +early hour of the previous day, and it contained but three words--_Can +you come?_ + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE STEAM YACHT + + +Copplestone had seen and learned enough of Audrey Greyle during his brief +stay at Scarhaven to make him assured that she would not have sent for +him save for very good and grave reasons. It had been with manifest +reluctance that she had given him her promise to do so: her entire +behaviour during the conference with Mr. Dennie and Gilling had convinced +him that she had an inherent distaste for publicity and an instinctive +repugnance to calling in the aid of strangers. He had never expected that +she would send for him--he himself knew that he should go back to her, +but the return would be on his own initiative. There, however, was her +summons, definite as it was brief. He was wanted--and by her. And without +opening one of his letters, he snatched up the whole pile, thrust it into +his pocket, hurriedly made some preparation for his journey and raced off +to King's Cross. + +He fumed and fretted with impatience during the six hours' journey down +to Norcaster. It was ten o'clock when he arrived there, and as he knew +that the last train to Scarhaven left at half-past-nine he hurried to get +a fast motor-car that would take him over the last twenty miles of his +journey. He had wired to Audrey from Peterborough, telling her that he +was on his way and should motor out from Norcaster, and when he had +found a car to his liking he ordered its driver to go straight to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage, close by Scarhaven church. And just then he heard a +voice calling his name, and turning saw, running out of the station, a +young, athletic-looking man, much wrapped and cloaked, who waved a hand +at him and whose face he had some dim notion of having seen before. + +"Mr. Copplestone?" panted the new arrival, coming up hurriedly. "I almost +missed you--I got on the wrong platform to meet your train. You don't +know me, though you may have seen me at the inquest on Mr. Bassett Oliver +the other day--my name's Vickers--Guy Vickers." + +"Yes?" said Copplestone. "And--" + +"I'm a solicitor, here in Norcaster," answered Vickers. "I--at least, my +firm, you know--we sometimes act for Mrs. Greyle at Scarhaven. I got a +wire from Miss Greyle late this evening, asking me to meet you here when +the London train got in and to go on to Scarhaven with you at once. She +added the words _urgent business_ so--" + +"Then in heaven's name, let's be off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "It'll take +us a good hour and a quarter as it is. Of course," he went on, as they +moved away through the Norcaster streets, "of course, you haven't any +notion of what this urgent business is?" + +"None whatever!" replied Vickers. "But I'm quite sure that it is urgent, +or Miss Greyle wouldn't have said so. No--I don't know what her exact +meaning was, but of course, I know there's something wrong about the +whole thing at Scarhaven--seriously wrong!" + +"You do, eh?" exclaimed Copplestone. "What now?" + +"Ah, that I don't know!" replied Vickers, with a dry laugh. "I wish I +did. But--you know how people talk in these provincial places--ever since +that inquest there have been all sorts of rumours. Every club and public +place in Norcaster has been full of talk--gossip, surmise, speculation. +Naturally!" + +"But--about what?" asked Copplestone. + +"Squire Greyle, of course," said the young solicitor; "that inquest was +enough to set the whole country talking. Everybody thinks--they couldn't +think otherwise--that something is being hushed up. Everybody's agog to +know if Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. Petherton are applying for a +re-opening of the inquest. You've just come from town, I believe! Did you +hear anything?" + +Copplestone was wondering whether he ought to tell his companion of his +own recent discoveries. Like all laymen, he had an idea that you can tell +anything to a lawyer, and he was half-minded to pour out the whole story +to Vickers, especially as he was Mrs. Greyle's solicitor. But on second +thoughts he decided to wait until he had ascertained the state of affairs +at Scarhaven. + +"I didn't hear anything about that," he replied. "Of course, that inquest +was a mere travesty of what such an inquiry should have been." + +"Oh, an utter farce!" agreed Vickers. "However, it produced just the +opposite effect to that which the wire-pullers wanted. Of course, +Chatfield had squared that jury! But he forgot the press--and the local +reporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that all +the Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody's +talking of it, as I said--people are asking what this evidence from +America is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on. +And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven." + +"Have you seen Mrs. or Miss Greyle since the inquest?" asked Copplestone, +who was anxious to keep off subjects on which he might be supposed to +possess information. "Have you been over there?" + +"No--not since that day," replied Vickers. "And I don't care how soon we +do see them, for I'm a bit anxious about this telegram. Something must +have happened." + +Copplestone looked out of the window on his side of the car. Already they +were clear of the Norcaster streets and on the road which led to +Scarhaven. That road ran all along the coast, often at the very edge of +the high, precipitous cliffs, with no more between it and the rocks far +beneath than a low wall. It was a road of dangerous curves and corners +which needed careful negotiation even in broad daylight, and this was a +black, moonless and starless night. But Copplestone had impressed upon +his driver that he must get to Scarhaven as quickly as possible, and he +and his companion were both so full of their purpose that they paid no +heed to the perpetual danger which they ran as the car tore round +propections and down deep cuts at a speed which at other times they would +have considered suicidal. And at just under the hour they ran on the +level stretch by the "Admiral's Arms" and looking down at the harbour saw +the lighted port-holes of some ship which lay against the south quay, and +on the quay itself men moving about in the glare of lamps. + +"What's going on there?" said Vickers. "Late for a vessel to be loading +at a place like this where time's of no great importance." + +Copplestone offered no suggestion. He was hotly impatient to reach the +cottage, and as soon as the car drew up at its gate he burst out, bade +the driver wait, and ran eagerly up to the path to Audrey, who opened the +door as he advanced. In another second he had both her hands in his +own--and kept them there. + +"You're all right?" he demanded in tones which made clear to the girl how +anxious he had been. "There's nothing wrong--with you or your +mother--personally, I mean? You see, I didn't get your wire until this +afternoon, and then I raced off as quick--" + +"I know," she said, responding a little to the pressure of his hands. "I +understand. You may be sure I shouldn't have wired if I hadn't felt it +absolutely necessary. Somebody was wanted--and you'd made me promise, and +so--Yes," she continued, drawing back as Vickers came up, "we are all +right, personally, but--there's something very wrong indeed somewhere. +Will you both come in and see mother?" + +Mrs. Greyle, looking worn and ill, appeared just then in the hall, and +called to them to come in. She preceded them into the parlour and turned +to the young men as soon as Audrey closed the door. + +"I'm more thankful to see you gentlemen than I've ever been in my +life--for anything!" she said. "Something is happening here which needs +the attention of men--we women can't do anything. Let me tell you what it +is. Yesterday morning, very early the Squire's steam-yacht, the _Pike_, +was brought into the inner harbour and moored against the quay just +opposite the park gates. We, of course, could see it, and as we knew he +had gone away we wondered why it was brought in there. After it had been +moored, we saw that preparations of some sort were being made. Then +men--estate labourers--began coming down from the house, carrying +packing-cases, which were taken on board. And while this was going on, +Mrs. Peller, the housekeeper, came hurrying here, in a state of great +consternation. She said that a number of men, sailors and estate men, +were packing up and removing all the most valuable things in the +house--the finest pictures, the old silver, the famous collection of +china which Stephen John Greyle made--and spent thousands upon thousands +of pounds in making!--the rarest and most valuable books out of the +library--all sorts of things of real and great value. Everything was +being taken down to the _Pike_--and the estate carpenter, who was in +charge of all this, said it was by the Squire's orders, and produced to +Mrs. Peller his written authority. Of course, Mrs. Peller could do +nothing against that, but she came hurrying to tell us, because she, like +everybody else, is much exercised by these recent events. And so Audrey +and I pocketed our pride, and went to see Peter Chatfield. But Peter +Chatfield, like his master, had gone! He had left home the previous +evening, and his house was locked up." + +Copplestone and Vickers exchanged glances, and the young solicitor signed +Mrs. Greyle to proceed. + +"Then," she added, "to add to that, as we came away from Chatfield's +house, we met Mr. Elkin, the bank-manager from Norcaster. He had come +over in a motor-car, to see me--privately. He wanted to tell me--in +relation to all these things--that within the last few days, the Squire +and Peter Chatfield had withdrawn from the bank the very large balances +of two separate accounts. One was the Squire's own account, in his +name--the other was an estate account, on which Chatfield could draw. In +both cases the balances withdrawn were of very large amount. Of course, +as Mr. Elkin pointed out, it was all in order, and no objection could be +raised. But it was unusual, for a large balance had always existed on +both these accounts. And, Mr. Elkin added, so many strange rumours are +going about Norcaster and the district, that he felt seriously uneasy, +and thought it his duty to see me at once. And now--what is to be done? +The house is being stripped of the best part of its valuables, and in my +opinion when that yacht sails it will be for some foreign port. What +other object can there be in taking these things away? Of course, as +nothing is entailed, and there are no heirlooms, everything is absolutely +the Squire's property, so--" + +Copplestone, who had been realizing the serious significance of these +statements, saw that it was time to speak, if energetic methods were to +be taken at once. + +"I'd better tell you the truth," he said interrupting Mrs. Greyle. "I +might have told you, Vickers, as we came along, but I decided to wait, +until we got here and found out how things were. Mrs. Greyle, the man you +speak of as the Squire, is no more the owner of Scarhaven than I am! He +is not Marston Greyle at all. The real Marston Greyle who came over from +America, died the day after he landed, in lodgings at Bristol to which +Peter Chatfield and his daughter had taken him, and he is buried in a +Bristol cemetery under the name of Mark Grey; Gilling and I found that +out during these last few days. It's an absolute fact. So the man who has +been posing here as the rightful owner is--an impostor!" + +A dead silence followed this declaration. The mother and daughter after +one long look at Copplestone turned and looked at each other. But +Vickers, quick to realize the situation, started from his seat, with +evident intention of doing something. + +"That's--the truth?" he exclaimed, turning to Copplestone. "No possible +flaw in it?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "It's sheer fact." + +"Then in that case," said Vickers, "Miss Greyle is the owner of +Scarhaven, of everything in the house, of every stick, stone and pebble, +about the place! And we must act at once. Miss Greyle, you will have to +assert yourself. You must do what I tell you to do. You must get ready at +once--this minute!--and come down with me and Mrs. Greyle to that yacht +and stop all these proceedings. In our presence you must lay claim to +everything that's been taken from the house--yes, and to the yacht +itself. Come, let's hurry!" + +Audrey hesitated and looked at Mrs. Greyle. + +"Very well," she said quietly. "But--not my mother." + +"No need!" said Vickers. "You will have us with you." + +Audrey hurried from the room, and Mrs. Greyle turned anxiously to +Vickers. + +"What shall you do?" she asked. + +"Warn all concerned," answered Vickers, with a snap of the jaw which +showed Copplestone that he was a man of determination. "Warn them, if +necessary, that the man they have known as Marston Greyle is an impostor, +and that everything they are handling belongs to Miss Greyle. The +Scarhaven people know me, of course--there ought not to be any great +difficulty with them--and as regards the yacht people--" + +"You know," interrupted Mrs. Greyle, "that this man--the impostor--has +made himself very popular with the people here? You saw how they cheered +him after the inquest? You don't think there is danger in Audrey going +down there?" + +"Wouldn't it be enough if you and I went?" suggested Copplestone. "It's +very late to drag Miss Greyle out." + +"I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary," said Vickers. "If your +story is true--I mean, of course, since it is true--Miss Greyle is +owner and mistress, and she must be on the spot. It's all we can do, +anyway," he continued, as Audrey, wrapped in a big ulster, came back to +the parlour. "Even now we may be too late. And if that yacht once sails +away from here--" + +There were signs that the yacht's departure was imminent when they went +down to the south quay and came abreast of her. The lights on the shore +were being extinguished; the estate labourers were gone; only two or +three sailors were busy with ropes and gear. And Vickers hurried his +little party up a gangway and on to the deck. A hard-faced, keen-eyed, +man, evidently in authority, came forward. + +"Are you the captain of this vessel?" demanded Vickers in tones of +authority. "You are? I am Mr. Vickers, solicitor, of Norcaster. I give +you formal warning that the man you have known as Marston Greyle is +not Marston Greyle at all, but an impostor. All the property which you +have removed from the house, and now have on this vessel, belongs to +this lady, Miss Audrey Greyle, Lady of the Manor of Scarhaven. It is +at your peril that you move it, or that you cause this vessel to +leave this harbour. I claim the vessel and all that is on it on behalf +of Miss Greyle." + +The man addressed listened in silent attention, and showed no sign of any +surprise. As soon as Vickers had finished he turned, hurried down a +stairway, remained below for a few minutes, and came up again. + +"Will you kindly step this way, Miss Greyle and gentlemen?" he said +politely. "You must remember that I am only a servant. If you will come +down--" + +He led them down the stairs, along a thickly-carpeted passage, and opened +the door of a lighted saloon. All unthinking, the three stepped in--to +hear the door closed and locked behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + + +Vickers sprang back at that door as the sharp click of the turning key +caught his ear, and Copplestone, preceding him and following Audrey, who +had advanced fearlessly into the cabin, pulled himself up with a sudden, +sickening sense of treachery. The two young men looked at each other, and +a dead silence fell on them and the girl. Then Vickers laid his hand on +the door and shook it. + +"Locked in!" he muttered with a queer glance at his companions. "What +does that mean?" + +"Nothing good!" growled Copplestone who was secretly cursing his own +folly in allowing Audrey to leave the quay. "We're trapped!--that's what +it means. Why we're trapped isn't a question that matters very much under +the circumstances--the serious thing is that we certainly are trapped." + +Vickers turned to Audrey. + +"My fault!" he said contritely. "All my fault! But I meant it for the +best--it was the thing to do--and who on earth could have foreseen this. +Look here!--we've got to think pretty quick, Copplestone, that captain, +now? Has he done this on his own hook, or--is there somebody on board +who's at the top of things?" + +"I don't see any good in thinking quick, or asking one's self +questions," replied Copplestone. "We're locked in here. We've got Miss +Greyle into this mess--and her mother will be anxious and alarmed. I wish +we'd let this confounded yacht go where it liked before ever we'd--" + +"Don't!" broke in Audrey. "That's no good. Mr. Vickers certainly did what +he felt to be best--and who could foresee this? And I'm not afraid--and +as for my mother, if we don't return very soon, why, she knows where we +are and there are police in Scarhaven, and--" + +"How long are we going to be where we are?" asked Copplestone, grimly. +"The thing's moving!" + +There was no doubt of that very pertinent fact. Somewhere beneath them, +machinery began to work; above them there was hurry and scurry as ropes +and stays were thrown off. But so beautifully built was that yacht, and +so almost sound-proof the luxurious cabin in which they were prisoners, +that little of the noise of departure came to them. However, there was no +mistaking the increasing throb of the engines nor the fact that the +vessel was moving, and Vickers suddenly sprang on a lounge seat and moved +away a silken screen which curtained a port-hole window. + +"There's no doubt of that!" he exclaimed. + +"We're going through the outer harbour--we've passed the light at the end +of the quay. What do these people mean by carrying us out to sea? +Copplestone!--with all submission to you--whether it's relevant or not, I +wish we knew more of that captain chap!" + +"I know him," remarked Audrey. "I have been on this yacht before. His +name is Andrius. He's an American--or American-Norwegian, or something +like that." + +"And the crew?" asked Vickers. "Are they Scarhaven men?" + +"No," replied Audrey. "There isn't a Scarhaven man amongst them. My +cousin--I mean--you know whom I mean--bought this yacht just as it stood, +from an American millionaire early this spring, and he took over the +captain, crew, and everything." + +"So--we're in the hands of strangers!" exclaimed Vickers, while +Copplestone dug his hands into his pockets and began to stamp about. "I +wish I'd known all that before we came on board." + +"But what harm can they do us?" said Audrey, incredulous of danger. "You +don't suppose they'll want to murder us, surely! My own belief is that we +never should have been locked up here if you hadn't let them know how +much we know, Mr. Vickers." + +"Let them--I don't understand," said Vickers, turning a puzzled +glance on her. + +"Why," replied Audrey with a laugh which convinced both men of her +fearlessness, "you let the captain see that we know a great deal and he +thereupon ran downstairs--presumably to tell somebody of what you said. +And--here's the result!" + +"You think, then--" suggested Vickers. "You think that--" + +"I think the somebody--whoever he is--wants to know exactly how much we +do know," answered Audrey with another laugh. "And so we're being carried +off to be cross-examined--at somebody's leisure. Let's hope they won't +use thumb-screws and that sort of thing. And anyway," she continued, +looking from one to the other, "hadn't we better make the best of it? +We're going out to sea, that's certain--here's the bar!" + +A sudden lifting of the thickly-carpeted floor, a dip to the left, +another to the right, a plunge forward, a drop back, then a settling down +to a steady persistent roll, showed her companions that Audrey was +right--the yacht was crossing the bar which lay at the mouth of +Scarhaven Bay. Outside that lay the North Sea, and Copplestone suddenly +wondered which course the vessel was going to take, north, east, or +south. But before he could put his thoughts into words, the door was +suddenly unlocked, and Captain Andrius, suave, polite, deprecating, +walked into the cabin. + +"A thousands pardons--and two words of explanation!" he exclaimed, as he +executed a deep bow to his lady prisoner. "First--Miss Greyle, I have +sent a message to your mother that you are quite safe and will join her +in due course. Second--this is merely a temporary detention--you shall +all be landed--all in good time." + +Vickers as a legal man, assumed his most professional air. + +"Do you know what you are rendering yourself liable to, sir, by detaining +us at all?" he demanded. "An action--" + +Captain Andrius bowed again; again assumed his deprecating smile. He +waved the two men to seats and himself took a chair with his back to the +door by which he entered. + +"My dear sir!" he said courteously. "You forget that I am but a servant. +I am under orders. However, I give my word that no harm shall come to +you, that you shall be treated with every polite attention, and that you +shall be landed." + +"When--and where?" asked Vickers. + +"Tomorrow, certainly," replied Andrius. "As to where, I cannot exactly +say. But--where you will be in touch with--shall we say civilization?" + +He showed a set of fine white teeth in such a curious fashion as he spoke +the last word that Copplestone and Vickers instinctively glanced at each +other, with a mutual instinct of distrust. + +"Won't do!" said Vickers. "I insist that you put about and go into +Scarhaven again." + +Andrius spread out his open palms and shook his head "Impossible!" he +answered. "We are already _en voyage_. Time presses. Be +placable--tomorrow you shall be released." + +Vickers was about to answer this appeal with an angry refusal to be +either placable or tractable, but he suddenly stopped the words which +rose to his tongue. There was something in all this--some mystery, some +queer game, and it might be worth while to find it out. + +"Where are you taking this yacht?" he demanded brusquely. "Come, now!" + +"I am under--orders," said Andrius, with another smile. + +"Whose orders?" persisted Vickers. "Look here--it's no use trying to +burke facts. Who's on board this vessel? You know what I mean. Is the man +who calls himself Squire of Scarhaven here?" + +Andrius shook his head quietly and gave his questioner a shrewd glance. + +"Mr. Vickers," he said meaningly, "I know you! You are a lawyer--though a +young one. Lawyers are guarded in their speech. Now--we are alone--we +four. No one can hear anything we say. Tell me--is that right what you +said to me on deck, that the man who has called himself Marston Greyle is +not so at all?" + +"Absolutely right," replied Vickers. + +"An impostor?" demanded Andrius. + +"He is!" + +"And never had any right to--anything?" + +"No right whatever!" + +"Then," said Andrius, with a polite inclination of his head and shoulders +to Audrey, "the truth is that everything of the Scarhaven property +belongs to this lady?" + +"Everything!" exclaimed Vickers. "Land, houses, furniture, +valuables--everything. All the property which you have on this +yacht--pictures, china, silver, books, objects of art, as I am +instructed, removed from the house--are Miss Greyle's sole property. Once +more I warn you of what you are doing, and I demand that you immediately +return to Scarhaven. This very yacht belongs to Miss Greyle!" + +Andrius nodded, looked fixedly at the young solicitor for a moment, and +then rose. + +"I am obliged to you," he said. "That, of course, is your claim. But--the +other one, eh? It seems to me there might be something to be said for +that, you know? So, all I can do is to renew my assurance of polite +attention, offer you our best accommodation--which is luxurious--and +promise to land you--somewhere--tomorrow. Miss Greyle, we have two women +servants on board--I shall send them to you at once and they will attend +to you--please consider them your own. You, gentlemen, will perhaps join +me in my quarters?--I have two spare cabins close to my own which are at +your service." + +Copplestone and Vickers looked at each other and at Audrey--undecided and +vaguely suspicious. But Audrey was evidently neither alarmed nor +uneasy--she nodded a ready assent to the Captain's proposal. + +"Thank you, Captain Andrius," she said coolly. "I know the two women. You +may send one of them. Do what he suggests," she murmured, turning to +Copplestone, who had moved close to her, "I'm not one scrap afraid of +anything--and it's only until tomorrow. He'll land us--I'm sure of it." + +There was nothing for it, then, but to follow Andrius to his own +comfortable quarters. There, utterly ignoring the strange circumstances +under which they met, he played the part of host with genuine desire to +make his guests feel at ease, and when he showed them to their berths, +a little later, he emphasized his assurance of their absolute safety +and liberty. + +"You see, gentlemen, your movements are untrammelled," he said. "You can +go in and out of your quarters as you like. You can go where you like on +the yacht tomorrow morning. There is no restriction on you. Sleep +well--and tomorrow you are all free again, eh?" + +Copplestone got a word or two with Vickers--alone. + +"What do you think?" he muttered. "Shall you sleep?" + +"My impression--for I know what you're thinking about," said Vickers, "is +that Miss Greyle's as safe as if she were in her mother's house! She's no +fear, herself, anyway. There's some mystery, somewhere, and I can't make +this Andrius man out at all, but I believe all's right as regards +personal safety. There's Miss Greyle's cabin, anyhow, right opposite +ours--and I can keep an eye and an ear open even when I'm asleep!" + +But in spite of these assurances, Copplestone slept little. He was up, +dressed, and on deck by sunrise, staring around him in a fresh autumn +morning to get some notion of the yacht's whereabouts, and he had just +managed to make out a mere filmy line of land far to the westward when +Audrey appeared at his elbow. There was no one of any importance near +them and Copplestone impulsively seized her hands. + +"I've scarcely slept!" he blurted out, gazing intently at her. +"Couldn't! Blaming myself for letting you get into this confounded mess! +You're all right?" + +Audrey responded a little to the pressure of his hands before she +disengaged her own. + +"It wasn't your fault," she said. "It's nobody's fault. Don't blame Mr. +Vickers--he couldn't foresee this. Yes, I'm all right--and I slept like a +top. What's the use of worrying? Do you know," she went on, lowering her +voice and drawing nearer to him, "I believe something's going to come of +all this--something that'll clear matters up once and for all." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone, wonderingly. "What makes you think that?" + +"Don't know--instinct, intuitiveness, perhaps," she answered. +"Besides--I'm dead certain we're not the only people--I don't mean crew +and Captain--aboard the _Pike_. I believe there's somebody else. There's +some mystery, anyway. Keep that to yourself," she said as Andrius and +Vickers appeared from below. "Don't show any sign--wait to see how things +turn out." + +She turned away from him to greet the other two as unconcernedly as if +there were nothing unusual in the situation, and Copplestone marvelled at +her coolness. He himself, not so well equipped with patience, was +feverishly anxious to know how things would turn out, and when. But the +day went by and nothing happened, except that Captain Andrius was very +polite to his guests and that the yacht, a particularly fast sailer, +continued to make headway through the grey seas, sometimes in bare sight +of land and sometimes out of it. To one or two inquiries as to the +fulfilment of his promise Andrius made no more answer than a reassuring +nod; once when Vickers pressed him, he replied curtly that the day was +not yet over. Vickers drew Copplestone aside on hearing that. + +"Look here!" he said. "I've been reckoning things up as near as I can. I +make out that we've been running due north, or north-east ever since we +left Scarhaven last night. I reckon, too, that this vessel makes quite +twenty-two or three, knots an hour. We must be off the extreme north-east +coast of Scotland. And night's coming on!" + +"There are ports there that he can put into," said Copplestone. "The +thing is--will he keep his promise? Remember!--he must know very well +that if we once land anywhere within reach of a telegraph office, we can +wire particulars about him to every port in the world if we like--and +he's got to go somewhere, eventually, you know." + +Vickers shook his head as if this were a problem he would give up. It was +beyond him, he said, to even guess at what Andrius was after, or what was +going to happen. And nothing did happen until, as the three prisoners sat +at dinner with their polite gaoler, the _Pike_ came to a sudden stop and +hung gently on a quiet sea. Andrius looked up and smiled. + +"A pleasant night for your landing," he remarked. "Don't hurry--but there +will be a boat ready for you as soon as dinner is over." + +"And where are we?" asked Vickers. + +"That, my dear sir, you will see when you land." replied Andrius. +"You will, at any rate, be quite comfortable for the night, and in +the morning, I think, you will be able to journey--wherever you wish +to go to." + +There was something in the smile which accompanied the last words which +made Copplestone uneasy. But the prospect of regaining their liberty was +too good--he kept his own counsel. And half-an-hour later, he, Audrey and +Vickers, stood on deck, looking down on a boat alongside, in which were +two or three of the crew and a man holding a lanthorn. In front was the +dark sea, and ahead a darker mass which they took to be land. + +"You won't tell us what this place is?" said Vickers as he was about to +follow the others into the boat. "It's on the mainland, of course?" + +"The morning light, my good sir, will show you everything," replied +Andrius. "Be content that I have kept my promise--you have come off +luckily," he added with a significant look. + +Vickers felt a strange sense of alarm as the boat left the yacht. He +noticed two or three suspicious circumstances. As soon as they got away, +he saw that all the yacht's lights had been or were being darkened or +entirely obscured; at a dozen boat lengths they could see her no more. +Then a boat, swiftly pulled, passed them in the darkness, evidently +coming from the shore to which they were being taken: it, too, carried no +light. Nor were there any lights on the shore itself; all there was in +utter blackness. They were on the shingle within a quarter of an hour; +within a minute or two the yachtsmen had helped all three on to the +beach, had carried up certain boxes and packages which had been placed in +the boat, had set down the lighted lanthorn, jumped into the boat again +and vanished in the darkness. And in the silence, broken only by the drip +of water from the retreating oars, and by the scarcely-noticed ripple of +the waves, Audrey voiced exactly what her two companions felt. + +"Andrius has kept his word--and cheated us! We're stranded!" + +From somewhere out of the darkness came a groan--deep and heartfelt, as +if in entire agreement with Audrey's declaration. That it proceeded from +a human being was evident enough, and Vickers hastily snatched up the +lanthorn and strode in the direction from which it came. And there, +seated on the shingle, his whole attitude one of utter dejection and +misery, the three castaways found a sharer of their sorrows--Peter +Chatfield! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MAROONED + + +To each of these three young people this was the most surprising moment +which life had yet afforded. It was an astonishing thing to find a fellow +mortal there at all, but to find that mortal was the Scarhaven estate +agent was literally short of marvellous. What was also astounding was to +see Chatfield's only too evident distress. Swathed in a heavy, +old-fashioned ulster, with a plaid shawl round his shoulders and a +deerstalker hat tied over head and ears with a bandanna handkerchief he +sat on the beach nursing his knees, slightly rocking his fleshy figure to +and fro and moaning softly with the regularity of a minute bell. His eyes +were fixed on the dark expanse of waters at his feet; his lips, when he +was not moaning, worked incessantly; as he rocked his body he beat his +toes on the shingle. Clearly, Chatfield was in a bad way, mentally. That +he was not so badly off materially was made evident by the presence of a +half-open kit bag which obviously contained food and a bottle of spirits. + +For any notice that he took of them, Audrey, Vickers, and Copplestone +might have been no more than the pebbles on which they stood. In spite of +the fact that Vickers shone the light on his fat face, and that three +inquisitive pairs of eyes were trained on it, Chatfield continued to +stare moodily and disgustedly out to sea and to take no notice of his +gratuitous company. And so utterly extraordinary was his behaviour and +attitude that Audrey suddenly and almost involuntarily stepped forward +and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Mr. Chatfield!" she exclaimed. "What 's the matter? Are you ill?" + +The emphasis which she gave to the last word roused some quality of +Chatfield's subtle intellect. He flashed a swift look at his +questioner--a look of mingled contempt and derision, spiced with a dash +of sneering humour. And he found his tongue. + +"Ill!" he snorted. "Ill! She asks if I'm ill--me, a respectable man +what's maltreated and robbed before his own eyes by them as ought to fall +in humble gratitude at his feet! Ill!--aye, ill with something that's +worse nor any bodily aches and pains--let me tell you that! But not done +for, neither!" + +"He's all right," said Copplestone. "That's a flash of his old spirit. +You're all right, Chatfield, aren't you? And who's robbed and maltreated +you--and how and when--especially when--did you come here?" + +Chatfield looked up at his old assailant with a glare of dislike. + +"You keep your tongue to yourself, young feller!" he growled. "I +shouldn't never ha' been here at all if it hadn't been for the likes of +you--a pokin' your nose where it isn't wanted. It's 'cause o' you three +comin' aboard o' that there yacht last night as I am here--a castaway!" + +"Well, we're castaways, too, Mr. Chatfield," said Audrey. "And we can't +help believing that it's all your naughty conduct that's made us so. Why +don't you tell the truth?" + +Chatfield uttered a few grumpy and inarticulate sounds. + +"It'll be a bad day for more than one when I do that--as I will," he +muttered presently. "Oh aye, I 'll tell the truth--when it suits me! But +I'll be out o' this first." + +"You'll never get out of this first or last, until you tell us how you +got in," said Vickers, assuming a threatening tone. "You'd better tell us +all about it, you know. Come now!--you know me and my firm." + +Chatfield laughed grimly and shook his much-swathed head. + +"I ought to," he said. "I've given 'em more than one nice job and said +naught about their bills o' costs, neither, my lad. You keep a civil +tongue in your mouth--I ain't done for yet, noways! You let me get off +this here place, wherever it is, and within touch of a telegraph office, +and I'll make somebody suffer!" + +"Andrius, of course," said Copplestone. "Come now, he put you ashore +before he sent us off, didn't he? Why don't you own up?" + +"Never you mind, young feller," retorted Chatfield. "I was feeling very +cast down, but I'm better. I've something that'll keep me going--revenge! +I'll show 'em, once I'm off this place--I will so!" + +"Look here, Chatfield," said Vickers. "Do you know where this place is? +What is it? Is it on the mainland, or is it an island, or where are we? +It's all very well talking about getting off, but when and how are we to +get off? Why don't you be sensible and tell us what you know?" + +The estate agent arose slowly and ponderously, drawing his shawl about +him. He looked out seawards. In that black waste the steady beat of the +yacht's propellers could be clearly heard, but not a gleam of light came +from her, and it was impossible to decide in which direction she was +going. And Chatfield suddenly shook his fist at the throbbing sound which +came in regular pulsations through the night. + +"Never mind!" he said sneeringly. "We aren't at the North Pole +neither--I ain't a seafaring man, but I've a good idea of where we are! +And perhaps there won't be naught to take me off when it's daylight, and +perhaps there won't be no telegraphs near at hand, nor within a hundred +miles, and perhaps there ain't such a blessed person as that there +Marconi and his wireless in the world--oh, no! Just you wait, my fine +fellers--that's all!" + +"He's not addressing us, Vickers," said Copplestone. "You're decidedly +better, Chatfield--you're quite better. The notion of revenge and of +circumvention has come to you like balm. But you'd a lot better tell us +who you're referring to, and why you were put ashore. Listen, +Chatfield!--there's property of your own on that yacht, eh? That it? +Come, now?" + +Chatfield gave his questioner a look of indignant scorn. He stooped for +the kit-bag, picked it up, and turned away. + +"I don't want to have naught to do with you," he remarked over his +shoulder. "You keep yourselves to yourselves, and I'll keep myself to +myself. If it hadn't been for what you blabbed out last night, them +ungrateful devils 'ud never have had such ideas put into their heads!" + +As if he knew his way, Chatfield plodded heavily up the beach and was +lost in the darkness, and the three left behind stood helplessly staring +at each other. For a long time there was silence, broken only by the +agent's heavy tread on the shingle--at last Vickers spoke. + +"I think I can see through all this," he said. "Chatfield's cryptic +utterances were somewhat suggestive. 'Robbed'--'maltreated'--'them as +ought to have fallen in humble gratitude at his feet'--'vengeance'-- +'revenge'--'Marconi telegrams'--'ungrateful devils'--ah, I see it! +Chatfield had associates on the _Pike_--probably the impostor himself +and Andrius--probably, too, he had property of his own, as you suggested +to him, Copplestone. The whole gang was doubtless off with their loot to +far quarters of the globe. Very good--the other members have shelved +Chatfield. They've done with him. But--not if he knows it! That man will +hunt the _Pike_ and her people--whoever they are--relentlessly when he +gets off this." + +"I wish we knew what it is that we're on!" said Copplestone. + +"Impossible till daybreak," replied Vickers. "But I've an idea--this is +probably one of the seventy-odd islands of the Orkneys: I've sailed round +here before. If I'm right, it's most likely one of the outlying and +uninhabited ones. Andrius--or his controlling power--has dropped us--and +Chatfield--here, knowing that we may have to spend a few days on this +island before we succeed in getting off. Those few days will mean a great +deal to the _Pike_. She can be run into some safe harbourage on this +coast, given a new coat of paint and a new name, and be off before we can +do anything to stop her. I allow Chatfield to be right in this--that my +perhaps too hasty declaration to Andrius revealed to that gentleman how +he could make off with other people's property." + +"Nothing will make me believe that Andrius is the solely responsible +person for this last development," said Copplestone, moodily. "There were +other people on board--cleverly concealed. And what are we going to do?" + +Audrey had stepped away from the circle of light made by the lanthorn and +was gazing steadily in the direction which Chatfield had taken. + +"Those are cliffs, surely," she said presently. "Hadn't we better go up +the beach and see if we can't find some shelter until morning? +Fortunately we're all warmly clad, and Andrius was considerate enough to +throw rugs and things into the boat, as well as provisions. Come +along!--after all, we're not so badly off. And we have the satisfaction +of knowing that we can keep Chatfield under observation. Remember that!" + +But in the morning, when the first gleam of light came across the sea, +and Vickers, leaving his companions to prepare some breakfast from the +store of provisions which had been sent ashore with them, set out to make +a first examination of their surroundings, the agent was not to be seen. +What was to be seen was a breach of rock, sand, shingle, not a mile in +length, lying at the foot of high cliffs, and on the grey sea in front +not a sign of a sail, nor a wisp of smoke from a passing steamer. The +apparent solitude and isolation of the place was as profound as the +silence which overhung everything. + +Vickers made his way up the cliffs to their highest point and from its +summit took a leisurely view of his surroundings. He saw at once that +they were on an island, and that it was but one of many which lay spread +out over the sea towards the north and the west. It was a wedge-shaped +island this, and the cliffs on which he stood and the beach beneath +formed the widest side of it; from thence its lines drew away to a point +in the distance which he judged to be two miles off. Between him and that +point lay a sloping expanse of rough land, never cultivated since +creation, whereon there were vast masses of rock and boulder but no sign +of human life. No curling column of smoke went up from hut or cottage; +his ears caught neither the bleating of sheep nor the cry of +shepherd--all was still as only such places can be still. Nor could he +perceive any signs of life on the adjacent islands--which, to be sure, +were not very near. From the sea mists which wrapped one of them he saw +projecting the cap of a mountainous hill--that hill he recognized as +being on one of the principal islands of the group, and he then knew that +he and his companions had been set down on one of the outlying islands +which, from its position, was not in the immediate way of passing vessels +nor likely to be visited by fishermen. + +He was turning away from the top of the cliff after a long and careful +inspection, when he caught sight of a man's figure crossing the rocky +slope between him and this far-off point. That, he said to himself, was +Chatfield. Did Chatfield know of any place at that point visited by +fishing craft from the other islands? Had Chatfield ever been in the +Orkneys before? Was there any method in his wanderings? Or was he, too, +merely examining his surroundings--considering which was the likeliest +part of the island from which to attract attention? In the midst of these +speculation a sudden resolution came to him--one or other of the three +must keep an eye on Chatfield. Night or day, Chatfield must be watched. +And having already seen that Copplestone and Audrey had an unmistakable +liking for each other's society and would certainly not object to being +left together, he determined to watch Chatfield himself. Hurrying down +the cliffs, he hastily explained the situation to his companions, took +some food in his hands, and set out to follow the agent wherever he went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE OLD HAND + + +Half-an-hour later, when Vickers regained the top of the cliff and once +more looked across the island towards the far-off point, the figure which +he had previously seen making for it had turned back, and was plodding +steadily across the coarse grass and rock-strewn moorland in his own +direction. Chatfield had evidently taken a bird's eye view of the +situation from the vantage point of the slope and had come to the +conclusion that the higher part of the island was the most likely point +from which to attract attention. He came steadily forward, a big, +lumbering figure in the light mist, and Vickers as he went on to meet him +eyed him with a lively curiosity, wondering what secrets lay carefully +locked up in the man's heart and what happened on the _Pike_ that made +its captain or its owner bundle Chatfield out of it like a box of bad +goods for which there was no more use. And as he speculated, they met, +and Vickers saw at once that the old fellow's mood had changed during the +night. An atmosphere of smug oiliness sat upon Chatfield in the freshness +of the morning, and he greeted the young solicitor in tones which were +suggestive of a chastened spirit. + +"Morning, Mr. Vickers," he said. "A sweetly pretty spot it is that we +find ourselves in, sir--nevertheless, one's affairs sometimes makes us +long to quit the side of beauty, however much we would tarry by it! In +plain words, Mr. Vickers, I want to get out o' this. And I've been +looking round, and my opinion is that the best thing we can do is to +start as big a fire as we can find stuff for on yon bluff and keep +a-feeding on it. In the meantime, while you're considering of that, I'll +burn something of my own--I'm weary." + +He dropped down on a convenient boulder of limestone, settled his big +frame comfortably, and producing a pipe and a tobacco pouch, proceeded to +smoke. Vickers himself took another boulder and looked inquisitively at +his strange companion. He felt sure that Chatfield was up to something. + +"You say 'we' now," he remarked suddenly. "Last night you said you didn't +want to have anything to do with us. We were to keep to ourselves, and--" + +"Well, well, Mr. Vickers," broke in Chatfield. "One says things at one +time that one wouldn't say at another, you know. Facts is facts, sir, and +Providence has made us companions in distress. I've naught against +you--nor against the girl--as for t'other young man, he's of a +interfering nature--but I forgive him--he's young. I don't bear no ill +will--things being as they are. I've had time to reflect since last +night--and I don't see no reason why Miss Greyle and me shouldn't come to +terms--through you." + +Vickers lighted his own pipe, and took some time over it. + +"What are you after, Chatfield?" he asked at length. "Something, of +course. You say you want to come to terms with Miss Greyle. That, of +course, is because you know very well that Miss Greyle is the legal owner +of Scarhaven, and that--" + +Chatfield waved his pipe. + +"I don't!" he answered, with what seemed genuine eagerness. "I don't know +naught of the sort. I tell you, Mr. Vickers, I do _not_ know that the man +what we've known as the Squire of Scarhaven for a year gone by is _not_ +the rightful Squire--I do not! Fact, sir! But"--he lowered his voice, and +his sly eyes became slyer and craftier--"but I won't deny that during +this last week or two I may have had my suspicions aroused, that there +was something wrong--I don't deny that, Mr. Vickers." + +Vickers heard this with amazement. Young as he was, he had had various +dealings with Peter Chatfield, and he had an idea that he knew something +of him, subtle old fellow though he was, and he believed that Chatfield +was now speaking the truth. But, in that case, what of Copplestone's +revelation about the Falmouth and Bristol affair and the dead man? He +thought rapidly, and then determined to take a strong line. + +"Chatfield!" he said. "You're trying to bluff me. It won't do. Things +are known. I know 'em! I'll be candid with you--the time's come for +that. I'll tell you what I know--it'll all have to come out. You know +very well that the real Marston Greyle's dead. You were with him when he +died. What's more, you buried him at Bristol under the name of Mark +Grey. Hang it all, man, what's the use of lying about it?--you know +that's all true!" + +He was watching Chatfield's big face keenly, and he was astonished to see +that his dramatic impeachment produced no more effect than a slightly +superior smile. Instead of being floored, Chatfield was distinctly +unimpressed. + +"Aye!" he said, reflectively. "Aye, I expected to hear that. That's +Copplestone's work, of course--I knew he was some sort of detective as +soon as I got speech with him. His work and that there Sir Cresswell +Oliver's as is making a mountain out of a molehill about his brother, +who, of course, broke his neck quite accidental, poor man, and of that +London lawyer--Petherton. Aye--aye--but all the same, Mr. Vickers, it +don't alter matters--no-how!" + +"Good heavens, man, what do you mean?" exclaimed Vickers, who was +becoming more and more mystified. "Do you mean to tell me--come, come, +Chatfield, I'm not a fool! Why--Copplestone has found it all out--there's +no need to keep it secret, now. You were with Marston Greyle when he +died--you registered his death as Marston Greyle--and--" + +Chatfield laughed softly and gave his companion a swift glance out of one +corner of his right eye. + +"And put another name on a bit of a tombstone--six months afterwards, +what?" he said quietly. "Mr. Vickers, when you're as old as I am, +you'll know that this here world is as full o' puzzles as yon sea's +full o'fish!" + +Vickers could only stare at his companion in speechless silence after +that. He felt that there was some mystery about which Chatfield +evidently knew a great deal while he knew nothing. The old fellow's +coolness, his ready acceptance of the Bristol facts, his almost +contemptuous brushing aside of them, reduced Vickers to a feeling of +helplessness. And Chatfield saw it, and laughed, and drawing a +pocket-flask out of his garments, helped himself to a tot of +spirits--after which he good-naturedly offered like refreshment to +Vickers. But Vickers shook his head. + +"No, thanks," he said. He continued to stare at Chatfield much as he +might have, stared at the Sphinx if she had been present--and in the end +he could only think of one word. "Well?" he asked lamely. "Well?" + +"As to what, now?" inquired Chatfield with a sly smile. + +"About what you said," replied Vickers. "Miss Greyle, you know. I'm +about thoroughly tied up with all this. You evidently know a lot. Of +course you won't tell! You're devilish deep, Chatfield. But, between you +and me--what do you mean when you say that you don't see why you and Miss +Greyle shouldn't come to terms?" + +"Didn't I say that during this last week or two I'd had my suspicions +about the Squire?" answered Chatfield. "I did. I have had them +suspicions--got 'em stronger than ever since last night. So--what I say +is this. If things should turn out that Miss Greyle's the rightful owner +of Scarhaven, and if I help her to establish her claim, and if I help, +too, to recover them valuables that are on the _Pike_--there's a good +sixty to eighty thousand pounds worth of stuff, silver, china, paintings, +books, tapestry, on that there craft, Mr. Vickers!--if, I say, I do all +that, what will Miss Greyle give me? That's it--in a plain way of +speaking." + +"I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well--you'd +better come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on--now!" + +Copplestone and Audrey, having made a breakfast from the box of +provisions which Andrius had been good enough to send ashore with them, +had climbed to the head of the cliff after Vickers, and they were +presently astonished beyond measure to see him returning with Chatfield +under outward signs which suggested amity if not friendship. They paused +by a convenient nook in the rocks and silently awaited the approach of +these two strangely assorted companions. Vickers, coming near, gave them +a queer and a knowing look. + +"Mr. Chatfield," he said gravely, "has had the night in which to reflect. +Mr. Chatfield desires peaceable relations. Mr. Chatfield doesn't +see--now, having reflected--why he and Miss Greyle shouldn't be on good +terms. Mr. Chatfield desires to discuss these terms. Is that right, +Chatfield?" + +"Quite right, sir," assented the agent. He had been regarding the couple +who faced him benevolently and indulgently, and he now raised his hat to +them. "Servant, ma'am," he said with a bow to Audrey. "Servant, sir," he +continued, with another bow to Copplestone. "Ah--it's far better to be at +peace one with another than to let misunderstandings exist for ever. Mr. +Copplestone, sir, you and me's had words in times past--I brush 'em away, +sir, like that there--the memory's departed! I desire naught but better +feelings. Happen Mr. Vickers'll repeat what's passed between him and me." + +Copplestone stood rooted to the spot with amazement while Vickers hastily +epitomized the recent conversation; his mouth opened and his speech +failed him. But Audrey laughed and looked at Vickers as if Chatfield were +a new sort of entertainment. + +"What do you say to this, Mr. Vickers?" she asked. + +"Well, if you want to know," replied Vickers, "I believe Chatfield when +he says that he does _not_ know that the Squire is _not_ the Squire. May +seem strange, but I do! As a solicitor, I do." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Copplestone, finding his tongue. +"You--believe that!" + +"I've said so," retorted Vickers. + +"Thank you, sir," said Chatfield. "I'm obliged to you. Mr. Copplestone, +sir, doesn't yet understand that there's a deal of conundrum in life. +He'll know better--some day. He'll know, too, that the poet spoke +truthful when he said that things isn't what they seem." + +Copplestone turned angrily on Vickers. + +"Is this a farce?" he demanded. "Good heavens, man! you know what I +told you!" + +"Mr. Chatfield has a version," answered Vickers. "Why not hear it?" + +"On terms, Mr. Vickers," remarked Chatfield. "On terms, sir." + +"What terms?" asked Audrey. "To Mr. Chatfield's personal advantage, +of course." + +Chatfield, who was still the most unconcerned of the group, seated +himself on the rocks and looked at his audience. + +"I've said to Mr. Vickers here that if I help Miss Greyle to the estate, +I ought to be rewarded--handsome," he said. "Mind you, I don't know that +I can, for as I say, I do not know, as a matter of strict fact, that this +man as we've called the Squire, isn't the Squire. But recent events--very +recent events!--has made me suspicious that he isn't, and happen I can do +a good bit--a very good bit--to turning him out. Now, if I help in that +there work, will Miss Greyle continue me in my post of estate agent at +Scarhaven?" + +"Not for any longer than it will take to turn you out of it, Mr. +Chatfield," replied Audrey with an energy and promptitude which +surprised her companions. "So we need not discuss that. You will never +be my agent!" + +"Very good, ma'am--that's quite according to my expectations," said +Chatfield, meekly. "I was always a misunderstood man. However, this here +proposition will perhaps be more welcome. It's always been understood +that I was to have a retiring pension of five hundred pounds per annum. +The family has always promised it--I've letters to prove it. Will Miss +Greyle stand to that if she comes in? I've been a faithful servant for +nigh on to fifty years, Mr. Vickers, as all the neighbourhood is aware." + +"If I come in, as you call it, you shall have your pension," said Audrey. +Chatfield slowly felt in a capacious inner pocket and produced a large +notebook and a fountain pen. He passed them to Vickers. + +"We'll have that there in writing, signed and witnessed," he said. "Put, +if you please, Mr. Vickers, 'I agree that if I come into the Scarhaven +estate, Peter Chatfield shall at once be pensioned off with five hundred +pounds a year, to be paid quarterly. Same to be properly assured to him +for his life.' And then if Miss Greyle'll sign that document, and you +gentlemen'll witness it, I shall consider that henceforth I'm in Miss +Greyle's service. And," he added, with a significant glance all round, "I +shall be a deal more use as a friend nor what I should be as what you +might term an enemy--Mr. Vickers knows that." + +Vickers held a short consultation with Audrey, the result of which was +that the paper was duly signed, Witnessed, and deposited in Chatfield's +pocket. And Chatfield nodded his satisfaction. + +"All right," he said. "Now then, ma'am, and gentlemen, the next thing is +to get away out o' this, and get on the track of them as put us here. +We'd better start a big fire out o' this dry stuff--" + +"But what about these revelations you were going to make?" said Vickers. +"I understood you were to tell us--" + +"Sir," replied Chatfield, "I'll tell and I'll reveal in due course, and +in good order. Events, sir, is the thing! Let me get to the nearest +telegraph office, and we'll have some events, right smart. Let me +attract attention. I've sailed in these seas before. There's steamers +goes out of Kirkwall yonder frequent--we must get hold of one. A +telegraph office!--that's what I want. I'm a-going to set up a +blaze--and I'll set up a blaze elsewhere as soon as I can lay hands on a +bundle o' telegraph forms!" + +He leisurely took off his shawl and overcoat, laid them on a shelf of +rock, and moved away to collect the dry stuff which lay to hand. The +three young people exchanged glances. + +"What's this new mystery?" asked Audrey. + +"All bluff!--some deep game of his own," growled Copplestone. "He's the +most consummate old liar I ever--" + +"You're wrong this time, old chap!" interrupted Vickers. "He's a bad +'un--but he's on our side now--I'm convinced. It is a game he's playing, +and a deep one, and I don't know what it is, but it's for our +benefit--Chatfield's simply transferred his interest and influence to +us--that's all. For his own purposes, of course. And"--he suddenly +paused, gazed seaward, and then jumped to his feet. "Chatfield!" he +called quietly. "You needn't light any fire. Here's a steamer!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE YACHT COMES BACK + + +Chatfield, his arms filled with masses of dried bracken and coarse grass, +turned sharply on hearing Vickers's call and stared hard and long in the +direction which the young solicitor pointed out. His small, crafty eyes +became dilated to their full extent--suddenly they contracted again with +a look of cunning satisfaction, and throwing away his burdens he drew out +a big many-coloured handkerchief and mopped his high forehead as if the +perspiration which burst out were the result of intense mental relief. + +"Didn't I know we should be rescued from this here imprisonment!" he +cried with unctuous joy. "Thought they'd pinned me here for best part of +a week, no doubt, while they could get theirselves quietly away--far +away! But it's my experience 'ut them as has served the Lord's never +deserted, Mr. Vickers, and if you live as long as--" + +"Don't be blasphemous, Chatfield!" said Vickers, curtly. "None of that! +What we'd better think about is the chance of that steamer sighting us. +We'll light that fire, anyway!" + +"She's coming straight on for the island," remarked Copplestone, who had +been narrowly watching the approaching vessel. "So straight that you'd +think she was actually making for it." + +"She'll be some craft bound for Kirkwall," said Vickers, pointing +northward to the main group of islands. "And in that case she'll probably +take this channel on our west; that fire, now! Come on all of you, and +let's make as big a smoke as we can get out of this stuff." + +The weather being calm and the grass and bracken which they heaped +together as dry as tinder, there was little difficulty about raising a +thick column of smoke which presently rose high in the sky. But Audrey, +turning away from the successful result of their labours, suddenly +glanced at Copplestone with a look that challenged an answer to her own +thoughts. They were standing a little apart from the others and she +lowered her voice. + +"I say!" she murmured. "I don't think we need have bothered ourselves to +light that fire. That vessel, whatever it is, is making for us. Look!" + +Copplestone shaded his eyes and stared out across the sea. The steamer +was by that time no more than two or three miles away. But she was coming +towards them in a dead straight line, and as she was accordingly bow on, +and as her top deck and lamps were obscured by clouds of black smoke, +pouring furiously from her funnels, they could make little out of her +appearance. Copplestone's first notion was that she was a naval patrol +boat, or a torpedo destroyer. Whatever she was it seemed certain that she +was heading direct for the island, at that very point on which the +fugitives had been landed the previous night. And it was very evident +that she was in a great hurry to make her objective. + +"I think you're right," he said, turning to Audrey. "But it's strange +that any vessel should be making for an uninhabited island like this. +What--but you've got some notion in your mind?" he broke off suddenly, +seeing her glance at him again. "What is it?" + +Audrey shook her head, with a cautious look at Chatfield. + +"I was wondering if that's the _Pike_?--come back!" she whispered. "And +if it is--why?" + +Copplestone started, and took a longer and keener look at the +vessel. Before he could speak again, Vickers called out cheerily +across the rocks. + +"Come on, you two!" he cried. "She's seen us--she's coming in. They'll +have to send off a boat. Let's get down to the beach, so that they'll +know where there's a safe landing." + +He sprang over the edge of the cliff and hurried down the rough path; +Chatfield, picking up his coat and shawl, prepared to follow him; Audrey +and Copplestone lingered until he, too, had begun to lumber downward. + +"If that is the _Pike_," said Audrey, "there is something--wrong. Whoever +it is that is on the _Pike_ wouldn't come back to take us!" + +"You think there is somebody on the _Pike_--somebody other than Andrius?" +suggested Copplestone. + +"I believe the man who calls himself Marston Greyle was on the _Pike_," +announced Audrey. "I've always thought so. Whether Chatfield knew that +or not, I don't know. My own belief is that Chatfield did know. I believe +Chatfield was in with them, as the saying is. I think they were all +running away with as much of the Scarhaven property as they could lay +hands on and that having got it, they bundled Chatfield out and dumped +him down here, having no further use for him. And, if that's the _Pike_, +and they're returning here, it's because they want Chatfield!" + +Copplestone suddenly recognized that feminine instinct had solved a +problem which masculine reason had so far left unsolved. + +"By gad!" he exclaimed softly. "Then, if that is so, this is merely +another of Chatfield's games. You don't believe him?" + +"I would think myself within approachable distance of lunacy if I +believed a word that Peter Chatfield said," she answered calmly. "Of +course, he is playing a game of his own all through. He shall have his +pension--if I have the power to give it--but believe him--oh, no!" + +"Let's follow them," said Copplestone. "Something's going to happen--if +that is the _Pike_." + +"Look there, then," exclaimed Audrey as they began to descend the cliff. +"Chatfield's already uneasy." + +She pointed to the beach below, where Chatfield, now fully overcoated and +shawled again, had mounted a ridge of rock, and while gazing intently at +the vessel, was exchanging remarks with Vickers, who had evidently said +something which had alarmed him. They caught Chatfield's excited +ejaculations as they hurried over the sand. + +"Don't say that, Mr. Vickers!" he was saying imploringly. "For God's +sake, Mr. Vickers, don't suggest them there sort of thoughts. You make me +feel right down poorly, Mr. Vickers, to say such! It's worse than a bad +dream, Mr. Vickers--no, sir, no, surely you're mistaken!" + +"Bet you a fiver to a halfpenny it's the _Pike_," retorted Vickers. "I +know her lines. Besides she's heading straight here. Copplestone!" he +cried, turning to the advancing couple. "Do you know, I believe that's +the _Pike!_" + +Copplestone gave Audrey's elbow a gentle squeeze. + +"Look at old Chatfield!" he whispered. "By gad!--look at him. Yes," he +called out loudly, "We know it's the _Pike_--we saw that from the top of +the cliffs. She's coming straight in." + +"Oh, yes, it's the _Pike_," exclaimed Audrey. "Aren't you delighted, Mr. +Chatfield." + +The agent suddenly turned his big fat face towards the three young +people, with such an expression of craven fear on it that the sardonic +jest which Copplestone was about to voice died away on his lips. +Chatfield's creased cheeks and heavy jowl had become white as chalk; +great beads of sweat rolled down them; his mouth opened and shut +silently, and suddenly, as he raised his hands and wrung them, his knees +began to quiver. It was evident that the man was badly, terribly +afraid--and as they watched him in amazed wonder his eyes began to +search the shore and the cliffs as if he were some hunted animal seeking +any hole or cranny in which to hide. A sudden swelling of the light wind +brought the steady throb of the oncoming engines to his ears and he +turned on Vickers with a look that made the onlookers start. + +"For goodness sake, Mr. Vickers!" he said in a queer, strained voice. +"For heaven's sake, let's get ourselves away! Mr. Vickers--it ain't safe +for none of us. We'd best to run, sir--let's get to the other side of the +island. There's caves there--places--let's hide till something comes from +the other islands, or till these folks goes away--I tell you it's +dangerous for us to stop here!" + +"We're not afraid, Chatfield," replied Vickers. "What ails you! Why man, +you couldn't be more afraid if you'd murdered somebody! What do you +suppose these people want? You, of course. And you can't escape--if they +want you, they'll search the island till they get you. You've been +deceiving us, Chatfield--there's something you've kept back. Now, what is +it? What have they come back for?" + +"Yes, Mr. Chatfield, what has the _Pike_ come back for?" repeated Audrey, +coming nearer. "Come now--hadn't you better tell?" + +"It is the _Pike_," remarked Copplestone. "Look there! And they're going +to send in a boat. Better be quick, Chatfield." + +The agent turned an ashen face towards the yacht. She had swung round and +come to a halt, and the rattle of a boat being let down came menacingly +to the frightened man's ears. He tittered a deep groan and his eyes again +sought the cliffs. + +"It's not a bit of good, Chatfield," said Vickers. "You can't get away. +Good heavens, man!--what are you so frightened for!" + +Chatfield moaned and drew haltingly nearer to the other three, as if he +found some comfort in their mere presence. + +"It's the money!" he whispered. "The money as was in the Norcaster +Bank--two lots of it. He--the Squire--gave me authority to get out his +lot what was standing in his name, you know--and the other--the estate +lot--that was standing in mine--some fifty thousand pounds in all, Mr. +Vickers. I had it all in gold, packed in sealed chests--and they--those +on board there--thought I took them chests aboard the _Pike_ with me. I +did take chests, d'ye see--but they'd lead in 'em. The real stuff is +hidden--buried--never mind where. And I know what they've come back +for!--they've opened the chests I took on board, and they've found +there's naught but lead. And they want me--me!--me! They'll torture me to +make me tell where the real chests, the money is--torture me! Oh, for +God's sake, keep 'em away from me--help me to hide--help me to get +away--and I'll tell Miss Greyle then where the money's hid, and--oh, +Lord, they're coming! Mr. Vickers--Mr. Vickers--" + +He cast himself bodily at Vickers, as if to clutch him, but Vickers +stepped agilely aside, and Chatfield fell on the sand, where he lay +groaning while the others looked from him to each other. + +"Ah!" said Vickers at last. "So that's it, is it, Chatfield? Trying to +cheat everybody all round, eh? I suppose you'd have told Miss Greyle +later that these people had collared all that gold--and then you'd have +helped yourself to it? And now I know what you were doing on that yacht +when we boarded it--you were one of the gang, and you meant to hook it +with them--" + +"I didn't--I didn't!" screamed Chatfield, beating the sand with his hands +and feet. "I meant to slip away from 'em at a Scotch port we was to call +at, and then--" + +"Then you'd have gone back to the hidden chests and helped +yourself," sneered Vickers. "Chatfield, you're a wicked old +scoundrel, and an unmitigated liar! Give me that paper that Miss +Greyle signed, this instant!" + +"No!" interjected Audrey. "Let him keep it. He'll have trouble enough +presently. It's very evident they mean to have him." + +Chatfield heard the last few words and looked round at the edge of the +surf. The boat had grounded on the shingle, and half a dozen men had +leapt from it and were coming rapidly up the beach. + +"Armed, by George!" exclaimed Copplestone. "No chance for you, +Chatfield!" + +The agent suddenly sprang to his feet with a howl of terror. He gave one +more glance at the men and then he ran, clumsily, but with a speed made +desperate by terror. He made straight for the rocks--and at that, two of +the men, at a word from their leader, raised their rifles and fired. And +with a shriek that set all the echoes ringing, the sea-birds screaming, +and made Audrey clap her hands to her ears, Chatfield threw up his arms +and dropped heavily on the sands. + +"That's sheer murder!" exclaimed Vickers, as the yachtsmen came +running up. "You'll answer for that, you know. Unless you mean to +murder all of us." + +The leader, a smiling-faced fellow, touched his cap respectfully, and +grinned from ear to ear. + +"Lor' bless you, sir, we shot twenty feet over his head!" he said. "He's +too precious to shoot: they want him badly on board there. Now then, men, +pick him up and get him into the boat--he'll come round quick enough when +he finds he hasn't even a pellet in him. Handy, now! Captain's +compliments, sir," he went on, turning again to Vickers, and pointing to +certain things which were being unloaded from the boat, "and as he +understands that no vessel will pass here for two more days, sir, he's +sent you further provisions, some more wraps, and some books and papers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + + +Before Vickers and his companions had recovered from the surprise which +this extraordinary cool message had given them, the men had bundled +Chatfield across the beach and into the boat and were pulling quickly +back to the _Pike_. + +Audrey broke the silence with a ringing laugh. + +"Captain Andrius is certainly the perfection of polite pirates," she +exclaimed. "More food--more wraps--and books and papers! Was any marooned +mariner ever one-half so well treated?" + +"What's the fellow mean about no vessel passing here for two more days?" +growled Copplestone, who was glaring angrily at the yacht. "What's he so +meticulously correct for?" + +"I should say that he's referring to some weekly or bi-weekly steamer +which runs between Kirkwall and the mainland," replied Vickers. +"Well--it's good to know that, anyhow. But wait until the _Pike's_ +vamoosed again, and we'll make up such a column of smoke that it'll be +seen for many a mile. In fact, I'll go and gather a lot of dried stuff +now--you two can drag those boxes and things up the beach and see what +our gaolers have been good enough to send us." + +He went away up the cliffs, and Audrey and Copplestone, once more left +alone, looked at each other and laughed. + +"That's right," said Copplestone. "What I like about you is that you +take things that way." + +"Is it any use taking them any other way?" she asked. "Besides I've never +been at all frightened nor particularly concerned. I've always felt that +we were only put here so that we should be out of the way while our +captors got safely away with their booty, and as regards my mother, I +know her well enough to feel sure that she quickly sized things up, and +that she'll have taken measures of her own. Don't be surprised if we're +rescued through her means or if she has set somebody to work to catch the +predatory _Pike_." + +"Good!" said Copplestone. "But as regards the _Pike_, I wonder if you +observed something during the few minutes she was here. I'm sure Vickers +didn't--he was too busy, watching Chatfield." + +"So was I," replied Audrey. "What was it?" + +"I believe I'm unusually observant," answered Copplestone. "I seem to see +things--all at once, don't you know. I saw that since we made her +acquaintance--and were unceremoniously bundled off her--the _Pike_ has +got a new and quite different coat of paint. And I daresay she's changed +her name, too. From all of which I argue that when they got rid of us +here, the people who are working all this slipped quietly back to some +cove or creek on the Scotch coast, did a stiff turn at repainting, and +meant to be off to the other side of the world under new colours. And +while this was going on, Andrius, or his co-villain, found time to +examine those chests that Chatfield told us of, and when they found that +Chatfield had done them, they came back here quick. Now they're off to +make him reveal the whereabouts of the real chests." + +"Won't they be rather running their necks into a noose?" suggested +Audrey. "I'm dead certain that my mother will have raised a hue and cry +after them." + +"They're cute enough," said Copplestone. "Anyway, they'll run a good many +risks for the sake of fifty thousand pounds. What they may do is to run +into some very quiet inlet--there are hundreds on these northern +coasts--and take Chatfield to his hiding-place. Chatfield's like all +scoundrels of his type--a horrible coward if a pistol's held to his head. +Now they've got him, they'll force him to disgorge. Hang this compulsory +inactivity!--my nerves are all a-tingle to get going at things!" + +"Let's occupy ourselves with the things our generous gaolers have been +kind enough to send us, then," suggested Audrey. "We'd better carry them +up to our shelter." + +Copplestone went down to the things which the boat's crew had deposited +on the beach--a couple of small packing-cases, a bundle of wraps and +cushions, and some books, magazines and newspapers. He picked up a paper +with a cry which suggested a discovery of importance. + +"Look at that!" he exclaimed. "Do you see? A _Scotsman!_ Today's date! +And here--_Aberdeen Free Press_--same date!" + +"Well?" asked Audrey. "And what then?" + +"What then?" demanded Copplestone. "Where are your powers of deduction? +Why, that shows that the _Pike_ was somewhere this morning where she +could get the morning papers from Aberdeen and Edinburgh--therefore, +she's been, as I suggested, somewhere on the Scotch coast all night. It's +now noon--she's a fast sailer--I guess she's been within sixty miles of +us ever since she left us." + +"Isn't it more pertinent to speculate on where she'll be when we want to +find her?" asked Audrey. + +"More pertinent still to wonder when somebody will come to find us," +answered Copplestone as he shouldered one of the cases. "However, there's +a certain joy in uncertainty, so they say--we're tasting it." + +The joys of uncertainty, however, were not to endure. They had scarcely +completed the task of carrying up the newly-arrived stores to the shelter +which they had made in an angle of the rocks when Vickers hailed them +from a spur of the cliffs and waved his arms excitedly. + +"I say, you two!" he shouted. "There's a craft coming--from the +south-west. Come up! There!" he added, a few minutes later, when they +arrived, breathless, at his side. "Out yonder--a mere black blot--but +unmistakable! Do you know what that is, either of you? You don't? All +right, I do--ought to, because I'm a R.N.V.R. man myself. That's a +T.B.D., my friends!--torpedo-boat destroyer. What's more, far off as she +is, my experienced eye and sure knowledge tell me exactly what she is. +She's a class H. boat built last year--oil fuel--turbines--runs up to +thirty knots--and she's doing 'em, too, just now! Come on, +Copplestone--more stuff on this fire!" + +"I don't think we need be uneasy," said Copplestone. "Miss Greyle thinks +that her mother will have raised a hue and cry after the _Pike_. This +torpedo thing is probably looking round for us. She--what's that?" + +The sudden sharp crack of a gun came across the calm surface of the sea, +and the watchers turning from their fire towards the black object in the +distance saw a cloud of white smoke drifting away from it. + +"Hooray!" shouted Vickers. "She's seen our smoke-pillar! Shove more on, +just to let her know we understand. Saved!--this time, anyway." + +Half-an-hour later, a spick and span and eminently youthful-looking naval +lieutenant raised his cap to the three folk who stood eagerly awaiting +his approach at the edge of the surf. + +"Miss Greyle? Mr. Vickers? Mr. Copplestone?" he asked as he sprang from +his boat and came up. "Right!--we're searching for you--had wireless +messages this morning. Where's the pirate, or whatever he is?" + +"Somewhere away to the southward," answered Vickers, pointing into the +haze. "He was here two hours ago--but he's about as fast as they make +'em, and he's good reason to show a clean pair of heels. However, we've +ample grounds for believing him to have gone due south again. Where are +you from?" + +"Got the message off Dunnett Head, and we'll run you to Thurso," replied +the rescuer, motioning them to enter the boat. "Come on--our commander's +got some word or other for you. What's all this been?" he went on, gazing +at Audrey with youthful assurance as they moved away from the shore. "You +don't mean to say you've actually been kidnapped?" + +"Kidnapped and marooned," replied Vickers. "And I hope you'll catch our +kidnapper--he's got a tremendous amount of property on him which belongs +to this lady, and he'll make tracks for the other side of the Atlantic as +soon as he gets hold of some more which he's gone to collect." + +The lieutenant regarded Audrey with still more interest. "Oh, all right," +he said confidently. "He'll not get away. I guess they've wirelessed all +over the place--our message was from the Admiralty!" + +"That's Sir Cresswell's doing," said Copplestone, turning to Audrey. +"Your mother must have wired to him. I wonder what the message is?" he +asked, facing the lieutenant. "Do you know?" + +"Something about if you're found to tell you to get south as fast as +possible," he answered. "And we've worked that out for you. You can get +on by train from Thurso to Inverness, and from Inverness, of course, +you'll get the southern express. Well put you off at Thurso by two +o'clock--just time to give you such lunch as our table affords--bit +rough, you know. So you've really been all night on that island?" he went +on with unaffected curiosity. "What a lark!" + +"You'd have had an opportunity of studying character if you'd been +with us," replied Vickers. "We lost a fine specimen of humanity two +hours ago." + +"Tell about it aboard," said the lieutenant. "We'll be thankful--we've +been round this end-of-everywhere coast for a month and we're tired. It's +quite a Godsend to have a little adventure." + +Copplestone had been right in surmising that Sir Cresswell Oliver had +bestirred himself to find him and his companions. They were presently +shown his message. They were to get to Norcaster as quickly as possible, +and to wire their whereabouts as soon as they were found. If, as seemed +likely, they were picked up on the north coast of Scotland, they were to +ask at Inverness railway station for telegrams. And to Inverness after +being landed at Thurso they betook themselves, while the torpedo-boat +destroyer set off to nose round for the _Pike_, in case she came that way +back from wherever she had gone to. + +Copplestone came out of the station-master's office at Inverness with a +couple of telegrams and read their contents over to his companions in the +dining-room to which they adjourned. + +"This is from Mrs. Greyle," he said. "'All right and much relieved by +wire from Thurso. Bring Audrey home as quick as possible.' That's good! +And this--Great Scott! This is from Gilling! Listen!--'Just heard from +Petherton of your rescue. Come straight and sharp Norcaster. Meet me at +the "Angel." Big things afoot. Spurge most anxious see you. Important +news. Gilling.' So things have been going on," he concluded, turning +the second telegram over to Vickers. "I suppose we'll have to travel +all night?" + +"Night express in an hour," replied Vickers. "We shall make Norcaster +about five-thirty tomorrow morning." + +"Then let us wire the time of our arrival to Gilling. I'm anxious to know +what has brought him up there," said Copplestone. "And we'll wire to Mrs. +Greyle, too," he added, turning to Audrey. "She'll know then that you're +absolutely on the way." + +"I wonder what we're on the way to?" remarked Vickers with a grim smile. +"It strikes me that our recent alarms and excursions will have been as +nothing to what awaits us at Norcaster." + +What did await them on a cold, dismal morning at Norcaster was Gilling, +stamping up and down a windswept platform. And Gilling seized on +Copplestone almost before he could alight from the train. + +"Come to the 'Angel' straight off!" he said. "Mrs. Greyle's there +awaiting her daughter. I've work for you and Vickers at once--that chap +Spurge is somewhere about the 'Angel,' too--been hanging round there +since yesterday, heavy with news that he'll give to nobody but you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE SQUIRE + + +Such of the folk of the "Angel" hotel--a night porter, a waiter, a +chamber-maid--as were up and about that grey morning, wondered why the +two old gentlemen who had arrived from London the day before should rise +from their beds to hold a secret and mysterious conference with the +three young ones who, with a charming if tired-looking young lady, drove +up before the city clocks had struck six. But Sir Cresswell Oliver and +Mr. Petherton knew that there was no time to be lost, and as soon as +Audrey had been restored to and carried off by her mother to Mrs. +Greyle's room, they summoned Vickers and Copplestone to a private +parlour and demanded their latest news. Sir Cresswell listened eagerly, +and in silence, until Copplestone described the return of the _Pike_; at +that he broke his silence. + +"That's precisely what I feared!" he exclaimed. "Of course, if she's been +hurriedly repainted and renamed, she stands a fair chance of getting +away. Our instructions to the patrol boats up there are to look for a +certain vessel, the _Pike_--naturally they won't look for anything else. +We must get the wireless to work at once." + +"But there's this," said Copplestone. "They certainly fetched old +Chatfield to make him hand over the gold! They won't go away without +that! And he said that he'd hidden the gold somewhere near Scarhaven. +Therefore, they'll have to come down this coast to get it." + +"Not necessarily," replied Sir Cresswell, with a knowing shake of the +head. "You may be sure they're alive to all the exigencies of the +situation. They could do several things once they'd got Chatfield on +board again. Some of them could land with him at some convenient port and +make him take them to where he's hidden the money; they could recapture +that and go off to some other port, to which the yacht had meanwhile been +brought round. If we only knew where Chatfield had planted that +money--" + +"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers. + +"Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's a +wide term--a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hills +and moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought! +Well, that's all I can think of--getting into communication with patrol +boats and coastguard stations all along the coast between here and Wick. +And that mayn't be the least good. Somebody may have escorted Chatfield +ashore after they left you yesterday, brought him hereabouts by rail or +motor-car, and the yacht may have made a wide detour round the Shetlands +and be now well on her way to the North Atlantic." + +"But in that case--the money?" asked Copplestone. + +"They would get hold of the money, take it clean away, and ship it from +Liverpool, or Glasgow, or--anywhere," replied Sir Cresswell. "You may be +sure they've plenty of resources at command, and that they'll work +secretly. Of course, we must keep a look out round about here for any +sign or reappearance of Chatfield, but, as I say, this country is so wild +that he and his companions can easily elude observation, especially as +they're sure to come by night. Still, we must do what we can, and at +once. But first, there are one or two things I want to ask you young +men--you said, Mr. Vickers, that Chatfield solemnly insisted to you that +he did not know that the man who had posed as Marston Greyle was not +Marston Greyle?" + +"He did," replied Vickers, "and though Chatfield is an unmitigated old +scoundrel, I believe him." + +"You do!" exclaimed Gilling, who was listening eagerly. "Oh, come!" + +"I do--as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with an +appealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell you +that we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield's +badness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whether +the man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He's +doubtful--he's puzzled--but he doesn't know." + +"Odd!" murmured Sir Cresswell, after a minute's silence. "Odd! Very, very +odd! That shows that there's still some extraordinary mystery about this +which we haven't even guessed at. Well, now, another question--you got +the idea that some one else was aboard the yacht?" + +"Some one other than Andrius--in authority--yes!" answered Vickers. "We +certainly thought that." + +"Did you think it was the man we know as the Squire?" asked Sir +Cresswell. + +"We had a notion that he might be there," replied Vickers, with a glance +at Copplestone. "Especially after what happened to Chatfield. Of course, +we never saw him, or heard his voice, or saw a sign of him. Still, we +fancied--" + +Sir Cresswell rose from his chair and motioned to Petherton. + +"Well," he said, "I think you and I, Petherton, had better complete our +toilets, and then give a look in at the authorities here and find out if +anything has been received by wireless or from the coastguard stations +about the yacht. In the meantime," he added, turning to Vickers and +Copplestone, "Gilling can tell you what's been going on in your +absence--you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, as +we call him, was on the _Pike_ with you." + +The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling. + +"What have you got?" he asked eagerly. "Live news!" + +"Might have been livelier and more satisfactory," answered Gilling, "if +it hadn't been for the factor which none of us can help--luck! We tracked +the Squire." + +"You did?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Where?" + +"When I said we I should have said Swallow," continued Gilling. "You +remember that afternoon of our return from Bristol, Copplestone? It seems +ages away now, though as a matter of time it's only four days ago!--Well, +that afternoon Swallow, who had had two or three more keeping a sharp +look out for the Squire, got a telephone message from one of 'em saying +that he'd tracked his man to the Fragonard Club. I'd gone home to my +chambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, so +Swallow had to act on his own initiative. He set off for the Fragonard +Club, and outside it met his man. This particular man had been keeping a +watch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street. That +afternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door. He +followed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himself +turned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow. The Squire was +still in the Fragonard when Swallow got there: from that time he kept a +watch. The Squire remained in the Club for an hour--" + +"Which proves," interrupted Copplestone, "that he's a member, and that I +ought to have followed up my attempt to get in there." + +"Well, anyway," continued Gilling, "there he was, and thence he +eventually emerged, with a kit-bag. He got into a taxi, and Swallow heard +him order its driver to go to King's Cross. Now Swallow was there +alone--and he had just before that met his man scooting round to see if +there was a rear exit from the Fragonard, and he hadn't returned. +Swallow, of course, couldn't wait--every minute was precious. He +followed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book for +Northborough." + +"Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah, +well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?" + +"Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," said +Gilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow. So did Swallow, who, now +that he'd got him, was going to follow him to the North Pole, if need be. +The train was just starting--Swallow had no time to communicate with me. +Also, the train didn't stop until it reached Grantham. There he sent me a +wire, saying he was on the track of his man. Well, they went on to +Northborough, where they arrived late in the evening. There--what is it, +Copplestone," he broke off, seeing signs of a desire to speak on +Copplestone's part. + +"You're talking of the very same afternoon and evening that I came +down--four evenings ago," said Copplestone. "My train was the four +o'clock--I got to Norcaster at ten--surely they didn't come on the +same train!" + +"I feel sure they did, but anyhow, these trains to the North are usually +very long ones, and you were probably in a different part," replied +Gilling. "Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallow +followed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard him +commission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven. When they'd +gone Swallow got hold of another taxi, and told its driver to take him +to Scarhaven, too. Off they went--in a pitch-black night, I'm told--" + +"We know that!" said Vickers with a glance at Copplestone. "We motored +from Norcaster--just about the same time." + +"Well," continued Gilling, "it was at any rate so dark that Swallow's +driver, who appears to have been a very nervous chap, made very poor +progress. Also he took one or two wrong turnings. Finally he ran his car +into a guide post which stood where two roads forked--and there Swallow +was landed, scarcely halfway to Scarhaven. They couldn't get the car to +move, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord at +the nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it was +near or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did get +there, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay." + +"The _Pike_, of course," muttered Copplestone. + +"Of course--and some men on the quay told him," continued Gilling. "Well, +that put Swallow in a fix. He was dead certain, of course, that his man +was on that yacht. However, he didn't want to rouse suspicion, so he +didn't ask any of those quayside men if they'd seen the Squire. Instead, +remembering what I'd told him about Mrs. Greyle he asked for her house +and was directed to it. He found Mrs. Greyle in a state of great anxiety. +Her daughter had gone with you two to the yacht and had never returned; +Mrs. Greyle, watching from her windows, had seen the yacht go out to +sea. Swallow found her, of course, seriously alarmed as to what had +happened. Of course, he told her what he had come down for and they +consulted. Next morning--" + +"Stop a bit," interrupted Vickers. "Didn't Mrs. Greyle get any message +from the yacht about her daughter--Andrius said he'd sent one, anyway." + +"A lie!" replied Gilling. "She got no message. The only consolation she +had was that you and Copplestone were with Miss Greyle. Well, first thing +next morning Swallow and Mrs. Greyle set every possible means to work. +They went to the police--they wired to places up the coast and down the +coast to keep a look out--and Swallow also wired full particulars to Sir +Cresswell Oliver, with the result that Sir Cresswell went to the naval +authorities and got them to set their craft up north to work. Having done +all this, and finding that he could be of no more service at Scarhaven, +Swallow returned to town to see me and to consult. Now, of course, we +were in a position by then to approach that Fragonard Club--" + +"Ah!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Just so!" + +"The man, whoever he is, had been there an hour on the day Swallow and +his man tracked him," continued Gilling. "Therefore, something must be +known of him. Swallow and I, armed with certain credentials, went there. +And--we could find out next to nothing. The hall porter there said he +dimly remembered such a gentleman coming in and going upstairs, but he +himself was new to his job, didn't know all the members--there are +hundreds of 'em--and he took this man for a regular habitue. A waiter +also had some sort of recollection of the man, and seeing him in +conversation with another man whom he, the waiter, knew better, though he +didn't know his name. Swallow is now moving everything to find that +man--to find anybody who knows our man--and something will come of it, in +the end--must do. In the meantime I came down here with Sir Cresswell and +Mr. Petherton, to be on the spot. And, from your information, things will +happen here! That hidden gold is the thing--they'll not leave that +without an effort to get it. If we could only find out where that is and +watch it--then our present object would be achieved." + +"What is the present object?" asked Copplestone. + +"Why," replied Gilling, "we've got warrants out against both Chatfield +and the Squire for the murder of Bassett Oliver!--the police here have +them in hand. Petherton's seen to that. And if they can only be laid +hands on--What is it?" he asked turning to a sleepy-eyed waiter who, +after a gentle tap at the door, put a shock head into the room. +"Somebody want me?" + +"That there man, sir--you know," said the waiter. "Here again, +sir--stable-yard, sir." + +Gilling jumped up and gave Copplestone a look. + +"That's Spurge!" he muttered. "He said he'd be back at day-break. Wait +here--I'll fetch him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE REAVER'S GLEN + + +Zachary Spurge, presently ushered in by Gilling, who carefully closed +the door behind himself and his companion, looked as if his recent +lodging had been of an even rougher nature than that in which +Copplestone had found him at their first meeting. The rough horseman's +cloak in which he was buttoned to the edge of a red neckerchief and a +stubbly chin was liberally ornamented with bits of straw, scraps of +furze and other odds and ends picked up in woods and hedge-rows. Spurge, +indeed, bore unmistakable evidence of having slept out in wild places +for some nights and his general atmosphere was little more respectable +than that of a scarecrow. But he grinned cheerfully at Copplestone--and +then frowned at Vickers. + +"I didn't count for to meet no lawyers, gentlemen," he said, pausing on +the outer boundaries of the parlour, "I ain't a-goin' to talk before +'em, neither!" + +"He's a grudge against me--I've had to appear against him once or twice," +whispered Vickers to Copplestone. "You'd better soothe him down--I want +to know what he's got to tell." + +"It's all right, Spurge," said Copplestone. "Come--Mr. Vickers is on our +side this time; he's one of us. You can say anything you like before +him--or Mr. Gilling either. We're all in it. Pull your chair up--here, +alongside of me, and tell us what you've been doing." + +"Well, of course, if you puts it that way, Mr. Copplestone," replied +Spurge, coming to the table a little doubtfully. "Though I hadn't meant +to tell nobody but you what I've got to tell. However, I can see that +things is in such a pretty pass that this here ain't no one-man job--it's +a job as'll want a lot o' men! And I daresay lawyers and such-like is as +useful men in that way as you can lay hands on--no offence to you, Mr. +Vickers, only you see I've had experience o' your sort before. But if you +are taking a hand in this here--well, all right. But now, gentlemen," he +continued dropping into a chair at the table and laying his fur cap on +its polished surface, "afore ever I says a word, d'ye think that I could +be provided with a cup o' hot coffee, or tea, with a stiff dose o' rum in +it? I'm that cold and starved--ah, if you'd been where I been this last +twelve hours or so, you'd be perished." + +The sleepy waiter was summoned to attend to Spurge's wants--until they +were satisfied the poacher sat staring fixedly at his cap and +occasionally shaking his head. But after a first hearty gulp of strongly +fortified coffee the colour came back into his face, he sighed with +relief, and signalled to the three watchful young men to draw their +chairs close to his. + +"Ah!" he said, setting down his cup. "And nobody never wanted aught more +badly than I wanted that! And now then--the door being shut on us quite +safe, ain't it, gentlemen?--no eavesdroppers?--well, this here it is. I +don't know what you've been a-doing of these last few days, nor what may +have happened to each and all--but I've news. Serious news--as I reckons +it to be. Of--Chatfield!" + +Copplestone kicked Vickers under the table and gave him a look. + +"Chatfield again!" he murmured. "Well, go on, Spurge." + +"There's a lot to go on with, too, guv'nor," said Spurge, after taking +another evidently welcome drink. "And I'll try to put it all in order, as +it were--same as if I was in a witness-box," he added, with a sly glance +at Vickers. "You remember that day of the inquest on the actor gentleman, +guv'nor? Well, of course, when I went to give evidence at Scarhaven, at +that there inquest, I never expected but what the police 'ud collar me at +the end of it. However, I didn't mean that they should, if I could help +it, so I watched things pretty close, intending to slip off when I saw a +chance. Well, now, you'll bear in mind that there was a bit of a dust-up +when the thing was over--some on 'em cheering the Squire and some on 'em +grousing about the verdict, and between one and t'other I popped out and +off, and you yourself saw me making for the moors. Of course, me, knowing +them moors back o' Scarhaven as I do, it was easy work to make myself +scarce on 'em in ten minutes--not all the police north o' the Tees could +ha' found me a quarter of an hour after I'd hooked it out o' that +schoolroom! Well, but the thing then was--where to go next? 'Twasn't no +good going to Hobkin's Hole again--now that them chaps knew I was in the +neighbourhood they'd soon ha' smoked me out o' there. Once I thought of +making for Norcaster here, and going into hiding down by the docks--I've +one or two harbours o' refuge there. But I had reasons for wishing to +stop in my own country--for a bit at any rate. And so, after reckoning +things up, I made for a spot as Mr. Vickers there'll know by name of the +Reaver's Glen." + +"Good place, too, for hiding," remarked Vickers with a nod. + +"Best place on this coast--seashore and inland," said Spurge. "And as you +two London gentlemen doesn't know it, I'll tell you about it. If you was +to go out o' Scarhaven harbour and turn north, you'd sail along our coast +line up here to the mouth of Norcaster Bay and you'd think there was +never an inlet between 'em. But there is. About half-way between +Scarhaven and Norcaster there's a very narrow opening in the cliffs that +you'd never notice unless you were close in shore, and inside that +opening there's a cove that's big enough to take a thousand-ton +vessel--aye, and half-a-dozen of 'em! It was a favourite place for +smugglers in the old days, and they call it Darkman's Dene to this day in +memory of a famous old smuggler that used it a good deal. Well, now, at +the land end of that cove there's a narrow valley that runs up to the +moorland and the hills, full o' rocks and crags and precipices and such +like--something o' the same sort as Hobkin's Hole but a deal wilder, and +that's known as the Reaver's Glen, because in other days the +cattle-lifters used to bring their stolen goods, cattle and sheep, down +there where they could pen 'em in, as it were. There's piles o' places in +that glen where a man can hide--I picked out one right at the top, at the +edge of the moors, where there's the ruins of an old peel tower. I could +get shelter in that old tower, and at the same time slip out of it if +need be into one of fifty likely hiding places amongst the rocks. I got +into touch with my cousin Jim Spurge--the one-eyed chap at the +'Admiral's Arms,' Mr. Copplestone, that night--and I got in a supply of +meat and drink, and there I was. And--as things turned out, Chatfield had +got his eye on the very same spot!" + +Spurge paused for a minute, and picking out a match from a stand which +stood on the table, began to trace imaginary lines on the mahogany. + +"This is how things is there," he said, inviting his companions' +attention. "Here, like, is where this peel tower stands--that's a thick +wood as comes close up to its walls--that there is a road as crosses the +moors and the wood about, maybe, a hundred yards or so behind the tower +on the land side. Now, there, one afternoon as I was in that there tower, +a-reading of a newspaper that Jim had brought me the night before, I +hears wheels on that moorland road, and I looked out through a convenient +loophole, and who should I see but Peter Chatfield in that old pony trap +of his. He was coming along from the direction of Scarhaven, and when he +got abreast of the tower he pulled up, got out, left his pony to crop the +grass and came strolling over in my direction. Of course, I wasn't +afraid of him--there's so many ways in and out of that old peel as there +is out of a rabbit-warren--besides, I felt certain he was there on some +job of his own. Well, he comes up to the edge of the glen, and he looks +into it and round it, and up and down at the tower, and he wanders about +the heaps of fallen masonry that there is there, and finally he puts +thumbs in his armhole and went slowly back to his trap. 'But you'll be +coming back, my old swindler!' says I to myself. 'You'll be back again I +doubt not at all!' And back he did come--that very night. Oh, yes!" + +"Alone?" asked Copplestone. + +"A-lone!" replied Spurge. "It had got to be dark, and I was thinking of +going to sleep, having nought else to do and not expecting cousin Jim +that night, when I heard the sound of horses' feet and of wheels. So I +cleared out of my hole to where I could see better. Of course, it was +Chatfield--same old trap and pony--but this time he came from Norcaster +way. Well, he gets out, just where he'd got out before, and he leads the +pony and trap across the moor to close by the tower. I could tell by the +way that trap went over the grass that there was some sort of a load in +it and it wouldn't have surprised me, gentlemen, if the old reptile had +brought a dead body out of it. After a bit, I hear him taking something +out, something which he bumped down on the ground with a thump--I counted +nine o' them thumps. And then after a bit I heard him begin a moving of +some of the loose masonry what lies in such heaps at the foot o' the peel +tower--dark though it was there was light enough in the sky for him to +see to do that. But after he'd been at it some time, puffing and groaning +and grunting, he evidently wanted to see better, and he suddenly flashed +a light on things from one o' them electric torches. And then I see--me +being not so many yards away from him--nine small white wood boxes, all +clamped with metal bands, lying in a row on the grass, and I see, too, +that Chatfield had been making a place for 'em amongst the stones. +Yes--that was it--nine small white wood boxes--so small, considering, +that I wondered what made 'em so heavy." + +Copplestone favoured Vickers with another quiet kick. They were, +without doubt, hearing the story of the hidden gold, and it was +becoming exciting. + +"Well," continued Spurge. "Into the place he'd cleared out them boxes +went, and once they were all in he heaped the stones over 'em as natural +as they were before, and he kicked a lot o' small loose stones round +about and over the place where he'd been standing. And then the old +sinner let out a great groan as if something troubled him, and he fetched +a bottle out of his pocket and took a good pull at whatever was in it, +after which, gentlemen, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and +groaned again. He'd had his bit of light on all that time, but he doused +it then, and after that he led the old pony away across the bit of moor +to the road, and presently in he gets and drives slowly away towards +Scarhaven. And so there was I, d'ye see, Mr. Copplestone, left, as it +were, sold guardian of--what?" + +The three young men exchanged glances with each other while Spurge +refreshed himself with his fortified coffee, and their eyes asked similar +questions. + +"Ah!" observed Copplestone at last. "You don't know what, Spurge? You +haven't examined one of those boxes?" + +Spurge set his cup down and gave his questioner a knowing look. + +"I'll tell you my line o' conduct, guv'nor," he said. "So certain sure +have I been that something 'ud come o' this business of hiding them boxes +and that something valuable is in 'em that I've taken partiklar care ever +since Chatfield planted 'em there that night never to set foot within a +dozen yards of 'em. Why? 'Cause I know he'll ha' left footprints of his +own there, and them footprints may be useful. No, sir!--them boxes has +been guarded careful ever since Chatfield placed 'em where he did. +For--Chatfield's never been back!" + +"Never back, eh?" said Copplestone, winking at the other two. + +"Never been back--self nor spirit, substance nor shadow!--since that +night," replied Spurge. "Unless, indeed, he's been back since four +o'clock this morning, when I left there. However, if he's been 'twixt +then and now, my cousin Jim Spurge, he was there. Jim's been helping me +to watch. When I first came in here to see if I could hear anything about +you--Jim having told me that some London gentlemen was up here again--I +left him in charge. And there he is now. And now you know all I can tell +you, gentlemen, and as I understand there's some mystery about Chatfield +and that he's disappeared, happen you'll know how to put two and two +together. And if I'm of any use--" + +"Spurge," said Gilling. "How far is it to this Reaver's Glen--or, rather +to that peel tower?" + +"Matter of eight or nine miles, guv'nor, over the moors," replied Spurge. + +"How did you come in then?" asked Gilling. + +"Cousin Jim Spurge's bike--down in the stable-yard, now," answered +Spurge. "Did it comfortable in under the hour." + +"I think we ought to go out there--some of us," said Gilling. "We +ought--" + +At that moment the door opened and Sir Cresswell Oliver came in, holding +a bit of flimsy paper in his hand. He glanced at Spurge and then beckoned +the three young men to join him. + +"I've had a wireless message from the North Sea--and it puzzles me," he +said. "One of our ships up there has had news of what is surely the +_Pike_ from a fishing vessel. She was seen late yesterday afternoon going +due east--due east, mind you! If that was she--and I'm sure of it!--our +quarry's escaping us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE PEEL TOWER + + +Gilling took the message from Sir Cresswell and thoughtfully read +it over. Then he handed it back and motioned the old seaman to look +at Spurge. + +"I think you ought to know what this man has just told us, sir," he said. +"We've got a story from him that exactly fits in with what Chatfield told +Mr. Vickers when the _Pike_ returned to carry him off yesterday. +Chatfield, you'll remember, said that the gold he'd withdrawn from the +bank is hidden somewhere--well, there's no doubt that this man Zachary +Spurge knows where it is hidden. It's there now--and the presumption is, +of course, that these people on the _Pike_ will certainly come in to this +coast--somehow!--to get it. So in that case--eh?" + +"Gad!--that's valuable!" said Sir Cresswell, glancing again at Spurge, +and with awakened interest. "Let me hear this story." + +Copplestone epitomized Spurge's account, while the poacher listened +admiringly, checking off the main points and adding a word or two where +he considered the epitome lacking. + +"Very smart of you, my man," remarked Sir Cresswell, nodding benevolently +at Spurge when the story was over. "You're in a fair way to find yourself +well rewarded. Now gentlemen!" he continued, sitting down at the table, +and engaging the attention of the others, "I think we had better have a +council of war. Petherton has just gone to speak to the police +authorities about those warrants which have been taken out against +Chatfield and the impostor, but we can go on in his absence. Now there +seems to be no doubt that those chests which Spurge tells us of contain +the gold which Chatfield procured from the bank, and concerning which he +seems to have played his associates more tricks than one. However, his +associates, whoever they are--and mind you, gentlemen, I believe there +are more men than Chatfield and the Squire in all this!--have now got a +tight grip on Chatfield, and they'll force him to show them where that +gold is--they'll certainly not give up the chances of fifty thousand +pounds without a stiff try to get it. So--I'm considering all the +possibilities and probabilities--we may conclude that sooner or +later--sooner, most likely--somebody will visit this old peel tower that +Spurge talks of. But--who? For we're faced with this wireless message. +I've no doubt the vessel here referred to is the _Pike_--no doubt at all. +Now she was seen making due east, near this side of the Dogger Bank, late +last night--so that it would look as if these men were making for +Denmark, or Germany, rather than for this coast. But since receiving this +message, I have thought that point out. The _Pike_ is, I believe, a very +fast vessel?" + +"Very," answered Vickers. "She can do twenty-seven or eight knots an +hour." + +"Exactly," said Sir Cresswell. "Then in that case they may have put in +at some Northern port, landed Chatfield and two or three men to keep an +eye on him and to accompany him to this old tower, while the _Pike_ +herself has gone off till a more fitting opportunity arises of dodging in +somewhere to pick up the chests which Chatfield and his party will in the +meantime have removed. From what I have seen of it this is such a wild +part of the coast that Chatfield and such a small gang as I am imagining, +could easily come back here, keep themselves hidden and recover the +chests without observation. So our plain duty is to now devise some plan +for going to the Reaver's Glen and keeping a watch there until somebody +comes. Eh?" + +"There's another thing that's possible, sir," said Vickers, who had +listened carefully to all that Sir Cresswell had said. "The _Pike_ is +fitted for wireless telegraphy." + +"Yes?" said Sir Cresswell expectantly. "And you think--?" + +"You suggested that there may be more people than Chatfield and the +Squire in at this business," continued Vickers. "Just so! We--Copplestone +and myself--know very well that the skipper of the _Pike_, Andrius, is in +it: that's undeniable. But there may be others--or one other, or two--on +shore here. And as the _Pike_ can communicate by wireless, those on board +her may have sent a message to their shore confederates to remove those +chests. So--" + +"Capital suggestion!" said Sir Cresswell, who saw this point at once. "So +we'd better lose no time in arranging our expedition out there. +Spurge--you're the man who knows the spot best--what ought we to do about +getting there--in force?" + +Spurge, obviously flattered at being called upon to advise a great man, +entered into the discussion with enthusiasm. + +"Your honour mustn't go in force at all!" he said. "What's wanted, +gentlemen, is--strategy! Now if you'll let me put it to you, me knowing +the lie of the land, this is what had ought to be done. A small party +ought to go--with me to lead. We'll follow the road that cuts across the +moorland to a certain point; then we'll take a by-track that gets you to +High Nick; there we'll take to a thick bit o' wood and coppice that runs +right up to the peel tower. Nobody'll track us, nor see us from any +point, going that way. Three or four of us--these here young gentlemen, +now, and me--'ll be enough for the job--if armed. A revolver apiece your +honour--that'll be plenty. And as for the rest--what you might call a +reserve force--your honour said something just now about some warrants. +Is the police to be in at it, then?" + +"The police hold warrants for the two men we've been chiefly talking +about," replied Sir Cresswell. + +"Well let your honour come on a bit later with not more than three police +plain-clothes fellows--as far as High Nick," said Spurge. "The police'll +know where that is. Let 'em wait there--don't let 'em come further until +I send back a message by my cousin Jim, You see, guv'nor," he added, +turning to Copplestone, whom he seemed to regard as his own special +associate, "we don't know how things may be. We might have to wait hours. +As I view it, me having listened careful to what his honour the Admiral +there says--best respects to your honour--them chaps'll never come a-nigh +that place till it's night again, or at any rate, dusk, which'll be about +seven o'clock this evening. But they may watch, during the day, and it +'ud be a foolish thing to have a lot of men about. A small force such as +I can hide in that wood, and another in reserve at High Nick, which, +guv'nor, is a deep hole in the hill-top--that's the ticket!" + +"Spurge is right," said Sir Cresswell. "You youngsters go with him--get a +motor-car--and I'll see about following you over to High Nick with the +detectives. Now, what about being armed?" + +"I've a supply of service revolvers at my office, down this very street," +replied Vickers. "I'll go and get them. Here! Let's apportion our duties. +I'll see to that. Gilling, you see about the car. Copplestone, you order +some breakfast for us--sharp." + +"And I'll go round to the police," said Sir Cresswell. "Now, be careful +to take care of yourselves--you don't know what you've got to deal with, +remember." + +The group separated, and Copplestone went off to find the hotel people +and order an immediate breakfast. And passing along a corridor on his way +downstairs he encountered Mrs. Greyle, who came out of a room near by and +started at sight of him. + +"Audrey is asleep," she whispered, pointing to the door she had just +left. "Thank you for taking care of her. Of course I was afraid--but +that's all over now. And now the thing is--how are things?" + +"Coming to a head, in my opinion," answered Copplestone. "But how or in +what way, I don't know. Anyway, we know where that gold is--and they'll +make an attempt on it--that's sure! So--we shall be there." + +"But what fools Peter Chatfield and his associates must be--from their +own villainous standpoint--to have encumbered themselves with all that +weight of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle. "The folly of it seems incredible +when they could have taken it in some more easily portable form!" + +"Ah!" laughed Copplestone. "But that just shows Chatfield's extraordinary +deepness and craft! He no doubt persuaded his associates that it was +better to have actual bullion where they were going, and tricked them +into believing that he'd actually put it aboard the _Pike_! If it hadn't +been that they examined the boxes which he put on the _Pike_ and found +they contained lead or bricks, the old scoundrel would have collared the +real stuff for himself." + +"Take care that he doesn't collar it yet," said Mrs. Greyle with a laugh +as she went into her own room. "Chatfield is resourceful enough +for--anything. And--take care of yourselves!" + +That was the second admonition to be careful, and Copplestone thought of +both, as, an hour later, he, Gilling, Vickers and Spurge sped along the +desolate, wind-swept moorland on their way to the Reaver's Glen. It was +a typically North Country autumnal morning, cold, raw, rainy; the tops of +the neighbouring hills were capped with dark clouds; sea-birds called +dismally across the heather; the sea, seen in glimpses through vistas of +fir and pine, looked angry and threatening. + +"A fit morning for a do of this sort!" exclaimed Gilling suddenly. "Is it +pretty bare and bleak at this tower of yours, Spurge?" + +"You'll be warm enough, guv'nor, where I shall put you," answered Spurge. +"One as has knocked about these woods and moors as much as I've had to +knows as many places to hide his nose in as a fox does! I'll put you by +that tower where you'll be snug enough, and warm enough, too--and where +nobody'll see you neither. And here's High Nick and out we get." + +Leaving the car in a deep cutting of the hills and instructing the driver +to await the return of one or other of them at a wayside farmstead a mile +back, the three adventurers followed Spurge into the wood which led to +the top of the Beaver's Glen. The poacher guided them onward by narrow +and winding tracks through the undergrowth for a good half-mile; then he +led them through thickets in which there was no paths at all; finally, +after a gradual and cautious advance behind a high hedge of dense +evergreen, he halted them at a corner of the wood and motioned them to +look out through a loosely-laced network of branches. + +"Here we are!" he whispered. "Tower--Reaver's Glen--sea in the distance. +Lone spot, ain't it, gentlemen?" + +Copplestone and Gilling, who had never seen this part of the coast +before, looked out on the scene with lively interest. It was certainly a +prospect of romance and of wild, almost savage beauty on which they +gazed. Immediately in front of them, at a distance of twenty to thirty +yards, stood the old peel tower, a solid square mass of grey stone, +intact as to its base and its middle stories, ruinous and crumbling from +thence to what was left of its battlements and the turret tower at one +angle. The fallen stone lay in irregular heaps on the ground at its foot; +all around it were clumps of furze and bramble. From the level plateau on +which it stood the Glen fell away in horseshoe formation gradually +narrowing and descending until it terminated in a thick covert of fir and +pine that ran down to the land end of the cove of which Spurge had told +them. And beyond that stretched the wide expanse of sea, with here and +there a red-sailed fishing boat tossing restlessly on the white-capped +waves, and over that and the land was a chill silence, broken only by the +occasional cry of the sea-birds and the bleating of the mountain sheep. + +"A lone spot indeed!" said Gilling in a whisper. "Spurge, where is that +stuff hidden?" + +"Other side of the tower--in an angle of the old courtyard," replied +Spurge, "Can't see the spot from here." + +"And where's that road you told us about?" asked Copplestone. "The +moor road?" + +"Top o' the bank yonder--beyond the tower," said Spurge. "Runs round +yonder corner o' this wood and goes right round it to High Nick, where +we've cut across from. Hush now, all of you, gentlemen--I'm going to +signal Jim." + +Screwing up his mobile face into a strange contortion, Spurge emitted +from his puckered lips a queer cry--a cry as of some trapped animal--so +shrill and realistic that his hearers started. + +"What on earth's that represent?" asked Gilling. "It's blood-curdling?" + +"Hare, with a stoat's teeth in its neck," answered Spurge. "H'sh--I'll +call him again." + +No answer came to the first nor to the second summons--after a third, +equally unproductive, Spurge looked at his companions with a scared face. + +"That's a queer thing, guv'nors!" he muttered. "Can't believe as how our +Jim 'ud ever desert a post. He promised me faithfully as how he'd stick +here like grim death until I came back. I hope he ain't had a fit, nor +aught o' that sort--he ain't a strong chap at the best o' times, and--" + +"You'd better take a careful look round, Spurge," said Vickers. +"Here--shall I come with you?" + +But Spurge waved a hand to them to stay where they were. He himself crept +along the back of the hedge until he came to a point opposite the nearest +angle of the tower. And suddenly he gave a great cry--human enough this +time!--and the three young men rushing forward found him standing by the +body of a roughly-clad man in whom Copplestone recognized the one-eyed +odd-job man of the "Admiral's Arms." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FOOTPRINTS + + +The man was lying face downwards in the grass and weeds which clustered +thickly at the foot of the hedgerow, and on the line of rough, +weatherbeaten neck which showed between his fur cap and his turned-up +collar there was a patch of dried blood. Very still and apparently +lifeless he looked, but Vickers suddenly bent down, laid strong hands on +him and turned him over. + +"He's not dead!" he exclaimed. "Only unconscious from a crack on his +skull. Gilling!--where's that brandy you brought?--hand me the flask." + +Zachary Spurge watched in silence as Vickers and Gilling busied +themselves in reviving the stricken man. Then he quickly pulled +Copplestone's sleeve and motioned him away from the group. + +"Guv'nor!" he muttered. "There's been foul play here--and all along of +them nine boxes--that I'll warrant. Look you here, guv'nor--Jim's been +dragged to where we found him--dragged through this here gap in the hedge +and flung where he's lying. See--there's the plain marks, all through the +grass and stuff. Come on, guv'nor--let's see where they lead." + +The marks of a heavy, inanimate body having been dragged through the wet +grass were evidence enough, and Copplestone and Spurge followed them to a +corner of the old tower where they ceased. Spurge glanced round that +corner and uttered a sharp exclamation. + +"Just what I expected!" he said. "Leastways, what I expected as soon as I +see Jim a-lying there. Guv'nor, the stuff's gone!" + +He drew Copplestone after him and pointed to a corner of the weed-grown +courtyard where a cavity had been made in the mass of fallen masonry and +the stones taken from it lay about just as they had been displaced and +thrown aside. + +"That's where the nine boxes were," he continued. "Well, there ain't one +of 'em there now! Naught but the hole where they was! Well--this must ha' +been during the early morning--after I left Jim to go into Norcaster. And +of course him as put the stuff there must be him as fetched it +away--Chatfield. Let's see if there's footmarks about, guv'nor." + +"Wait a bit," said Copplestone. "We must be careful about that. Move +warily. We 'd better do it systematically. There'd have to be some sort +of a trap, a vehicle, to carry away those chests. Where's the nearest +point of that road you spoke of?" + +"Up there," replied Spurge, pointing to a flanking bank of heather. "But +they--or him--wasn't forced to come that way, guv'nor. He--or them--could +come up from that cove down yonder. It wouldn't surprise me if that there +yacht--the _Pike_, you know--had turned on her tracks and come in here +during the night. It's not more than a mile from this tower down to the +shore, and--" + +At that moment Vickers called to them, and they went back to find Jim +Spurge slowly opening his eyes and looking round him with consciousness +of his company. His one eye lightened a little as he caught sight of +Zachary, and the poacher bent down to him. + +"Jim, old man!" he said soothingly. "How are yer, Jim? Yer been hit by +somebody. Who was it, Jim?" + +"Give him a drop more brandy and lift him up a bit," counselled Gilling. +"He's improving." + +But it needed more than a mere drop of brandy, more than cousinly words +of adjuration, to bring the wounded man back to a state of speech. And +when at last he managed to make a feeble response, it was only to mutter +some incoherent and disjointed sentences about and being struck down from +behind--after which he again relapsed into semi-unconsciousness. + +"That's it guv'nor," muttered Spurge, nudging Copplestone. "That's the +ticket! Struck down from behind--that's what happened to him. Unawares, +so to speak, I can reckon of it up--easy. They comes in the +darkness--after I'd left him here. He hears of 'em, as he says, +a-moving about. Then he no doubt starts moving about--watching 'em, as +far as he can see. Then one of 'em gives him this crack on the +skull--life-preserver if you ask me--and down he goes! And then--they +drag him in here and leaves him. Don't care whether he's a goner or +not--not they! Well, an' what does it prove? That there's been more +than one of 'em, guv'nor. And in my opinion, where they've come from +is--down there!" + +He pointed down the glen in the direction of the sea, and the three +young men who were considerably exercised by this sudden turn of events +and the disappearance of the chests, looked after his out-stretched hand +and then at each other. + +"Well, we can't stand here doing nothing," said Gilling at last. "Look +here, we'd better divide forces. This chap'll have to be removed and got +to some hospital. Vickers!--I guess you're the quickest-footed of the +lot--will you run back to High Nick and tell that chauffeur to bring his +car round here? If Sir Cresswell and the police are there, tell them +what's happened. Spurge--you go down the glen there, and see if you can +see anything of any suspicious-looking craft in that bay you told us of. +Copplestone, we can't do any more for this man just now--let's look +round. This is a queer business," he went on when they had all departed, +and he and Copplestone were walking towards the tower. "The gold's gone, +of course?" + +"No sign of it here, anyway," answered Copplestone, leading him into the +ruinous courtyard and pointing to the cavity in the fallen masonry. +"That's where it was placed by Chatfield, according to Zachary Spurge." + +"And of course Chatfield's removed it during the night," remarked +Gilling. "That message which Sir Cresswell read us must have been all +wrong--the _Pike's_ come south and she's been somewhere about--maybe been +in that cove at the end of the glen--though she'll have cleared out of it +hours ago!" he concluded disappointedly. "We're too late!" + +"That theory's not necessarily correct," replied Copplestone. "Sir +Cresswell's message may have been quite right. For all we know the folks +on the Pike had confederates on shore. Go carefully, Gilling--let's see +if we can make out anything in the way of footprints." + +The ground in the courtyard was grassless, a flooring of grit and loose +stone, on which no impression could well be made by human foot. But +Copplestone, carefully prospecting around and going a little way up the +bank which lay between the tower and the moorland road, suddenly saw +something in the black, peat-like earth which attracted his attention and +he called to his companion. + +"I say!" he exclaimed. "Look at this! There!--that's unmistakable enough. +And fresh, too!" + +Gilling bent down, looked, and stared at Copplestone with a question +in his eyes. + +"By Gad!" he said. "A woman!" + +"And one who wears good and shapely footwear, too," remarked Copplestone. +"That's what you'd call a slender and elegant foot. Here it is +again--going up the bank. Come on!" + +There were more traces of this wearer of elegant foot-gear on the soft +earth of the bank which ran between the moorland and the stone-strewn +courtyard--more again on the edges of the road itself. There, too, were +plain signs that a motor-car of some sort had recently been pulled up +opposite the tower--Gilling pointed to the indentations made by the +studded wheels and to droppings of oil and petrol on the gravelly soil. + +"That's evident enough," he said. "Those chests have been fetched away +during the night, by motor, and a woman's been in at it! Confederates, of +course. Now then, the next thing is, which way did that motor go with its +contents?" + +They followed the tracks for a short distance along the road, until, +coming to a place where it widened at a gateway leading into the wood, +they saw that the car had there been backed and turned. Gilling carefully +examined the marks. + +"That car came from Norcaster and it's gone back to Norcaster," he +affirmed presently. "Look here!--they came up the hill at the side of the +wood--here they backed the car towards that gate, and then ran it +backwards till they were abreast of the tower--then, when they'd loaded +up with those chests they went straight off by the way they'd come. Look +at the tracks--plain enough." + +"Then we'd better get down towards Norcaster ourselves," said +Copplestone. "Call Spurge back--he'll find nothing in that cove. This job +has been done from land. And we ought to be on the track of these +people--they've had several hours start already." + +By this time Zachary Spurge had been recalled, Vickers had brought the +car round from High Nick, and the injured man was carefully lifted into +it and driven away. But at High Nick itself they met another car, +hurrying up from Norcaster, and bringing Sir Cresswell Oliver and three +other men who bore the unmistakable stamp of the police force. In one of +them Copplestone recognized the inspector from Scarhaven. + +The two cars met and stopped alongside each other, and Sir Cresswell, +with one sharp glance at the rough bandage which Vickers had fastened +round Jim Spurge's head, rapped out a question. + +"Gone!" replied Gilling, with equal brusqueness. "Came in a motor, during +the night, soon after Zachary Spurge left Jim. They hit him pretty hard +over his head and left him unconscious. Of course they've carried off the +boxes. Car appears to have gone to Norcaster. Hadn't you better turn?" + +Sir Cresswell pointed to the Scarhaven police inspector. + +"Here's news from Scarhaven," he said, bending forward to the other car, +"The inspector's just brought it. The Squire--whoever he was--is dead. +They found his body this morning, lying at the foot of a cliff near the +Keep. Foul play?--that's what you don't know, eh, inspector?" + +"Can't say at all, sir," answered the inspector. "He might have been +thrown down, he might have fallen down--it's a bad place. Anyway, what +the doctor said, just before I hurried in here to tell Mrs. Greyle, as +the next relative that we know of, is that he'd been dead some days--the +body, you see, was lying in a thicket at the foot of the cliff." + +"Some days!" exclaimed Copplestone, with a look at Gilling. "Days?" + +"Four or five days at least, sir," replied the inspector. "So the doctor +thinks. The place is a cliff between the high road from Northborough and +the house itself. There's a short cut across the park to the house from +that road. It looks as if--" + +"Ah!" interrupted Gilling. "It's clear how that happened, then. He took +that short cut, when he came from Northborough that night! But--if he's +dead, who's engineering all this? There's the fact, those chests of gold +have been removed from that old tower since Zachary Spurge left his +cousin in charge there early this morning. Everything looks as if they'd +been carried to Norcaster. Therefore--" + +"Turn this car round," commanded Sir Cresswell. "Of course, we must get +back to Norcaster. But what's to be done there?" + +The two cars went scurrying back to the old shipping town. When at +last they had deposited the injured man at a neighbouring hospital +and came to a stop near the "Angel," Zachary Spurge pulled +Copplestone's sleeve, and with a look full of significance, motioned +him aside to a quiet place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +SCARVELL'S CUT + + +The quiet place was a narrow alley, which opening out of the Market +Square in which the car had come to a halt, suddenly twisted away into a +labyrinth of ancient buildings that lay between the centre of the town +and the river. Not until Spurge had conducted Copplestone quite away from +their late companions did he turn and speak; when he spoke his words were +accompanied by a glance which suggested mystery as well as confidence. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "What's going to be done?" + +"Have you pulled me down here to ask that?" exclaimed Copplestone, a +little impatiently. "Good heavens, man, with all these complications +arising--the gold gone, the Squire dead--why, there'll have to be a +pretty deep consultation, of course. We'd better get back to it." + +But Spurge shook his head. + +"Not me, guv'nor!" he said resolutely. "I ain't no opinion o' +consultations with lawyers and policemen--plain clothes or otherwise. +They ain't no mortal good whatever, guv'nor, when it comes to horse +sense! 'Cause why? 'Tain't their fault--it's the system. They can't +do nothing, start nothing, suggest nothing!--they can only do things +in the official, cut-and-dried, red-tape way, Guv'nor--you and me +can do better." + +"Well?" asked Copplestone. + +"Listen!" continued Spurge. "There ain't no doubt that that gold was +carried off early this morning--must ha' been between the time I left Jim +and sun-up, 'cause they'd want to do the job in darkness. Ain't no +reasonable doubt, neither, that the motor-car what they used came here +into Norcaster. Now, guv'nor, I ask you--where is it possible they'd make +for? Not a railway station, 'cause them boxes 'ud be conspicuous and easy +traced when inquiry was made. And yet they'd want to get 'em away--as +soon as possible. Very well--what's the other way o' getting any stuff +out o' Norcaster? What? Why--that!" + +He jerked his thumb in the direction of a patch of grey water which shone +dully at the end of the alley and while his thumb jerked his eye winked. + +"The river!" he went on. "The river, guv'nor! Don't this here river, +running into the free and bounding ocean six miles away, offer the best +chance? What we want to do is to take a look round these here docks and +quays and wharves--keeping our eyes open--and our ears as well. Come on +with me, guv'nor--I know places all along this riverside where you could +hide the Bank of England till it was wanted--so to speak." + +"But the others?" suggested Copplestone. "Hadn't we better fetch them?" + +"No!" retorted Spurge, assertively. "Two on us is enough. You trust to +me, guv'nor--I'll find out something. I know these docks--and all that's +alongside 'em. I'd do the job myself, now--but it'll be better to have +somebody along of me, in case we want a message sending for help or +anything of that nature. Come on--and if I don't find out before noon if +there's any queer craft gone out o' this since morning--why, then, I +ain't what I believe myself to be." + +Copplestone, who had considerable faith in the poacher's shrewdness, +allowed himself to be led into the lowest part of the town--low in more +than one sense of the word. Norcaster itself, as regards its ancient +and time-hallowed portions, its church, its castle, its official +buildings and highly-respectable houses, stood on the top of a low +hill; its docks and wharves and the mean streets which intersected them +had been made on a stretch of marshland that lay between the foot of +that hill and the river. And down there was the smell of tar and of +merchandise, and narrow alleys full of sea-going men and raucous-voiced +women, and queer nooks and corners, and ships being laden and ships +being stripped of their cargoes and such noise and confusion and +inextricable mingling and elbowing that Copplestone thought it was as +likely to find a needle in a haystack as to make anything out relating +to the quest they were engaged in. + +But Zachary Spurge, leading him in and out of the throngs on the wharves, +now taking a look into a dock, now inspecting a quay, now stopping to +exchange a word or two with taciturn gentlemen who sucked their pipes at +the corners of narrow streets, now going into shady-looking public houses +by one door and coming out at another, seemed to be remarkably well +satisfied with his doings and kept remarking to his companion that they +would hear something yet. Nevertheless, by noon they had heard nothing, +and Copplestone, who considered casual search of this sort utterly +purposeless, announced that he was going to more savoury neighborhoods. + +"Give it another turn, guv'nor," urged Spurge. "Have a bit o' faith in +me, now! You see, guv'nor, I've an idea, a theory, as you might term it, +of my very own, only time's too short to go into details, like. Trust me +a bit longer, guv'nor--there's a spot or two down here that I'm fair +keen on taking a look at--come on, guv'nor, once more!--this is +Scarvell's Cut." + +He drew his unwilling companion round a corner of the wharf which they +were just then patrolling and showed him a narrow creek which, hemmed in +by ancient buildings, some of them half-ruinous, sail-lofts, and sheds +full of odds and ends of merchandise, cut into the land at an irregular +angle and was at that moment affording harbourage to a mass of small +vessels, just then lying high and dry on the banks from which the tide +had retreated. Along the side of this creek there was just as much +crowding and confusion as on the wider quays; men were going in and out +of the sheds and lofts; men were busy about the sides of the small craft. +And again the feeling of uselessness came over Copplestone. + +"What's the good of all this, Spurge!" he exclaimed testily. "You'll +never--" + +Spurge suddenly laid a grip on his companion's elbow and twisted him +aside into a narrow entry between the sheds. + +"That's the good!" he answered in an exulting voice. "Look there, +guv'nor! Look at that North Sea tug--that one, lying out there! Whose +face is, now a-peeping out o' that hatch? Come, now?" + +Copplestone looked in the direction which Spurge indicated. There, lying +moored to the wharf, at a point exactly opposite a tumble-down sail-loft, +was one of those strongly-built tugs which ply between the fishing fleets +and the ports. It was an eminently business-looking craft, rakish for its +class, and it bore marks of much recent sea usage. But Copplestone gave +no more than a passing glance at it--what attracted and fascinated his +eyes was the face of a man who had come up from her depths and was +looking out of a hatchway on the top deck--looking expectantly at the +sail-loft. There was grime and oil on that face, and the neck which +supported the unkempt head rose out of a rough jersey, but Copplestone +recognized his man smartly enough. In spite of the attempt to look like a +tug deck-hand there was no mistaking the skipper of the _Pike_. + +"Good heavens!" he muttered, as he stared across the crowded quay. +"Andrius!" + +"Right you are, guv'nor," whispered Spurge. "It's that very same, and no +mistake! And now you'll perhaps see how I put things together, like. No +doubt those folk as sent Sir Cresswell that message did see the _Pike_ +going east last evening--just so, but there wasn't no reason, considering +what that chap and his lot had at stake why they shouldn't put him and +one or two more, very likely, on one of the many tugs that's to be met +with out there off the fishing grounds. What I conclude they did, +guv'nor, was to charter one o' them tugs and run her in here. And I +expect they've got the stuff on board her, now, and when the tide comes +up, out they'll go, and be off into the free and open again, to pick the +_Pike_ up somewhere 'twixt here and the Dogger Bank. Ah!--smart 'uns they +are, no doubt. But--we've got 'em!" + +"Not yet," said Copplestone. "What are we to do. Better go back and get +help, eh?" + +He was keenly watching Andrius, and as the skipper of the _Pike_ suddenly +moved, he drew Spurge further into the alley. + +"He's coming out of that hatchway!" whispered Copplestone. "If he comes +ashore he'll see us, and then--" + +"No matter, guv'nor," said Spurge reassuringly. "They can't get out o' +Scarvell's Cut into the river till the tide serves. Yes, that's Cap'n +Andrius right enough--and he's coming ashore." + +Andrius had by that time drawn himself out of the hatchway and now +revealed himself in the jersey, the thick leg-wear, and short sea-boots +of an oceangoing man. Copplestone's recollection of him as he showed +himself on board the _Pike_ was of a very smartly attired, rather +dandified person--only some deep scheme, he knew, would have caused him +to assume this disguise, and he watched him with interest as he rolled +ashore and disappeared within the lower story of the sail-loft. Spurge, +too, watched with all his eyes, and he turned to Copplestone with a gleam +of excitement. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "We've trapped 'em beautiful! I know that place--I've +worked in there in my time. I know a way into it, from the back--we'll +get in that way and see what's being done. 'Tain't worked no longer, that +sail-loft--it's all falling to pieces. But first--help!" + +"How are we to get that?" asked Copplestone, eagerly. + +"I'll go it," replied Spurge. "I know a man just aback of here that'll +run up to the town with a message--chap that can be trusted, sure and +faithful. 'Bide here five minutes, sir--I'll send a message to Mr. +Vickers--this chap'll know him and'll find him. He can come down with the +rest--and the police, too, if he likes. Keep your eyes skinned, guv'nor." + +He twisted away like an eel into the crowd of workers and idlers, and +left Copplestone at the entrance to the alley, watching. And he had not +been so left more than a couple of minutes when a woman slipped past the +mouth of the alley, swiftly, quietly, looking neither to right nor left, +of whose veiled head and face he caught one glance. And in that glance he +recognized her--Addie Chatfield! + +But in the moment of that glance Copplestone also recognized something +vastly more important. Here was the explanation of the mystery of the +early-morning doings at the old tower. The footprints of a woman who wore +fashionable and elegant boots? Addie Chatfield, of course! Was she not +old Peter's daughter, a chip of the old block, even though a feminine +chip? And did not he and Gilling know that she had been mixed up with +Peter at the Bristol affair? Great Scott!--why, of course. Addie was an +accomplice in all these things! + +If Copplestone had the least shadow of doubt remaining in his mind as to +this conclusion, it was utterly dissipated when, peering cautiously round +the corner of his hiding-place, he saw Addie disappear within the old +sail-loft into which Andrius had betaken himself. Of course, she had gone +to join her fellow-conspirators. He began to fume and fret, cursing +himself for allowing Spurge to bring him down there alone--if only they +had had Gilling and Vickers with them, armed as they were-- + +"All right, guv'nor!" Spurge suddenly whispered at his shoulder. "They'll +be here in a quarter of an hour--I telephoned to 'em." + +"Do you know what?" exclaimed Copplestone, excitedly. "Old Chatfield's +daughter's gone in there, where Andrius went. Just now!" + +"What--the play-actress!" said Spurge. "You don't say, guv'nor? Ha!--that +explains everything--that's the missing link! Ha! But we'll soon know +what they're after, Mr. Copplestone. Follow me--quiet as a mouse." + +Once more submitting to be led, Copplestone followed his queer guide +along the alley. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE GREENGROCER'S CART + + +Spurge led Copplestone a little way up the narrow alley from the mouth of +which they had observed the recent proceedings, suddenly turned off into +a still narrower passage, and emerged at the rear of an ancient building +of wood and stones which looked as if a stout shove or a strong wind +would bring it down in dust and ruin. + +"Back o' that old sail-loft what looks out on this cut," he whispered, +glancing over his shoulder at Copplestone. "Now, guv'nor, we're going in +here. As I said before, I've worked in this place--did a spell here when +I was once lying low for a month or two. I know every inch of it, and if +that lot are under this roof I know where they'll be." + +"They'll show fight, you know," remarked Copplestone. + +"Well, but ain't we got something to show fight with, too?" answered +Spurge, with a knowing wink. "I've got my revolver handy, what Mr. +Vickers give me, and I reckon you can handle yours. However, it ain't +come to no revolver yet. What I want is to see and hear, +guv'nor--follow me." + +He had opened a ramshackle door in the rear of the premises as he spoke +and he now beckoned his companion to follow him down a passage which +evidently led to the front. There was no more than a dim light within, +but Copplestone could see that the whole place was falling to pieces. And +it was all wrapped in a dead silence. Away out on the quay was the rattle +of chains, the creaking of a windlass, the voices of men and shrill +laughter of women, but in there no sound existed. And Spurge suddenly +stopped his stealthy creeping forward and looked at Copplestone +suspiciously. + +"Queer, ain't it?" he whispered. "I don't hear a voice, nor yet the ghost +of one! You'd think that if they was in here they'd be talking. But we'll +soon see." + +Clambering up a pile of fallen timber which lay in the passage and +beckoning Copplestone to follow his example, Spurge looked through a +broken slat in the wooden partition into an open shed which fronted the +Cut. The shed was empty. Folk were passing to and fro in front of it; the +North Sea tug still lay at the wharf beyond; a man who was evidently its +skipper sat on a tub on its deck placidly smoking his short pipe--but of +Addie Chatfield or of Andrius there was no sign. And the silence in that +crumbling, rat-haunted house was deeper than ever. + +"Guv'nor!" muttered Spurge, "How long is it since you see--her?" + +"Almost as soon as you'd gone," answered Copplestone. + +"Ten minutes ago!" sighed Spurge. "Guv'nor--they've done us! They're off! +I see it--she must ha' caught sight o' me, nosing round, and she came +here and gave the others the office, and they bucked out at the back. +The back, Guv'nor! and Lord bless you, at the back o' this shanty there's +a perfect rabbit-warren o' places--more by token, they call it the +Warren. If they've got in there, why, all the police in Norcaster'll +never find 'em--leastways, I mean, to speak truthful, not without a deal +o' trouble." + +"What about upstairs?" asked Copplestone. + +"Upstairs, now?" said Spurge with a doubtful glance at the ramshackle +stairway. "Lord, mister!--I don't believe nobody could get up them +stairs! No--they've hooked it through the back here, into the Warren. And +once in there--" + +He ended with an eloquent gesture, and dismounting from his perch made +his way along the passage to a door which opened into the shed. Thence he +looked out on the quay, and along the crowded maze of Scarvell's Cut. + +"Here's some of 'em, anyway, guv'nor," he announced. "I see Mr. Vickers +and t'other London gentleman, and the old Admiral, at all events. There +they are--getting out of a motor at the end. But go to meet 'em, Mr. +Copplestone, while I keep my eye on this here tug and its skipper." + +Copplestone elbowed his way through the crowd until he met Sir Cresswell +and his two companions. All three were eager and excited: Copplestone +could only respond to their inquiries with a gloomy shake of the head. + +"We seem to have the devil's own luck!" he growled dismally. "Spurge and +I spotted Andrius by sheer accident. He was on a North Sea tug, or +trawler, along the quay here. Then Spurge ran off to summon you. While +he was away Miss Chatfield appeared--" + +"Addie Chatfield!" exclaimed Vickers. + +"Exactly. And that of course," continued Copplestone, glancing at +Gilling, "that without doubt--in my opinion, anyway--explains those +elegant footprints up at the tower. Addie Chatfield, I tell you! She +passed me as I was hiding at the entrance to an alley down the Cut here, +and she went into an old sail-loft, outside which the tug I spoke of is +moored, and into which Andrius had strolled a minute or two previously. +But--neither she nor Andrius are there now. They've gone! And Spurge says +that at the back of this quay there's a perfect rabbit-warren of courts +and alleys, and if--or, rather as they've escaped into that--eh?" + +The detectives who had accompanied Sir Cresswell on the interrupted +expedition to the old tower and who had now followed him and his +companions in a second car and arrived in time to hear Copplestone's +story, looked at each other. + +"That's right enough--comparatively speaking," said one. "But if they're +in the Warren we shall get 'em out. The first thing to do, gentlemen, is +to take a look at that tug." + +"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "Just what I was thinking. Let us +find out what its people have to say." + +The man who smoked his pipe in placid contentment on the deck of the tug +looked up in astonishment as the posse of eight crossed the plank which +connected him with the quay. Nevertheless he preserved an undaunted +front, kept his pipe in his tightly closed lips, and cocked a defiant eye +at everybody. + +"Skipper o' this craft?" asked the principal detective laconically. +"Right? Where are you from, then, and when did you come in here?" + +The skipper removed his pipe and spat over the rail. He put the pipe +back, folded his arms and glared. + +"And what the dickens may that be to do with you?" he inquired. "And who +may you be to walk aboard my vessel without leave?" + +"None of that, now!" said the detective. "Come on--we're police officers. +There's something wrong round here. We've got warrants for two men that +we believe to have been on your tug--one of 'em was seen here not so many +minutes ago. You'd far better tell us what you know. If you don't tell +now, you'll have to tell later. And--I expect you've been paid already. +Come on--out with it!" + +The skipper, whose gnarled countenance had undergone several changes +during this address, smote one red fist on top of the other. + +"Darned if I don't know as there was something on the crook in this here +affair!" he said, almost cheerily. "Well, well--but I ain't got nothing +to do with it. Warrants?--you say? Ah! And what might be the partiklar' +natur' o' them warrants?" + +"Murder!" answered the detective. "That's one charge, anyhow--for one of +'em, at any rate. There's others." + +"Murder's enough," responded the skipper. "Well, of course, nobody can +tell a man to be a murderer by merely looking at his mug. Not at +all!--nobody! However, this here is how it is. Last night it +were--evening, to be c'rect--dark. I was on the edge o' the fleet, out +there off the Dogger. A yacht comes up--smart 'un--very fast sailer--and +hails me. Was I going into Norcaster or anywheres about? Being a +Northborough tug, this, I wasn't. Would I go for a consideration--then +and there? Whereupon I asked what consideration? Then we bargains. +Eventual, we struck it at thirty pounds--cash down, which was paid, +prompt. I was to take two men straight and slick into Norcaster, to this +here very slip, Scarvell's Cut, to wait while they put a bit of a cargo +on board, and then to run 'em back to the same spot where I took 'em up. +Done! they come aboard--the yacht goes off east--I come careenin' west. +That's all! That part of it anyway." + +"And the men?" suggested the detective. "What sort were they, and where +are they?" + +"The men, now!" said the skipper. "Ah! Two on 'em--both done up in what +you might call deep-sea-style. But hadn't never done no deep-sea nor yet +any other sort o' sea work in their mortial days--hands as white and soft +as a lady's. One, an old chap with a dial like a full moon on him--sly +old chap, him! T'other a younger man, looked as if he'd something about +him--dangerous chap to cross. Where are they? Darned if I know. What I +knows, certain, is this--we gets in here about eight o'clock this +morning, and makes fast here, and ever since then them two's been as it +were on the fret and the fidge, allers lookin' out, so to speak, for +summun as ain't come yet. The old chap, he went across into that there +sail-maker's loft an hour ago, and t'other, he followed of him, recent. I +ain't seen 'em since. Try there. And I say?" + +"Well?" asked the detective. + +"Shall I be wanted?" asked the skipper. "'Cause if not, I'm off and away +as soon as the tide serves. Ain't no good me waitin' here for them chaps +if you're goin' to take and hang 'em!" + +"Got to catch 'em first," said the detective, with a glance at his two +professional companions. "And while we're not doubting your word at all, +we'll just take a look round your vessel--they might have slipped on +board again, you see, while your back was turned." + +But there was no sign of Peter Chatfield, nor of his daughter, nor of the +captain of the _Pike_ on that tug, nor anywhere in the sailmaker's loft +and its purlieus. And presently the detectives looked at one another and +their leader turned to Sir Cresswell. + +"If these people--as seems certain--have escaped into this quarter of the +town," he said, "there'll have to be a regular hunt for them! I've known +a man who was badly wanted stow himself away here for weeks. If Chatfield +has accomplices down here in the Warren, he can hide himself and +whoever's with him for a long time--successfully. We'll have to get a lot +of men to work." + +"But I say!" exclaimed Gilling. "You don't mean to tell me that three +people--one a woman--could get away through these courts and alleys, +packed as they are, without being seen? Come now!" + +The detectives smiled indulgently. + +"You don't know these folks," said one of them, inclining his head +towards a squalid street at the end of which they had all gathered. "But +they know _us_. It's a point of honour with them never to tell the truth +to a policeman or a detective. If they saw those three, they'd never +admit it to us--until it's made worth their while." + +"Get it made worth their while, then!" exclaimed Gilling, impatiently. + +"All in due course, sir," said the official voice. "Leave it to us." + +The amateur searchers after the iniquitous recognized the futility of +their own endeavours in that moment, and went away to discuss matters +amongst themselves, while the detectives proceeded leisurely, after their +fashion, into the Warren as if they were out for a quiet constitutional +in its salubrious byways. And Sir Cresswell Oliver remarked on the +difficulty of knowing exactly what to do once you had red-tape on one +side and unusual craftiness on the other. + +"You think there's no doubt that gold was removed this morning by +Chatfield's daughter?" he said to Copplestone as they went back to the +centre of the town together, Gilling and Vickers having turned aside +elsewhere and Spurge gone to the hospital to ask for news of his cousin. +"You think she was the woman whose footprints you saw up there at the +Beaver's Glen?" + +"Seeing that she's here in Norcaster and in touch with those two, what +else can I think?" replied Copplestone. "It seems to me that they got in +touch with her by wireless and that she removed the gold in readiness for +her father and Andrius coming in here by that North Sea tug. If we could +only find out where she's put those boxes, or where she got the car from +in which she brought it down from the tower--" + +"Vickers has already started some inquiries about cars," said Sir +Cresswell. "She must have hired a car somewhere in the town. Certainly, +if we could hear of that gold we should be in the way of getting on +their track." + +But they heard nothing of gold or of fugitives or of what the police and +detectives were doing until the middle of the afternoon. And then Mr. +Elkin, the manager of the bank from which Chatfield had withdrawn the +estate and the private balance, came hurrying to the "Angel" and to Mrs. +Greyle, his usually rubicund face pale with emotion, his hand waving a +scrap of crumpled paper. Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were at that moment in +consultation with Sir Cresswell Oliver and Copplestone--the bank manager +burst in on them without ceremony. + +"I say, I say!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Will you believe it!--the +gold's come back! It's all safe--every penny. Bless me!--I scarcely know +whether I'm dreaming or not. But--we've got it!" + +"What's all this?" demanded Sir Cresswell. "You've got--that gold?" + +"Less than an hour ago," replied the bank manager, dropping into a chair +and slapping his hand on his knees in his excitement, "a man who turned +out to be a greengrocer came with his cart to the bank and said he'd been +sent with nine boxes for delivery to us. Asked who had sent him he +replied that early this morning a lady whom he didn't know had asked him +to put the boxes in his shed until she called for them--she brought them +in a motor-car. This afternoon she called again at two o'clock, paid him +for the storage and for what he was to do, and instructed him to put the +boxes on his cart and bring them to us. Which," continued Mr. Elkin, +gleefully rubbing his hands together, "he did! With--this! And that, my +dear ladies and good gentlemen, is the most extraordinary document which, +in all my forty years' experience of banking matters, I have ever seen!" + +He laid a dirty, crumpled half-sheet of cheap note-paper on the table at +which they were all sitting, and Copplestone, bending over it, read aloud +what was there written. + +"MR. ELKIN--Please place the contents of the nine cases sent herewith to +the credit of the Greyle Estate. + +"PETER CHATFIELD, Agent." + +Amidst a chorus of exclamations Sir Cresswell asked a sharp question. + +"Is that really Chatfield's signature?" + +"Oh, undoubtedly!" replied Mr. Elkin. "Not a doubt of it. Of course, as +soon as I saw it, I closely questioned the greengrocer. But he knew +nothing. He said the lady was what he called wrapped up about her +face--veiled, of course--on both her visits, and that as soon as she'd +seen him set off with his load of boxes she disappeared. He lives, this +greengrocer, on the edge of the town--I've got his address. But I'm sure +he knows no more." + +"And the cases have been examined?" asked Copplestone. + +"Every one, my dear sir," answered the bank manager with a satisfied +smirk. "Every penny is there! Glorious!" + +"This is most extraordinary!" said Sir Cresswell. "What on earth does it +all mean? If we could only trace that woman from the greengrocer's +place--" + +But nothing came of an attempt to carry out this proposal, and no news +arrived from the police, and the evening had grown far advanced, and Mrs. +Greyle and Audrey, with Sir Cresswell, Mr. Petherton and Vickers, +Copplestone, and Gilling, were all in a private parlour together at a +late hour, when the door suddenly opened and a woman entered, who threw +back a heavy veil and revealed herself as Addie Chatfield. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + +If Copplestone had never seen Addie Chatfield before, if he had not known +that she was an actress of some acknowledged ability, her entrance into +that suddenly silent room would have convinced him that here was a woman +whom nature had undoubtedly gifted with the dramatic instinct. Addie's +presentation of herself to the small and select audience was eminently +dramatic, without being theatrical. She filled the stage. It was as if +the lights had suddenly gone down in the auditorium and up in the +proscenium, as if a hush fell, as if every ear opened wide to catch a +first accent. And Addie's first accents were soft and liquid--and +accompanied by a smile which was calculated to soften the seven hearts +which had begun to beat a little quicker at her coming. With the smile +and the soft accent came a highly successful attempt at a shy and modest +blush which mounted to her cheek as she moved towards the centre table +and bowed to the startled and inquisitive eyes. + +"I have come to ask--mercy!" + +There was a faint sigh of surprise from somebody. Sir Cresswell Oliver, +only realizing that a pretty woman, had entered the room, made haste to +place a chair for her. But before Addie could respond to his +old-fashioned bow, Mr. Petherton was on his legs. + +"Er!--I take it that this is the young wom--the Miss Chatfield of whom +we have had occasion to speak a good deal today," he said very stiffly. +"I think, Sir Cresswell--eh?" + +"Yes," said Sir Cresswell, glancing from the visitor to the old lawyer. +"You think, Petherton--yes?" + +"The situation is decidedly unpleasant," said Mr. Petherton, more icily +than ever. "Mr. Vickers will agree with me that it is most +unpleasant--and very unusual. The fact is--the police are now searching +for this--er, young lady." + +"But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraid +of the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask you +all to be merciful." + +"To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton. + +"Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with another +softening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so down +on an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There are +two of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old men +to be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?" + +Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked round +again, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a little +sheepishly at Mr. Petherton. + +"It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what Miss +Chatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own free +will--something. I should like to know what that something is. I think +Mrs. Greyle would like to know, too." + +"Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure +with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss +Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father." + +Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbed +by these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor. + +"Where is your father?" he demanded. + +"Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye that +lit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of +'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll do +no good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd come +to ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up. +The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tell +you all about it and then we can be friends?" + +Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were some +extraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, waved +them at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort. + +"I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what you +like--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!" + +Vickers gave Addie a sly look. + +"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no need +for you to tell anything against yourself, you know." + +"Me!" exclaimed Addie. "Why, I've been playing good angel all day +long--me incriminate myself, indeed! If Miss Greyle there only knew what +I'd done for her!--look here," she continued, suddenly turning to Sir +Cresswell. "I've come to tell all about it. And first of all--every penny +of that money that my father drew from the bank has been restored this +afternoon." + +"We know that," said Sir Cresswell. + +"Well, that was me!--I engineered that," continued Addie. "And +second--the _Pike_ will be back at Scarhaven during the night, to unload +everything that was being carried away. My doing, again! Because, I'm no +fool, and I know when a game's up." + +"So--there was a game?" suggested Vickers. + +Addie leaned forward from the chair which Sir Cresswell had given her at +the end of the table and planting her elbows on the table edge began to +check off her points on the tips of her slender fingers. She was well +aware that she had the stage to herself by that time and she showed her +consciousness of it. + +"You have it," she answered. "There was a game--and perhaps I know more +of it than anybody. I'll tell now. It began at Bristol. I was playing +there. One morning my father fetched me out from rehearsal to tell me +that he'd been down to Falmouth to meet the new Squire of Scarhaven, +Marston Greyle, and that he found him so ill that they'd had to go to a +doctor, who forbade Greyle to travel far at a time. They'd got to +Bristol--there, Greyle was so much worse that my father didn't know what +to do with him. He knew that I was in the town, so he came to me. I got +Greyle a quiet room at my lodgings. A doctor saw him--he said he was very +bad, but he didn't say that he was in immediate danger. However, he died +that very night." + +Addie paused for a moment, and Copplestone and Gilling exchanged glances. +So far, this was all known to them--but what was coming? + +"Now, I was alone with Greyle for awhile that evening," continued Addie. +"It was while my father was getting some food downstairs. Greyle said to +me that he knew he was dying, and he gave me a pocket-book in which he +said all his papers were: he said I could give it to my father. I believe +he became unconscious soon after that; anyway, he never mentioned that +pocket-book to my father. Neither did I. But after Greyle was dead I +examined its contents carefully. And when I was in London at the end of +the week, I showed them to--my husband." + +Addie again paused, and at least two of the men glanced at each other +with a look of surmise. Her--husband! "Who the--" + +"The fact is," she went on suddenly, "Captain Andrius is my husband. But +nobody knew that--not even my own father. We've been married three +years--I met him when I was crossing over to America once. We got +married--we kept the marriage secret for reasons of our own. Well, he met +me in London the Sunday after Greyle's death, and I showed him the +papers which were in Greyle's pocket-book. And--now this, of course, was +where it was very wicked in me--and him--though we've tried to make up +for it today, anyhow--we fixed up what I suppose you two gentlemen would +call a conspiracy. My husband had a brother, an actor--not up to much, +nor of much experience--who had been brought up in the States and who was +then in town, doing nothing. We took him into confidence, coached him up +in everything, furnished him with all the papers in the pocket-book, and +resolved to pass him off as the real Marston Greyle." + +Mr. Petherton stirred angrily in his chair and turned a protesting face +on Sir Cresswell. + +"Apart from being irregular," he exclaimed, "this is altogether +outrageous! This woman is openly boasting of conspiracy and--" + +"You're wrong!" said Addie. "I'm not boasting--I'm explaining. You ought +to be obliged to me. And--" + +"If Mrs. Andrius--to give the lady her real name--cares to unburden her +secrets to us, I really don't see why we shouldn't listen to them, Mr. +Petherton," observed Vickers. "It simplifies matters greatly." + +"That's what I say," agreed Addie. "I'm done with all this and I want to +clear things up, whatever comes of it. Well--I say we fixed that up with +my brother-in-law." + +"His name--his real name, if you please," inquired Vickers. + +"Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another name +for the stage," replied Addie. "We gave him the papers and arranged for +him to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all, +right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was an +imposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't know +for a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after the +real Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, he +produced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'd +buried. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be a +secretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had left +him in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to pass +himself off as the real man until he could get something substantial out +of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted +that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the +estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his +stewardship quick." + +"Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details +about which I am anxious to hear." + +"Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that. +Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth +certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody +accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till +that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And +now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about +your brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows it +better than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speak +privately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keep +during the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking many +minutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, which +one of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. And +we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met +Martin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knew +that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--we +both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave +each other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliver +went on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret tower +and went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there's +an end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak or +think, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round the +inside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!" + +Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes and +she kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readily +enough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almost +in her ear. + +"Is that the truth--the real truth?" + +"It's the absolute truth!" she answered, regarding him steadily. "I'm +not altogether a good sort, nor a very bad sort, but I'm telling you the +real truth in that. It was a sheer accident--he stepped off the parapet +and fell. Martin went into the base of the tower and came back saying he +was dead. We were both dazed--we separated. He went off to the house--I +went to my father by a roundabout way. We decided to let things take +their course. You all know a great deal of what happened. But--later--my +husband and Martin began to take certain things into their own hands. +They put me on one side. To this minute, I don't quite know how much my +father got into their secrets or how little, but I do know that they +determined to make what you might call a purse for themselves out of +Scarhaven. Martin left certain powers in his brother's hands and went +off to London. He was there, hidden, until Andrius got all ready for a +flight on the _Pike_. Then he set off to Scarhaven, to join her. But he +didn't join her, and none of us knew what had become of him until today, +when we heard of what had been found at Scarhaven. That explained it--he +had taken that short cut from the Northborough road through the woods +behind the Keep, and fallen over the cliff at the Hermit's steps. But +that very night, you, Mr. Vickers, and Mr. Copplestone and Miss Greyle, +nearly stopped everything, and if Andrius and Chatfield hadn't carried +you off, the scheme would have come to nothing. Well--you know what +happened after that--" + +"But," interjected Vickers, quickly, "not your share in the last +development." + +"My share's been to see that the thing was up, and that if I wanted to +save them all, I'd best put a stop to it," rejoined Addie, with a grim +smile. "I tell you, I didn't know what they'd been up to until today. I +was in England--never mind where--wondering what was going on. Yesterday +I got a code message from my husband. When he fetched my father away from +you, he forced him to tell where that gold was--then he wired to me--by +wireless--full instructions to recover it during last night. I did--never +you mind the exact means I took nor who it was that I got to help--I got +it--and I took good care to put it where I knew it would be safe. Then +this morning I went to meet the two of them at Scarvell's Cut. And I took +the upper hand then! I got them away from that sail-loft--safely. I made +my husband give me a code message for the man in charge of the _Pike_, +telling him to return at once to Scarhaven; I made my father write a note +to Elkin at the bank, telling him to place the gold which I sent with it +to the credit of the Greyle Estate. And when all that was done--I got +them away--they're gone!" + +Vickers, who had never taken his eyes off Addie during her lengthy +explanation, gave her a whimsical smile. + +"Safely?" he asked. + +"I'll defy the police to find 'em, anyway," replied Addie with a quick +response of lip and eye. "I don't do things by halves. I say--they're +gone! But--I'm here. Come, now--I've made a clean breast of it all. The +thing's over and done with. There's nothing to prevent Miss Greyle there +coming into her rights--I can prove 'em--my father can prove them. So--is +it any use doing what that old gentleman's just worrying to do? You can +all see what he wants--he's dying to hand me over to the police." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver rose, glanced at Audrey and her mother, received +some telepathic communication from them, and assumed his old +quarter-deck manner. + +"Not tonight, I think, Petherton," he said authoritatively. +"No--certainly not tonight!" + + * * * * * + +Some months later, when Audrey Greyle had come into possession of +Scarhaven, and had married Copplestone in the little church behind her +mother's cottage, she and her husband, to satisfy a mutual and +long-cherished desire, visited a certain romantic and retired part of the +country. And in the course of their wanderings they came across a very +pretty village, and in it a charmingly situated retreat, which looked so +attractive from the road along which they were walking that they halted +and peered at it through its trimly-kept boundary hedge. And there, +seated in the easiest of chairs on the smoothest of lawns, roses about +him, a cigar in his mouth, the newspaper in his hand, a glass at his +elbow, they saw Peter Chatfield. They looked at him for a long moment; +then they looked at each other and smiled delightedly, as children might +smile at a pleasure-giving picture, and they passed on in silence. But +when that village lay behind them, Copplestone gave his wife a sly +glance, and permitted himself to make an epigram. + +"Chatfield!" he said musingly. "Chatfield! sublimely ungrateful that he +isn't in Dartmoor." + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarhaven Keep, by J. S. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/9807-8.zip b/9807-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..310bf68 --- /dev/null +++ b/9807-8.zip diff --git a/9807.txt b/9807.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1de28d --- /dev/null +++ b/9807.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8733 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarhaven Keep, by J. S. Fletcher + +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: Scarhaven Keep + +Author: J. S. Fletcher + +Posting Date: May 7, 2010 [EBook #9807] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 19, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARHAVEN KEEP *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + + SCARHAVEN KEEP + + BY J.S. FLETCHER + + 1922 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + + I WANTED AT REHEARSAL + II GREY ROOK AND GREY SEA + III THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + IV THE ESTATE AGENT + V THE GREYLE HISTORY + VI THE LEADING LADY + VII LEFT ON GUARD + VIII RIGHT OF WAY + IX HOBKIN'S HOLE + X THE INVALID CURATE + XI BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + XII GOOD MEN AND TRUE + XIII MR. DENNIE + XIV BY PRIVATE TREATY + XV THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + XVI IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + XVII THE OLD PLAYBILL + XVIII THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + XIX THE STEAM YACHT + XX THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + XXI MAROONED + XXII THE OLD HAND + XXIII THE YACHT COMES BACK + XXIV THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + XXV THE SQUIRE + XXVI THE REAVER'S GLEN + XXVII THE PEEL TOWER + XXVIII THE FOOTPRINTS + XXIX SCARVELL'S CUT + XXX THE GREENGROCER'S CART + XXXI AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WANTED AT REHEARSAL + + +Jerramy, thirty years' stage-door keeper at the Theatre Royal, Norcaster, +had come to regard each successive Monday morning as a time for the +renewal of old acquaintance. For at any rate forty-six weeks of the +fifty-two, theatrical companies came and went at Norcaster with unfailing +regularity. The company which presented itself for patronage in the first +week of April in one year was almost certain to present itself again in +the corresponding week of the next year. Sometimes new faces came with +it, but as a rule the same old favourites showed themselves for a good +many years in succession. And every actor and actress who came to +Norcaster knew Jerramy. He was the first official person encountered on +entering upon the business of the week. He it was who handed out the +little bundles of letters and papers, who exchanged the first greetings, +of whom one could make useful inquiries, who always knew exactly what +advice to give about lodgings and landladies. From noon onwards of +Mondays, when the newcomers began to arrive at the theatre for the +customary one o'clock call for rehearsal, Jerramy was invariably employed +in hearing that he didn't look a day older, and was as blooming as ever, +and sure to last another thirty years, and his reception always +culminated in a hearty handshake and genial greeting from the great man +of the company, who, of course, after the fashion of magnates, always +turned up at the end of the irregular procession, and was not seldom late +for the fixture which he himself had made. + +At a quarter past one of a certain Monday afternoon in the course of a +sunny October, Jerramy leaned over the half-door of his sanctum in +conversation with an anxious-eyed man who for the past ten minutes had +hung about in the restless fashion peculiar to those who are waiting for +somebody. He had looked up the street and down the street a dozen times; +he had pulled out his watch and compared it with the clock of a +neighbouring church almost as often; he had several times gone up the +dark passage which led to the dressing-rooms, and had come back again +looking more perplexed than ever. The fact was that he was the business +manager of the great Mr. Bassett Oliver, who was opening for the week at +Norcaster in his latest success, and who, not quite satisfied with the +way in which a particular bit of it was being played called a special +rehearsal for a quarter to one. Everything and everybody was ready for +that rehearsal, but the great man himself had not arrived. Now Mr. +Bassett Oliver, as every man well knew who ever had dealings with him, +was not one of the irregular and unpunctual order; on the contrary, he +was a very martinet as regarded rule, precision and system; moreover, he +always did what he expected each member of his company to do. Therefore +his non-arrival, his half hour of irregularity, seemed all the more +extraordinary. + +"Never knew him to be late before--never!" exclaimed the business +manager, impatiently pulling out his watch for the twentieth time. "Not +in all my ten years' experience of him--not once." + +"I suppose you've seen him this morning, Mr. Stafford?" inquired Jerramy. +"He's in the town, of course?" + +"I suppose he's in the town," answered Mr. Stafford. "I suppose he's at +his old quarters--the 'Angel.' But I haven't seen him; neither had +Rothwell--we've both been too busy to call there. I expect he came on to +the 'Angel' from Northborough yesterday." + +Jerramy opened the half-door, and going out to the end of the passage, +looked up and down the street. + +"There's a taxi-cab coming round the corner now," he announced presently. +"Coming quick, too--I should think he's in it." + +The business manager bustled out to the pavement as the cab came to a +halt. But instead of the fine face and distinguished presence of Mr. +Bassett Oliver, he found himself confronting a young man who looked like +a well-set-up subaltern, or a cricket-and-football loving undergraduate; +a somewhat shy, rather nervous young man, scrupulously groomed, and +neatly attired in tweeds, who, at sight of the two men on the pavement, +immediately produced a card-case. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver?" he said inquiringly. "Is he here? I--I've got an +appointment with him for one o'clock, and I'm sorry I'm late--my train--" + +"Mr. Oliver is not here yet," broke in Stafford. "He's late, +too--unaccountably late, for him. An appointment, you say?" + +He was looking the stranger over as he spoke, taking him for some +stage-struck youth who had probably persuaded the good-natured actor to +give him an interview. His expression changed, however; as he glanced at +the card which the young man handed over, and he started a little and +held out his hand with a smile. + +"Oh!--Mr. Copplestone?" he exclaimed. "How do you do? My name's +Stafford--I'm Mr. Oliver's business manager. So he made an +appointment with you, did he--here, today? Wants to see you about +your play, of course." + +Again he looked at the newcomer with a smiling interest, thinking +secretly that he was a very youthful and ingenuous being to have written +a play which Bassett Oliver, a shrewd critic, and by no means easy to +please, had been eager to accept, and was about to produce. Mr. Richard +Copplestone, seen in the flesh, looked very young indeed, and very +unlike anything in the shape of a professional author. In fact he very +much reminded Stafford of the fine and healthy young man whom one sees +on the playing fields, and certainly does not associate with pen and +ink. That he was not much used to the world on whose edge he just then +stood Stafford gathered from a boyish trick of blushing through the tan +of his cheeks. + +"I got a wire from Mr. Oliver yesterday--Sunday," replied Mr. +Copplestone. "I ought to have had it in the morning, I suppose, but I'd +gone out for the day, you know--gone out early. So I didn't find it until +I got back to my rooms late at night. I got the next train I could from +King's Cross, and it was late getting in here." + +"Then you've practically been travelling all night?" remarked Stafford. +"Well, Mr. Oliver hasn't turned up--most unusual for him. I don't know +where--" Just then another man came hurrying down the passage from the +dressing-rooms, calling the business manager by name. + +"I say, Stafford!" he exclaimed, as he emerged on the street. "This is a +queer thing!--I'm sure there's something wrong. I've just rung up the +'Angel' hotel. Oliver hasn't turned up there! His rooms were all ready +for him as usual yesterday, but he never came. They've neither seen nor +heard of him. Did you see him yesterday?" + +"No!" replied Stafford. "I didn't. Never seen him since last thing +Saturday night at Northborough. He ordered this rehearsal for one--no, a +quarter to one, here, today. But somebody must have seen him yesterday. +Where's his dresser--where's Hackett?" + +"Hackett's inside," said the other man. "He hasn't seen him either, since +Saturday night. Hackett has friends living in these parts--he went off to +see them early yesterday morning, from Northborough, and he's only just +come. So he hasn't seen Oliver, and doesn't know anything about him; he +expected, of course, to find him here." + +Stafford turned with a wave of the hand towards Copplestone. + +"So did this gentleman," he said. "Mr. Copplestone, this is our +stage-manager, Mr. Rothwell. Rothwell, this is Mr. Richard Copplestone, +author of the new play that Mr. Oliver's going to produce next month. Mr. +Copplestone got a wire from him yesterday, asking him to come here today +at one o'clock, He's travelled all night to get here." + +"Where was the wire sent from?" asked Rothwell, a sharp-eyed, +keen-looking man, who, like Stafford, was obviously interested in the new +author's boyish appearance. "And when?" + +Copplestone drew some letters and papers from his pocket and selected +one. "That's it," he said. "There you are--sent off from Northborough at +nine-thirty, yesterday morning--Sunday." + +"Well, then he was at Northborough at that time," remarked Rothwell. +"Look here, Stafford, we'd better telephone to Northborough, to his +hotel. The 'Golden Apple,' wasn't it?" + +"No good," replied Stafford, shaking his head. "The 'Golden Apple' isn't +on the 'phone--old-fashioned place. We'd better wire." + +"Too slow," said Rothwell. "We'll telephone to the theatre there, and ask +them to step across and make inquiries. Come on!--let's do it at once." + +He hurried inside again, and Stafford turned to Copplestone. + +"Better send your cab away and come inside until we get some news," he +said. "Let Jerramy take your things into his sanctum--he'll keep an eye +on them till you want them--I suppose you'll stop at the 'Angel' with +Oliver. Look here!" he went on, turning to the cab driver, "just you wait +a bit--I might want you; wait ten minutes, anyway. Come in, Mr. +Copplestone." + +Copplestone followed the business manager up the passage to a +dressing-room, in which a little elderly man was engaged in unpacking +trunks and dress-baskets. He looked up expectantly at the sound of +footsteps; then looked down again at the work in hand and went silently +on with it. + +"This is Hackett, Mr. Oliver's dresser," said Stafford. "Been with +him--how long, Hackett?" + +"Twenty years next January, Mr. Stafford," answered the dresser quietly. + +"Ever known Mr. Oliver late like this?" inquired Stafford. + +"Never, sir! There's something wrong," replied Hackett. "I'm sure of it. +I feel it! You ought to go and look for him, some of you gentlemen." + +"Where?" asked Stafford. "We don't know anything about him. He's not come +to the 'Angel,' as he ought to have done, yesterday. I believe you're the +last person who saw him, Hackett. Aren't you, now?" + +"I saw him at the 'Golden Apple' at Northborough at twelve o'clock +Saturday night, sir," answered Hackett. "I took a bag of his to his rooms +there. He was all right then. He knew I was going off first thing next +morning to see an uncle of mine who's a farmer on the coast between here +and Northborough, and he told me he shouldn't want me until one o'clock +today. So of course, I came straight here to the theatre--I didn't call +in at the 'Angel' at all this morning." + +"Did he say anything about his own movements yesterday?" asked Stafford. +"Did he tell you that he was going anywhere?" + +"Not a word, Mr. Stafford," replied Hackett. "But you know his habits as +well as I do." + +"Just so," agreed Stafford. "Mr. Oliver," he continued, turning to +Copplestone, "is a great lover of outdoor life. On Sundays, when we're +travelling from one town to another, he likes to do the journey by +motor--alone. In a case like this, where the two towns are not very far +apart, it's his practice to find out if there's any particular beauty +spot or place of interest between them, and to spend his Sunday there. I +daresay that's what he did yesterday. You see, all last week we were at +Northborough. That, like Norcaster, is a coast town--there's fifty miles +between them. If he followed out his usual plan he'd probably hire a +motor-car and follow the coast-road, and if he came to any place that was +of special interest, he'd stop there. But--in the usual way of +things--he'd have turned up at his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel here last +night. He didn't--and he hasn't turned up here, either. So where is he?" + +"Have you made inquiries of the company, Mr. Stafford?" asked Hackett. +"Most of 'em wander about a bit of a Sunday--they might have seen him." + +"Good idea!" agreed Stafford. He beckoned Copplestone to follow him on +to the stage, where the members of the company sat or stood about in +groups, each conscious that something unusual had occurred. "It's really +a queer, and perhaps a serious thing," he whispered as he steered his +companion through a maze of scenery. "And if Oliver doesn't turn up, we +shall be in a fine mess. Of course, there's an understudy for his part, +but--I say!" he went on, as they stepped upon the stage, "Have any of you +seen Mr. Oliver, anywhere, since Saturday night? Can anybody tell +anything about him--anything at all? Because--it's useless to deny the +fact--he's not come here, and he's not come to town at all, so far as we +know. So--" + +Rothwell came hurrying on to the stage from the opposite wings. He +hastened across to Stafford and drew him and Copplestone a little aside. + +"I've heard from Northborough," he said. "I 'phoned Waters, the manager +there, to run across to the 'Golden Apple' and make inquiries. The +'Golden Apple' people say that Oliver left there at eleven o'clock +yesterday morning. He was alone. He simply walked out of the hotel. And +they know nothing more." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GREY ROCK AND GREY SEA + + +The three men stood for a while silently looking at each other. +Copplestone, as a stranger, secretly wondered why the two managers seemed +so concerned; to him a delay of half an hour in keeping an appointment +did not appear to be quite as serious as they evidently considered it. +But he had never met Bassett Oliver, and knew nothing of his ways; he +only began to comprehend matters when Rothwell turned to Stafford with an +air of decision. + +"Look here!" he said. "You'd better go and make inquiry at Northborough. +See if you can track him. Something must be wrong--perhaps seriously +wrong. You don't quite understand, do you, Mr. Copplestone?" he went on, +giving the younger man a sharp glance. "You see, we know Mr. Oliver so +well--we've both been with him a good many years. He's a model of system, +regularity, punctuality, and all the rest of it. In the ordinary course +of events, wherever he spent yesterday, he'd have been sure to turn up at +his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel last night, and he'd have walked in here +this morning at half-past twelve. As he hasn't done either, why, then, +something unusual has happened. Stafford, you'd better get a move on." + +"Wait a minute," said Stafford. He turned again to the groups behind him, +repeating his question. + +"Has anybody anything to tell?" he asked anxiously. "We've just heard +that Mr. Oliver left his hotel at Northborough yesterday morning at +eleven o'clock, alone, walking. Has anybody any idea of any project, any +excursion, that he had in mind?" + +An elderly man who had been in conversation with the leading lady +stepped forward. + +"I was talking to Oliver about the coast scenery between here and +Northborough the other day--Friday," he remarked. "He'd never seen it--I +told him I used to know it pretty well once. He said he'd try and see +something of it on Sunday--yesterday, you know. And, I say--" here he +came closer to the two managers and lowered his voice--"that coast is +very wild, lonely, and a good bit dangerous--sharp and precipitous +cliffs. Eh?" + +Rothwell clapped a hand on Stafford's arm. + +"You'd really better be off to Northborough," he said with decision. +"You're sure to come across traces of him. Go to the 'Golden +Apple'--then the station. Wire or telephone me--here. Of course, this +rehearsal's off. About this evening--oh, well, a lot may happen before +then. But go at once--I believe you can get expresses from here to +Northborough pretty often." + +"I'll go with you--if I may," said Copplestone suddenly. "I might be of +use. There's that cab still at the door, you know--shall we run up to +the station?" + +"Good!" assented Stafford. "Yes, come by all means." He turned to +Rothwell for a moment. "If he should turn up here, 'phone to Waters at +the Northborough theatre, won't you?" he said. "We'll look in there as +soon as we arrive." + +He hurried out with Copplestone and together they drove up to the +station, where an express was just leaving for the south. Once on their +way to Northborough, Stafford turned to his companion with a grave shake +of the head. + +"I daresay you don't quite see the reason of our anxiety," he observed. +"You see, we know Oliver. He's a trick of wandering about by himself on +Sundays--when he gets the chance. Of course when there's a long journey +between two towns, he doesn't get the chance, and then he's all right. +But when, as in this case, the town of one week is fairly close to the +town of the next, he invariably spots some place of interest, an old +castle, or a ruined abbey, or some famous house, and goes looking round +it. And if he's been exploring some spot on this coast yesterday, and +it's as that chap Rutherford said, wild and dangerous, why, then--" + +"You think he may have had an accident--fallen over the cliffs or +something?" suggested Copplestone. + +"I don't like to think anything," replied Stafford. "But I shall be a +good deal relieved if we can get some definite news about him." + +The first half-hour at Northborough yielded nothing definite. A telephone +message from Rothwell had just come to the theatre when they drove up to +it--nothing had so far been heard of the missing man at Norcaster--either +at theatre or hotel. Stafford and Copplestone hurried across to the +"Golden Apple" and interviewed its proprietor; he, keenly interested in +the affair, could tell no more than that Mr. Bassett Oliver, having sent +his luggage forward to Norcaster, had left the house on foot at eleven +o'clock the previous morning, and had been seen to walk across the +market-place in the direction of the railway station. But an old +head-waiter, who had served the famous actor's breakfast, was able to +give some information; Mr. Oliver, he said, had talked a little to him +about the coast scenery between Northborough and Norcaster, and had asked +him which stretch of it was worth seeing. It was his impression that Mr. +Oliver meant to break his journey somewhere along the coast. + +"Of course, that's it," said Stafford, as he and Copplestone drove off +again. "He's gone to some place between the two towns. But where? Anyhow, +nobody's likely to forget Oliver if they've once seen him, and wherever +he went, he'd have to take a ticket. Therefore--the booking-office." + +Here at last, was light. One of the clerks in the booking-office came +forward at once with news. Mr. Bassett Oliver, whom he knew well enough, +having seen him on and off the stage regularly for the past five years, +had come there the previous morning, and had taken a first-class single +ticket for Scarhaven. He would travel to Scarhaven by the 11.35 train, +which arrived at Scarhaven at 12.10. Where was Scarhaven? On the coast, +twenty miles off, on the way to Norcaster; you changed for it at Tilmouth +Junction. Was there a train leaving soon for Scarhaven? There was--in +five minutes. + +Stafford and Copplestone presently found themselves travelling back along +the main line. A run of twenty minutes brought them to the junction, +where, at an adjacent siding they found a sort of train in miniature +which ran over a narrow-gauge railway towards the sea. Its course lay +through a romantic valley hidden between high heather-clad moorland; they +saw nothing of their destination nor of the coast until, coming to a stop +in a little station perched high on the side of a hill they emerged to +see shore and sea lying far beneath them. With a mutual consent they +passed outside the grey walls of the station-yard to take a comprehensive +view of the scene. + +"Just the place to attract Oliver!" muttered Stafford, as he gazed around +him. "He'd revel in it--fairly revel!" + +Copplestone gazed at the scene in silence. That was the first time he had +ever seen the Northern coast, and the strange glamour and romance of this +stretch of it appealed strongly to his artistic senses. He found himself +standing high above the landward extremity of a narrow bay or creek, much +resembling a Norwegian fiord in its general outlines; it ran in from the +sea between high shelving cliffs, the slopes of which were thickly wooded +with the hardier varieties of tree and shrub, through which at intervals +great, gaunt masses of grey rock cropped out. On the edge of the water at +either side of the bay were lines of ancient houses and cottages of grey +walls and red roofs, built and grouped with the irregularity of +individual liking; on the north side rose the square tower and low nave +of a venerable church; amidst a mass of wood on the opposite side stood a +great Norman keep, half ruinous, which looked down on a picturesque house +at its foot. Quays, primitive and quaint, ran along between the old +cottages and the water's edge; in the bay itself or nestling against the +worn timbers of the quays, were small craft whose red sails hung idly +against their tall masts and spars. And at the end of the quays and the +wooded promontories which terminated the land view, lay the North Sea, +cold, grey, and mysterious in the waning October light, and out of its +bosom rose, close to the shore, great masses of high grey rocks, strong +and fantastic of shape, and further away, almost indistinct in the +distance, an island, on the highest point of which the ruins of some old +religious house were silhouetted against the horizon. + +"Just the place!" repeated Stafford. "He'd have cheerfully travelled a +thousand miles to see this. And now--we know he came here--what we next +want to know is, what he did when he got here?" + +Copplestone, who had been taking in every detail of the scene before him, +pointed to a house of many gables and queer chimneys which stood a little +way beneath them at the point where the waters of a narrow stream ran +into the bay. + +"That looks like an inn," he said. "I think I can make out a sign on the +gable-end. Let's go down there and inquire. He would get here just about +time for lunch, wouldn't he, and he'd probably turn in there. Also--they +may have a telephone there, and you can call up the theatre at Norcaster +and find out if anything's been heard yet." + +Stafford smiled approvingly and started out in the direction of the +buildings towards which Copplestone had pointed. + +"Excellent notion!" he said. "You're quite a business man--an unusual +thing in authors, isn't it? Come on, then--and that is an inn, too--I can +make out the sign now--The 'Admiral's Arms'--Mary Wooler. Let's hope Mary +Wooler, who's presumably the landlady, can give us some useful news!" + +The "Admiral's Arms" proved to be an old-fashioned, capacious hostelry, +eminently promising and comfortable in appearance, which stood on the +edge of a broad shelf of headland, and commanded a fine view of the +little village and the bay. Stafford and Copplestone, turning in at the +front door, found themselves in a deep, stone-paved hall, on one side of +which, behind a bar window, a pleasant-faced, buxom woman, silk-aproned +and smartly-capped, was busily engaged in adding up columns of figures in +a big account-book. At sight of strangers she threw open a door and +smilingly invited them to walk into a snugly furnished bar-parlour where +a bright fire burned in an open hearth. Stafford gave his companion a +look--this again was just the sort of old-world place which would appeal +to Basset Oliver, supposing he had come across it. + +"I wonder if you can give me some information?" he asked presently, when +the good-looking landlady had attended to their requests for refreshment. +"I suppose you are the landlady--Mrs. Wooler? Well, now, Mrs. Wooler, did +you have a tall, handsome, slightly grey-haired gentleman in here to +lunch yesterday--say about one o'clock?" + +The landlady turned on her questioner with an intelligent smile. + +"You mean Mr. Oliver, the actor?" she said. + +"Good!" exclaimed Stafford, with a hearty sigh of relief. "I do! You know +him, then?" + +"I've often seen him, both at Northborough and at Norcaster," replied +Mrs. Wooler. "But I never saw him here before yesterday. Oh, yes! of +course I knew him as soon as he walked in, and I had a bit of chat with +him before he went out, and he remarked that though he'd been coming into +these parts for some years, he'd never been to Scarhaven before--usually, +he said, he'd gone inland of a Sunday, amongst the hills. Oh, yes, he was +here--he had lunch here." + +"We're seeking him," said Stafford, going directly to the question. "He +ought to have turned up at the 'Angel Hotel' at Norcaster last night, +and at the theatre today at noon--he did neither. I'm his business +manager, Mrs. Wooler. Now can you tell us anything--more than you've +already told, I mean?" + +The landlady, whose face expressed more and more concern as Stafford +spoke, shook her head. + +"I can't!" she answered. "I don't know any more. He was here perhaps an +hour or so. Then he went away, saying he was going to have a look round +the place. I expected he'd come in again on his way to the station, but +he never did. Dear, dear! I hope nothing's happened to him--such a fine, +pleasant man. And--" + +"And--what?" asked Stafford. + +"These cliffs and rocks are so dangerous," murmured Mrs. Wooler. "I +often say that no stranger ought to go alone here. They aren't safe, +these cliffs." + +Stafford set down his glass and rose. + +"I think you've got a telephone in your hall," he said. "I'll just call +up Norcaster and find out if they've heard anything. If they haven't--" + +He shook his head and went out, and Copplestone glanced at the landlady. + +"You say the cliffs are dangerous," he said. "Are they particularly so?" + +"To people who don't know them, yes," she replied. "They ought to be +protected, but then, of course, we don't get many tourists here, and the +Scarhaven people know the danger spots well enough. Then again at the end +of the south promontory there, beyond the Keep--" + +"Is the Keep that high square tower amongst the woods?" asked +Copplestone. + +"That's it--it's all that's left of the old castle," answered Mrs. +Wooler. "Well, off the point beneath that, there's a group of +rocks--you'd perhaps noticed them as you came down from the station? +They've various names--there's the King, the Queen, the Sugar-Loaf, and +so on. At low tide you can walk across to them. And of course, some +people like to climb them. Now, they're particularly dangerous! On the +Queen rock there's a great hole called the Devil's Spout, up which the +sea rushes. Everybody wants to look over it, you know, and if a man was +there alone, and his foot slipped, and he fell, why--" + +Stafford came back, looking more cast down than ever. + +"They've heard nothing there," he announced. "Come on--we'll go down and +see if we can hear anything from any of the people. We'll call in and see +you later, Mrs. Wooler, and if you can make any inquiries in the +meantime, do. Look here," he went on, when he and Copplestone had got +outside, "you take this south side of the bay, and I'll take the north. +Ask anybody you see--any likely person--fishermen and so on. Then come +back here. And if we've heard nothing--" + +He shook his head significantly, as he turned away, and Copplestone, +taking the other direction, felt that the manager's despondency was +influencing himself. A sudden disappearance of this sort was surely not +to be explained easily--nothing but exceptional happenings could have +kept Bassett Oliver from the scene of his week's labours. There must have +been an accident--it needed little imagination to conjure up its easy +occurrence. A too careless step, a too near approach, a loose stone, a +sudden giving way of crumbling soil, the shifting of an already detached +rock--any of these things might happen, and then--but the thought of what +might follow cast a greyer tint over the already cold and grey sea. + +He went on amongst the old cottages and fishing huts which lay at the +foot of the wooded heights on the tops of whose pines and firs the gaunt +ruins of the old Keep seemed to stand sentinel. He made inquiry at open +doors and of little groups of men gathered on the quay and by the +drawn-up boats--nobody knew anything. According to what they told him, +most of these people had been out and about all the previous afternoon; +it had been a particularly fine day, that Sunday, and they had all been +out of doors, on the quay and the shore, in the sunshine. But nobody had +any recollection of the man described, and Copplestone came to the +conclusion that Oliver had not chosen that side of the bay. There was, +however, one objection to that theory--so far as he could judge, that +side was certainly the more attractive. And he himself went on to the end +of it--on until he had left quay and village far behind, and had come to +a spit of sand which ran out into the sea exactly opposite the group of +rocks of which Mrs. Wooler had spoken. There they lay, rising out of the +surf like great monsters, a half-mile from where he stood. The tide was +out at that time, and between him and them stretched a shining expanse of +glittering wet sand. And, coming straight towards him across it, +Copplestone saw the slim and graceful figure of a girl. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + + +It was not from any idle curiosity that Copplestone made up his mind to +await the girl's nearer approach. There was no other human being in view, +and he was anxious to get some information about the rocks whose grim +outlines were rapidly becoming faint and indistinct in the gathering +darkness. And so as the girl came towards him, picking her way across the +pools which lay amidst the brown ribs of sand, he went forward, throwing +away all formality and reserve in his eagerness. + +"Forgive me for speaking so unceremoniously," he said as they met. "I'm +looking for a friend who has disappeared--mysteriously. Can you tell me +if, any time yesterday, afternoon or evening, you saw anywhere about here +a tall, distinguished-looking man--the actor type. In fact, he is an +actor--perhaps you've heard of him? Mr. Bassett Oliver." + +He was looking narrowly at the girl as he spoke, and she, too, looked +narrowly at him out of a pair of grey eyes of more than ordinary +intelligence and perception. And at the famous actor's name she started a +little and a faint colour stole over her cheeks. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver!" she exclaimed in a clear, cultured voice. "My +mother and I saw Mr. Oliver at the Northborough Theatre on Friday +evening. Do you mean that he--" + +"I mean--to put it bluntly--that Bassett Oliver is lost," answered +Copplestone. "He came to this place yesterday, Sunday, morning, to look +round; he lunched at the 'Admiral's Arms,' he went out, after a chat with +the landlady, and he's never been seen since. He should have turned up at +the 'Angel' at Norcaster last night, and at a rehearsal at the Theatre +Royal there today at noon--but he didn't. His manager and I have tracked +him here--and so far I can't hear of him. I've asked people all through +the village--this side, anyway--nobody knows anything." + +He and the girl still looked attentively at each other; Copplestone, +indeed, was quietly inspecting her while he talked. He judged her to be +twenty-one or two; she was a little above medium height, slim, graceful, +pretty, and he was quick to notice that her entire air and appearance +suggested their present surroundings. Her fair hair escaped from a +knitted cap such as fisher-folk wear; her slender figure was shown to +advantage by a rough blue jersey; her skirt of blue serge was short and +practical; she was shod in brogues which showed more acquaintance with +sand and salt water than with polish. And her face was tanned with the +strong northern winds, and the ungloved hands, small and shapely as they +were, were brown as the beach across which she had come. + +"I have not seen--nor heard--of Mr. Bassett Oliver--here," she answered. +"I was out and about all yesterday afternoon and evening, too--not on +this side of the bay, though. Have you been to the police-station?" + +"The manager may have been there," replied Copplestone. "He's gone along +the other shore. But--I don't think he'll get any help there. I'm afraid +Mr. Oliver must have met with an accident. I wanted to ask you a +question--I saw you coming from the direction of those rocks just now. +Could he have got out there across those sands, yesterday afternoon?" + +"Between three o'clock and evening--yes," said the girl. + +"And--is it dangerous out there?" + +"Very dangerous indeed--to any one who doesn't know them." + +"There's something there called the Devil's Spout?" + +"Yes--a deep fissure up which the sea boils. Oh! it seems dreadful to +think of--I hope he didn't fall in there. If he did--" + +"Well?" asked Copplestone bluntly, "what if he did?" + +"Nothing ever came out that once went in," she answered. "It's a sort of +whirlpool that's sucked right away into the sea. The people hereabouts +say it's bottomless." + +Copplestone turned his face towards the village. + +"Oh, well," he said, with an accent of hopelessness. "I can't do any more +down here, it's growing dusk. I must go back and meet the manager." + +The girl walked along at his side as he turned towards the village. + +"I suppose you are one of Mr. Oliver's company?" she observed presently. +"You must all be much concerned." + +"They're all greatly concerned," answered Copplestone. "But I don't +belong to the company. No--I came to Norcaster this morning to meet Mr. +Oliver--he's going--I hope I oughtn't to say was going!--to produce a +play of mine next month, and he wanted to talk about the rehearsals. +Everything, of course, was at a standstill when I reached Norcaster at +one o'clock, so I came with Stafford, the business manager, to see +what we could do about tracking Mr. Oliver. And I'm afraid, I'm very +much afraid--" + +He paused, as a gate, set in the thick hedge of a garden at this point of +the village, suddenly opened to let out a man, who at sight of the girl +stopped, hesitated, and then waited for her approach. He was a tall, +well-built man of apparently thirty years, dressed in a rough tweed +knickerbocker suit, but the dusk had now so much increased that +Copplestone could only gather an impression of ordinary good-lookingness +from the face that was turned inquiringly on his companion. The girl +turned to him and spoke hurriedly. + +"This is my cousin, Mr. Greyle, of Scarhaven Keep," she murmured. "He may +be able to help. Marston!" she went on, raising her voice, "can you give +any help here? This gentleman--" she paused, looking at Copplestone. + +"My name is Richard Copplestone," he said. + +"Mr. Copplestone is looking for Mr. Bassett Oliver, the famous actor," +she continued, as the three met. "Mr. Oliver has mysteriously +disappeared. Mr. Copplestone has traced him here, to Scarhaven--he was +here yesterday, lunching at the inn--but he can't get any further news. +Did you see anything, or hear anything of him?" + +Marston Greyle, who had been inspecting the stranger narrowly in the +fading light, shook his head. + +"Bassett Oliver, the actor," he said. "Oh, yes, I saw his name on the +bills in Norcaster the other day. Came here, and has disappeared, you +say? Under what circumstances?" + +Copplestone had listened carefully to the newcomer's voice; more +particularly to his accent. He had already gathered sufficient knowledge +of Scarhaven to know that this man was the Squire, the master of the old +house and grey ruin in the wood above the cliff; he also happened to +know, being something of an archaeologist and well acquainted with family +histories, that there had been Greyles of Scarhaven for many hundred +years. And he wondered how it was that though this Greyle's voice was +pleasant and cultured enough, its accent was decidedly American. + +"Perhaps I'd better explain," said Copplestone. "I've already told most +of it to this lady, but you will both understand more fully if I tell you +more. It's this way--" and he went on to tell everything that had +happened and come to light since one o'clock that day. "So you see, it's +here," he concluded; "we're absolutely certain that Oliver went out of +the 'Admiral's Arms' up there about half-past two yesterday, but--where? +From that moment, no one seems to have seen him. Yet how he could come +along this village street, this quay, without being seen--" + +"He need not have come along the quayside," interrupted the girl. "There +is a cliff path just below the inn which leads up to the Keep." + +"Also, he mayn't have taken this side of the bay, either." remarked +Greyle. "He may have chosen the other. You didn't see or hear of him on +your side, Audrey?" + +"Nothing!" replied the girl. "Nothing!" + +Marston Greyle had fallen into line with the other two, and they were now +walking along the quay in the direction of the "Admiral's Arms." And +presently Stafford, accompanied by a policeman, came hurriedly round a +corner and quickened his steps at sight of Copplestone. The policeman, +evidently much puzzled and interested, saluted the Squire obsequiously as +the two groups met. + +"No news at all!" exclaimed Stafford, glancing at Copplestone's +companions. "You got any?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "Not a word. This is Mr. Greyle, of the +Keep--he has heard nothing. This lady--Miss Greyle?--was out a good deal +yesterday afternoon; she knows Oliver quite well by sight, but she did +not see him. So if you've no news--" + +Marston Greyle interrupted, turning to the policeman. + +"What ought to be done, Haskett?" he asked. "You've had cases of +disappearance to deal with before, eh?" + +"Can't say as I have, sir, in my time," answered the policeman. +"Leastways, not of this sort. Of course, we can get search parties +together, and one of 'em can go along the coast north'ards, and the other +can go south'ards, and we might have a look round the rocks out yonder, +tomorrow, as soon as it's light. But if the gentleman went out there, and +had the bad luck to fall into that Devil's Spout, why, then, sir, I'm +afraid all the searching in the world'll do no good. And the queer thing +is, gentlemen, if I may express an opinion, that nobody ever saw the +gentleman after he had left Mrs. Wooler's! That seems--" + +A fisherman came lounging across the quay from the shadow of one of the +neighbouring cottages. He touched his cap to Marston Greyle, and looked +inquiringly at the two strangers. + +"Are you the gentlemen as is asking after another gentleman?" he said. +"'Cause if so, I make no doubt as how I had a word or two with him +yesterday afternoon." + +Stafford and Copplestone turned sharply on the newcomer--an elderly +man of plain and homely aspect who responded frankly to their +questioning glances. He went on at once, before they could put their +questions into words. + +"It 'ud be about half-past two, or maybe a bit nearer three o'clock," he +said. "Up yonder it was, about a hundred yards this side of the +'Admiral's Arms.' I was sitting on a baulk o' timber there, doing +nothing, when he comes along--a tall, fine-looking man. He gives me a +pleasant sort o' nod, and said it was a grand day, and we got talking a +bit, about the scenery and such-like, and he said he'd never been here +before. Then he pointed up to the big house and the old Keep yonder, and +asked whose place that might be, and I said that was the Squire's. 'And +who may the Squire be?' says he. 'Mr. Marston Greyle,' says I, 'Recent +come into the property.' 'Marston Greyle!' he says, sharp-like. 'Why, I +used to know a young man of that very name in America!' he says. 'Very +like,' says I, 'I have heard as how the Squire had been in them parts +before he came here.' 'Bless me!' he says, 'I've a good mind to call on +him. How do you get up there?' he says. So I showed him that side path +that runs up through the plantation to near the top, and I told him that +if he followed that till he came to the Keep, he'd find another path +there as would take him to the door of the house. And he gave me a +shilling to drink his health, and off he went, the way as I'd pointed +out. D'ye think that'll be the same gentleman, now?" + +Nobody answered this question. Everybody there was looking at Marston +Greyle. The little group had drawn near to the light of one of the three +gas-lamps which feebly illuminated the quay; it seemed to Copplestone +that the Squire's face had paled when the fisherman arrived at the middle +of his story. But it flushed as his companion turned to him, and he +laughed, a little uneasily. + +"Said he knew me--in America?" he exclaimed. "I don't remember meeting +Mr. Bassett Oliver out there. But then I met so many Englishmen in one +place or another that I may have been introduced to him somewhere, at +some time, and--forgotten all about it." + +Stafford spoke--with unnecessary abruptness, in Copplestone's opinion. + +"I don't think it very likely that any one would forget Bassett Oliver," +he said. "He isn't--or wasn't--the sort of man anybody could forget, once +they'd met him. Anyhow--did he come to your house yesterday afternoon as +this man suggests?" + +Marston Greyle drew himself up. He looked Stafford up and down. Then he +made a slight gesture to the girl, whose face had already assumed a +troubled expression. + +"If I had seen Mr. Bassett Oliver yesterday, sir, we should not be +discussing his possible whereabouts now," said Greyle, icily. "Are you +coming, Audrey?" + +The girl hesitated, glanced at Copplestone, and then walked away with her +cousin. Stafford sniffed contemptuously. + +"Ass!" he muttered. "Couldn't he see that what I meant was that Oliver +must either have been mistaken, or have referred to some other Greyle +whom he met? Hang his pride! Well, now," he went on, turning to the +fisherman, "you're dead certain about what you've told us?" + +"As certain as mortal man can be of aught there is!" answered the +informant. "Sure certain, mister." + +"Make a note of it, constable," said Stafford. "Mr. Oliver was last seen +going up the path to the Keep, having said he meant to call on Mr. +Marston Greyle. I'll call on you again tomorrow morning. Copplestone!" he +went on, drawing his companion away, "I'm off to Norcaster--I shall see +the police there and get detectives. There's something seriously wrong +here--and by heaven, we've got to get to the bottom of it! Now, look +here--will you stay here for the night, so as to be on the spot? I'll +come back first thing in the morning and bring your luggage--I can't come +sooner, for there are heaps of business matters to deal with. You +will--good! Now I can just catch a train. Copplestone!--keep your eyes +and ears open. It's my firm belief--I don't know why--that there's been +foul play. Foul play!" + +Stafford hurried away up hill to the station, and Copplestone, after +waiting a minute or two, turned along the quay on the north of the +bay--following Audrey Greyle, who was in front, alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ESTATE AGENT + + +Copplestone had kept a sharp watch on Marston Greyle and his cousin when +they walked off, and he had seen that they had parted at a point a little +farther along the shore road--the man turning up into the wood, the girl +going forward along the quay which led to the other half of the village. +He quickened his pace and followed her, catching her up as she came to a +path which led towards the old church. At the sound of his hurrying steps +she turned and faced him, and he saw in the light of a cottage lamp that +she still looked troubled and perplexed. + +"Forgive me for running after you," said Copplestone as he went up to +her. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about--about that little scene +down there, you know. Your cousin misunderstood Mr. Stafford--what +Stafford meant was that--" + +"I saw what Mr. Stafford meant," she broke in quickly. "I'm sorry my +cousin didn't see it. It was--obvious." + +"All the same, Stafford put it rather--shall we say, brusquely," remarked +Copplestone. "Of course, he's terribly upset about Oliver's +disappearance, and he didn't consider the effect of his words. And it was +rather a surprise to hear that Oliver had known some man of your +cousin's name over there in America, wasn't it?" + +"And that Mr. Oliver should mysteriously disappear just after making such +an announcement," said Audrey. "That certainly seems very surprising." + +The two looked at each other, a question in the eyes of each, and +Copplestone knew that the trouble in the girl's eyes arose from inability +to understand what was already a suspicious circumstance. + +"But after all, that may have been a mere coincidence," he hastened to +say. "Let's hope things may be cleared. I only hope that Oliver hasn't +met with an accident and is lying somewhere without help. I'm going to +remain here for the night, however, and Stafford will come back early in +the morning and go more thoroughly into things--I suppose there'll have +to be a search of the neighbourhood." + +They had walked slowly up a path on the side of the cliff as they talked, +and now the girl stopped before a small cottage which stood at the end of +the churchyard, set in a tree-shaded garden, and looking out on the bay. +She laid her hand on the gate, glancing at Copplestone, and suddenly she +spoke, a little impulsively. + +"Will you come in and speak to my mother?" she said. "She was a great +admirer of Mr. Oliver's acting--and she knew him at one time. She will be +interested--and grieved." + +Copplestone followed her up the garden and into the house, where she led +the way into a small old-fashioned parlour in which a grey-haired woman, +who had once been strikingly handsome, and whose face seemed to the +visitor to bear traces of great trouble, sat writing at a bureau. She +turned in surprise as her daughter led Copplestone in, but her manner +became remarkably calm and collected as Audrey explained who he was and +why he was there. And Copplestone, watching her narrowly, fancied that he +saw interest flash into her eyes when she heard of Bassett Oliver's +remark to the fisherman. But she made no comment, and when Audrey had +finished the story, she turned to Copplestone as if she had already +summed up the situation. + +"We know this place so well--having lived here so long, you know," she +said, "that we can make a fairly accurate guess at what Mr. Oliver might +do. There seems no doubt that he went up the path to the Keep. According +to Mr. Marston Greyle's statement, he certainly did not go to the house. +Well, he might have done one of two other things. There is a path which +leads from the Keep down to the beach, immediately opposite the big rocks +which you have no doubt seen. There is another path which turns out of +the woods and follows the cliffs towards Lenwick, a village along the +coast, a mile away. But--at that time, on a Sunday afternoon, both paths +would be frequented. Speaking from knowledge, I should say that Mr. +Oliver cannot have left the woods--he must have been seen had he done so. +It's impossible that he could have gone down to the shore or along the +cliffs without being seen, too--impossible!" + +There was a certain amount of insistence in the last few words which +puzzled Copplestone--also they conveyed to him a queer suggestion which +repulsed him; it was almost as if the speaker was appealing to him to use +his own common-sense about a difficult question. And before he could make +any reply Mrs. Greyle put a direct inquiry to him. + +"What is going to be done?" + +"I don't know, exactly," answered Copplestone. "I'm going to stay here +for the night, anyway, on the chance of hearing something. Stafford is +coming back in the morning--he spoke of detectives." + +He looked a little doubtfully at his questioner as he uttered the last +word, and again he saw the sudden strange flash of unusual interest in +her eyes, and she nodded her head emphatically. + +"Precisely!--the proper thing to do," she said. "There must have been +foul play--must!" + +"Mother!" exclaimed Audrey, half doubtfully. "Do you really think--that?" + +"I don't think anything else," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I certainly don't +believe that Bassett Oliver would put himself into any position of danger +which would result in his breaking his neck. Bassett Oliver never left +Scarhaven Wood!" + +Copplestone made no comment on this direct assertion. + +Instead, after a brief silence, he asked Mrs. Greyle a question. + +"You knew Mr. Oliver--personally?" + +"Five and twenty years ago--yes," she answered. "I was on the stage +myself before my marriage. But I have never met him since then. I have +seen him, of course, at the local theatres." + +"He--you won't mind my asking?" said Copplestone, diffidently, "he didn't +know that you lived here?" + +Mrs. Greyle smiled, somewhat mysteriously. + +"Not at all--my name wouldn't have conveyed anything to him," she +answered. "He never knew whom I married. Otherwise, if he met some one +named Marston Greyle in America he would have connected him with me, and +have made inquiry about me, and had he known I lived here, he would have +called. It is odd, Audrey, that if your cousin met Mr. Oliver over there +he should have forgotten him. For one doesn't easily forget a man of +reputation--and Mr. Oliver was that of course!--and on the other hand, +Marston Greyle is not a common name. Did you ever hear the name before, +Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Only in connection with your own family--I have read of the Greyles of +Scarhaven," replied Copplestone. "But, after all, I suppose it is not +confined to your family. There may be Greyles in America. Well--it's all +very queer," he went on, as he rose to leave. "May I come in tomorrow and +tell you what's being done?--I'm sure Stafford means to leave no stone +unturned--he's tremendously keen about it." + +"Do!" said Mrs. Greyle, heartily. "But the probability is that you'll see +us out and about in the morning--we spend most of our time out of doors, +having little else to do." + +Copplestone went away feeling more puzzled than ever. + +Now that he was alone, for the first time since meeting Audrey Greyle on +the beach, he was able to reflect on certain events of the afternoon in +uninterrupted fashion. He thought over them as he walked back towards the +"Admiral's Arms." It was certainly a strange thing that Bassett Oliver, +after remarking to the fisherman that he had known a Mr. Marston Greyle +in America, and hearing that the Squire of Scarhaven had been in that +country, should have gone up to the house saying that he would call on +the Squire and should never have been seen again. It was certainly +strange that if this Marston Greyle, of Scarhaven, had met Bassett Oliver +in America he should have completely forgotten the fact. Bassett Oliver +had a considerable reputation in the United States--he was, in fact, more +popular in that country than in his own, and he had toured in the +principal towns and cities across there regularly for several years. To +meet him there was to meet a most popular celebrity--could any man forget +it? Therefore, were there two men of the name of Marston Greyle? + +That was one problem--closely affecting Oliver's disappearance. The other +had nothing to do with Oliver's disappearance--nevertheless, it +interested Richard Copplestone. He was a young man of quick perception +and accurate observation, and his alert eyes had seen that the Squire of +Scarhaven occupied a position suggestive of power and wealth. The house +which stood beneath the old Keep was one of size and importance, the sort +of place which could only be kept up by a rich man--Copplestone's glances +at its grounds, its gardens, its entrance lodge, its entire surroundings +had shown him that only a well-to-do man could live there. How came it, +then, that the Squire's relations--his cousin and her mother--lived in a +small and unpretentious cottage, and were obviously not well off as +regards material goods? Copplestone had the faculty of seeing things at a +glance, and refined and cultivated as the atmosphere of Mrs. Greyle's +parlour was, it had taken no more than a glance from his perceptive eyes +to see that he was there confronted with what folk call genteel poverty. +Mrs. Greyle's almost nun-like attire of black had done duty for a long +time; the carpet was threadbare; there was an absence of those little +touches of comfort with which refined women of even modest means love to +surround themselves; a sure instinct told him that here were two women +who had to carefully count their pence, and lay out their shillings with +caution. Genteel, quiet poverty, without doubt--and yet, on the other +side of the little bay, a near kinsman whose rent-roll must run to a few +thousands a year! + +And yet one more curious occasion of perplexity--to add to the other two. +Copplestone had felt instinctively attracted to Audrey Greyle when he met +her on the sands, and the attraction increased as he walked at her side +towards the village. In his quiet unobtrusive fashion he had watched her +closely when they encountered the man whom she introduced as her cousin; +and he had fancied that her manner underwent a curious change when +Marston Greyle came on the scene--she had seemed to become constrained, +chilled, distant, aloof--not with the stranger, himself, but with her +kinsman. This fancy had become assurance during the conversation which +had abruptly ended when Greyle took offence at Stafford's brusque remark. +Copplestone had seen a sudden look in the girl's eyes when the fisherman +repeated what Oliver had said about meeting a Mr. Marston Greyle in +America; it was a look of sharply awakened--what? Suspicion? +apprehension?--he could not decide. But it was the same look which had +come into her mother's eyes later on. Moreover, when the Squire turned +huffily away, taking his cousin with him, Copplestone had noticed that +there was evidently a smart passage of words between them after leaving +the little group on the quay, and they had parted unceremoniously, the +man turning on his heel up a side path into his own grounds and the girl +going forward with a sudden acceleration of pace. All this made +Copplestone draw a conclusion. + +"There's no great love lost between the gentleman at the big house and +his lady relatives in the little cottage," he mused. "Also, around the +gentleman there appears to be some cloud of mystery. What?--and has it +anything to do with the Oliver mystery?" + +He went back to the inn and made his arrangements with its landlady, who +by that time was full to overflowing with interest and amazement at the +strange affair which had brought her this guest. But Mrs. Wooler had eyes +as well as ears, and noticing that Copplestone was already looking weary +and harassed, she hastened to provide a hot dinner for him, and to +recommend a certain claret which in her opinion possessed remarkable +revivifying qualities. Copplestone, who had eaten nothing for several +hours, accepted her hospitable attentions with gratitude, and he was +enjoying himself greatly in a quaint old-world parlour, in close +proximity to a bright fire, when Mrs. Wooler entered with a countenance +which betokened mystery in every feature. + +"There's the estate agent, Mr. Chatfield, outside, very anxious to have a +word with you about this affair," she said. "Would you be for having him +in? He's the sort of man," she went on, sinking her tones to a whisper, +"who must know everything that's going on, and, of course, having the +position he has, he might be useful. Mr. Peter Chatfield, Mr. Greyle's +agent, and his uncle's before him--that's who he is--Peeping Peter, they +call him hereabouts, because he's fond of knowing everybody's business." + +"Bring him in," said Copplestone. He was by no means averse to having a +companion, and Mrs. Wooler's graphic characterization had awakened his +curiosity. "Tell him I shall be glad to see him." + +Mrs. Wooler presently ushered in a figure which Copplestone's dramatic +sense immediately seized on. He saw before him a tall, heavily-built +man, with a large, solemn, deeply-lined face, out of which looked a +pair of the smallest and slyest eyes ever seen in a human being--queer, +almost hidden eyes, set beneath thick bushy eyebrows above which rose +the dome of an unusually high forehead and a bald head. As for the rest +of him, Mr. Peter Chatfield had a snub nose, a wide slit of a mouth, and +a flabby hand; his garments were of a Quaker kind in cut and hue; he +wore old-fashioned stand-up collars and a voluminous black stock; in one +hand he carried a stout oaken staff, in the other a square-crowned +beaver hat; altogether, his mere outward appearance would have gained +notice for him anywhere, and Copplestone rejoiced in him as a character. +He rose, greeted his visitor cordially, and invited him to a seat by the +fire. The estate agent settled his heavy figure comfortably, and made a +careful inspection of the young stranger before he spoke. At last he +leaned forward. + +"Sir!" he whispered in a confidential tone. "Do you consider this here a +matter of murder?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GREYLE HISTORY + + +If Copplestone had followed his first natural impulse, he would have +laughed aloud at this solemnly propounded question: as it was, he found +it difficult to content himself with a smile. + +"Isn't it a little early to arrive at any conclusion, of any sort, Mr. +Chatfield?" he asked. "You haven't made up your own mind, surely?" +Chatfield pursed up his long thin lips and shook his head, continuing to +stare fixedly at Copplestone. + +"Now I may have, and I may not have, mister," he said at last, suddenly +relaxing. "What I was asking of was--what might you consider?" + +"I don't consider at all--yet," answered Copplestone. "It's too soon. Let +me offer you a glass of claret." + +"Many thanks to you, sir, but it's too cold for my stomach," responded +the visitor. "A drop of gin, now, is more in my line, since you're so +kind. Ah, well, in any case, sir, this here is a very unfortunate affair. +I'm a deal upset by it--I am indeed!" + +Copplestone rang the bell, gave orders for Mr. Chatfield's suitable +entertainment with gin and cigars, and making an end of his dinner, drew +up a chair to the fire opposite his visitor. + +"You are upset, Mr. Chatfield?" he remarked. "Now, why?" + +Chatfield sipped his gin and water, and flourished a cigar with a +comprehensive wave of his big fat hand. + +"Oh, in general, sir!" he said. "Things like this here are not pleasant +to have in a quiet, respectable community like ours. There's very wicked +people in this world, mister, and they will not control what's termed the +unruly member. They will talk. You'll excuse me, but I doubt not that I'm +a good deal more than twice your age, and I've learnt experience. My +experience, sir, is that a wise man holds his tongue until he's called +upon to use it. Now, in my opinion, it was a very unwise thing of yon +there sea-going man, Ewbank, to say that this unfortunate play-actor told +him that he'd met our Squire in America--very unfortunate!" + +Copplestone pricked his ears. Had the estate agent come there to tell him +that? And if so, why? + +"Oh!" he said. "You've heard that, have you? Now who told you that, Mr. +Chatfield? For I don't think that's generally known." + +"If you knew this here village, mister, as well as what I do," replied +Chatfield coolly, "you'd know that there is known all over the place by +this time. The constable told me, and of course yon there man, Ewbank, +he'll have told it all round since he had that bit of talk with you and +your friend. He'll have been in to every public there is in Scarhaven, +repeating of it. And a very, very serious complexion, of course, could be +put on them words, sir." + +"How?" asked Copplestone. + +"Put it to yourself, sir," replied Chatfield. "The unfortunate man comes +here, tells Ewbank he knew Mr. Greyle in that far-away land, says he'll +call on him, is seen going towards the big house--and is never seen no +more! Why, sir, what does human nature--which is wicked--say?" + +"What does your human nature--which I'm sure is not wicked, say?" +suggested Copplestone. "Come, now!" + +"What I say, sir, is neither here nor there," answered the agent. "It's +what evil-disposed tongues says." + +"But they haven't said anything yet," said Copplestone. + +"I should say they've said a deal, sir," responded Chatfield, +lugubriously. "I know Scarhaven tongues. They'll have thrown out a deal +of suspicious talk about the Squire." + +"Have you seen Mr. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. He was already sure that +the agent was there with a purpose, and he wanted to know its precise +nature. "Is he concerned about this?" + +"I have seen Mr. Greyle, mister, and he is concerned about what yon man, +Ewbank, related," replied Chatfield. "Mr. Greyle, sir, came straight to +me--I reside in a residence within the park. Mr. Greyle, mister, says +that he has no recollection whatever of meeting this play-actor person in +America--he may have done and he mayn't. But he doesn't remember him, and +it isn't likely he should--him, an English landlord and a gentleman +wouldn't be very like to remember a play-actor person that's here today +and gone tomorrow! I hope I give no offence, sir--maybe you're a +play-actor yourself." + +"I am not," answered Copplestone. He sat staring at his visitor for +awhile, and when he spoke again his voice had lost its cordial tone. +"Well," he said, "and what have you called on me about?" + +Chatfield looked up sharply, noticing the altered tone. + +"To tell you--and them as you no doubt represent--that Mr. Greyle will be +glad to help in any possible way towards finding out something in this +here affair," he answered. "He'll welcome any inquiry that's opened." + +"Oh!" said Copplestone. "I see! But you're making a mistake, Mr. +Chatfield. I don't represent anybody. I'm not even a relation of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. In fact, I never met Mr. Oliver in my life: never spoke +to him. So--I'm not here in any representative or official sense." + +Chatfield's small eyes grew smaller with suspicious curiosity. + +"Oh?" he said questioningly. "Then--what might you be here for, mister?" + +Copplestone stood up and rang the bell. + +"That's my business." he answered. "Sorry I can't give you any more +time," he went on as Mrs. Wooler opened the door. "I'm engaged now. If +you or Mr. Greyle want to see Mr. Oliver's friends I believe his brother, +Sir Cresswell Oliver, will be here tomorrow--he's been wired for anyhow." + +Chatfield's mouth opened as he picked up his hat. He stared at this +self-assured young man as if he were something quite new to him. + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver!" he exclaimed. "Did you say, sir?" + +"I said Sir Cresswell Oliver--quite plainly," answered Copplestone. + +Chatfield's mouth grew wider. + +"You don't mean to tell me that a play-actor's own brother to a titled +gentleman!" he said. + +"Good-night!" replied Copplestone, motioning his visitor towards the +door. "I can't give you any more time, really. However, as you seem +anxious, Mr. Bassett Oliver is the younger brother of Rear-Admiral Sir +Cresswell Oliver, Baronet, and I should imagine that Sir Cresswell will +want to know a lot about what's become of him. So you'd better--or Mr. +Greyle had better--speak to him. Now once more--good-night." + +When Chatfield had gone, Copplestone laughed and flung himself into an +easy chair before the fire. Of course, the stupid, ignorant, +self-sufficient old fool had come fishing for news--he and his master +wanted to know what was going to be done in the way of making inquiry. +But why?--why so much anxiety if they knew nothing whatever about Bassett +Oliver's strange disappearance? "Why this profession of eager willingness +to welcome any inquiry that might be made? Nobody had accused Marston +Greyle of having anything to do with Bassett Oliver's strange exit--if it +was an exit--why, then-- + +"But it's useless speculating," he mused. "I can't do anything--and here +I am, with nothing to do!" + +He had pleaded an engagement, but he had none, of course. There was a +shelf of old books in the room, but he did not care to read. And +presently, hands in pockets, he lounged out into the hall and saw Mrs. +Wooler standing at the door of the little parlour into which she had +shown him and Stafford earlier in the day. + +"There's nobody in here, sir," she said, invitingly; "if you'd like to +smoke your pipe here--" + +"Thank you--I will," answered Copplestone. "I got rid of that old +fellow," he observed confidentially when he had followed the landlady +within, and had dropped into a chair near her own. "I think he had +come--fishing." + +"That's his usual occupation," said Mrs. Wooler, with a meaning smile. "I +told you he was called Peeping Peter. He's the sort of man who will have +his nose in everybody's affairs. But," she added, with a shake of the +head which seemed to mean a good deal more than the smile, "he doesn't +often come here. This is almost the only house in Scarhaven that doesn't +belong to the Greyle estate. This house, and the land round it, have +belonged to the Wooler family as long as the rest of the place has +belonged to the Greyles. And many a Greyle has wanted to buy it, and +every Wooler has refused to sell it--and always will!" + +"That's very interesting," said Copplestone. "Does the present Greyle +want to buy?" + +The landlady picked up a piece of sewing and sat down in a chair which +seemed to be purposely placed so that she could keep an eye on the +adjacent bar-parlour on one side and the hall on the other. + +"I don't know much about what the present Squire would like," she said. +"Nobody does. He's a newcomer, and nobody knows anything about him. You +saw him this afternoon?" + +"I met a young lady on the sands who turned out to be his cousin, and he +came up while I was talking to her," replied Copplestone. "Yes, I saw +him. I'm afraid Mr. Stafford, who came in here with me, you know, +offended him," he continued, and gave Mrs. Wooler an account of what had +happened. "Is he rather--touchy?" he concluded. + +"I don't know that he is," she said. "No one sees much of him. You see +he's a stranger: although he's a Greyle, he's not a Scarhaven man. Of +course, I know all his family history--I'm Scarhaven born and bred. In my +time there have been three generations of Greyles. The first one I knew +was this Squire's grandfather, old Mr. Stephen Greyle: he died when I was +a girl in my 'teens. He had three sons and no daughters. The three sons +were all different in their tastes and ideas; the eldest, Stephen John, +who came into the estates on his father's death, was a real home bird--he +never left Scarhaven for more than a day or two at a time all his life. +And he never married--he was a real old bachelor, almost a woman-hater. +The next one, Marcus, went out to America and settled there--he was the +father of this present Squire, Mr. Marston Greyle. Then there was the +third son, Valentine--he went to live in London. And years after he came +back here, very poor, and settled down in a little house near Scarhaven +Church with his wife and daughter--that was the daughter you met this +afternoon, Miss Audrey. I don't know why, and nobody else knows, either, +but the last Squire, Stephen John, never had anything to do with +Valentine and his family; what's more, when Valentine died and left the +widow and daughter very poorly off, Stephen John did nothing for them. +But he himself died very soon after Valentine, and then of course, as +Marcus had already died in America, everything came to this Mr. Marston. +And, as I said, he's a stranger to Scarhaven folk and Scarhaven ways. +Indeed, you might say to England and English ways, for I understand he'd +never been in England until he came to take up the family property." + +"Is he more friendly with the mother and daughter than the last Squire +was?" asked Copplestone, who had been much interested in this chapter of +family history. + +Mrs. Wooler made several stitches in her sewing before she answered this +direct question, and when, she spoke it was in lower tones and with a +glance of caution. + +"He would be, if he could!" she said. "There are those in the village who +say that he wants to marry his cousin. But the truth is--so far as one +can see or learn it--that for some reason or other, neither Mrs. +Valentine Greyle nor Miss Audrey can bear him! They took some queer +dislike to the young man when he first came, and they've kept it up. Of +course, they're outwardly friendly, and he occasionally, I believe, goes +to the cottage, but they rarely go to the big house, and it's very seldom +they're ever seen together. I have heard--one does hear things in +villages--that he'd be very glad to do something handsome for them, but +they're both as proud as they're poor, and not the sort to accept aught +from anybody. I believe they've just enough to live on, but it can't be a +great deal, for everybody knows that Valentine Greyle made ducks and +drakes of his fortune long before he came back to Scarhaven, and old +Stephen John only left them a few hundreds of pounds. However--there it +is. However much the new Squire wants to marry his cousin, it's very flat +she'll not have anything to say to him. I've once or twice had an +opportunity of seeing those two together, and it's my private opinion +that Miss Audrey dislikes that young man just about as heartily as she +possibly could!" + +"What does Mr. Marston Greyle find to do with himself in this place?" +asked Copplestone, turning the conversation. "Can't be very lively for +him if he's a man of any activity." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Mrs. Wooler. "I think he's a good deal like +his uncle, the last squire--he certainly never goes anywhere, except out +to sea in his yacht. He shoots a bit, and fishes a bit, and so on, and +spends a lot of time with Peeping Peter--he's a widower, is Chatfield, and +lives alone, except when his daughter runs down to see him. And that +daughter, bye-the-bye, Mr. Copplestone, is on the stage." + +"Dear me!" said Copplestone. "That is surprising! Her father made several +contemptuous references to play-actors when he was talking to me." + +"Oh, he hates them, and all connected with them!" replied Mrs. Wooler, +laughing. "All the same, his own daughter has been on the stage for a +good five years, and I fancy she's doing well. A fine, handsome girl she +is, too--she's been down here a good deal lately, and--" + +The landlady suddenly paused, hearing a light step in the hall. She +glanced through the window and then turned to Copplestone with an +arch smile. + +"Talk of the--you know," she exclaimed. "Here's Addie Chatfield herself!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LEADING LADY + + +Copplestone looked up with interest as the door of the private parlour +was thrown open, and a tall, handsome young woman burst in with a +briskness of movement which betokened unusual energy and vivacity. He +got an impression of the old estate agent's daughter in one glance, +and wondered how Chatfield came to have such a good-looking girl as +his progeny. The impression was of dark, sparkling eyes, a mass of +darker, highly-burnished hair, bright colour, a flashing vivacious +smile, a fine figure, a general air of sprightliness and glowing +health--this was certainly the sort of personality that would +recommend itself to a considerable mass of theatre-goers, and +Copplestone, as a budding dramatist, immediately began to cast Addie +Chatfield for an appropriate part. + +The newcomer stopped short on the threshold as she caught sight of a +stranger, and she glanced with sharp inquisitiveness at Copplestone as he +rose from his chair. + +"Oh!--I supposed you were alone, Mrs. Wooler," she exclaimed. "You +usually are, you know, so I came in anyhow--sorry!" + +"Come in," said the landlady. "Don't go, Mr. Copplestone. This is Miss +Adela Chatfield. Your father has just been to see this gentleman, +Addie--perhaps he told you?" + +Addie Chatfield dropped into a chair at Mrs. Wooler's side, and looked +the stranger over slowly and carefully. + +"No," she answered. "My father didn't tell me--he doesn't tell me +anything about his own affairs. All his talk is about mine--the iniquity +of them, and so on." + +She showed a fine set of even white teeth as she made this remark, and +her eyes sought Copplestone's again with a direct challenge. Copplestone +looked calmly at her, half-smiling; he was beginning, in his youthful +innocence, to think that he already understood this type of young woman. +And seeing him smile, Addie also smiled. + +"Now I wonder whatever my father wanted to see you about?" she said, with +a strong accent on the personal pronoun. "For you don't look his sort, +and he certainly isn't yours--unless you're deceptive." + +"Perhaps I am," responded Copplestone, still keeping his eyes on her. +"Your father wanted to see me about the strange disappearance of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. That was all." + +The girl's glance, bold and challenging, suddenly shifted before +Copplestone's steady look. She half turned to Mrs. Wooler, and her colour +rose a little. + +"I've heard of that," she said, with an affectation of indifference. "And +as I happen to know a bit of Bassett Oliver, I don't see what all this +fuss is about. I should say Bassett Oliver took it into his head to go +off somewhere yesterday on a little game of his own, and that he's turned +up at Norcaster by this time, and is safe in his dressing-room, or on the +stage. That's my notion." + +"I wish I could think it the correct one," replied Copplestone. "But we +can soon find out if it is--there's a telephone in the hall. Yet--I'm so +sure that you're wrong, that I'm not even going to ring Norcaster up. Mr. +Bassett Oliver has--disappeared here!" + +"Are you a member of his company?" asked Addie, again looking Copplestone +over with speculative glances. + +"Not at all! I'm a humble person whose play Mr. Oliver was about to +produce next month, in consequence of which I came down to see him, and +to find this state of affairs. And--having nothing else to do--I'm now +here to help to find him--alive or dead." + +"Oh!" said Addie. "So--you're a writer?" + +"I understand that you are an actress?" responded Copplestone. "I wonder +if I've ever seen you anywhere?" + +Addie bowed her head and gave him a sharp glance. + +"Evidently not!" she retorted. "Or you wouldn't wonder! As if anybody +could forget me, once they'd seen me! I believe you're pulling my leg, +though. Do you live in town?" + +"I live," replied Copplestone slowly and with affected solemnity, "in +chambers in Jermyn Street." + +"And do you mean to tell me that you didn't see me last year in _The +Clever Lady Hartletop?_" she exclaimed. + +Copplestone put the tips of his fingers together and his head on one side +and regarded her critically. + +"What part did you play?" he asked innocently. + +"Part? Why, _the_ part, of course!" she retorted. "Goodness! Why, I +created it! And played it to crowded houses for nearly two hundred +nights, too!" + +"Ah!" said Copplestone. "But I'll make a confession to you. I rarely +visit the theatre. I never saw _Lady Hartletop._ I haven't been in a +theatre of any sort for two years. So you must forgive me. I congratulate +you on your success." + +Addie received this tribute with a mollified smile, which changed to a +glance of surprised curiosity. + +"You never go to the theatre?--and yet you write plays!" she exclaimed. +"That's queer, isn't it? But I believe writing people are queer--they +look it, anyhow. All the same, you don't look like a writer--what does he +look like, Mrs. Wooler? Oh, I know--a sort of nice little officer boy, +just washed and tidied up!" + +The landlady, who had evidently enjoyed this passage at arms, laughed as +she gave Copplestone a significant glance. + +"And when did you come down home, Addie?" she asked quietly. "I didn't +know you were here again." + +"Came down Saturday night," said Addie. "I'm on my way to +Edinburgh--business there on Wednesday. So I broke the journey here--just +to pay my respects to my worshipful parent." + +"I think I heard you say that you knew Mr. Bassett Oliver?" asked +Copplestone. "You've met him?" + +"Met him in this country and in America," replied Addie, calmly. "He was +on tour over there when I was--three years ago. We were in two or three +towns together at the same time--different houses, of course. I never saw +much of him in London, though." + +"You didn't see anything of him yesterday, here?" suggested Copplestone. + +Addie stared and glanced at the landlady. + +"Here?" she exclaimed. "Goodness, no! When I'm here of a Sunday, I lie in +bed all day, or most of it. Otherwise, I'd have to walk with my parent to +the family pew. No--my Sundays are days of rest! You really think this +disappearance is serious?" + +"Oliver's managers--who know him best, of course--think it most serious," +replied Copplestone. "They say that nothing but an accident of a really +serious nature would have kept him from his engagements." + +"Then that settles it!" said Addie. "He's fallen down the Devil's Spout. +Plain as plain can be, that! He's made his way there, been a bit too +daring, and slipped over the edge. And whoever falls in there never comes +out again!--isn't that it, Mrs. Wooler?" + +"That's what they say," answered the landlady. + +"But I don't remember any accident at the Devil's Spout in my time." + +"Well, there's been one now, anyway--that's flat," remarked Addie. "Poor +old Bassett--I'm sorry for him! Well, I'm off. Good-night, Mr. +Copplestone--and perhaps you'll so far overcome your repugnance to the +theatre as to come and see me in one some day?" + +"Supposing I escort you homeward instead--now?" suggested Copplestone. +"That will at least show that I am ready to become your devoted--" + +"Admirer, I suppose," said Addie. "I'm afraid he's not quite as innocent +as he looks, Mrs. Wooler. Well--you can escort me as far as the gates of +the park, then--I daren't take you further, because it's so dark in there +that you'd surely lose your way, and then there'd be a second +disappearance and all sorts of complications." + +She went out of the inn, laughing and chattering, but once outside she +suddenly became serious, and she involuntarily laid her hand on +Copplestone's arm as they turned down the hillside towards the quay. + +"I say!" she said in a low voice. "I wasn't going to ask questions in +there, but--what's going to be done about this Oliver affair? Of course +you're stopping here to do something. What?" + +Copplestone hesitated before answering this direct question. He had not +seen anything which would lead him to suppose that Miss Adela Chatfield +was a disingenuous and designing young woman, but she was certainly +Peeping Peter's daughter, and the old man, having failed to get anything +out of Copplestone himself, might possibly have sent her to see what she +could accomplish. He replied noncommittally. + +"I'm not in a position to do anything," he said. "I'm not a relative--not +even a personal friend. I daresay you know that Bassett Oliver was--one's +already talking of him in the past tense!--the brother of Rear-Admiral +Sir Cresswell Oliver, the famous seaman?" + +"I knew he was a man of what they call family, but I didn't know that," +she answered. "What of it?" + +"Stafford's wired to Sir Cresswell," replied Copplestone. "He'll be down +here some time tomorrow, no doubt. And of course he'll take everything +into his own hands." + +"And he'll do--what?" she asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Copplestone. "Set the police to work, I +should think. They'll want to find out where Bassett Oliver went, where +he got to, when he turned up to the Keep, saying he'd go and call on +the Squire, as he'd met some man of that name in America. By-the-bye, +you said you'd been in America. Did you meet anybody of the Squire's +name there?" + +They were passing along the quay by that time, and in the light of one of +its feeble gas-lamps he turned and looked narrowly at his companion. He +fancied that he saw her face change in expression at his question; if +there was any change, however, it was so quick that it was gone in a +second. She shook her head with emphatic decision. + +"I?" she exclaimed. "Never! It's a most uncommon name, that. I never +heard of anybody called Greyle except at Scarhaven." + +"The present Mr. Greyle came from America," said Copplestone. + +"I know, of course," she answered. "But I never met any Greyles out +there. Bassett Oliver may have done, though. I know he toured in a lot +of American towns--I only went to three--New York, Chicago, St. Louis. +I suppose," she continued, turning to Copplestone with a suggestion of +confidence in her manner, "I suppose you consider it a very damning +thing that Bassett Oliver should disappear, after saying what he did +to Ewbank." + +It was very evident to Copplestone that whether Miss Chatfield had spoken +the truth or not when she said that her father had not told her of his +visit to the "Admiral's Arms," she was thoroughly conversant with all the +facts relating to the Oliver mystery, and he was still doubtful as to +whether she was not seeking information. + +"Does it matter at all what I think," he answered evasively. "I've no +part in this affair--I'm a mere spectator. I don't know how what you +refer to might be considered by people who are accustomed to size things +up. They might say all that was a mere coincidence." + +"But what do you think?" she said with feminine persistence. "Come, now, +between ourselves?" + +Copplestone laughed. They had come to the edge of the wooded park in +which the estate agent's house stood, and at a gate which led into it, +he paused. + +"Between ourselves, then, I don't think at all--yet," he answered. "I +haven't sized anything up. All I should say at present is that if--or +as, for I'm sure the fisherman repeated accurately what he heard--as +Oliver said he met somebody called Marston Greyle in America, why--I +conclude he did. That's all. Now, won't you please let me see you +through these dark woods?" + +But Addie said her farewell, and left him somewhat abruptly, and he +watched her until she had passed out of the circle of light from the lamp +which swung over the gate. She passed on into the shadows--and +Copplestone, who had already memorized the chief geographical points of +his new surroundings, noticed what she probably thought no stranger would +notice--that instead of going towards her father's house, she turned up +the drive to the Squire's. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +LEFT ON GUARD + + +Stafford was back at Scarhaven before breakfast time next morning, +bringing with him a roll of copies of the _Norcaster Daily Chronicle_, +one of which he immediately displayed to Copplestone and Mrs. Wooler, who +met him at the inn door. He pointed with great pride to certain staring +headlines. + +"I engineered that!" he exclaimed. "Went round to the newspaper office +last night and put them up to everything. Nothing like publicity in these +cases. There you are! + + MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF FAMOUS ACTOR! + BASSETT OLIVER MISSING! + INTERVIEW WITH MAN WHO SAW HIM LAST! + +That's the style, Copplestone!--every human being along this coast'll be +reading that by now!" + +"So there was no news of him last night?" asked Copplestone. + +"Neither last night nor this morning, my boy," replied Stafford. "Of +course not! No--he never left here, not he! Now then, let Mrs. Wooler +serve us that nice breakfast which I'm sure she has in readiness, and +then we're going to plunge into business, hot and strong. There's a +couple of detectives coming on by the nine o'clock train, and we're going +to do the whole thing thoroughly." + +"What about his brother?" inquired Copplestone. + +"I wired him last night to his London address, and got a reply first +thing this morning," said Stafford. "He's coming along by the 5:15 A.M. +from King's Cross--he'll be here before noon. I want to get things to +work before he arrives, though. And the first thing to do, of course, is +to make sympathetic inquiry, and to search the shore, and the cliffs, and +these woods--and that Keep. All that we'll attend to at once." + +But on going round to the village police-station they found that +Stafford's ideas had already been largely anticipated. The news of the +strange gentleman's mysterious disappearance had spread like wild-fire +through Scarhaven and the immediate district during the previous evening, +and at daybreak parties of fisher-folk had begun a systematic search. +These parties kept coming in to report progress all the morning: by noon +they had all returned. They had searched the famous rocks, the woods, the +park, the Keep, and its adjacent ruins, and the cliffs and shore for some +considerable distance north and south of the bay, and there was no +result. Not a trace, not a sign of the missing man was to be found +anywhere. And when, at one o'clock, Stafford and Copplestone walked up to +the little station to meet Sir Cresswell Oliver, it was with the +disappointing consciousness that they had no news to give him. + +Copplestone, who nourished a natural taste for celebrities of any sort, +born of his artistic leanings and tendencies, had looked forward with +interest to meeting Sir Cresswell Oliver, who, only a few months +previously, had made himself famous by a remarkable feat of seamanship in +which great personal bravery and courage had been displayed. He had a +vague expectation of seeing a bluff, stalwart, sea-dog type of man; +instead, he presently found himself shaking hands with a very +quiet-looking, elderly gentleman, who might have been a barrister or a +doctor, of pleasant and kindly manners. With him was another gentleman of +a similar type, and of about the same age, whom he introduced as the +family solicitor, Mr. Petherton. And to these two, in a private +sitting-room at the "Admiral's Arms," Stafford, as Bassett Oliver's +business representative, and Copplestone, as having remained on the spot +since the day before, told all and every detail of what had transpired +since it was definitely established that the famous actor was missing. +Both listened in silence and with deep attention; when all the facts had +been put before them, they went aside and talked together; then they +returned and Sir Cresswell besought Stafford and Copplestone's attention. + +"I want to tell you young gentlemen precisely what Mr. Petherton and I +think it best to do," he said in the mild and bland accents which had so +much astonished Copplestone. "We have listened, as you will admit, with +our best attention. Mr. Petherton, as you know, is a man of law; I +myself, when I have the good luck to be ashore, am a Chairman of +Quarter Sessions, so I'm accustomed to hearing and weighing evidence. We +don't think there's any doubt that my poor brother has met with some +curious mishap which has resulted in his death. It seems impossible, +going on what you tell us from the evidence you've collected, that he +could ever have approached that Devil's Spout place unseen; it also +seems impossible that he could have had a fatal fall over the cliffs, +since his body has not been found. No--we think something befell him in +the neighbourhood of Scarhaven Keep. But what? Foul play? Possibly! If +it was--why? And there are three people Mr. Petherton and I would like +to speak to, privately--the fisherman, Ewbank, Mr. Marston Greyle, and +Mrs. Valentine Greyle. We should like to hear Ewbank's story for +ourselves; we certainly want to see the Squire; and I, personally, wish +to see Mrs. Greyle because, from what Mr. Copplestone there has told us, +I am quite sure that I, too, knew her a good many years ago, when she +was acquainted with my brother Bassett. So we propose, Mr. Stafford, to +go and see these three people--and when we have seen them, I will tell +you and Mr. Copplestone exactly what I, as my brother's representative, +wish to be done." + +The two younger men waited impatiently in and about the hotel while their +elders went on their self-appointed mission. Stafford, essentially a man +of activity, speculated on their reasons for seeing the three people whom +Sir Cresswell Oliver had specifically mentioned: Copplestone was +meanwhile wondering if he could with propriety pay another visit to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage that night. It was drawing near to dusk when the two +quiet-looking, elderly gentlemen returned and summoned the younger ones +to another conference. Both looked as reserved and bland as when they had +set out, and the old seaman's voice was just as suave as ever when he +addressed them. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, "we have paid our visits, and I suppose I had +better tell you at once that we are no wiser as to actual facts than we +were when we left you earlier in the afternoon. The man Ewbank stands +emphatically by his story; Mr. Marston Greyle says that he cannot +remember any meeting with my brother in America, and that he certainly +did not call on him here on Sunday: Mrs. Valentine Greyle has not met +Bassett for a great many years. Now--there the matter stands. Of course, +it cannot rest there. Further inquiries will have to be made. Mr. +Petherton and I are going on to Norcaster this evening, and we shall have +a very substantial reward offered to any person who can give any +information about my brother. That may result in something--or in +nothing. As to my brother's business arrangements, I will go fully into +that matter with you, Mr. Stafford, at Norcaster, tomorrow. Now, Mr. +Copplestone, will you have a word or two with me in private?" + +Copplestone followed the old seaman into a quiet corner of the room, +where Sir Cresswell turned on him with a smile. + +"I take it," he said, "that you are a young gentleman of leisure, and +that you can abide wherever you like, eh?" + +"Yes, you may take that as granted," answered Copplestone, wondering what +was coming. + +"Doesn't much matter if you write your plays in Jermyn Street +or--anywhere else, eh?" questioned Sir Cresswell with a humorous smile. + +"Practically, no," replied Copplestone. + +Sir Cresswell tapped him on the shoulder. + +"I want you to do me a favour," he said. "I shall take it as a kindness +if you will. I don't want to talk about certain ideas which Petherton and +I have about this affair, yet, anyway--not even to you--but we _have_ +formed some ideas this afternoon. Now, do you think you could manage to +stay where you are for a week or two?" + +"Here?" exclaimed Copplestone. + +"This seems very comfortable," said Sir Cresswell, looking round. "The +landlady is a nice, motherly person; she gave me a very well-cooked +lunch; this is a quiet room in which to do your writing, eh?" + +"Of course I can stay here," answered Copplestone, who was a good deal +bewildered. "But--mayn't I know why--and in what capacity?" + +"Just to keep your eyes and your ears open," said Sir Cresswell. "Don't +seem to make inquiries--in fact, don't make any inquiry--do nothing. I +don't want you to do any private detective work--not I! Just stop here +a bit--amuse yourself--write--read--and watch things quietly. And--don't +be cross--I've an elderly man's privilege, you know--you'll send your +bills to me." + +"Oh, that's all right, thanks!" said Copplestone, hurriedly. "I'm pretty +well off as regards this world's goods." + +"So I guessed when I found that you lived in the expensive atmosphere of +Jermyn Street," said Sir Cresswell, with a sly laugh. "But all the same, +you'll let me be paymaster here, you know--that's only fair." + +"All right--certainly, if you wish it," agreed Copplestone. "But look +here--won't you trust me? I assure you I'm to be trusted. You suspect +somebody! Hadn't you better give me your confidence? I won't tell a +soul--and when I say that, I mean it literally. I won't tell one +single soul!" + +Sir Cresswell waited a moment or two, looking quietly at Copplestone. +Then he clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"All right, my lad," he said. "Yes!--we do suspect somebody. Marston +Greyle! Now you know it." + +"I expected that," answered Copplestone. "All right, sir. And my orders +are--just what you said." + +"Just what I said," agreed Sir Cresswell. "Carry on at that--eyes and +ears open; no fuss; everything quiet, unobtrusive, silent. +Meanwhile--Petherton will be at work. And I say--if you want company, +you know--I think you'll find it across the bay there at Mrs. +Greyle's--eh?" + +"I was there last night," said Copplestone. "I liked both of them +very much. You knew Mrs. Greyle once upon a time, I think; you and +your brother?" + +"We did!" replied Sir Cresswell, with a sigh. "Um!--the fact is, both +Bassett and I were in love with her at that time. She married another man +instead. That's all!" + +He gave Copplestone a squeeze of the elbow, laughed, and went across to +the solicitor, who was chatting to Stafford in one of the bow windows. +Ten minutes later all three were off to Norcaster, and Copplestone was +alone, ruminating over this sudden and extraordinary change in the +hitherto even tenor of his life. Little more than twenty-four hours +previously, all he had been concerned about was the production of his +play by Bassett Oliver--here he was now, mixed up in a drama of real +life, with Bassett Oliver as its main figure, and the plot as yet +unrevealed. And he himself was already committed to play in it--but +what part? + +Now that the others had gone, Copplestone began to feel strangely alone. +He had accepted Sir Cresswell Oliver's commission readily, feeling +genuinely interested in the affair, and being secretly conscious that he +would be glad of the opportunity of further improving his acquaintance +with Audrey Greyle. But now that he considered things quietly, he began +to see that his position was a somewhat curious and possibly invidious +one. He was to watch--and to seem not to watch. He was to listen--and +appear not to listen. The task would be difficult--and perhaps +unpleasant. For he was very certain that Marston Greyle would resent his +presence in the village, and that Chatfield would be suspicious of it. +What reason could he, an utter stranger, have for taking up his quarters +at the "Admiral's Arms?" The tourist season was over: Autumn was well set +in; with Autumn, on that coast, came weather which would send most +southerners flying homewards. Of course, these people would say that he +was left there to peep and pry--and they would all know that the Squire +was the object of suspicion. It was all very well, his telling Mrs. +Wooler that being an idle man he had taken a fancy to Scarhaven, and +would stay in her inn for a few weeks, but Mrs. Wooler, like everybody +else, would see through that. However, the promise had been given, and he +would keep it--literally. He would do nothing in the way of active +detective work--he would just wait and see what, if anything, turned up. + +But upon one thing Copplestone had made up his mind determinedly before +that second evening came--he would make no pretence to Audrey Greyle and +her mother. And availing himself of their permission to call again, he +went round to the cottage, and before he had been in it five minutes told +them bluntly that he was going to stay at Scarhaven awhile, on the +chance of learning any further news of Bassett Oliver. + +"Which," he added, with a grim smile, "seems about as likely as that +I should hear that I am to be Lord Chancellor when the Woolsack is +next vacant!" + +"You don't know," remarked Mrs. Greyle. "A reward for information is to +be offered, isn't it?" + +"Do you think that will do much good?" asked Copplestone. + +"It depends upon the amount," replied Mrs. Greyle. "We know these people. +They are close and reserved--no people could keep secrets better. For all +one knows, somebody in this village may know something, and may at +present feel it wisest to keep the knowledge to himself. But if +money--what would seem a lot of money--comes into question--ah!" + +"Especially if the information could be given in secret," said Audrey. +"Scarhaven folk love secrecy--it's the salt of life to them: it's in +their very blood. Chatfield is an excellent specimen. He'll watch you as +a cat watches a mouse when he finds you're going to stay here." + +"I shall be quite open," said Copplestone. "I'm not going to indulge in +any secret investigations. But I mean to have a thorough look round the +place. That Keep, now?--may one look round that?" + +"There's a path which leads close by the Keep, from which you can get a +good outside view of it," replied Audrey. "But the Keep itself, and the +rest of the ruins round about it are in private ground." + +"But you have a key, Audrey, and you can take Mr. Copplestone in there," +said Mrs. Greyle. "And you would show him more than he would find out for +himself--Audrey," she continued, turning to Copplestone, "knows every +inch of the place and every stone of the walls." + +Copplestone made no attempt to conceal his delight at this suggestion. He +turned to the girl with almost boyish eagerness. + +"Will you?" he exclaimed. "Do! When?" + +"Tomorrow morning, if you like," replied Audrey. "Meet me on the south +quay, soon after ten." + +Copplestone was down on the quay by ten o'clock. He became aware as he +descended the road from the inn that the fisher-folk, who were always +lounging about the sea-front, were being keenly interested in something +that was going on there. Drawing nearer he found that an energetic +bill-poster was attaching his bills to various walls and doors. Sir +Cresswell and his solicitor had evidently lost no time, and had set a +Norcaster printer to work immediately on their arrival the previous +evening. And there the bill was, and it offered a thousand pounds reward +to any person who should give information which would lead to the finding +of Bassett Oliver, alive or dead. + +Copplestone purposely refrained from mingling with the groups of men and +lads who thronged about the bills, eagerly discussing the great affair of +the moment. He sauntered along the quay, waiting for Audrey. She came at +last with an enigmatic smile on her lips. + +"Our particular excursion is off, Mr. Copplestone," she said. +"Extraordinary events seem to be happening. Mr. Chatfield called on us an +hour ago, took my key away from me, and solemnly informed us that +Scarhaven Keep is strictly closed until further notice!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RIGHT OF WAY + + +The look of blank astonishment which spread over Copplestone's face on +hearing this announcement seemed to afford his companion great +amusement, and she laughed merrily as she signed to him to turn back +towards the woods. + +"All the same," she observed, "I know how to steal a countermarch on +Master Chatfield. Come along!--you shan't be disappointed." + +"Does your cousin know of that?" asked Copplestone. "Are those his +orders?" + +Audrey's lips curled a little, and she laughed again--but this time the +laughter was cynical. + +"I don't think it much matters whether my cousin knows or not," she said. +"He's the nominal Squire of Scarhaven, but everybody knows that the real +over-lord is Peter Chatfield. Peter Chatfield does--everything. And--he +hates me! He won't have had such a pleasant moment for a long time as he +had this morning when he took my key away from me and warned me off." + +"But why you?" asked Copplestone. + +"Oh--Peter is deep!" she said. "Peter, no doubt, knew that you came to +see us last night--Peter knows all that goes on in Scarhaven. And he put +things together, and decided that I might act as your cicerone over the +Keep and the ruins, and so--there you are!" + +"Why should he object to my visiting the Keep?" demanded Copplestone. + +"That's obvious! He considers you a spy," replied Audrey. "And--there may +be reasons why he doesn't desire your presence in those ancient regions. +But--we'll go there, all the same, if you don't mind breaking rules and +defying Peter." + +"Not I!" said Copplestone. "Hang Peter!" + +"There are people who firmly believe that Peter Chatfield should have +been hanged long since," she remarked quietly. "I'm one of them. +Chatfield is a bad old man--thoroughly bad! But I'll circumvent him in +this, anyhow. I know how to get into the Keep in spite of him and of his +locks and bolts. There's a big curtain wall, twenty feet high, all round +the Keep, but I know where there's a hole in it, behind some bushes, and +we'll get in there. Come along!" + +She led him up the same path through the woods along which Bassett Oliver +had gone, according to Ewbank's account. It wound through groves of fir +and pine until it came out on a plateau, in the midst of which, +surrounded by a high irregular wall, towered at the angles and buttressed +all along its length, stood Scarhaven Keep. And there, at the head of a +path which evidently led up from the big house, stood Chatfield, angry +and threatening. Beyond him, distributed at intervals about the other +paths which converged on the plateau were other men, obviously estate +labourers, who appeared to be mounting guard over the forbidden spot. + +"Now there's going to be a row!--between me and Chatfield," murmured +Audrey. "You play spectator--don't say a word. Leave it to me. We are on +our rights along this path--take no notice of Peter." + +But Chatfield was already bearing down on them, his solemn-featured face +dark with displeasure. He raised his voice while he was yet a dozen +yards away. + +"I thought I'd told you as you wasn't to come near these here ruins!" he +said, addressing Audrey in a fashion which made Copplestone's fingers +itch to snatch the oak staff from the agent and lay it freely about his +person. "My orders was to that there effect! And when I give orders I +mean 'em to be obeyed. You'll turn straight back where you came from, +miss, and in future do as I instruct--d'ye hear that, now?" + +"If you expect me to keep quiet or dumb under that sort of thing," +whispered Copplestone, bending towards Audrey, "you're very much mistaken +in me! I shall give this fellow a lesson in another minute if--" + +"Well, wait another minute, then," said Audrey, who had continued to walk +forward, steadily regarding the agent's threatening figure. "Let me talk +a little, first--I'm enjoying it. Are you addressing me, Mr. Chatfield?" +she went on in her sweetest accents. "I hear you speaking, but I don't +know if you are speaking to me. If so, you needn't shout." + +"You know very well who I'm a-speaking to," growled Chatfield. "I told +you you wasn't to come near these ruins--it's forbidden, by order. You'll +take yourself off, and that there young man with you--we want no paid +spies hereabouts!" + +"If you speak to me like that again I'll knock you down!" exclaimed +Copplestone, stepping forward before Audrey could stop him. "Or to this +lady, either. Stand aside, will you?" + +Chatfield twisted on his heel with a surprising agility--not to stand +aside, but to wave his arm to the men who stood here and there, +behind him. + +"Here, you!" he shouted. "Here, this way, all of you! This here fellow's +threatening me with assault. You lay a finger on me, you young snapper, +and I'll have you in the lock-up in ten minutes. Stand between us, you +men!--he's for knocking me down. Now then!" he went on, as the bodyguard +got between him and Copplestone, "off you go, out o' these grounds, both +of you--quick! I'll have no defiance of my orders from neither gel nor +boy, man nor woman. Out you go, now--or you'll be put out." + +But Audrey continued to advance, still watching the agent. "You're under +a mistake, Mr. Chatfield," she said calmly. "You will observe that Mr. +Copplestone and I are on this path. You know very well that this is a +public foot-path, with a proper and legal right-of-way from time +immemorial. You can't turn us off it, you know--without exposing yourself +to all sorts of pains and penalties. You men know that, too," she +continued, turning to the labourers and dropping her bantering tone. "You +all know this is a public footpath. So stand out of our way, or I'll +summon every one of you!" + +The last words were spoken with so much force and decision that the three +labourers involuntarily moved aside. But Chatfield hastened to oppose +Audrey's progress, planting himself in front of a wicket-gate which there +stood across the path, and he laughed sneeringly. + +"And where would you find money to take summonses out?" he said, with a +look of contempt, "I should think you and your mother's something better +to do with your bit o' money than that. Now then, no more words!--back +you turn!" + +Copplestone's temper had been gradually rising during the last few +minutes. Now, at the man's carefully measured taunts, he let it go. +Before Chatfield or the labourers saw what he was at, he sprang on the +agent's big form, grasped him by the neck with one hand, twisted his oak +staff away from him with the other, flung him headlong on the turf, and +raised the staff threateningly. + +"Now!" he said, "beg Miss Greyle's pardon, instantly, or I'll split your +wicked old head for you. Quick, man--I mean it!" + +Before Chatfield, moaning and groaning, could find his voice capable +of words, Marston Greyle, pale and excited, came round a corner of +the ruins. + +"What's this, what's all this?" he demanded. "Here, yon sir, what are +you doing with that stick! What--" + +"I'm about to chastise your agent for his scoundrelly insolence to your +cousin," retorted Copplestone with cheerful determination. "Now then, my +man, quick--I always keep my word!" + +"Hand the stick to Mr. Marston Greyle, Mr. Copplestone," said Audrey in +her demurest manner. "I'm sure he would beat Chatfield soundly if he had +heard what he said to me--his cousin." + +"Thank you, but I'm in possession," said Copplestone, grimly. "Mr. +Marston Greyle can kick him when I've thrashed him. Now, then--are you +going to beg Miss Greyle's pardon, you hoary sinner?" + +"What on earth is it all about?" exclaimed Greyle, obviously upset and +afraid. "Chatfield, what have you been saying? Go away, you men--go away, +all of you, at once. Mr. Copplestone, don't hit him. Audrey, what is it? +Hang it all!--I seem to have nothing but bother--it's most annoying. What +is it, I say?" + +"It is merely, Marston, that your agent there, after trying to turn Mr. +Copplestone and myself off this public foot-path, insulted me with +shameful taunts about my mother's poverty," replied Audrey. "That's all! +Whereupon--as you were not here to do it--Mr. Copplestone promptly and +very properly knocked him down. And now--is Mr. Copplestone to punish him +or--will you?" + +Copplestone, keeping a sharp eye on the groaning and sputtering agent, +contrived at the same time to turn a corner of it on Marston Greyle. That +momentary glance showed him much. The Squire was mortally afraid of his +man. That was certain--as certain as that they were there. He stood, a +picture of vexation and indecision, glancing furtively at Chatfield, then +at Audrey, and evidently hating to be asked to take a side. + +"Confound it all, Chatfield!" he suddenly burst out. "Why don't you mind +what you're saying? It's all very well, Audrey, but you shouldn't have +come along here--especially with strangers. The fact is, I'm so upset +about this Oliver affair that I'm going to have a thorough search and +examination of the Keep and the ruins, and, of course, we can't allow any +one inside the grounds while it's going on. You should have kept to +Chatfield's orders--" + +"And since when has a Greyle of Scarhaven kept to a servant's orders?" +interrupted Audrey, with a sneer that sent the blood rushing to the +Squire's face. "Never!--until this present regime, I should think. +Orders, indeed!--from an agent! I wonder what the last Squire of +Scarhaven would have said to a proposition like that? Mr. +Copplestone--you've punished that bad old man quite sufficiently. Will +you open the gate for me--and we'll go on our way." + +The girl spoke with so much decision that Copplestone moved away from +Chatfield, who struggled to his feet, muttering words that sounded very +much like smothered curses. + +"I'll have the law on you!" he growled, shaking his fist at Copplestone. +"Before this day's out, I'll have the law!" + +"Sooner the better," retorted Copplestone. "Nothing will please me so +much as to tell the local magistrates precisely what you said to your +master's kinswoman. You know where I'm to be found--and there," he +added, throwing a card at the agent's feet, "there you'll find my +permanent address." + +"Give me my walking-stick!" demanded Chatfield. + +"Not I!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That's mine, my good man, by right of +conquest. You can summon me, or arrest me, if you like, for stealing it." + +He opened the wicket-gate for Audrey, and together they passed through, +skirted the walls of the ruins, and went away into the higher portion of +the woods. Once there the girl laughed. + +"Now there'll be another row!" she said. "Between master and man +this time." + +"I think not!" observed Copplestone, with unusual emphasis. "For the +master is afraid of the man." + +"Ah!--but which is master and which is man?" asked Audrey in a low voice. + +Copplestone stopped and looked narrowly at her. + +"Oh?" he said quietly, "so you've seen that?" + +"Does it need much observation?" she replied. "My mother and I have known +for some time that Marston Greyle is entirely under Peter Chatfield's +thumb. He daren't do anything--save by Chatfield's permission." + +Copplestone walked on a few yards, ruminating. + +"Why!" he asked suddenly. + +"How do we know?" retorted Audrey. + +"Well, in cases like that," said Copplestone, "it generally means that +one man has a hold on the other. What hold can Chatfield have on your +cousin? I understand Mr. Marston Greyle came straight to his inheritance +from America. So what could Chatfield know of him--to have any hold?" + +"Oh, I don't know--and I don't care--much," replied Audrey, as they +passed out of the woods on to the headlands beyond. "Never mind all +that--here's the sea and the open sky--hang Chatfield, and Marston, too! +As we can't see the Keep, let's enjoy ourselves some other way. What +shall we do?" + +"You're the guide, conductress, general boss!" answered Copplestone. +"Shall I suggest something that sounds very material, though? Well, then, +can't we go along these cliffs to some village where we can find a nice +old fishing inn and get a simple lunch of some sort?" + +"That's certainly material and eminently practical," laughed Audrey. "We +can--that place, along there to the south--Lenwick. And so, come on--and +no more talk of Squire and agent. I've a remarkable facility in throwing +away unpleasant things." + +"It's a grand faculty--and I'll try to imitate you," said Copplestone. +"So--today's our own, eh? Is that it?" + +"Say until the middle of this afternoon," responded Audrey. "Don't forget +that I have a mother at home." + +It was, however, well past the middle of the afternoon when these two +returned to Scarhaven, very well satisfied with themselves. They had +found plenty to talk about without falling back on Marston Greyle, or +Peter Chatfield, or the event of the morning, and Copplestone suddenly +remembered, almost with compunction, that he had been so engrossed in +his companion that he had almost forgotten the Oliver mystery. But that +was sharply recalled to him as he entered the "Admiral's Arms." Mrs. +Wooler came forward from her parlour with a mysterious smile on her +good-looking face. + +"Here's a billet-doux for you, Mr. Copplestone," she said. "And I can't +tell you who left it. One of the girls found it lying on the hall table +an hour ago." With that she handed Copplestone a much thumbed, very +grimy, heavily-sealed envelope. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOBKIN'S HOLE + + +Copplestone carried the queer-looking missive into his private +sitting-room and carefully examined it, back and front, before slitting +it open. The envelope was of the cheapest kind, the big splotch of red +wax at the flap had been pressed into flatness by the summary method of +forcing a coarse-grained thumb upon it; the address was inscribed in +ill-formed characters only too evidently made with difficulty by a bad +pen, which seemed to have been dipped into watery ink at every third or +fourth letter. And it read thus:-- + +"THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN STAYING AT 'THE ADMIRAL'--PRIVATE" + +The envelope contained nothing but a scrap of paper obviously torn from a +penny cash book. No ink had been used in transcribing the two or three +lines which were scrawled across this scrap--the vehicle this time was an +indelible pencil, which the writer appeared to have moistened with his +tongue every now and then, some letters being thicker and darker than +others. The message, if mysterious, was straightforward enough. "_Sir,"_ +it ran, "_if so be as you'd like to have a bit of news from one as has +it, take a walk through Hobkin's Hole tomorrow morning and look out for +Yours truly--Him as writes this_." + +Like most very young men Copplestone on arriving at what he called +manhood (by which he meant the age of twenty-one years), had drawn up for +himself a code of ethics, wherein he had mentally scheduled certain +things to be done and certain things not to be done. One of the things +which he had firmly resolved never to do was to take any notice of an +anonymous letter. Here was an anonymous letter, and with it a conflict +between his principles and his inclinations. In five minutes he learnt +that cut-and-dried codes are no good when the hard facts of every-day +life have to be faced and that expediency is a factor in human existence +which has its moral values. In plain English, he made up his mind to +visit Hobkin's Hole next morning and find out who the unknown +correspondent was. + +He was half tempted to go round to the cottage and show the queer scrawl +to Audrey Greyle, of whom, having passed six delightful hours in her +company--he was beginning to think much more than was good for him, +unless he intended to begin thinking of her always. But he was still +young enough to have a spice of bashfulness about him, and he did not +want to seem too pushing or forward. Again, it seemed to him that the +anonymous letter conveyed, in some subtle fashion, a hint that it was to +be regarded as sacred and secret, and Copplestone had a strong sense of +honour. He knew that Mrs. Wooler was femininely curious to hear all about +that letter, but he took care not to mention it to her. Instead he +quietly consulted an ordnance map of the district which hung framed and +glazed in the hall of the inn, and discovering that Hobkin's Hole was +marked on it as being something or other a mile or two out of Scarhaven +on the inland side, he set out in its direction next morning after +breakfast, without a word to anyone as to where he was going. And that he +might not be entirely defenceless he carried Peter Chatfield's oaken +staff with him--that would certainly serve to crack any ordinary skull, +if need arose for measure of defence. + +The road which Copplestone followed out of the village soon turned off +into the heart of the moorlands that lay, rising and falling in irregular +undulations, between the sea and the hills. He was quickly out of sight +of Scarhaven, and in the midst of a solitude. All round him stretched +wide expanses of heather and gorse, broken up by great masses of rock: +from a rise in the road he looked about him and saw no sign of a human +habitation and heard nothing but the rush of the wind across the moors +and the plaintive cry of the sea-birds flapping their way to the +cultivated land beyond the barrier of hills. And from that point he saw +no sign of any fall or depression in the landscape to suggest the place +which he sought. But at the next turn he found himself at the mouth of a +narrow ravine, which cut deep into the heart of the hill, and was dark +and sombre enough to seem a likely place for secret meetings, if for +nothing more serious and sinister. It wound away from a little bridge +which carried the road over a brawling stream; along the side of that +stream were faint indications of a path which might have been made by +human feet, but was more likely to have been trodden out by the mountain +sheep. This path was quickly obscured by dwarf oaks and alder bushes, +which completely roofed in the narrow valley, and about everything hung a +suggestion of solitude that would have caused any timid or suspicious +soul to have turned back. But Copplestone was neither timid nor +suspicious, and he was already intensely curious about this adventure; +wherefore, grasping Peter Chatfield's oaken cudgel firmly in his right +hand, he jumped over the bridge and followed the narrow path into the +gloom of the trees. + +He soon found that the valley resolved itself into a narrow and rocky +defile. The stream, level at first, soon came tumbling down amongst huge +boulders; the path disappeared; out of the oaks and alder high cliffs of +limestones began to lift themselves. The morning was unusually dark and +grey, even for October, and as leaves, brown and sere though they were, +still clustered thickly on the trees, Copplestone quickly found himself +in a gloom that would have made a nervous person frightened. He also +found that his forward progress became increasingly difficult. At the +foot of a tall cliff which suddenly rose up before him he was obliged to +pause; on that side of the stream it seemed impossible to go further. But +as he hesitated, peering here and there under the branches of the dwarf +oaks, he heard a voice, so suddenly, that he started in spite of himself. + +"Guv'nor!" + +Copplestone looked around and saw nothing. Then came a low laugh, as if +the unseen person was enjoying his perplexity. + +"Look overhead, guv'nor," said the voice. "Look aloft!" + +Copplestone glanced upward, and saw a man's head and face, framed in a +screen of bushes which grew on a shelf of the limestone cliff. The head +was crowned by a much worn fur cap; the face, very brown and seamed and +wrinkled, was ornamented by a short, well-blackened clay pipe, from the +bowl of which a wisp of blue smoke curled upward. And as he grew +accustomed to the gloom he was aware of a pair of shrewd, twinkling eyes, +and a set of very white teeth which gleamed like an animal's. + +"Hullo!" said Copplestone. "Come out of that!" + +The white teeth showed themselves still more; their owner laughed again. + +"You come up, guv'nor," he said. "There's a natural staircase round the +corner. Come up and make yourself at home. I've a nice little parlour +here, and a matter of refreshment in it, too." + +"Not till you show yourself," answered Copplestone. "I want to see what +I'm dealing with. Come out, now!" + +The unseen laughed again, moved away from his screen, and presently +showed himself on the edge of the shelf of rock. And Copplestone found +himself staring at a queer figure of a man--an under-sized, +quaint-looking fellow, clad in dirty velveteens, a once red waistcoat, +and leather breeches and gaiters, a sort of compound between a poacher, a +game-keeper, and an ostler. But quainter than figure or garments was the +man's face--a gnarled, weather-beaten, sea-and-wind stained face, which, +in Copplestone's opinion, was honest enough and not without abundant +traces of a sense of humour. + +Copplestone at once trusted that face. He swung himself up by the nooks +and crannies of the rock, and joined the man on his ledge. + +"Well?" he said. "You're the chap who sent me that letter? Why?" + +"Come this way, guv'nor," replied the brown-faced one. "Well talk more +comfortable, like, in my parlour. Here you are!" + +He led Copplestone along the ridge behind the bushes, and presently +revealed a cave in the face of the overhanging limestone, mostly natural, +but partly due to artifice, wherein were rude seats, covered over with +old sacking, a box or two which evidently served for pantry and larder, +and a shelf on which stood a wicker-covered bottle in company with a row +of bottles of ale. + +The lord of this retreat waved a hospitable hand towards his cellar. + +"You'll not refuse a poor man's hospitality, guv'nor?" he said politely. +"I can give you a clean glass, and if you'll try a drop of rum, there's +fresh water from the stream to mix it with--good as you'll find in +England. Or, maybe, it being the forepart of the day, you'd prefer ale, +now? Say the word!" + +"A bottle of ale, then, thank you," responded Copplestone, who saw that +he had to deal with an original, and did not wish to appear +stand-offish. "And whom am I going to drink with, may I ask?" + +The man carefully drew the cork of a bottle, poured out its contents with +the discrimination of a bartender, handed the glass to his visitor with a +bow, helped himself to a measure of rum, and bowed again as he drank. + +"My best respects to you, guv'nor," he said. "Glad to see you in Hobkin's +Hole Castle--that's here. Queer place for gentlemen to meet in, ain't it? +Who are you talking to, says you? My name, guv'-nor--well-known +hereabouts--is Zachary Spurge!" + +"You sent me that note last night?" asked Copplestone, taking a seat and +filling his pipe. "How did you get it there--unseen?" + +"Got a cousin as is odd-job man at the 'Admiral's Arms,'" replied +Spurge. "He slipped it in for me. You may ha' seen him there, +guv'nor--chap with one eye, and queer-looking, but to be trusted. As I +am!--down to the ground." + +"And what do you want to see me about?" inquired Copplestone. "What's +this bit of news you've got to tell?" + +Zachary Spurge thrust a hand inside his velveteen jacket and drew out a +much folded and creased paper, which, on being unwrapped, proved to be +the bill which offered a reward for the finding of Bassett Oliver. He +held it up before his visitor. + +"This!" he said. "A thousand pound is a vast lot o' money, guv'nor! Now, +if I was to tell something as I knows of, what chances should I have of +getting that there money?" + +"That depends," replied Copplestone. "The reward is to be given to--but +you see the plain wording of it. Can you give information of that sort?" + +"I can give a certain piece of information, guv'nor," said Spurge. +"Whether it'll lead to the finding of that there gentleman or not I can't +say. But something I do know--certain sure!" + +Copplestone reflected awhile. + +"Ill tell you what, Spurge," he said. "I'll promise you this much. If you +can give any information I'll give you my word that--whether what you can +tell is worth much or little--you shall be well paid. That do?" + +"That'll do, guv'nor," responded Spurge. "I take your word as between +gentlemen! Well, now, it's this here--you see me as I am, here in a +cave, like one o' them old eremites that used to be in the ancient days. +Why am I here! 'Cause just now it ain't quite convenient for me to show +my face in Scarhaven. I'm wanted for poaching, guv'nor--that's the fact! +This here is a safe retreat. If I was tracked here, I could make my way +out at the back of this hole--there's a passage here--before anybody +could climb that rock. However, nobody suspects I'm here. They +think--that is, that old devil Chatfield and the police--they think I'm +off to sea. However, here I am--and last Sunday afternoon as ever was, I +was in Scarhaven! In the wood I was, guv'nor, at the back of the Keep. +Never mind what for--I was there. And at precisely ten minutes to three +o'clock I saw Bassett Oliver." + +"How did you know him?" demanded Copplestone. + +"Cause I've had many a sixpenn'orth of him at both Northborough and +Norcaster," answered Spurge. "Seen him a dozen times, I have, and knew +him well enough, even if I'd only viewed him from the the-ayter gallery. +Well, he come along up the path from the south quay. He passed within a +dozen yards of me, and went up to the door in the wall of the ruins, +right opposite where I was lying doggo amongst some bushes. He poked the +door with the point of his stick--it was ajar, that door, and it went +open. And so he walks in--and disappears. Guv'nor!--I reckon that'ud be +the last time as he was seen alive!--unless--unless--" + +"Unless--what?" asked Copplestone eagerly. + +"Unless one other man saw him," replied Spurge solemnly. "For there was +another man there, guv'nor. Squire Greyle!" + +Copplestone looked hard at Spurge; Spurge returned the stare, and nodded +two or three times. + +"Gospel truth!" he said. "I kept where I was--I'd reasons of my own. May +be eight minutes or so--certainly not ten--after Bassett Oliver walked in +there, Squire Greyle walked out. In a hurry, guv'nor. He come out quick. +He looked a bit queer. Dazed, like. You know how quick a man can think, +guv'nor, under certain circumstances? I thought quicker'n lightning. I +says to myself 'Squire's seen somebody or something he hadn't no taste +for!' Why, you could read it on his face! plain as print. It was there!" + +"Well?" said Copplestone. "And then?" + +"Then," continued Spurge. "Then he stood for just a second or two, +looking right and left, up and down. There wasn't a soul in +sight--nobody! But--he slunk off--sneaked off--same as a fox sneaks away +from a farm-yard. He went down the side of the curtain-wall that shuts in +the ruins, taking as much cover as ever he could find--at the end of the +wall, he popped into the wood that stands between the ruins and his +house. And then, of course, I lost all sight of him." + +"And--Mr. Oliver?" said Copplestone. "Did you see him again?" + +Spurge took a pull at his rum and water, and relighted his pipe. + +"I did not," he answered. "I was there until a quarter-past three--then I +went away. And no Oliver had come out o' that door when I left." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INVALID CURATE + + +Spurge and his visitor sat staring at each other in silence for a few +minutes; the silence was eventually broken by Copplestone. + +"Of course," he said reflectively, "if Mr. Oliver was looking round those +ruins he could easily spend half an hour there." + +"Just so," agreed Spurge. "He could spend an hour. If so be as he was one +of these here antiquarian-minded gents, as loves to potter about old +places like that, he could spend two hours, three hours, profitable-like. +But he'd have come out in the end, and the evidence is, guv'nor, that he +never did come out! Even if I am just now lying up, as it were, I'm fully +what they term o-fay with matters, and, by all accounts, after Bassett +Oliver went up that there path, subsequent to his bit of talk with +Ewbank, he was never seen no more 'cepting by me, and possibly by Squire +Greyle. Them as lives a good deal alone, like me guv'nor, develops what +you may call logical faculties--they thinks--and thinks deep. I've +thought. B.O.--that's Oliver--didn't go back by the way he'd come, or +he'd ha' been seen. B.O. didn't go forward or through the woods to the +headlands, or he'd ha' been seen, B.O. didn't go down to the shore, or +he'd ha' been seen. 'Twixt you and me, guv'nor, B.O.'s dead body is in +that there Keep!" + +"Are you suggesting anything?" asked Copplestone. + +"Nothing, guv'nor--no more than that," answered Spurge. "I'm making no +suggestion and no accusation against nobody. I've seen a bit too much of +life to do that. I've known more than one innocent man hanged there at +Norcaster Gaol in my time all through what they call circumstantial +evidence. Appearances is all very well--but appearances may be against a +man to the very last degree, and yet him be as innocent as a new born +baby! No--I make no suggestions. 'Cepting this here--which has no doubt +occurred to you, or to B.O.'s brother. If I were the missing gentleman's +friends I should want to know a lot! I should want to know precisely what +he meant when he said to Dan'l Ewbank as how he'd known a man called +Marston Greyle in America. 'Taint a common name, that, guv'nor." + +Copplestone made no answer to these observations. His own train of +thought was somewhat similar to his host's. And presently he turned to a +different track. + +"You saw no one else about there that afternoon?" he asked. + +"No one, guv'nor," replied Spurge. + +"And where did you go when you left the place?" inquired Copplestone. + +"To tell you the truth, guv'nor, I was waiting there for that cousin o' +mine--him as carried you the letter," answered Spurge. "It was a fixture +between us--he was to meet me there about three o'clock that day. If he +wasn't there, or in sight, by a quarter-past three I was to know he +wasn't able to get away. So as he didn't come, I slipped back into the +woods, and made my way back here, round by the moors." + +"Are you going to stay in this place?" asked Copplestone. + +"For a bit, guv'nor--till I see how things are," replied Spurge. "As I +say, I'm wanted for poaching, and Chatfield's been watching to get his +knife into me this long while. All the same, if more serious things drew +his attention off, he might let it slide. What do you ask for, guv'nor?" + +"I wanted to know where you could be found in case you were required to +give evidence about seeing Mr. Oliver," replied Copplestone. "That +evidence may be wanted." + +"I've thought of that," observed Spurge. "And you can always find that +much out from my cousin at the 'Admiral.' He keeps in touch with me--if +it got too hot for me here, I should clear out to Norcaster--there's a +spot there where I've laid low many a time. You can trust my cousin--Jim +Spurge, that's his name. One eye, no mistaking of him--he's always about +the yard there at Mrs. Wooler's." + +"All right," said Copplestone. "If I want you, I'll tell him. By-the-bye, +have you told this to anybody?" + +"Not to a soul, guv'nor," replied Spurge. "Not even to Jim. No--I kept it +dark till I could see you. Considering, of course, that you are left in +charge of things, like." + +Copplestone presently went away and returned slowly to Scarhaven, +meditating deeply on what he had heard. He saw no reason to doubt the +truth of Zachary Spurge's tale--it bore the marks of credibility. But +what did it amount to? That Spurge saw Bassett Oliver enter the ruins of +the Keep, by the one point of ingress; that a few moments later he saw +Marston Greyle come away from the same place, evidently considerably +upset, and sneak off in a manner which showed that he dreaded +observation. That was all very suspicious, to say the least of it, taken +in relation to Oliver's undoubted disappearance--but it was only +suspicion; it afforded no direct proof. However, it gave material for a +report to Sir Cresswell Oliver, and he determined to write out an account +of his dealings with Spurge that afternoon, and to send it off at once by +registered letter. + +He was busily engaged in this task when Mrs. Wooler came into his +sitting-room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that +she was full of news. + +"Never rains but it pours!" she said with a smile. "Though, to be sure, +it isn't a very heavy shower. I've got another visitor now, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Oh?" responded Copplestone, not particularly interested. "Indeed!" + +"A young clergyman from London--the Reverend Gilling," continued the +landlady. "Been ill for some time, and his doctor has recommended him to +try the north coast air. So he came down here, and he's going to stop +awhile to see how it suits him." + +"I should have thought the air of the north coast was a bit strong for +an invalid," remarked Copplestone. "I'm not delicate, but I find it quite +strong enough for me." + +"I daresay it's a case of kill or cure," replied Mrs. Wooler. "Chest +complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks +particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he's a very good +appetite and that his doctor says he's to live well and to eat as much as +ever he can." + +Copplestone got a view of his fellow-visitor that afternoon in the hall +of the inn, and agreed with the landlady that he showed no evident signs +of delicacy of health. He was a good type of the conventional curate, +with a rather pale, good-humoured face set between his round collar and +wide brimmed hat, and he glanced at Copplestone with friendly curiosity +and something of a question in his eyes. And Copplestone, out of good +neighbourliness, stopped and spoke to him. + +"Mrs. Wooler tells me you're come here to pick up," he remarked. "Pretty +strong air round this quarter of the globe!" + +"Oh, that's all right!" said the new arrival. "The air of Scarhaven +will do me good--it's full of just what I want." He gave Copplestone +another look and then glanced at the letters which he held in his hand. +"Are you going to the post-office?" he asked. "May I come?--I want to +go there, too." + +The two young men walked out of the inn, and Copplestone led the way +down the road towards the northern quay. And once they were well out +of earshot of the "Admiral's Arms," and the two or three men who +lounged near the wall in front of it, the curate turned to his +companion with a sly look. + +"Of course you're Mr. Copplestone?" he remarked. "You can't be anybody +else--besides, I heard the landlady call you so." + +"Yes," replied Copplestone, distinctly puzzled by the other's manner. +"What then?" + +The curate laughed quietly, and putting his fingers inside his heavy +overcoat, produced a card which he handed over. + +"My credentials!" he said. + +Copplestone glanced at the card and read "Sir Cresswell Oliver," He +turned wonderingly to his companion, who laughed again. + +"Sir Cresswell told me to give you that as soon as I conveniently could," +he said. "The fact is, I'm not a clergyman at all--not I! I'm a private +detective, sent down here by him and Petherton. See?" + +Copplestone stared for a moment at the wide-brimmed hat, the round +collar, the eminently clerical countenance. Then he burst into laughter. +"I congratulate you on your make-up, anyway!" he exclaimed. "Capital!" + +"Oh, I've been on the stage in my time," responded the private detective. +"I'm a good hand at fitting myself to various parts; besides I've played +the conventional curate a score of times. Yes, I don't think anybody +would see through me, and I'm very particular to avoid the clergy." + +"And you left the stage--for this?" asked Copplestone. "Why, now?" + +"Pays better--heaps better," replied the other calmly. "Also, it's more +exciting--there's much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I +am--my name, by-the-bye is Gilling, though I'm not the Reverend Gilling, +as Mrs. Wooler will call me. And so--as I've made things plain--how's +this matter going so far?" + +Copplestone shook his head. + +"My orders," he said, with a significant look, "are--to say nothing +to any one." + +"Except to me," responded Gilling. "Sir Cresswell Oliver's card is my +passport. You can tell me anything." + +"Tell me something first," replied Copplestone. "Precisely what are you +here for? If I'm to talk confidentially to you, you must talk in the same +fashion to me." + +He stopped at a deserted stretch of the quay, and leaning against the +wall which separated it from the sand, signed to Gilling to stop also. + +"If we're going to have a quiet talk," he went on, "we'd better have it +now--no one's about, and if any one sees us from a distance they'll +only think we're, what we look to be--casual acquaintances. Now--what +is your job?" + +Gilling looked about him and then perched himself on the wall. + +"To watch Marston Greyle," he replied. + +"They suspect him?" asked Copplestone. + +"Undoubtedly!" + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver said as much to me--but no more. Have they said +more to you?" + +"The suspicion seemed to have originated with Petherton. Petherton, in +spite of his meek old-fashioned manners, is as sharp an old bird as +you'll find in London! He fastened at once on what Bassett Oliver said +to that fisherman, Ewbank. A keen nose for a scent, Petherton's! And he +'s determined to find out who it was that Bassett Oliver met in the +United States under the name of Marston Greyle. He's already set the +machinery in motion. And in the meantime, I'm to keep my eye on this +Squire--as I shall!" + +"Why watch him particularly?" + +"To see that he doesn't depart for unknown regions--or, if he does, to +follow in his track. He's not to be lost sight of until this mystery is +cleared. Because--something is wrong." + +Copplestone considered matters in silence for a few moments, and decided +not to reveal the story of Zachary Spurge to Gilling--yet awhile at any +rate. However, he had news which there was no harm in communicating. + +"Marston Greyle," he said, presently, "or his agent, Peter Chatfield, or +both, in common agreement, are already doing something to solve the +mystery--so far as Greyle's property is concerned. They've closed the +Keep and its surrounding ruins to the people who used to be permitted to +go in, and they're conducting an exhaustive search--for Bassett Oliver, +of course." + +Gilling made a grimace. + +"Of course!" he said, cynically. "Just so! I expected something of that +sort. That's all part of a clever scheme." + +"I don't understand you," remarked Copplestone. "How--a clever scheme?" + +"Whitewash!" answered Gilling. "Sheer whitewash! You don't suppose that +either Greyle or Chatfield are fools?--I should say they're far from it, +from what little I've heard of 'em. Well--don't they know very well that +Marston Greyle is under suspicion? All right--they want to clear him. So +they close their ruins and make a search--a private search, mind you--and +at the end they announce that nothing's been found--and there you are! +And--supposing they did find something--supposing they found Bassett +Oliver's body--What is it?" he asked suddenly, seeing Copplestone staring +hard across the sands at the opposite quay. "Something happened?" + +"By Gad!--I believe something has happened!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Look +there--men running down the hillside from the Keep. And listen--they're +shouting to those fellows on the other quay. Come on across! Will it be +out of keeping with your invalid pose if you run?" + +Gilling answered that question by lightly vaulting the wall and dropping +to the sands beneath. + +"I'm not an invalid in my legs, anyhow," he answered, as they began to +splash across the pools left by the recently retreated tide. "By +George!--I believe something has happened, too! Look at those people, +running out of their cottages!" + +All along the south quay the fisher-folk, men, women, and children, were +crowding eagerly towards the gate of the path by which Bassett Oliver had +gone up towards the Keep. When Copplestone and his companion gained the +quay and climbed up its wall they were pouring in at this gate, and +swarming up to the woods, all talking at the top of their voices. +Copplestone suddenly recognized Ewbank on the fringe of the crowd and +called to him. + +"What is it?" he demanded. "What's happened?" + +Ewbank, a man of leisurely movement, paused and waited for the two young +men to come up. At their approach he took his pipe out of his mouth, and +inclined his head towards the Keep. + +"They're saying something's been found up there." he replied. "I don't +know what. But Chatfield, he's sent two men down here to the village. One +of 'em's gone for the police and the doctor, and t'other's gone to the +'Admiral,' looking for you. You're wanted up there--partiklar!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + + +By the time Copplestone and the pseudo-curate had reached the plateau of +open ground surrounding the ruins it seemed as if half the population of +Scarhaven had gathered there. Men, women and children were swarming about +the door in the curtain wall, all manifesting an eager desire to pass +through. But the door was strictly guarded. Chatfield, armed with a new +oak cudgel stood there, masterful and lowering; behind him were several +estate labourers, all keeping the people back. And within the door stood +Marston Greyle, evidently considerably restless and perturbed, and every +now and then looking out on the mob which the fast-spreading rumour had +called together. In one of these inspections he caught sight of +Copplestone, and spoke to Chatfield, who immediately sent one of his +body-guard through the throng. + +"Mr. Greyle says will you go forward, sir?" said the man. "Your friend +can go in too, if he likes." + +"That's your clerical garb," whispered Copplestone as he and Gilling made +their way to the door. "But why this sudden politeness?" + +"Oh, that's easy to reckon up," answered Gilling. "I see through it. They +want creditable and respectable witnesses to something or other. This +big, heavy-jowled man is Chatfield, of course?" + +"That's Chatfield," responded Copplestone. "What's he after?" + +For the agent, as the two young men approached, ostentiously turned away +from them, moving a few steps from the door. He muttered a word or two to +the men who guarded it and they stood aside and allowed Copplestone and +the curate to enter. Marston Greyle came forward, eyeing Gilling with a +sharp glance of inspection. He turned from him to Copplestone. + +"Will you come in?" he asked, not impolitely and with a certain anxiety +of manner. "I want you to--to be present, in fact. This gentleman is a +friend of yours?" + +"An acquaintance of an hour," interposed Gilling, with ready wit. "I have +just come to stay at the inn--for my health's sake." + +"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to accompany us?" said Greyle. "The fact +is, Mr. Copplestone, we've found Mr. Bassett Oliver's body." + +"I thought so," remarked Copplestone. + +"And as soon as the police come up," continued Greyle, "I want you all to +see exactly where it is. No one's touched it--no one's been near it. Of +course, he's dead!" + +He lifted his hand with a nervous gesture, and the two others, who were +watching him closely, saw that he was trembling a good deal, and that his +face was very pale. + +"Dead!--of course," he went on. "He--he must have been killed +instantaneously. And you'll see in a minute or two why the body wasn't +found before--when we made that first search. It's quite explainable. The +fact is--" + +A sudden bustle at the door in the wall heralded the entrance of two +policemen. The Squire went forward to meet them. The prospect of +immediate action seemed to pull him together and his manner changed to +one of assertive superintendence of things. + +"Now, Mr. Chatfield!" he called out. "Keep all these people away! Close +the door and let no one enter on any excuse. Stay there yourself and see +that we are not interrupted. Come this way now," he went on, addressing +the policemen and the two favoured spectators. + +"You've found him, then, sir?" asked the police-sergeant in a thick +whisper, as Greyle led his party across the grass to the foot of the +Keep. "I suppose it's all up with the poor gentleman; of course? The +doctor, he wasn't in, but they'll send him up as soon--" + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver is dead," interrupted Greyle, almost harshly. "No +doctors can do any good. Now, look here," he continued, pulling them to a +sudden halt, "I want all of you to take particular notice of this old +tower--the Keep. I believe you have not been in here before, Mr. +Copplestone--just pay particular attention to this place. Here you see is +the Keep, standing in the middle of what I suppose was the courtyard of +the old castle. It's a square tower, with a stair-turret at one angle. +The stair in that turret is in a very good state of preservation--in +fact, it is quite easy to climb to the top, and from the top there's a +fine view of land and sea: the Keep itself is nearly a hundred feet in +height. Now the inside of the Keep is completely gutted, as you'll +presently see--there isn't a floor left of the five or six which were +once there. And I'm sorry to say there's very little protection when +one's at the top--merely a narrow ledge with a very low parapet, which in +places is badly broken. Consequently, any one who climbs to the top must +be very careful, or there's the danger of slipping off that ledge and +falling to the bottom. Now in my opinion that's precisely what happened +on Sunday afternoon. Oliver evidently got in here, climbed the stairs in +the turret to enjoy the view and fell from the parapet. And why his body +hasn't been found before I'll now show you." + +He led the way to the extreme foot of the Keep, and to a very low-arched +door, at which stood a couple of the estate labourers, one of whom +carried a lighted lantern. To this man the Squire made a sign. + +"Show the way," he said, in a low voice. + +The man turned and descended several steps of worn and moss-covered stone +which led through the archway into a dark, cellar-like place smelling +strongly of damp and age. Greyle drew the attention of his companions to +a heap of earth and rubbish at the entrance. + +"We had to clear all that out before we could get in here," he said. +"This archway hadn't been opened for ages. This, of course, is the very +lowest story of the Keep, and half beneath the level of the ground +outside. Its roof has gone, like all the rest, but as you see, something +else has supplied its place. Hold up your lantern, Marris!" + +The other men looked up and saw what the Squire meant. Across the tower, +at a height of some fifteen or twenty feet from the floor, Nature, left +unchecked, had thrown a ceiling of green stuff. Bramble, ivy, and other +spreading and climbing plants had, in the course of years, made a +complete network from wall to wall. In places it was so thick that no +light could be seen through it from beneath; in other places it was thin +and glimpses of the sky could be seen from above the grey, tunnel-like +walls. And in one of those places, close to the walls, there was a +distinct gap, jagged and irregular, as if some heavy mass had recently +plunged through the screen of leaf and branch from the heights above, and +beneath this the startled searchers saw the body, lying beside a heap of +stones and earth in the unmistakable stillness of death. + +"You see how it must have happened," whispered Greyle, as they all bent +round the dead man. "He must have fallen from the very top of the +Keep--from the parapet, in fact--and plunged through this mass of green +stuff above us. If he had hit that where it's so thick--there!--it might +have broken his fall, but, you see, he struck it at the very thinnest +part, and being a big and heavyish man, of course, he'd crash right +through it. Now of course, when we examined the Keep on Monday morning, +it never struck us that there might be something down here--if you go up +the turret stairs to the top and look down on this mass of green stuff +from the very top, you'll see that it looks undisturbed; there's scarcely +anything to show that he fell through it, from up there. But--he did!" + +"Whose notion was it that he might be found here?" asked Copplestone. + +"Chatfield's," replied the Squire. "Chatfield's. He and I were up at the +top there, and he suddenly suggested that Oliver might have fallen from +the parapet and be lying embedded in that mass of green stuff beneath. We +didn't know then--even Chatfield didn't know--that there was this empty +space beneath the green stuff. But when we came to go into it, we found +there was, so we had that archway cleared of all the stone and rubbish +and of course we found him." + +"The body'll have to be removed, sir," whispered the police-sergeant. +"It'll have to be taken down to the inn, to wait the inquest." + +Marston Greyle started. + +"Inquest!" he said. "Oh!--will that have to be held? I suppose so--yes. +But we'd better wait until the doctor comes, hadn't we? I want him--" + +The doctor came into the gloomy vault at that moment, escorted by +Chatfield, who, however, immediately retired. He was an elderly, +old-fashioned somewhat fussy-mannered person, who evidently attached +much more importance to the living Squire than to the dead man, and he +listened to all Marston Greyle's explanations and theories with great +deference and accepted each without demur. "Ah yes, to be sure!" he said, +after a perfunctory examination of the body. "The affair is easily +understood. It is precisely as you suggest, Squire. The unfortunate man +evidently climbed to the top of the tower, missed his footing, and fell +headlong. That slight mass of branch and leaf would make little +difference--he was, you see, a heavy man--some fourteen or fifteen stone, +I should think. Oh, instantaneous death, without a doubt! Well, well, +these constables must see to the removal of the body, and we must let my +friend the coroner know--he will hold the inquest tomorrow, no doubt. +Quite a mere formality, my dear sir!--the whole thing is as plain as a +pikestaff. It will be a relief to know that the mystery is now +satisfactorily solved." + +Outside in the welcome freshness, Copplestone turned to the doctor. + +"You say the inquest will be held tomorrow?" he asked. The doctor looked +his questioner up and down with an inquiry which signified doubt as to +Copplestone's right to demand information. + +"In the usual course," he replied stiffly. + +"Then his brother, Sir Cresswell Oliver, and his solicitor, Mr. +Petherton, must be wired for from London," observed Copplestone, turning +to Greyle. "I'll communicate with them at once. I suppose we may go up +the tower?" he continued as Greyle nodded his assent. "I'd like to see +the stairs and the parapet." + +Greyle looked a little doubtful and uneasy. + +"Well, I had meant that no one should go up until all this was gone +into," he answered. "I don't want any more accidents. You'll be careful?" + +"We're both young and agile," responded Copplestone. + +"There's no need for alarm. Do you care to go up, Mr. Gilling?" + +The pseudo-curate accepted the invitation readily, and he and +Copplestone entered the turret. They had climbed half its height before +Copplestone spoke. + +"Well?" he whispered. "What do you think?" + +"It may be accident," muttered Gilling. "It--mayn't." + +"You think he might have been--what?--thrown down?" + +"Might have been caught unawares, and pushed over. Let's see what there +is up above, anyway." + +The stair in the turret, much worn, but comparatively safe, and lighted +by loopholes and arrow-slits, terminated in a low arched doorway, through +which egress was afforded to a parapet which ran completely round the +inner wall of the Keep. It was in no place more than a yard wide; the +balustrading which fenced it in was in some places completely gone, a +mere glance was sufficient to show that only a very cool-headed and +extremely sure-footed person ought to traverse it. Copplestone contented +himself with an inspection from the archway; he looked down and saw at +once that a fall from that height must mean sure and swift death: he saw, +too, that Greyle had been quite right in saying that the sudden plunge of +Oliver's body through the leafy screen far beneath had made little +difference to the appearance of that screen as seen from above. And now +that he saw everything it seemed to him that the real truth might well +lie in one word--accident. + +"Coming round this parapet?" asked Gilling, who was looking narrowly +about him. + +"No!" replied Copplestone. "I can't stand looking down from great +heights. It makes my head swim. Are you?" + +"Sure!" answered Gilling. He took off his heavy overcoat and handed it to +his companion. "Mind holding it?" he asked. "I want to have a good look +at the exact spot from which Oliver must have fallen. There's the +gap--such as it is, and it doesn't look much from here, does it?--in the +green stuff, down below, so he must have been here on the parapet exactly +above it. Gad! it's very narrow, and a bit risky, this, when all's said +and done!" + +Copplestone watched his companion make his way round to the place from +which it was only too evident Oliver must have fallen. Gilling went +slowly, carefully inspecting every yard of the moss and lichen-covered +stones. Once he paused some time and seemed to be examining a part of the +parapet with unusual attention. When he reached the precise spot at which +he had aimed, he instantly called across to Copplestone. + +"There's no doubt about his having fallen from here!" he said. "Some of +the masonry on the very edge of this parapet is loose. I could dislodge +it with a touch." + +"Then be careful," answered Copplestone. "Don't cross that bit!" + +But Gilling quietly continued his progress and returned to his companion +by the opposite side from which he had set out, having thus accomplished +the entire round. He quietly reassumed his overcoat. + +"No doubt about the fall," he said as they turned down the stair. "The +next thing is--was it accidental?" + +"And--as regards that--what's to be done next?" asked Copplestone. + +"That's easy. We must go at once and wire for Sir Cresswell and old +Petherton," replied Gilling. "It's now four-thirty. If they catch an +evening express at King's Cross they'll get here early in the morning. If +they like to motor from Norcaster they can get here in the small hours. +But--they must be here for that inquest." + +Greyle was talking to Chatfield at the foot of the Keep when they got +down. The agent turned surlily away, but the Squire looked at both with +an unmistakable eagerness. + +"There's no doubt whatever that Oliver fell from the parapet," said +Copplestone. "The marks of a fall are there--quite unmistakably." + +Greyle nodded, but made no remark, and the two made their way through +the still eager crowd and went down to the village post-office. Both were +wondering, as they went, about the same thing--the evident anxiety and +mental uneasiness of Marston Greyle. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GOOD MEN AND TRUE + + +Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in the +evening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he and +Petherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon after +midnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival. +Copplestone made all arrangements for their reception, and after +snatching a couple of hours' sleep was up to receive them. By two o'clock +in the morning Sir Cresswell and the old solicitor and Gilling--smuggled +into their sitting-room--had heard all he had to tell about Zachary +Spurge and his story. + +"We must have that fellow at the inquest," said Petherton. "At any cost +we must have him! That's flat!" + +"You think it wise?" asked Sir Cresswell. "Won't it be a bit previous? +Wouldn't it be better to wait until we know more?" + +"No--we must have his evidence," declared Petherton. "It will serve as an +opening. Besides, this inquest will have to be adjourned--I shall ask for +that. No--Spurge must be produced." + +"If Spurge comes into Scarhaven," observed Copplestone, "he'll be +promptly collared by the police. They want him for poaching." + +"Then they can get him when the proceedings are over," retorted the old +lawyer, dryly. "They daren't touch him while he's giving evidence and +that's all we want. Perhaps he won't come?--Oh he'll come all right if +we make it worth his while. A month in Norcaster gaol will mean nothing +to him if he knows there's a chance of that reward or something +substantial out of it at the end of his sentence. You must go out to +this retreat of his and bring him in--we must have him. Better go very +early in the morning. + +"I'll go now," said Copplestone. "It's as easy to go by night as by day." +He left the other three to seek their beds, and himself slipped quietly +out of the hotel by one of the ground-floor windows and set off in a +pitch-black night to seek Spurge in his lair. And after sundry barkings +of his shins against the rocks and scratchings of his hands and cheeks by +the undergrowth of Hobkin's Hole he rounded the poacher out and delivered +his message. + +Spurge, blinking at his visitor in the pale light of a guttering candle, +shook his head. + +"I'll come, guv'nor," he said. "Of course. I'll come--and I'll trust to +luck to get away, and it don't matter a deal if the luck's agen me--I've +done a month in Norcaster before today, and it ain't half a bad +rest-cure, if you only take it that way. But guv'nor--that old lawyer's +making a mistake! You didn't ought to have my bit of evidence at this +stage. It's too soon. You want to work up the case a bit. There's such a +thing, guv'nor, in this world as being a bit previous. This here's too +previous--you want to be surer of your facts. Because you know, guv'nor +nobody'll believe my word agen Squire Greyle's. Guv'nor--this here +inquest'll be naught but a blooming farce! Mark me! You ain't a native o' +this part--I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aught +agen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor--all a blooming +farce! Mark my words!" + +"All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly of +Spurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run." + +"Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothing +else. You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call my +name out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward." + +There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like him +in the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten o'clock +that morning. It seemed to Copplestone that it would have been a physical +impossibility to crowd more people within the walls than had assembled +when the coroner, a local solicitor, who was obviously testy, irritable, +self-important and afflicted with deafness, took his seat and looked +sourly on the crowd of faces. Copplestone had already seen him in +conversation with the village doctor, the village police, Chatfield, and +Marston Greyle's solicitor, and he began to see the force of Spurge's +shrewd remarks. What, of course, was most desired was secrecy and +privacy--the Scarhaven powers had no wish that the attention of all the +world should be drawn to this quiet place. But outsiders were there in +plenty. Stafford and several members of Bassett Oliver's company had +motored over from Norcaster and had succeeded in getting good places: +there were half-a-dozen reporters from Norcaster and Northborough, and +plain-clothes police from both towns. And there, too, were all the +principal folk of the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, +and, a little distance from Audrey, alert and keenly interested, was +Addie Chatfield. + +It needed very little insight or observation on the part of an +intelligent spectator to see how things were going. The twelve good men +and true, required under the provisions of the old statute to form a +jury, were all of them either Scarhaven tradesmen or Scarhaven +householders or labourers on the estate. Their countenances, as they took +their seats under the foremanship of a man whom Copplestone already knew +as Chatfield's under-steward, showed plainly that they regarded the whole +thing as a necessary formality and that they were already prepared with a +verdict. This impression was strengthened by the coroner's opening +remarks. In his opinion, the whole affair--to which he did not even refer +as unfortunate--was easily and quickly explained and understood. The +deceased had come to the village to look round--on a Sunday be it +observed--had somehow obtained access to the Keep, where, the ruins being +strictly private and not open to the public on any consideration on +Sunday, he had no right to be; had indulged his curiosity by climbing to +the top of the ancient tower and had paid for it by falling down from +that terrible height and breaking his neck. All that was necessary was +for them to hear evidence bearing out these facts--after which they would +return a verdict in accordance with what they had heard. Very fortunately +the facts were plain, and it would not be necessary to call many +witnesses. + +Sir Cresswell Oliver turned to Copplestone who sat at one side of him, +while Petherton sat on the other. + +"I don't know if you notice that Greyle isn't here?" he whispered grimly. +"In my opinion, he doesn't intend to show! We'll see!" + +Certainly the Squire was not in the place. And there were soon signs that +those who conducted the proceedings evidently did not consider his +presence necessary. The witnesses were few; their examinations was +perfunctory; they were out of the extemporised witness-box as soon as +they were in it. Sir Cresswell Oliver--to give formal identification. +Mrs. Wooler--to prove that the deceased man came to her house. One of the +foremen of the estate--to prove the great care with which the Squire had +searched for traces of the missing man. One of the estate labourers--to +prove the actual finding of the body. The doctor--to prove, beyond all +doubt, that the deceased had broken his neck. + +The coroner, an elderly man, obviously well satisfied with the trend of +things, took off his spectacles and turned to the jury. + +"You have heard everything there is to be heard, gentlemen," said he. "As +I remarked at the opening of this inquest, the case is one of great +simplicity. You will have no difficulty in deciding that the deceased +came to his death by accident--as to the exact wording of your verdict, +you had better put it in this way:--that the deceased Bassett Oliver died +as the result--" + +Petherton, who, noticing the coroner's deafness, had contrived to seat +himself as close to his chair of office as possible, quietly rose. + +"Before the jury consider any verdict," he said in his loudest tones, +"they must hear certain evidence which I wish to call. And first of +all--is Mr. Marston Greyle present in this room?" + +The coroner frowned, and the Squire's solicitor turned to Petherton. + +"Mr. Greyle is not present," he said. "He is not at all well. There is no +need for his presence--he has no evidence to give." + +"If you don't have Mr. Greyle down here at once," said Petherton, +quietly, "this inquest will have to be adjourned for his attendance. +You had better send for him--or I'll get the authorities to do so. In +the meantime, we'll call one or two witnesses,--Daniel Ewbank!--to +begin with." + +There was a brief and evidently anxious consultation between Greyle's +solicitor and the coroner; there were dark looks at Petherton and his +companions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly. + +"We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, us +as sits here. Our verdict is--" + +"You'll have to bear Ewbank and anybody I like to call, my good sir," +retorted Petherton quietly. "I am better acquainted with the law than you +are." He turned to the coroner's officer. "I warned you this morning to +produce Ewbank," he said. "Now, where is he?" + +Out of a deep silence a shrill voice came from the rear of the crowd. + +"Knows better than to be here, does Dan'l Ewbank, mister! He's off!" + +"Very good--or bad--for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly. +"Then--until Mr. Marston Greyle comes--we will call Zachary Spurge." + +The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurge +suddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and it +was at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say, +no one there would attach any importance to it. The laughter continued +and increased while Spurge was under examination. Petherton appealed to +the coroner; the coroner affected not to hear. And once more the foreman +of the jury interrupted. + +"We don't want to hear no more o' this stuff!" he said. "It's an insult +to us to put a fellow like that before us. We don't believe a word o' +what he says. We don't believe he was within a mile o' them ruins on +Sunday afternoon. It's all a put-up job!" + +Petherton leaned towards the reporters. + +"I hope you gentlemen of the press will make a full note of these +proceedings," he observed suavely. "You at any rate are not biassed or +prejudiced." + +The coroner heard that in spite of his deafness, and he grew purple. + +"Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is a most improper observation! It's a +reflection on my position, sir, and I've a great mind--" + +"Mr. Coroner," observed Petherton, leaning towards him, "I shall hand in +a full report concerning your conduct of these proceedings to the Home +Office tomorrow. If you attempt to interfere with my duty here, all the +worse for you. Now, Spurge, you can stand down. And as I see Mr. Greyle +there--call Marston Greyle!" + +The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and had +heard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, and +disturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and his +party were distinctly those of displeasure. + +"Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle--" + +But Greyle's own solicitor was on his legs, insisting on his right to put +a first question. In spite of Petherton, he put it. + +"You heard the evidence of the last witness?--Spurge. Is there a word of +truth in it?" + +Marston Greyle--who certainly looked very unwell--moistened his lips. + +"Not one word!" he answered. "It's a lie!" + +The solicitor glanced triumphantly at the Coroner and the jury, and the +crowd raised unchecked murmurs of approval. Again the foreman endeavoured +to stop the proceedings. + +"We regard all this here as very rude conduct to Mr. Greyle," he said +angrily. "We're not concerned--" + +"Mr. Foreman!" said Petherton. "You are a foolish man--you are +interfering with justice. Be warned!--I warn you, if the Coroner doesn't. +Mr. Greyle, I must ask you certain questions. Did you see the deceased +Bassett Oliver on Sunday last?" + +"No!" + +"I needn't remind you that you are on your oath. Have you ever met the +deceased man in your life?" + +"Never!" + +"You never met him in America?" + +"I may have met him--but not to my recollection. If I did, it was in such +a casual fashion that I have completely forgotten all about it." + +"Very well--you are on your oath, mind. Where did you live in America, +before you succeeded to this estate?" + +The Squire's solicitor intervened. + +"Don't answer that question!" he said sharply. "Don't answer any more. I +object altogether to your line," he went on, angrily, turning to +Petherton. "I claim the Coroner's protection for the witness." + +"I quite agree," said the Coroner. "All this is absolutely irrelevant. +You can stand down," he continued, turning to the Squire. "I will have no +more of this--and I will take the full responsibility!" + +"And the consequences, Mr. Coroner," replied Petherton calmly. "And the +first consequence is that I now formally demand an adjournment of this +inquest, _sine die_." + +"On what grounds, sir?" demanded the Coroner. + +"To permit me to bring evidence from America," replied Petherton, with a +side glance at Marston Greyle. "Evidence already being prepared." + +The Coroner hesitated, looked at Greyle's solicitor, and then turned +sharply to the jury. + +"I refuse that application!" he said. "You have heard all I have to say, +gentlemen," he went on, "and you can return your verdict." + +Petherton quietly gathered up his papers and motioned to his friends to +follow him out of the schoolroom. The foreman of the jury was returning a +verdict of accidental death as they passed through the door, and they +emerged into the street to an accompaniment of loud cheers for the Squire +and groans for themselves. + +"What a travesty of justice!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "That fellow +Spurge was right, you see, Copplestone. I wish we hadn't brought him +into danger." + +Copplestone suddenly laughed and touched Sir Cresswell's arm. He pointed +to the edge of the moorland just outside the school-yard. Spurge was +disappearing over that edge, and in a moment had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MR. DENNIE + + +Amongst the little group of actors and actresses who had come over from +Norcaster to hear all that was to be told concerning their late manager, +sat an old gentleman who, hands folded on the head of his walking cane, +and chin settled on his hands, watched the proceedings with silent and +concentrated attention. He was a striking figure of an old +gentleman--tall, distinguished-looking, handsome, with a face full of +character, the strong lines and features of which were further +accentuated by his silvery hair. He was a smart old gentleman, too, well +and scrupulously attired and groomed, and his blue bird's-eye necktie, +worn at a rakish angle, gave him the air of something of a sporting man +rather than of a follower of Thespis. His fellow members of the Oliver +company seemed to pay him great attention, and at various points of the +proceedings whispered questions to him as to an acknowledged authority. + +This old gentleman, when the inquest came to its extraordinary end and +the crowd went out murmuring and disputing, separated himself from his +companions and made his way towards Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, who +were quietly setting out homewards. To Audrey's surprise the two elders +shook hands in silence, and inspected each other with a palpable +wistfulness of look. + +"And yet it's twenty-five years since we met, isn't it?" said the old +gentleman, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But I knew you at +once--I was wondering if you remembered me?" + +"Why, of course," responded Mrs. Greyle. "Besides, I've had an +advantage over you. I've seen you, you know, several times--at +Norcaster. We go to the theatre now and then. Audrey--this is Mr. +Dennie--you've seen him, too." + +"On the stage--on the stage!" murmured the old actor, as he shook hands +with the girl. "Um!--I wonder if any of us are ever really off it! This +affair, for instance--there's a drama for you! By the-bye--this young +Squire--he's your relation, of course?" + +"My nephew-in-law, and Audrey's cousin," replied Mrs. Greyle. Mr. Dennie, +who had walked along with them towards their cottage, stopped in a quiet +stretch of the quay, and looked meditatively at Audrey. + +"Then this young lady," he said, "is next heir to the Greyle estates, eh? +For I understand this present Squire isn't married. Therefore--" + +"Oh, that's something that isn't worth thinking about," replied Mrs. +Greyle hastily. "Don't put such notions into the girl's head, Mr. Dennie. +Besides, the Greyle estates are not entailed, you know. The present owner +can do what he pleases with them--besides that, he's sure to marry." + +"All the same," observed Mr. Dennie, imperturbably, "if this young man +had not been in existence, this child would have succeeded, eh?" + +"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Greyle a little impatiently. "But what's +the use of talking about that, my old friend! The young man is in +possession--and there you are!" + +"Do you like the young man?" asked Mr. Dennie. "I take an old fellow's +privilege in asking direct questions, you know. And--though we haven't +seen each other for all these years--you can say anything to me." + +"No, we don't," replied Mrs. Greyle. "And we don't know why we don't--so +there's a woman's answer for you. Kinsfolk though we are, we see little +of each other." + +Mr. Dennie made no remark on this. He walked along at Audrey's side, +apparently in deep thought, and suddenly he looked across at her mother. + +"What do you think about this extraordinary story of Bassett Oliver's +having met a Marston Greyle over there in America?" he asked abruptly. +"What do people here think about it?" + +"We're not in a position to hear much of what other people think," +answered Mrs. Greyle. "What I think is that if this Marston Greyle ever +did meet such a very notable and noticeable man as Bassett Oliver it's a +very, very strange thing that he's forgotten all about it!" + +Mr. Dennie laughed quietly. + +"Aye, aye!" he said. "But--don't you think we folk of the profession are +a little bit apt to magnify our own importance? You say 'Bless me, how +could anybody ever forget an introduction to Bassett Oliver!' But we must +remember that to some people even a famous actor is of no more importance +than--shall we say a respectable grocer? Marston Greyle may be one of +those people--it's quite possible he may have been introduced, quite +casually, to Oliver at some club, or gathering, something-or-other, over +there and have quite forgotten all about it. Quite possible, I think." + +"I agree with you as to the possibility, but certainly not as to the +probability," said Mrs. Greyle, dryly. "Bassett Oliver was the sort of +man whom nobody would forget. But here we are at our cottage--you'll come +in, Mr. Dennie?" + +"It will only have to be for a little time, my dear lady," said the old +actor, pulling out his watch. "Our people are going back very soon, and I +must join them at the station." + +"I'll give you a glass of good old wine," said Mrs. Greyle as they went +into the cottage. "I have some that belonged to my father-in-law, the old +Squire. You must taste it--for old times' sake." + +Mr. Dennie followed Audrey into the little parlour as Mrs. Greyle +disappeared to another part of the house. And the instant they were +alone, he tapped the girl's arm and gave her a curiously warning look. + +"Hush, my dear!" he whispered. "Not a word--don't want your mother to +know! Listen--have you a specimen--letter--anything--of your cousin, the +Squire's handwriting? Anything so long as it's his. You have? Give it to +me--say nothing to your mother. Wait until tomorrow morning. I'll run +over to see you again--about noon. It's important--but silence!" + +Audrey, scarcely understanding the old man's meaning, opened a desk and +drew out one or two letters. She selected one and handed it to Mr. +Dennie, who made haste to put it away before Mrs. Greyle returned. He +gave Audrey another warning look. + +"That was what I wanted!" he said mysteriously. "I thought of it during +the inquest. Never mind why, just now--you shall know tomorrow." + +He lingered a few minutes, chatting to his hostess about old times as he +sipped the old Squire's famous port; then he went off to the little +station, joined Stafford and his fellow actors and actresses, and +returned with them to Norcaster. And at Norcaster Mr. Dennie separated +himself from the rest and repaired to his quiet lodgings--rooms which he +had occupied for many years in succession whenever he went that way on +tour--and once safely bestowed in them he pulled out a certain +old-fashioned trunk, which he had owned since boyhood and lugged about +wherever he went in two continents, and from it, after much methodical +unpacking, he disinterred a brown paper parcel, neatly tied up with green +ribbon. From this parcel he drew a thin packet of typed matter and a +couple of letters--the type script he laid aside, the letters he opened +out on his table. Then he took from his pocket the letter which Audrey +Greyle had given him and put it side by side with those taken from the +parcel. And after one brief glance at all three Mr. Dennie made +typescript and letters up again into a neat packet, restored them to his +trunk, locked them up, and turned to the two hours' rest which he always +took before going to the theatre for his evening's work. + +He was back at Scarhaven by eleven o'clock the next morning, with his +neat packet under his arm and he held it up significantly to Audrey who +opened the door of the cottage to him. + +"Something to show you," he said with a quiet smile as he walked in. +"To show you and your mother." He stopped short on the threshold of the +little parlour, where Copplestone was just then talking to Mrs. Greyle. +"Oh!" he said, a little disappointedly, "I hoped to find you +alone--I'll wait." + +Mrs. Greyle explained who Copplestone was, and Mr. Dennie immediately +brightened. "Of course--of course!" he explained. "I know! Glad to meet +you, Mr. Copplestone--you don't know me, but I know you--or your +work--well enough. It was I who read and recommended your play to our +poor dear friend. It's a little secret, you know," continued Mr. Dennie, +laying his packet on the table, "but I have acted for a great many years +as Bassett Oliver's literary adviser--taster, you might say. You know, he +had a great number of plays sent to him, of course, and he was a very +busy man, and he used to hand them over to me in the first place, to take +a look at, a taste of, you know, and if I liked the taste, why, then he +took a mouthful himself, eh? And that brings me to the very point, my +dear ladies and my dear young gentleman, that I have come specially to +Scarhaven this morning to discuss. It's a very, very serious matter +indeed," he went on as he untied his packet of papers, "and I fear that +it's only the beginning of something more serious. Come round me here at +this table, all of you, if you please." + +The other three drew up chairs, each wondering what was coming, and +the old actor resumed his eyeglasses and gave obvious signs of +making a speech. + +"Now I want you all to attend to me, very closely," he said. "I shall +have to go into a detailed explanation, and you will very soon see what +I am after. As you may be aware, I have been a personal friend of +Bassett Oliver for some years, and a member of his company without break +for the last eight years. I accompanied Bassett Oliver on his two trips +to the United States--therefore, I was with him when he was last there, +years ago. + +"Now, while we were at Chicago that time, Bassett came to me one day with +the typescript of a one-act play and told me that it had been sent to him +by a correspondent signing himself Marston Greyle; who in a covering +letter, said that he sprang from an old English family, and that the play +dealt with a historic, romantic episode in its history. The principal +part, he believed, was one which would suit Bassett--therefore he begged +him to consider the matter. Bassett asked me to read the play, and I took +it away, with the writer's letter, for that purpose. But we were just +then very busy, and I had no opportunity of reading anything for a time. +Later on, we went to St. Louis, and there, of course, Bassett, as usual, +was much feted and went out a great deal, lunching with people and so on. +One day he came to me, 'By-the-bye, Dennie!' he said, 'I met that Mr. +Marston Greyle today who sent me that romantic one-act thing. He wanted +to know if I'd read it, and I had to confess that it was in your hands. +Have you looked at it?' I, too, had to confess--I hadn't. 'Well,' said +he, 'read it and let me know what you think--will it suit me?' I made +time to read the little play during the following week, and I told +Bassett that I didn't think it would suit him, but I felt sure it might +suit Montagu Gaines, who plays just such parts. Bassett thereupon wrote +to the author and said what I, his reader, thought, and kindly offered, +as he knew Gaines intimately, to show the little work to him on his +return to England. And this Mr. Marston Greyle wrote back, thanking +Bassett warmly and accepting his kind offer. Accordingly, I brought the +play with me to England. Montagu Gaines, however, had just set off on a +two years' tour to Australia--consequently, the play and the author's two +letters have remained in my possession ever since. And--here they are!" + +Mr. Dennie laid his hand dramatically on his packet, looked significantly +at his audience, and went on. + +"Now, when I heard all that I did hear at that inquest yesterday," he +said, "I naturally remembered that I had in my possession two letters +which were undoubtedly written to Bassett Oliver by a young man named +Marston Greyle, whom Oliver--just as undoubtedly!--had personally met in +St. Louis. And so when the inquest was over, Mr. Copplestone, I recalled +myself to Mrs. Greyle here, whom I had known many years ago, and I walked +back to this house with her and her charming daughter, and--don't be +angry, Mrs. Greyle--while the mother's back was turned--on hospitable +thoughts intent--I got the daughter to lend me--secretly--a letter +written by the present Squire of Scarhaven. Armed with that, I went home +to my lodgings in Norcaster, found the letter written by the American +Marston Greyle, and compared it with them. And--here is the result!" + +The old actor selected the two American letters from his papers, laid +them out on the table, and placed the letter which Audrey had given him +beside them. + +"Now!" he said, as his three companions bent eagerly over these exhibits, +"Look at those three letters. All bear the same signature, Marston +Greyle--but the hand-writing of those two is as different from that of +this one as chalk is from cheese!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY PRIVATE TREATY + + +There was little need for the three deeply interested listeners to look +long at the letters--one glance was sufficient to show even a careless +eye that the hand which had written one of them had certainly not written +the other two. The letter which Audrey had handed to Mr. Dennie was +penned in the style commonly known as commercial--plain, commonplace, +utterly lacking in the characteristics which are supposed to denote +imagination and a sense of artistry. It was the sort of caligraphy which +one comes across every day in shops and offices and banks--there was +nothing in any upstroke, downstroke or letter which lifted it from the +very ordinary. But the other two letters were evidently written by a man +of literary and artistic sense, possessing imagination and a liking for +effect. It needed no expert in handwriting to declare that two totally +different individuals had written those letters. + +"And now," observed Mr. Dennie, breaking the silence and putting into +words what each of the others was vaguely feeling, "the question is--what +does all this mean? To start with, Marston Greyle is a most uncommon +name. Is it possible there can be two persons of that name? That, at any +rate, is the first thing that strikes me." + +"It is not the first thing that strikes me," said Mrs. Greyle. She took +up the typescript which the old actor had brought in his packet, and held +its title-page significantly before him. "That is the first thing that +strikes me!" she exclaimed. "The Marston Greyle who sent this to Bassett +Oliver said according to your story--that he sprang from a very old +family in England, and that this is a dramatization of a romantic episode +in its annals. Now there is no other old family in England named Greyle, +and this episode is of course, the famous legend of how Prince Rupert +once sought refuge in the Keep yonder and had a love-passage with a lady +of the house. Am I right, Mr. Dennie?" + +"Quite right, ma'am, quite correct," replied the old actor. "It is +so--you have guessed correctly!" + +"Very well, then--the Marston Greyle who wrote this, and those letters, +and who met Bassett Oliver was without doubt the son of Marcus Greyle, +who went to America many years ago. He was the same Marston Greyle, who, +his father being dead, of course succeeded his uncle, Stephen John +Greyle--that seems an absolute certainty. And in that case," continued +Mrs. Greyle, looking earnestly from one to the other, "in that case--who +is the man now at Scarhaven Keep?" + +A dead silence fell on the little room. Audrey started and flushed at her +mother's eager, pregnant question; Mr. Dennie sat up very erect and took +a pinch of snuff from his old-fashioned box. Copplestone pushed his chair +away from the table and began to walk about. And Mrs. Greyle continued to +look from one face to the other as if demanding a reply to her question. + +"Mother!" said Audrey in a low voice. "You aren't suggesting--" + +"Ahem!" interrupted Mr. Dennie. "A moment, my dear. There is nothing, I +believe," he continued, waxing a little oracular, "nothing like plain +speech. We are all friends--we have a common cause--justice! It may be +that justice demands our best endeavours not only as regards our deceased +friend, Bassett Oliver, but in the interests of--this young lady. So--" + +"I wish you wouldn't, Mr. Dennie!" exclaimed Audrey. "I don't like this +at all. Please don't!" + +She turned, almost instinctively, to seek Copplestone's aid in repressing +the old man. But Copplestone was standing by the window, staring moodily +at the wind-swept quay beyond the garden, and Mr. Dennie waved his +snuff-box and went on. + +"An old man's privilege!" he said. "In your interests, my dear. Allow +me." He turned again to Mrs. Greyle. "In plain words, ma'am, you are +wondering if the present holder of the estates is really what he claims +to be. Plain English, eh?" + +"I am!" answered Mrs. Greyle with a distinct ring of challenge and +defiance. "And now that it comes to the truth, I have wondered that ever +since he came here. There!" + +"Why, mother?" asked Audrey, wonderingly. + +"Because he doesn't possess a single Greyle characteristic," replied Mrs. +Greyle, readily enough, "I ought to know--I married Valentine Greyle, +and I knew Stephen John, and I saw plenty of both, and something of their +father, too, and a little of Marcus before he emigrated. This man does +not possess one single scrap of the Greyle temperament!" + +Mr. Dennie put away his snuff-box and drumming on the table with his +fingers looked out of his eye corners at Copplestone who still stood with +his back to the rest, staring out of the window. + +"And what," said Mr. Dennie, softly, "what--er, does our good friend Mr. +Copplestone say?" + +Copplestone turned swiftly, and gave Audrey a quick glance. + +"I say," he answered in a sharp, business-like fashion, "that Gilling, +who's stopping at the inn, you know, is walking up and down outside here, +evidently looking out for me, and very anxious to see me, and with your +permission, Mrs. Greyle, I'd like to have him in. Now that things have +got to this pitch, I'd better tell you something--I don't see any good in +concealing it longer. Gilling isn't an invalid curate at all!--he's a +private detective. Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton, the solicitor, +sent him down here to watch Greyle--the Squire, you know--that's +Gilling's job. They suspect Greyle--have suspected him from the very +first--but of what I don't know. Not--not of this, I think. Anyway, they +do suspect him, and Gilling's had his eye on him ever since he came here. +And I'd like to fetch Gilling in here, and I'd like him to know all that +Mr. Dennie's told us. Because, don't you see, Sir Cresswell and +Petherton ought to know all that, immediately, and Gilling's their man." + +Audrey's brows had been gathering in lines of dismay and perplexity +all the time Copplestone was talking, but her mother showed no +signs of anything but complete composure, crowned by something very +like satisfaction, and she nodded a ready acquiescence in +Copplestone's proposal. + +"By all means!" she responded. "Bring Mr. Gilling in at once." + +Copplestone hurried out into the garden and signalled to the +pseudo-curate, who came hurrying across from the quay. One glance at him +showed Copplestone that something had happened. + +"Gad!--I thought I should never attract your attention!" said Gilling +hastily. "Been making eyes at you for ten minutes. I say--Greyle's off!" + +"Off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "How do you mean--off?" + +"Left Scarhaven, anyhow--for London," replied Gilling. "An hour ago I +happened to be at the station, buying a paper, when he drove up--luggage +and man with him, so I knew he was off for some time. And I took good +care to dodge round by the booking-office when the man took the tickets. +King's Cross. So that's all right, for the time being." + +"How do you mean--all right?" asked Copplestone. "I thought you were to +keep him in sight?" + +"All right," repeated Gilling. "I have more eyes than these, my boy! I've +a particularly smart partner in London--name of Swallow--and he and I +have a cypher code. So soon as the gentleman had left, I repaired to the +nearest post office and wired a code message to Swallow. Swallow will +meet that train when it strikes King's Cross. And it doesn't matter if +Greyle hides himself in one of the spikes on top of the Monument or +inside the lion house at the Zoo--Swallow will be there! No man ever got +away from Swallow--once Swallow had set eyes on him." + +Copplestone looked, listened, and laughed. + +"Professional pride!" he said. "All right. I want you to come in here +with me--to Mrs. Greyle's. Something's happened here, too. And of such a +serious nature that I've taken the liberty of telling them who and what +you really are. You'll forgive me when you hear what it is that we've +learnt here this morning." + +Gilling had looked rather doubtful at Copplestone's announcement, but he +immediately turned towards the cottage. + +"Oh, well!" he said good-naturedly. "I'm sure you wouldn't have told if +you hadn't felt there was good reason. What is this fresh news?--something +about--him?" + +"Very much about him," answered Copplestone. "Come in." + +He himself, at Mrs. Greyle's request, gave Gilling a brief account of +Mr. Dennie's revelations, the old actor supplementing it with a shrewd +remark or two. And then all four turned to Gilling as to an expert in +these matters. + +"Queer!" observed Gilling. "Decidedly queer! There may be some +explanation, you know: I've known stranger things than that turn out to +be perfectly straight and plain when they were gone into. But--putting +all the facts together--I don't think there's much doubt that there's +something considerably wrong in this case. I should like to repeat it to +my principals--I must go up to town in any event this afternoon. Better +let me have all those documents, Mr. Dennie--I'll give you a proper +receipt for them. There's something very valuable in them, anyhow." + +"What?" asked Copplestone. + +"The address in St. Louis from which that Marston Greyle wrote to Bassett +Oliver." replied Gilling. "We can communicate with that address--at once. +We may learn something there. But," he went on, turning to Mrs. Greyle, +"I want to learn something here--and now. I want to know where and under +what circumstances the Squire came to Scarhaven. You were here then, of +course, Mrs. Greyle? You can tell me?" + +"He came very quietly," replied Mrs. Greyle. "Nobody in Scarhaven--unless +it was Peter Chatfield--knew of his coming. In fact, nobody in these +parts, at any rate--knew he was in England. The family solicitors in +London may have known. But nothing was ever said or written to me, though +my daughter, failing this man, is the next in succession." + +"I do wish you'd leave all that out, mother!" exclaimed Audrey. "I +don't like it." + +"Whether you like it or not, it's the fact," said Mrs. Greyle +imperturbably, "and it can't be left out. Well, as I say, no one knew the +Squire had come to England, until one day Chatfield calmly walked down +the quay with him, introducing him right and left. He brought him here." + +"Ah!" said Gilling. "That's interesting. Now I wonder if you found out if +he was well up in the family history?" + +"Not then, but afterwards," answered Mrs. Greyle. "He is particularly +well up in the Greyle records--suspiciously well up." + +"Why suspiciously?" asked Cobblestone. + +"He knows more--in a sort of antiquarian and historian fashion--than +you'd suppose a young man of his age would," said Mrs. Greyle. "He gives +you the impression of having read it up--studied it deeply. And--his +usual tastes don't lie in that direction." + +"Ah!" observed Mr. Dennie, musingly. "Bad sign, ma'am,--bad sign! Looks +as if he had been--shall we say put up to overstudying his part. That's +possible! I have known men who were so anxious to be what one calls +letter-perfect, Mr. Copplestone, that though they knew their parts, they +didn't know how to play them. Fact, sir!" + +While the old actor was chuckling over this reminiscence, Gilling turned +quietly to Mrs. Greyle. + +"I think you suspect this man?" he said. + +"Frankly--yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I always have done, though I have +said so little--" + +"Mother!" interrupted Audrey. "Is it really worth while saying so much +now! After all, we know nothing, and if this is all mere +supposition--however," she broke off, rising and going away from the +group, "perhaps I had better say nothing." + +Copplestone too rose and followed her into the window recess. + +"I say!" he said entreatingly. "I hope you don't think me interfering? I +assure you--" + +"You!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no!--of course. I think you're anxious to +clear things up about Mr. Oliver. But I don't want my mother dragged into +it--for a simple reason. We've got to live here--and Chatfield is a +vindictive man." + +"You're frightened of him?" said Copplestone incredulously. "You!" + +"Not for myself," she answered, giving him a warning look and glancing +apprehensively at Mrs. Greyle, who was talking eagerly to Mr. Dennie and +Gilling. "But my mother is not as strong as she looks and it would be a +blow to her to leave this place and we are the Squire's tenants, and +therefore at Chatfield's mercy. And you know that Chatfield does as he +likes! Now do you understand?" + +"It maddens me to think that you should be at Chatfield's mercy!" +muttered Copplestone. "But do you really mean to say that if--if +Chatfield thought you--that is, your mother--were mixed up in anything +relating to the clearing up of this affair he would--" + +"Drive us out without mercy," replied Audrey. "That's dead certain." + +"And that your cousin would let him?" exclaimed Copplestone. +"Surely not!" + +"I don't think the Squire has any control over Chatfield," she answered. +"You have seen them together." + +"If that's so," said Copplestone, "I shall begin to think there is +something queer about the Squire in the way your mother suggests. It +looks as if Chatfield had a hold on him. And in that case--" + +He suddenly broke off as a smart automobile drove up to the cottage door +and set down a tall, distinguished-looking man who after a glance at the +little house walked quickly up the garden. Audrey's face showed surprise. + +"Mother!" she said, turning to Mrs. Greyle. "There's Lord Altmore here! +He must want you. Or shall I go?" + +Mrs. Greyle quitted the room hastily. The others heard her welcome the +visitor, lead him up the tiny hall; they heard a door shut. Audrey looked +at Copplestone. + +"You've heard of Lord Altmore, haven't you?" she said. "He's our +biggest man in these parts--he owns all the country at the back, +mountains, valleys, everything. The Greyle land shuts him off from the +sea. In the old days, Greyles and Altmores used to fight over their +boundaries, and--" + +Mrs. Greyle suddenly showed herself again and looked at her daughter. + +"Will you come here, Audrey?" she said. "You gentlemen will excuse both +of us for a few minutes?" + +Mother and daughter went away, and the two young men drew up their +chairs to the table at which Mr. Dennie sat and exchanged views with him +on the curious situation. Half-an-hour went by; then steps and voices +were heard in the hall and the garden; Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were seeing +their visitor out to his car. In a few minutes the car sped away, and +they came back to the parlour. One glance at their faces showed Gilling +that some new development had cropped up and he nudged Copplestone. + +"Here is remarkable news!" said Mrs. Greyle as she went back to her +chair. "Lord Altmore called to tell me of something that he thought I +ought to know. It is almost unbelievable, yet it is a fact. Marston +Greyle--if he is Marston Greyle!--has offered to sell Lord Altmore the +entire Scarhaven estate, by private treaty. Imagine it!--the estate which +has belonged to the Greyles for five hundred years!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + + +The two younger men received this announcement with no more than looks +of astonished inquiry, but the elder one coughed significantly, had +further recourse to his snuff-box and turned to Mrs. Greyle with a +knowing glance. + +"My dear lady!" he said impressively. "Now this is a matter in which I +believe I can be of service--real service! You may have forgotten the +fact--it is all so long ago--and perhaps I never mentioned it in the old +days--but the truth is that before I went on the stage, I was in the law. +The fact is, I am a duly and fully qualified solicitor--though," he +added, with a dry chuckle, "it is a good five and twenty years since I +paid the six pounds for the necessary annual certificate. But I have not +forgotten my law--or some of it--and no doubt I can furbish up a little +more, if necessary. You say that Mr. Marston Greyle, the present owner of +Scarhaven, has offered to sell his estate to Lord Altmore? But--is not +the estate entailed?" + +"No!" replied Mrs. Greyle. "It is not." + +Mr. Dennie's face fell--unmistakably. He took another pinch of snuff and +shook his head. + +"Then in that case," he said dryly, "all the lawyers in the world can't +help. It's his--absolutely--and he can do what he pleases with it. Five +hundred years, you say? Remarkable!--that a man should want to sell land +his forefathers have walked over for half a thousand years! +Extraordinary!" + +"Did Lord Altmore say if any reason had been given him as to why Mr. +Greyle wished to sell?" asked Gilling. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle, who was obviously greatly upset by the recent +news. "He did. Mr. Greyle gave as his reason that the north does not suit +him, and that he wishes to buy an estate in the south of England. He +approached Lord Altmore first because it is well-known that the Altmores +have always been anxious to extend their own borders to the coast." + +"Does Lord Altmore want to buy?" asked Gilling. + +"It is very evident that he would be quite willing to buy," said +Mrs. Greyle. + +"What made him come to you," continued Gilling. "He must have had +some reason?" + +"He had a reason," Mrs. Greyle answered, with a glance at Audrey. "He +knows the family history, of course--he is very well aware that my +daughter is at present the heir apparent. He therefore thought we ought +to know of this offer. But that is not quite all. Lord Altmore has, of +course, read the accounts of the inquest in this morning's paper. Also +his steward was present at the inquest. And from what he has read, and +from what his steward told him, Lord Altmore thinks there is something +wrong--he thinks, for instance, that Marston Greyle should explain this +mystery about the meeting with Bassett Oliver in America. At any rate, +he will go no further in any negotiations until that mystery is +properly cleared up. Shall I tell you what Lord Altmore said on that +point? He said--" + +"Is it worth while, mother?" interrupted Audrey. "It was only his +opinion." + +"It is worth while--amongst ourselves--" insisted Mrs. Greyle. "Why not? +Lord Altmore said--in so many words--'I have a sort of uneasy feeling, +after reading the evidence at that inquest, and hearing what my +steward's impressions were, that this man calling himself Marston Greyle +may not be Marston Greyle at all and I shall want good proof that he is +before I even consider the proposal he has made to me.' There! +So--what's to be done?" + +"The law, ma'am," observed Mr. Dennie, solemnly, "the law must step in. +You must get an injunction, ma'am, to prevent Mr. Marston Greyle from +dealing with the property until his own title to it has been established. +That, at any rate, is my opinion." + +"May I ask a question?" said Copplestone who had been listening +and thinking intently. "Did Lord Altmore say when this offer was +made to him?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "A week ago." + +"A week ago!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That is, before last Sunday--before +the Bassett Oliver episode. Then--the offer to sell is quite independent +of that affair!" + +"Strange--and significant!" muttered Gilling. + +He rose from his chair and looked at his watch. + +"Well," he went on, "I am going off to London. Will you give me leave, +Mrs. Greyle, to report all this to Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. +Petherton? They ought to know." + +"I'm going, too," declared Copplestone, also rising. "Mrs. Greyle, I'm +sure will entrust the whole matter to us. And Mr. Dennie will trust us +with those papers." + +"Oh, certainly, certainly!" asserted Mr. Dennie, pushing his packet +across the table. "Take care of 'em, my boy!--ye don't know how important +they may turn out to be." + +"And--Mrs. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. + +"Tell whatever you think it best to tell," replied Mrs. Greyle. "My own +opinion is that a lot will have to be told--and to come out, yet." + +"We can catch a train in three-quarters of an hour, Copplestone," said +Gilling. "Let's get back and settle up with Mrs. Wooler and be off." + +Copplestone contrived to draw Audrey aside. + +"This isn't good-bye," he whispered, with a meaning look. "You'll +see me back here before many days are over. But listen--if anything +happens here, if you want anybody's help--in any way--you know what +I mean--promise you'll wire to me at this address. Promise!--or I +won't go." + +"Very well," said Audrey, "I promise. But--why shall you come back?" + +"Tell you when I come," replied Copplestone with another look. +"But--I shall come--and soon. I'm only going because I want to be of +use--to you." + +An hour later he and Gilling were on their way to London, and from +opposite corners of a compartment which they had contrived to get to +themselves, they exchanged looks. + +"This is a queer business, Copplestone!" said Gilling. "It strikes me +it's going to be a big one, too. And--it's coming to a point round +Squire Greyle." + +"Do you think your man will have tracked him?" asked Copplestone. + +"It will be the first time Swallow's ever lost sight of anybody if he +hasn't," answered Gilling. "He's a human ferret! However, I wired to him +just before we left, telling him to meet me at King's Cross, so we'll +get his report. Oh, he'll have followed him all right--I don't imagine +for a moment that Greyle is trying to evade anybody, at this juncture, +at any rate." + +But when--four hours later--the train drew into King's Cross--and +Gilling's partner, a young and sharp-looking man, presented himself, it +was with a long and downcast face and a lugubrious shake of the head. + +"Done!--for the first time in my life!" he growled in answer to +Gilling's eager inquiry. "Lost him! Never failed before--as you know. +Well, it had to come, I suppose--can't go on without an occasional +defeat. But--I'm a bit licked as to the whole thing--unless your man is +dodging somebody. Is he?" + +"Tell your tale," commanded Gilling, motioning Copplestone to follow him +and Swallow aside. + +"I was up here in good time this afternoon to meet his train," reported +Swallow. "I spotted him and his man at once; no difficulty, as your +description of both was so full. They were together while the luggage +was got out; then he, Greyle, gave some instructions to the man and left +him. He himself got into a taxi-cab; I got into another close behind and +gave its driver certain orders. Greyle drove straight to the Fragonard +Club--you know." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Gilling. "Did he, now? That's worth knowing." + +"What's the Fragonard Club?" asked Copplestone. "Never heard of it." + +"Club of folk connected with the stage and the music-halls," answered +Gilling, testily. "In a side street, off Shaftesbury Avenue--tell you +more of it, later. Go on, Swallow." + +"He paid off his driver there, and went in," continued Swallow. "I paid +mine and hung about--there's only one entrance and exit to that spot, as +you know. He came out again within five minutes, stuffing some letters +into his pocket. He walked away across Shaftesbury Avenue into Wardour +Street--there he went into a tobacconist's shop. Of course, I hung about +again. But this time he didn't come. So at last I walked in--to buy +something. He wasn't there!" + +"Pooh!--he'd slipped out--walked out--when you weren't looking!" said +Gilling. "Why didn't you keep your eye on the ball, man?--you!" + +"You be hanged!" retorted Swallow. "Never had an eyelash off that shop +door from the time he entered until I, too, entered." + +"Then there's a side-door to that shop--into some alley or passage," +said Gilling. + +"Not that I could find," answered Swallow. "Might be at the rear of the +premises perhaps, but I couldn't ascertain, of course. Remember!--there's +another thing. He may have stopped on the premises. There's that in it. +However, I know the shop and the name." + +"Why didn't you bring somebody else with you, to follow the man and the +luggage?" demanded Gilling, half-petulantly. + +Swallow shook his head. + +"There I made a mess of it, I confess," he admitted. "But it never struck +me they'd separate. I thought, of course, they'd drive straight to some +hotel, and--" + +"And the long and the short of it is, Greyle's slipped you," said +Gilling. "Well--there's no more to be done tonight. The only thing of +value is that Greyle called at the Fragonard. What's a country +squire--only recently come to England, too!--to do with the Fragonard? +That is worth something. Well--Copplestone, we'd better meet in the +morning at Petherton's. You be there at ten o'clock, and I'll get Sir +Cresswell Oliver to be there, too." + +Copplestone betook himself to his rooms in Jermyn Street; it seemed an +age--several ages--since he had last seen the familiar things in them. +During the few days which had elapsed since his hurried setting-off to +meet Bassett Oliver so many things had happened that he felt as if he +had lived a week in a totally different world. He had met death, and +mystery, and what appeared to be sure evidence of deceit and cunning and +perhaps worse--fraud and crime blacker than fraud. But he had also met +Audrey Greyle. And it was only natural that he thought more about her +than of the strange atmosphere of mystery which wrapped itself around +Scarhaven. She, at any rate, was good to think upon, and he thought much +as he looked over the letters that had accumulated, changed his clothes, +and made ready to go and dine at his club, Already he was counting the +hours which must elapse before he would go back to her. + +Nevertheless, Copplestone's mind was not entirely absorbed by this +pleasant subject; the events of the day and of the arrival in London +kept presenting themselves. And coming across a fellow club-member +whom he knew for a thorough man about town, he suddenly plumped him +with a question. + +"I say!" he said. "Do you know the Fragonard Club?" + +"Of course!" replied the other man. "Don't you?" + +"Never even heard of it till this evening," said Copplestone. +"What is it?" + +"Mixed lot!" answered his companion. "Theatrical and music-hall folk--men +and women--both. Lively spot--sometimes. Like to have a look in when they +have one of their nights?" + +"Very much," assented Copplestone. "Are you a member?" + +"No, but I know several men who are members," said the other. "I'll fix +it all right. Worth going to when they've what they call a +house-dinner--Sunday night, of course." + +"Thanks," said Copplestone. "I suppose membership of that's confined to +the profession, eh?" + +"Strictly," replied his friend. "But they ain't at all particular about +their guests--you'll meet all sorts of people there, from judges to +jockeys, and millionairesses to milliners." + +Copplestone was still wondering what the Squire of Scarhaven could have +to do with the Fragonard Club when he went to Mr. Petherton's office the +next morning. He was late for the appointment which Gilling had made, and +when he arrived Gilling had already reported all that had taken place the +day before to the solicitor and to Sir Cresswell Oliver. And on that +Copplestone produced the papers entrusted to him by Mr. Dennie and they +all compared the handwritings afresh. + +"There is certainly something wrong, somewhere," remarked Petherton, +after a time. "However, we are in a position to begin a systematic +inquiry. Here," he went on, drawing a paper from his desk, "is a +cablegram which arrived first thing this morning from New York--from an +agent who has been making a search for me in the shipping lists. This is +what he says: 'Marston Greyle, St. Louis, Missouri, booked first-class +passenger from New York to Falmouth, England, by S.S. _Araconda_, +September 28th, 1912.' There--that's something definite. And the next +thing," concluded the old lawyer, with a shrewd glance at Sir Cresswell, +"is to find out if the Marston Greyle who landed at Falmouth is the same +man whom we have recently seen!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + + +Sir Cresswell Oliver took the cablegram from Petherton and read it over +slowly, muttering the precise and plain wording to himself. + +"Don't you think, Petherton, that we had better get a clear notion of our +exact bearings?" he said as he laid it back on the solicitor's desk. +"Seems to me that the time's come when we ought to know exactly where we +are. As I understand it, the case is this--rightly or wrongly we suspect +the present holder of the Scarhaven estates. We suspect that he is not +the rightful owner--that, in short, he is no more the real Marston Greyle +than you are. We think that he's an impostor--posing as Marston Greyle. +Other people--Mrs. Valentine Greyle, for example--evidently think so, +too. Am I right?" + +"Quite!" responded Petherton. "That's our position--exactly." + +"Then--in that case, what I want to get at is this," continued Sir +Cresswell. "How does this relate to my brother's death? What's the +connection? That--to me at any rate--is the first thing of importance. Of +course I have a theory. This, that the impostor did see my brother last +Sunday afternoon. That he knew that my brother would at once know that +he, the impostor, was not the real Marston Greyle, and that the +discovery would lead to detection. And therefore he put him out of the +way. He might accompany him to the top of the tower and fling him down. +It's possible. Do you follow me?" + +"Precisely," replied Petherton. "I, too, incline to that notion, though +I've worked it out in a different fashion. My reconstruction of what took +place at Scarhaven Keep is as follows--I think that Bassett Oliver met +the Squire--we'll call this man that for the sake of clearness--when he +entered the ruins. He probably introduced himself and mentioned that he +had met a Marston Greyle in America. Then the Squire saw the +probabilities of detection--and what subsequently took place was most +likely what you suggest. It may have been that the Squire recognized +Bassett Oliver, and knew that he'd met Marston Greyle; it may have been +that he didn't know him and didn't know anything until Bassett Oliver +enlightened him. But--either way--I firmly believe that Bassett Oliver +came to his death by violence--that he was murdered. So--there's the case +in a nutshell! Murdered!--to keep his tongue still." + +"What's to be done, then?" asked Sir Cresswell as Petherton tapped the +cablegram. + +"The first thing," he answered, "is to make use of this. We now know that +the real Marston Greyle--who certainly did live in St. Louis, where his +father had settled--left New York for England to take up his inheritance, +on September 28th, 1912, and booked a passage to Falmouth. He would land +at Falmouth from the _Araconda_ about October 5th. Probably there is +some trace of him at Falmouth. He no doubt stayed a night there. Anyway, +somebody must go to Falmouth and make inquiries. You'd better go, +Gilling, and at once. While you're away your partner had better resume +his search for the man we know as the Squire. You've two good clues--the +fact that he visited the Fragonard Club and that particular tobacconist's +shop. Urge Swallow to do his best--the man must be kept in sight. See to +both these things immediately." + +"Swallow is at work already," replied Gilling. "He's got good help, too, +and his failure yesterday has put him on his mettle. As for me, I'll go +to Falmouth by the next express. Let me have that cablegram." + +"I'll go with you," said Copplestone. "I may be of some use--and I'm +interested. But," he paused and looked questioningly at the old +solicitor. "What about the other news we brought you?" he asked. "About +this sale of the estate, you know? If this man is an impostor--" + +"Leave that to me," replied Petherton, with a shrewd glance at Sir +Cresswell. "I know the Greyle family solicitors--highly respectable +people--only a few doors away, in fact--and I'm going round to have a +quiet little chat with them in a few minutes. There will be no sale! +Leave me to deal with that matter--and if you young men are going to +Falmouth, off you go!" + +It was late that night when Copplestone and Gilling arrived at this +far-off Cornish seaport, and nothing could be done until the following +morning. To Copplestone it seemed as if they were in for a difficult +task. Over twelve months had elapsed since the real Marston Greyle left +America for England; he might not have stayed in Falmouth, might not have +held any conversation with anybody there who would recollect him! how +were they going to trace him? But Gilling--now free of his clerical +attire and presenting himself as a smart young man of the professional +classes type--was quick to explain that system, accurate and definite +system, would expedite matters. + +"We know the approximate date on which the _Araconda_ would touch here," +he said as they breakfasted together. "As things go, it would be from +October 4th to 6th, according to the quickness of her run across the +Atlantic. Very well--if Marston Greyle stayed here, he'd have to stay at +some hotel. Accordingly, we visit all the Falmouth hotels and examine +their registers of that date--first week of October, 1912. If we find his +name--good! We can then go on to make inquiries. If we don't find any +trace of him, then we know it's all up--he probably went straight away by +train after landing. We'll begin with this hotel first." + +There was no record of any Marston Greyle at that hotel, nor at the next +half-dozen at which they called. A visit to the shipping office of the +line to which the _Araconda_ belonged revealed the fact that she reached +Falmouth on October 5th at half-past ten in the evening, and that the +name of Marston Greyle was on the list of first-class passengers. +Gilling left the office in cheery mood. + +"That simplifies matters," he said. "As the _Araconda_ reached here late +in the evening, the passengers who landed from her would be almost +certain to stay the night in Falmouth. So we've only to resume our round +of these hotels in order to hit something pertinent. This is plain and +easy work, Copplestone--no corners in it. We'll strike oil before noon." + +They struck oil at the very next hotel they called at--an old-fashioned +house in close proximity to the harbour. There was a communicative +landlord there who evidently possessed and was proud of a retentive +memory, and he no sooner heard the reason of Gilling's call upon him than +he bustled into activity, and produced the register of the previous year. + +"But I remember the young gentleman you're asking about," he remarked, as +he took the book from a safe and laid it open on the table in his private +room. "Not a common name, is it? He came here about eleven o'clock of the +night you've mentioned--there you are!--there's the entry. And +there--higher up--is the name of the man who came to meet him. He came +the day before--to be here when the _Araconda_ got in." + +The two visitors, bending over the book, mutually nudged each other as +their eyes encountered the signatures on the open page. There, in the +handwriting of the letters which Mr. Dennie had so fortunately preserved, +was the name Marston Greyle. But it was not the sight of that which +surprised them; they had expected to see it. What made them both thrill +with the joy of an unexpected discovery was the sight of the signature +inserted some lines above it, under date October 4th. Lest they should +exhibit that joy before the landlord, they mutually stuck their elbows +into each other and immediately affected the unconcern of indifference. + +But there the signature was--_Peter Chatfield_. Peter Chatfield!--they +both knew that they were entering on a new stage of their quest; that the +fact that Chatfield had travelled to Falmouth to meet the new owner of +Scarhaven meant much--possibly meant everything. + +"Oh!" said Gilling, as steadily as possible. "That gentleman came to meet +the other, did he? Just so. Now what sort of man was he?" + +"Big, fleshy man--elderly--very solemn in manner and appearance," +answered the landlord. "I remember him well. Came in about five o'clock +in the afternoon of the 4th just after the London train arrived--and +booked a room. He told me he expected to meet a gentleman from New York, +and was very fidgety about fixing it up to go off in the tender to the +_Araconda_ when she came into the Bay. However, I found out for him that +she wouldn't be in until next evening, so of course he settled down to +wait. Very quiet, reserved old fellow--never said much." + +"Did he go off on the tender next night?" asked Gilling. + +"He did--and came back with this other gentleman and his baggage--this +Mr. Greyle," answered the landlord. "Mr. Chatfield had booked a room for +Mr. Greyle." + +"And what sort of man was Mr. Greyle?" inquired Gilling. "That's really +the important thing. You've an exceptionally good memory--I can see that. +Tell us all you can recollect about him." + +"I can recollect plenty," replied the landlord, shaking his head. "As for +his looks--a tallish, slightly-built young fellow, between, I should say, +twenty-five and twenty-eight. Stooped a good bit. Very dark hair and +eyes--eyes a good deal sunken in his face. Very pale--good-looking--good +features. But ill--my sakes! he was ill!" + +"Ill!" exclaimed Gilling, with a glance at Copplestone. "Really ill!" + +"He was that ill," said the landlord, "that me and my wife never expected +to see him get up that next morning. We wanted them to have a doctor but +Mr. Greyle himself said that it was nothing, but that he had some heart +trouble and that the voyage had made it worse. He said that if he took +some medicine which he had with him, and a drop of hot brandy-and-water, +and got a good night's sleep he'd be all right. And next morning he +seemed better, and he got up to breakfast--but my wife said to me that if +she'd seen death on a man's face it was on his! She's a bit of a +persuasive tongue, has my wife, and when she heard that these two +gentlemen were thinking of going a long journey--right away to the far +north, it was, I believe--she got 'em to go and see the doctor first, for +she felt that Mr. Greyle wasn't fit for the exertion." + +"Did they go?" asked Gilling. + +"They did! I talked, myself, to the old gentleman," replied the landlord. +"And I showed them the way to our own doctor--Dr. Tretheway. And as a +result of what he said to them, I heard them decide to break up their +journey into stages, as you might term it. They left here for Bristol +that afternoon--to stay the night there." + +"You're sure of that?--Bristol?" asked Gilling. + +"Ought to be," replied the landlord, with laconic assurance. "I +went to the station with them and saw them off. They booked to +Bristol--anyway--first class." + +Gilling looked at his companion. + +"I think we'd better see this Dr. Tretheway," he remarked. + +Dr. Tretheway, an elderly man of grave manners and benevolent aspect, +remembered the visit of Mr. Marston Greyle well enough when he had turned +up its date in his case book. He also remembered the visitor's companion, +Mr. Chatfield, who seemed unusually anxious and concerned about Mr. +Greyle's health. + +"And as to that," continued Dr. Tretheway, "I learnt from Mr. Greyle that +he had been seriously indisposed for some months before setting out for +England. The voyage had been rather a rough one; he had suffered much +from sea-sickness, and, in his state of health, that was unfortunate for +him. I made a careful examination of him, and I came to the conclusion +that he was suffering from a form of myocarditis which was rapidly +assuming a very serious complexion. I earnestly advised him to take as +much rest as possible, to avoid all unnecessary fatigue and all +excitement, and I strongly deprecated his travelling in one journey to +the north, whither I learnt he was bound. On my advice, he and Mr. +Chatfield decided to break that journey at Bristol, at Birmingham, and at +Leeds. By so doing, you see, they would only have a short journey each +day, and Mr. Greyle would be able to rest for a long time at a stretch. +But--I formed my own conclusions." + +"And they were--what?" asked Gilling. + +"That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent +school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could +from there, and to put himself under his treatment. But my impression was +that he had already reached a very, very serious stage." + +"You think he was then likely to die suddenly?" suggested Gilling. + +"It was quite possible. I should not have been surprised to hear of his +death," answered Dr. Tretheway. "He was, in short, very ill indeed." + +"You never heard anything?" inquired Gilling. + +"Nothing at all--though I often wondered. Of course," said the doctor +with a smile, "they were only chance visitors--I often have +trans-atlantic passengers drop in--and they forget that a physician would +sometimes like to know how a case submitted to him in that way has +turned out. No, I never heard any more." + +"Did they give you any address, either of them?" asked Copplestone, +seeing that Gilling had no more to ask. + +"No," replied the doctor, "they did not. I knew of course, from what +they told me that Mr. Greyle had come off the _Araconda_ the night +before, and that he was passing on. No--I only gathered that they were +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster from the fact that Mr. Greyle +asked if a journey to that place would be too much for him--he said +with a laugh, that over there in the United States a journey of five +hundred miles would be considered a mere jaunt! He was very plucky, +poor fellow, but--" + +Dr. Tretheway ended with a significant shake of the head, and his two +visitors left him and went out into the autumn sunlight. + +"Copplestone!" said Gilling as they walked away. "That chap--the real +Marston Greyle--is dead! That's as certain as that we're alive! And now +the next thing is to find out where he died and when. And by George, +that's going to be a big job!" + +"How are you going to set about it?" asked Copplestone. "It seems as if +we were up against a blank wall, now." + +"Not at all, my son!" retorted Gilling, cheerfully. "One step at a +time--that's the sure thing to go on, in my calling. We've found out a +lot here, and quickly, too. And--we know where our next step lies. +Bristol! Like looking for needles in a bundle of hay? Not a bit of it. +If those two broke their journey at Bristol, they'd have to stop at an +hotel. Well, now we'll adjourn to Bristol--bearing in mind that we're on +the track of Peter Chatfield!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE OLD PLAYBILL + + +Gilling's cheerful optimism was the sort of desirable quality that is a +good thing to have, but all the optimism in the world is valueless in +face of impregnable difficulty. And the difficulty of tracing Chatfield +and his sick companion in a city the size of Bristol did indeed seem +impregnable when Gilling and Copplestone had been attacking it for +twenty-four hours. They had spent a whole day in endeavouring to get +news; they had gone in and out of hotels until they were sick of the +sight of one; they had made exhaustive inquiries at the railway station +and of the cabmen who congregated there; nobody remembered anything at +all about a big, heavy-faced man and a man in his company who seemed to +be very ill. And on the second night Copplestone intimated plainly that +in his opinion they were wasting their time. + +"How do we even know that they ever came to Bristol?" he asked, as he and +Gilling refreshed themselves with a much needed dinner. "The Falmouth +landlord saw Chatfield take tickets for Bristol! That's nothing to go on! +Put it to yourself in this way. Greyle may have found even that journey +too much for him. They may, in that case, have left the train at +Plymouth--or at Exeter--or at Taunton: it would stop at each place. Seems +to me we're wasting time here--far better get nearer more tangible +things. Chatfield, for instance. Or, go back to town and find out what +your friend Swallow has done." + +"Swallow," replied Gilling, "has done nothing so far, or I should have +heard. Swallow knows exactly where I am, and where I shall be until I +give him further notice. Don't be discouraged, my friend--one is often +on the very edge of a discovery when one seems to be miles away from it. +Give me another day--and if we haven't found out something by tomorrow +evening I'll consult with you as to our next step. But I've a plan for +tomorrow morning which ought to yield some result." + +"What?" demanded Copplestone, doubtfully. + +"This! There is in every centre of population an official who registers +births, marriages, and deaths. Now we believe the real Marston Greyle to +be dead. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that he did die here, in +Bristol, whither he and Chatfield certainly set off when they left +Falmouth. What would happen? Notice of his death would have to be given +to the Registrar--by the nearest relative or by the person in attendance +on the deceased. That person would, in this case, be Chatfield. If the +death occurred suddenly, and without medical attendance, an inquest would +have to be held. If a doctor had been in attendance he would give a +signed certificate of the cause of death, which he would hand to the +relatives or friends in attendance, who, in their turn, would have to +hand it to the Registrar. Do you see the value of these points? What we +must do tomorrow morning is to see the Registrar--or, as there will be +more than one in a place this size--each of them in turn, in the +endeavour to find out if, early in October, 1912, Peter Chatfield +registered the death of Marston Greyle here. But remember--he may not +have registered it under that name. He may, indeed, not have used his own +name--he's deep enough for anything. That however, is our next best +chance--search of the registers. Let's try it, anyway, first thing in the +morning. And as we've had a stiff day, I propose we dismiss all thought +of this affair for the rest of the evening and betake ourselves to some +place of amusement--theatre, eh?" + +Copplestone made no objection to that, and when dinner was over, they +walked round to the principal theatre in time for the first act of a play +which having been highly successful in London had just started on a round +of the leading provincial theatres. Between the second and third acts of +this production there was a long interval, and the two companions +repaired to the foyer to recuperate their energies with a drink and a +cigarette. While thus engaged, Copplestone encountered an old school +friend with whom he exchanged a few words: Gilling, meanwhile strolled +about, inspecting the pictures, photographs and old playbills on the +walls of the saloon and its adjacent apartments. And suddenly, he turned +back, waited until Copplestone's acquaintance had gone away, and then +hurried up and smacked his co-searcher on the shoulder. + +"Didn't I tell you that one's often close to a thing when one seems +furthest off it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Come here, my son, and look +at what I've just found." + +He drew Copplestone away to a quiet corner and pointed out an old +playbill, framed and hung on the wall. Copplestone stared at it and saw +nothing but the title of a well-known comedy, the names of one or two +fairly celebrated actors and actresses and the usual particulars which +appear on all similar announcements. + +"Well?" he asked. "What of this?" + +"That!" replied Gilling, flicking the tip of his finger on a line in the +bill. "That my boy!" + +Copplestone looked again. He started at what he read. + +_Margaret Sayers_.......MISS ADELA CHATFIELD. + +"And now look at that!" continued Gilling, with an accentuation of his +triumphal note. "See! These people were here for a fortnight--from +October 3rd to 17th--1912. Therefore--if Peter Chatfield brought Marston +Greyle to Bristol on October 6th, Peter Chatfield's daughter would also +be in the town!" + +Copplestone looked over the bill again, rapidly realizing possibilities. + +"Would Chatfield know that?" he asked reflectively. + +"It's only likely that he would," replied Gilling. "Even if father and +daughter don't quite hit things off in their tastes, it's only reasonable +to suppose that Peter would usually know his daughter's whereabouts. And +if he brought Greyle here, ill, and they had to stop, it's only likely +that Peter would turn to his daughter for help. Anyway, Copplestone, here +are two undoubted facts:--Chatfield and Greyle booked from Falmouth for +Bristol on October 6th, 1912, and may therefore be supposed to have come +here. That's one fact. The other is--Addie Chatfield was certainly in +Bristol on that date and for eleven days after it." + +"Well--what next?" asked Copplestone. + +"I've been thinking that over while you stared at the bill," answered +Gilling. "I think the best thing will be to find out where Addie +Chatfield put herself up during her stay. I daresay you know that in most +of these towns there are lodgings which are almost exclusively devoted to +the theatrical profession. Actors and actresses go to them year after +year; their owners lay themselves out for their patrons--what's more, +your theatrical landlady always remembers names and faces, and has her +favourites. Now, in my stage experience, I never struck Bristol, so I +don't know much about it, but I know where we can get information--the +stage door-keeper. He'll tell us where the recognized lodgings are--and +then we must begin a round of inquiry. When? Just now, my boy!--and a +good time, too, as you'll see." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone. + +"Best hour of the evening," replied Gilling with glib assurance. +"Landladies enjoying an hour of ease before beginning to cook supper +for their lodgers, now busy on the stage. Always ready to talk, +theatrical landladies, when they've nothing to do. Trust me for +knowing the ropes!--come round to the stage door and let's ask the +keeper a question or two." + +But before they had quitted the foyer an interruption came in the shape +of a shrewd-looking gentleman in evening dress, who wore his opera hat at +a rakish angle and seemed to be very much at home as he strolled about, +hands in pockets, looking around him at all and sundry. He suddenly +caught sight of Gilling, smiled surprisedly and expansively, and came +forward with outstretched hand. + +"Bless our hearts, is it really yourself, dear boy!" exclaimed this +apparition. "Really, now? And what brings you here--God bless my soul and +eyes--why I haven't seen you this--how long is it, dear boy!" + +"Three years," answered Gilling, promptly clasping the outstretched hand. +"But what are you doing here--boss, eh?" + +"Lessee's manager, dear boy--nice job, too," whispered the other. "Been +here two years--good berth." He deftly steered Gilling towards the +refreshment bar, and glanced out of his eye corner at Copplestone. +"Friend of yours?" he suggested hospitably. "Introduce us, dear boy--my +name is the same as before, you know!" + +"Mr. Copplestone, Mr. Montmorency," said Gilling. "Mr. Montmorency, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Servant, sir," said Mr. Montmorency. "Pleased to meet any friend of my +friend! And what will you take, dear boys, and how are things with +you, Gilling, old man--now who on earth would have thought of seeing +you here?" + +Copplestone held his peace while Gilling and Mr. Montmorency held +interesting converse. He was sure that his companion would turn this +unexpected meeting to account, and he therefore felt no surprise when +Gilling, after giving him a private nudge, plumped the manager with a +direct question. + +"Did you see Addie Chatfield when she was here about a year ago?" he +asked. "You remember--she was here in _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_--here a +fortnight." + +"I remember very well, dear boy," responded Mr. Montmorency, with a +judicial sip at the contents of his tumbler. "I saw the lady several +times. More by token, I accidentally witnessed a curious little scene +between Miss Addie and a gentleman whom Nature appeared to have specially +manufactured for the part of heavy parent--you know the type. One morning +when that company was here, I happened to be standing in the vestibule, +talking to the box-office man, when a large, solemn-faced individual, +Quakerish in attire, and evidently not accustomed to the theatre walked +in and peered about him at our rich carpets and expensive +fittings--pretty much as if he was appraising their value. At the same +time, I observed that he was in what one calls a state--a little, perhaps +a good deal, upset about something. Wherefore I addressed myself to him +in my politest manner and inquired if I could serve him. Thereupon he +asked if he could see Miss Adela Chatfield on very important business. +Now, I wasn't going to let him see Miss Addie, for I took him to be a man +who might have a writ about him, or something nasty of that sort. But at +that very moment, Miss Addie, who had been rehearsing, and had come out +by the house instead of going through the stage door, came tripping into +the vestibule and let off a sharp note of exclamation. After which she +and old wooden-face stepped into the street together, and immediately +exchanged a few words. And that the old man told her something very +serious was abundantly evident from the expression of their respective +countenances. But, of course, I never knew what it was, nor who he was, +dear boy--not my business, don't you know." + +"They went away together, those two?" asked Gilling, favouring +Copplestone with another nudge. + +"Up the street together, certainly, talking most earnestly," replied Mr. +Montmorency. + +"Ever see that old chap again?" asked Gilling. + +"I never did, dear boy,--once was sufficient," said Mr. Montmorency, +lightly. "But," he continued, dropping his bantering tone, "are these +questions pertinent?--has this to do with this new profession of yours, +dear boy? If so--mum's the word, you know." + +"I'll tell you what, Monty," answered Gilling. "I wish you'd find out for +me where Addie Chatfield lodged when she was here that time. Can it be +done? Between you and me, I do want to know about that, old chap. Never +mind why, now--I will tell you later. But it's serious." + +Mr. Montmorency tapped the side of his handsome nose. + +"All right, my boy!" he said. "I understand--wicked, wicked world! Done? +Dear boy, it shall be done! Come down to the stage door--our man knows +every landlady in the town!" + +By various winding ways and devious passages he led the two young men +down to the stage door. Its keeper, not being particularly busy at that +time, was reading the evening newspaper in his glass-walled box, and +glanced inquiringly at the strangers as Mr. Montmorency pulled them up +before him. + +"Prickett," said Mr. Montmorency, leaning into the sanctum over its +half-door and speaking confidentially. "You keep a sort of register of +lodgings don't you, Prickett? Now I wonder if you could tell me where +Miss Adela Chatfield, of the _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_ Company stopped +when she was last here?--that's a year ago or about it. Prickett," he +went on, turning to Gilling, "puts all this sort of thing down, +methodically, so that he can send callers on, or send up urgent letters +or parcels during the day--isn't that it, Prickett?" + +"That's about it, sir," answered the door-keeper. He had taken down a +sort of ledger as the manager spoke, and was now turning over its leaves. +He suddenly ran his finger down a page and stopped its course at a +particular line. + +"Mrs. Salmon, 5, Montargis Crescent--second to the right outside," he +announced briefly. "Very good lodgings, too, are those." + +Gilling promised Mr. Montmorency that he would look him up later on, +and went away with Copplestone to Montargis Crescent. Within five +minutes they were standing in a comfortably furnished, old-fashioned +sitting-room, liberally ornamented with the photographs of actors and +actresses and confronting a stout, sharp-eyed little woman who +listened intently to all that Gilling said and sniffed loudly when he +had finished. + +"Remember Miss Chatfield being here!" she exclaimed. "I should think I do +remember! I ought to! Bringing mortal sickness into my house--and then +death--and then a funeral--and her and her father going away never giving +me an extra penny for the trouble!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + + +Gilling's glance at his companion was quiet enough, but it spoke volumes. +Here, by sheer chance, was such a revelation as they had never dreamed of +hearing!--here was the probable explanation of at least half the mystery. +He turned composedly to the landlady. + +"I've already told you who and what I am," he said, pointing to the card +which he had handed to her. "There are certain mysterious circumstances +about this affair which I want to get at. What you've said just now is +abundant evidence that you can help. If you do and will help, you'll be +well paid for your trouble. Now, you speak of sickness--death--a funeral. +Will you tell us all about it?" + +"I never knew there was any mystery about it," answered the landlady, as +she motioned her visitors to seat themselves. "It was all above-board as +far as I knew. Of course, I've always been sore about it--I'd a great +deal of trouble, and as I say, I never got anything for it--that is, +anything extra. And me doing it really to oblige her and her father!" + +"They brought a sick man here?" suggested Gilling. + +"I'll tell you how it was," said Mrs. Salmon, seating herself and showing +signs of a disposition to confidence. "Miss Chatfield, she'd been here, I +think, three days that time--I'd had her once before a year or two +previous. One morning--I'm sure it was about the third day that the +_Swayne Necklace_ Company was here--she came in from rehearsal in a +regular take-on. She said that her father had just called on her at the +theatre. She said he'd been to Falmouth to meet a relation of theirs +who'd come from America and had found him to be very ill on landing--so +ill that a Falmouth doctor had given strict orders that he mustn't travel +any further than Bristol, on his way wherever he wanted to go. They'd got +to Bristol and the young man was so done up that Mr. Chatfield had had to +drive him to another doctor--one close by here--Dr. Valdey--as soon as +they arrived. Dr. Valdey said he must go to bed at once and have at least +two days' complete rest in bed, and he advised Mr. Chatfield to get quiet +rooms instead of going to a hotel. So Mr. Chatfield, knowing that his +daughter was here, do you see, sought her out and told her all about it. +She came to me and asked me if I knew where they could get rooms. Well +now, I had my drawing-room floor empty that week, and as it was only for +two or three days that they wanted rooms I offered to take Mr. Chatfield +and the young man in. Of course, if I'd known how ill he was, I +shouldn't. What I understood--and mind you, I don't say they wilfully +deceived me, for I don't think they did--what I understood was that the +young man simply wanted a real good rest. But he was evidently a deal +worse than what even Dr. Valdey thought. He'd stopped at Dr. Valdey's +surgery while Mr. Chatfield went to see about rooms, and they moved him +from there straight in here. And as I say, he was a deal worse than they +thought, much worse, and the doctor had to be fetched to him more than +once during the afternoon. Still Dr. Valdey himself never said to me that +there was any immediate danger. But that's neither here nor there--the +young fellow died that night." + +"That night!" exclaimed Gilling, "the night he came here?" + +"Very same night," assented Mrs. Salmon. "Brought in here about two in +the afternoon and died just before midnight--soon after Miss Chatfield +came in from the theatre. Went very suddenly at the end." + +"Were you present?" asked Copplestone. + +"I wasn't. Nobody was with him but Mr. Chatfield--Miss Chatfield was +getting her supper down here," replied Mrs. Salmon. "And I was busy +elsewhere." + +"Was there an inquest then," inquired Gilling?" + +"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Salmon, shaking her head. "Oh, no!--there was no need +for that--the doctor, ye see, had been seeing him all day. Oh, no--the +cause of death was evident enough, in a way of speaking. Heart." + +"Did they bury him here, then?" asked Gilling. + +"Two days after," replied Mrs. Salmon. "Kept everything very quiet, they +did. I don't believe Miss Chatfield told any of the theatre people--she +went to her work just the same, of course. The old gentleman saw to +everything--funeral and all. I'll say this for them--they gave me no +unnecessary trouble, but still, there's trouble that is necessary when +you've death in a house and a funeral at the door, and they ought to have +given me something for what I did. But they didn't, so I considered it +very mean. Mr. Chatfield, he stayed two days after the funeral, and when +he left he just said that his daughter would settle up with me. But when +she came to pay she added nothing to my bill, and she walked out +remarking that if her father hadn't given me anything extra she was sure +she shouldn't. Shabby!" + +"Very shabby!" agreed Gilling. "Well, you won't find my clients quite so +mean, ma'am. But just a word--don't mention this matter to anybody until +you hear from me. And as I like to give some earnest of payment here's a +bank-note which you can slip into your purse--on account, you understand. +Now, just a question or two:--Did you hear the young man's name?" + +The landlady, whose spirits rose visibly on receipt of the bank-note, +appeared to reflect on hearing this question, and she shook her head as +if surprised at her own inability to answer it satisfactorily. + +"Well, now," she said, "it may seem a queer thing to say, but I don't +recollect that I ever did! You see, I didn't see much of him after he +once got here. I was never in his room with them, and they didn't mention +his name--that I can remember--when they spoke about him before me. I +understood he was a relative--cousin or something of that sort." + +"Didn't you see any name on the coffin?" asked Gilling. + +"I didn't," replied Mrs. Salmon. "You see, the undertaker fetched him +away when him and his men brought the coffin--the next day. He took +charge of the coffin for the second night, and the funeral took place +from there. But I'll tell you what--the undertaker'll know the name, and +of course the doctor does. They're both close by." + +Gilling took names and addresses and once more pledging the landlady to +secrecy, led Copplestone away. + +"That's the end of another chapter," he said when they were clear of that +place. "We know now that Marston Greyle died there--in that very house, +Copplestone!--and that Peter Chatfield was with him. That's fact!" + +"And it's fact, too, that the daughter knows," observed Copplestone in a +low voice. + +"Fact, too, that Addie Chatfield was in it," agreed Gilling. "Well--but +what happened next? However, before we go on to that, there are three +things to do in the morning. We must see this Dr. Valdey, and the +undertaker--and Marston Greyle's grave." + +"And then?" asked Copplestone. + +"Stiff, big question," sighed Gilling. "Go back to town and report, I +think--and find out if Swallow has discovered anything. And egad! there's +a lot to discover! For you see we're already certain that at the stage at +which we've arrived a conspiracy began--conspiracy between Chatfield, his +daughter, and the man who's been passing himself off as Marston Greyle. +Now, who is the man? Where did they get hold of him? Is he some relation +of theirs? All that's got to be found out. Of course, their object is +very clear, Marston Greyle, the real Simon Pure, was dead on their hands. +His legal successor was his cousin, Miss Audrey. Chatfield knew that when +Miss Audrey came into power his own reign as steward of Scarhaven would +be brief. And so--but the thing is so plain that one needn't waste breath +on it. And I tell you what's plain too, Copplestone--Miss Audrey Greyle +is the lady of Scarhaven! Good luck to her! You'll no doubt be glad to +communicate the glad tidings!" + +Copplestone made no answer. He was utterly confounded by the recent +revelations and was wondering what the mother and daughter in the little +cottage so far away in the grey north would say when all these things +were told them. + +"Let's make dead certain of everything," he said after a long pause. +"Don't let's leave any loophole." + +"Oh, we'll leave nothing--here at any rate," replied Gilling, +confidently. "But you'll find in the morning that we already know almost +everything." + +In this he was right. The doctor's story was a plain one. The young man +was very ill indeed when brought to him, and though he did not anticipate +so early or sudden an end, he was not surprised when death came, and had +of course, no difficulty about giving the necessary certificate. Just as +plain was the undertaker's account of his connection with the affair--a +very ordinary transaction in his eyes. And having heard both stories, +there was nothing to do but to visit one of the adjacent cemeteries and +find a certain grave the number of which they had ascertained from the +undertaker's books. It was easily found--and Copplestone and Gilling +found themselves standing at a new tombstone, whereon the monumental +mason had carved four lines:-- + +MARK GREY + +BORN APRIL 12TH, 1884 + +DIED OCTOBER 6TH, 1912 + +AGED 28 YEARS. + +"Short, simple, eminently suited to the purpose," murmured Gilling as the +two turned away. "Somebody thought things out quickly and well, +Copplestone, when this poor fellow died. Do you know I've been thinking +as we walked up here that if Bassett Oliver had never taken it into his +head to visit Scarhaven that Sunday this fraud would never have been +found out! The chances were all against its ever being found out. +Consider them! A young man who is an absolute stranger in England comes +to take up an inheritance, having on him no doubt, the necessary proofs +of identification. He's met by one person only--his agent. He dies next +day. The agent buries him, under a false name, takes his effects and +papers, gets some accomplice to personate him, introduces that accomplice +to everybody as the real man--and there you are! Oh, Chatfield knew what +he was doing! Who on earth, wandering in this cemetery, would ever +connect Mark Grey with Marston Greyle?" + +"Just so--but there was one danger-spot which must have given Chatfield +and his accomplices a good many uneasy hours," answered Copplestone. "You +know that Marston Greyle actually registered in his own name at Falmouth +and was known to the land lord and the doctor there." + +"Yes--and Falmouth is three hundred miles from London and five hundred +from Scarhaven," replied Gilling dryly. "And do you suppose that whoever +saw Marston Greyle at Falmouth cared two pins--comparatively--what became +of him after he left there? No--Chatfield was almost safe from detection +as soon as he'd got that unfortunate young fellow laid away in that +grave. However we know now--what we do know. And the next thing, now that +we know Marston Greyle lies behind us there, is to get back to town and +catch the chap who took his place. We'll wire to Swallow and to +Petherton and get the next express." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton were in conference with Swallow at the +solicitor's office when Gilling and Copplestone arrived there in the +early afternoon. Gilling interrupted their conversation to tell the +result of his investigations. Copplestone, watching the effect, saw that +neither Sir Cresswell nor Petherton showed surprise. Petherton indeed, +smiled as if he had anticipated all that Gilling had to say. + +"I told you that I knew the Greyle family solicitors," he observed. "I +find that they have only once seen the man whom we will call the Squire. +Chatfield brought him there. He produced proofs of identification--papers +which Chatfield no doubt took from the dead man. Of course, the +solicitors never doubted for a moment that he was the real Marston +Greyle!--never dreamed of fraud: Well--the next step. We must concentrate +on finding this man. And Swallow has nothing to tell--yet. He has never +seen anything more of him. You'd better turn all your attention to that, +Gilling--you and Swallow. As for Chatfield and his daughter, I suppose we +shall have to approach the police." + +Copplestone presently went home to his rooms in Jermyn Street, puzzled +and wondering; And there, lying on top of a pile of letters, he found a +telegram--from Audrey Greyle. It had been dispatched from Scarhaven at an +early hour of the previous day, and it contained but three words--_Can +you come?_ + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE STEAM YACHT + + +Copplestone had seen and learned enough of Audrey Greyle during his brief +stay at Scarhaven to make him assured that she would not have sent for +him save for very good and grave reasons. It had been with manifest +reluctance that she had given him her promise to do so: her entire +behaviour during the conference with Mr. Dennie and Gilling had convinced +him that she had an inherent distaste for publicity and an instinctive +repugnance to calling in the aid of strangers. He had never expected that +she would send for him--he himself knew that he should go back to her, +but the return would be on his own initiative. There, however, was her +summons, definite as it was brief. He was wanted--and by her. And without +opening one of his letters, he snatched up the whole pile, thrust it into +his pocket, hurriedly made some preparation for his journey and raced off +to King's Cross. + +He fumed and fretted with impatience during the six hours' journey down +to Norcaster. It was ten o'clock when he arrived there, and as he knew +that the last train to Scarhaven left at half-past-nine he hurried to get +a fast motor-car that would take him over the last twenty miles of his +journey. He had wired to Audrey from Peterborough, telling her that he +was on his way and should motor out from Norcaster, and when he had +found a car to his liking he ordered its driver to go straight to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage, close by Scarhaven church. And just then he heard a +voice calling his name, and turning saw, running out of the station, a +young, athletic-looking man, much wrapped and cloaked, who waved a hand +at him and whose face he had some dim notion of having seen before. + +"Mr. Copplestone?" panted the new arrival, coming up hurriedly. "I almost +missed you--I got on the wrong platform to meet your train. You don't +know me, though you may have seen me at the inquest on Mr. Bassett Oliver +the other day--my name's Vickers--Guy Vickers." + +"Yes?" said Copplestone. "And--" + +"I'm a solicitor, here in Norcaster," answered Vickers. "I--at least, my +firm, you know--we sometimes act for Mrs. Greyle at Scarhaven. I got a +wire from Miss Greyle late this evening, asking me to meet you here when +the London train got in and to go on to Scarhaven with you at once. She +added the words _urgent business_ so--" + +"Then in heaven's name, let's be off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "It'll take +us a good hour and a quarter as it is. Of course," he went on, as they +moved away through the Norcaster streets, "of course, you haven't any +notion of what this urgent business is?" + +"None whatever!" replied Vickers. "But I'm quite sure that it is urgent, +or Miss Greyle wouldn't have said so. No--I don't know what her exact +meaning was, but of course, I know there's something wrong about the +whole thing at Scarhaven--seriously wrong!" + +"You do, eh?" exclaimed Copplestone. "What now?" + +"Ah, that I don't know!" replied Vickers, with a dry laugh. "I wish I +did. But--you know how people talk in these provincial places--ever since +that inquest there have been all sorts of rumours. Every club and public +place in Norcaster has been full of talk--gossip, surmise, speculation. +Naturally!" + +"But--about what?" asked Copplestone. + +"Squire Greyle, of course," said the young solicitor; "that inquest was +enough to set the whole country talking. Everybody thinks--they couldn't +think otherwise--that something is being hushed up. Everybody's agog to +know if Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. Petherton are applying for a +re-opening of the inquest. You've just come from town, I believe! Did you +hear anything?" + +Copplestone was wondering whether he ought to tell his companion of his +own recent discoveries. Like all laymen, he had an idea that you can tell +anything to a lawyer, and he was half-minded to pour out the whole story +to Vickers, especially as he was Mrs. Greyle's solicitor. But on second +thoughts he decided to wait until he had ascertained the state of affairs +at Scarhaven. + +"I didn't hear anything about that," he replied. "Of course, that inquest +was a mere travesty of what such an inquiry should have been." + +"Oh, an utter farce!" agreed Vickers. "However, it produced just the +opposite effect to that which the wire-pullers wanted. Of course, +Chatfield had squared that jury! But he forgot the press--and the local +reporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that all +the Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody's +talking of it, as I said--people are asking what this evidence from +America is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on. +And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven." + +"Have you seen Mrs. or Miss Greyle since the inquest?" asked Copplestone, +who was anxious to keep off subjects on which he might be supposed to +possess information. "Have you been over there?" + +"No--not since that day," replied Vickers. "And I don't care how soon we +do see them, for I'm a bit anxious about this telegram. Something must +have happened." + +Copplestone looked out of the window on his side of the car. Already they +were clear of the Norcaster streets and on the road which led to +Scarhaven. That road ran all along the coast, often at the very edge of +the high, precipitous cliffs, with no more between it and the rocks far +beneath than a low wall. It was a road of dangerous curves and corners +which needed careful negotiation even in broad daylight, and this was a +black, moonless and starless night. But Copplestone had impressed upon +his driver that he must get to Scarhaven as quickly as possible, and he +and his companion were both so full of their purpose that they paid no +heed to the perpetual danger which they ran as the car tore round +propections and down deep cuts at a speed which at other times they would +have considered suicidal. And at just under the hour they ran on the +level stretch by the "Admiral's Arms" and looking down at the harbour saw +the lighted port-holes of some ship which lay against the south quay, and +on the quay itself men moving about in the glare of lamps. + +"What's going on there?" said Vickers. "Late for a vessel to be loading +at a place like this where time's of no great importance." + +Copplestone offered no suggestion. He was hotly impatient to reach the +cottage, and as soon as the car drew up at its gate he burst out, bade +the driver wait, and ran eagerly up to the path to Audrey, who opened the +door as he advanced. In another second he had both her hands in his +own--and kept them there. + +"You're all right?" he demanded in tones which made clear to the girl how +anxious he had been. "There's nothing wrong--with you or your +mother--personally, I mean? You see, I didn't get your wire until this +afternoon, and then I raced off as quick--" + +"I know," she said, responding a little to the pressure of his hands. "I +understand. You may be sure I shouldn't have wired if I hadn't felt it +absolutely necessary. Somebody was wanted--and you'd made me promise, and +so--Yes," she continued, drawing back as Vickers came up, "we are all +right, personally, but--there's something very wrong indeed somewhere. +Will you both come in and see mother?" + +Mrs. Greyle, looking worn and ill, appeared just then in the hall, and +called to them to come in. She preceded them into the parlour and turned +to the young men as soon as Audrey closed the door. + +"I'm more thankful to see you gentlemen than I've ever been in my +life--for anything!" she said. "Something is happening here which needs +the attention of men--we women can't do anything. Let me tell you what it +is. Yesterday morning, very early the Squire's steam-yacht, the _Pike_, +was brought into the inner harbour and moored against the quay just +opposite the park gates. We, of course, could see it, and as we knew he +had gone away we wondered why it was brought in there. After it had been +moored, we saw that preparations of some sort were being made. Then +men--estate labourers--began coming down from the house, carrying +packing-cases, which were taken on board. And while this was going on, +Mrs. Peller, the housekeeper, came hurrying here, in a state of great +consternation. She said that a number of men, sailors and estate men, +were packing up and removing all the most valuable things in the +house--the finest pictures, the old silver, the famous collection of +china which Stephen John Greyle made--and spent thousands upon thousands +of pounds in making!--the rarest and most valuable books out of the +library--all sorts of things of real and great value. Everything was +being taken down to the _Pike_--and the estate carpenter, who was in +charge of all this, said it was by the Squire's orders, and produced to +Mrs. Peller his written authority. Of course, Mrs. Peller could do +nothing against that, but she came hurrying to tell us, because she, like +everybody else, is much exercised by these recent events. And so Audrey +and I pocketed our pride, and went to see Peter Chatfield. But Peter +Chatfield, like his master, had gone! He had left home the previous +evening, and his house was locked up." + +Copplestone and Vickers exchanged glances, and the young solicitor signed +Mrs. Greyle to proceed. + +"Then," she added, "to add to that, as we came away from Chatfield's +house, we met Mr. Elkin, the bank-manager from Norcaster. He had come +over in a motor-car, to see me--privately. He wanted to tell me--in +relation to all these things--that within the last few days, the Squire +and Peter Chatfield had withdrawn from the bank the very large balances +of two separate accounts. One was the Squire's own account, in his +name--the other was an estate account, on which Chatfield could draw. In +both cases the balances withdrawn were of very large amount. Of course, +as Mr. Elkin pointed out, it was all in order, and no objection could be +raised. But it was unusual, for a large balance had always existed on +both these accounts. And, Mr. Elkin added, so many strange rumours are +going about Norcaster and the district, that he felt seriously uneasy, +and thought it his duty to see me at once. And now--what is to be done? +The house is being stripped of the best part of its valuables, and in my +opinion when that yacht sails it will be for some foreign port. What +other object can there be in taking these things away? Of course, as +nothing is entailed, and there are no heirlooms, everything is absolutely +the Squire's property, so--" + +Copplestone, who had been realizing the serious significance of these +statements, saw that it was time to speak, if energetic methods were to +be taken at once. + +"I'd better tell you the truth," he said interrupting Mrs. Greyle. "I +might have told you, Vickers, as we came along, but I decided to wait, +until we got here and found out how things were. Mrs. Greyle, the man you +speak of as the Squire, is no more the owner of Scarhaven than I am! He +is not Marston Greyle at all. The real Marston Greyle who came over from +America, died the day after he landed, in lodgings at Bristol to which +Peter Chatfield and his daughter had taken him, and he is buried in a +Bristol cemetery under the name of Mark Grey; Gilling and I found that +out during these last few days. It's an absolute fact. So the man who has +been posing here as the rightful owner is--an impostor!" + +A dead silence followed this declaration. The mother and daughter after +one long look at Copplestone turned and looked at each other. But +Vickers, quick to realize the situation, started from his seat, with +evident intention of doing something. + +"That's--the truth?" he exclaimed, turning to Copplestone. "No possible +flaw in it?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "It's sheer fact." + +"Then in that case," said Vickers, "Miss Greyle is the owner of +Scarhaven, of everything in the house, of every stick, stone and pebble, +about the place! And we must act at once. Miss Greyle, you will have to +assert yourself. You must do what I tell you to do. You must get ready at +once--this minute!--and come down with me and Mrs. Greyle to that yacht +and stop all these proceedings. In our presence you must lay claim to +everything that's been taken from the house--yes, and to the yacht +itself. Come, let's hurry!" + +Audrey hesitated and looked at Mrs. Greyle. + +"Very well," she said quietly. "But--not my mother." + +"No need!" said Vickers. "You will have us with you." + +Audrey hurried from the room, and Mrs. Greyle turned anxiously to +Vickers. + +"What shall you do?" she asked. + +"Warn all concerned," answered Vickers, with a snap of the jaw which +showed Copplestone that he was a man of determination. "Warn them, if +necessary, that the man they have known as Marston Greyle is an impostor, +and that everything they are handling belongs to Miss Greyle. The +Scarhaven people know me, of course--there ought not to be any great +difficulty with them--and as regards the yacht people--" + +"You know," interrupted Mrs. Greyle, "that this man--the impostor--has +made himself very popular with the people here? You saw how they cheered +him after the inquest? You don't think there is danger in Audrey going +down there?" + +"Wouldn't it be enough if you and I went?" suggested Copplestone. "It's +very late to drag Miss Greyle out." + +"I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary," said Vickers. "If your +story is true--I mean, of course, since it is true--Miss Greyle is +owner and mistress, and she must be on the spot. It's all we can do, +anyway," he continued, as Audrey, wrapped in a big ulster, came back to +the parlour. "Even now we may be too late. And if that yacht once sails +away from here--" + +There were signs that the yacht's departure was imminent when they went +down to the south quay and came abreast of her. The lights on the shore +were being extinguished; the estate labourers were gone; only two or +three sailors were busy with ropes and gear. And Vickers hurried his +little party up a gangway and on to the deck. A hard-faced, keen-eyed, +man, evidently in authority, came forward. + +"Are you the captain of this vessel?" demanded Vickers in tones of +authority. "You are? I am Mr. Vickers, solicitor, of Norcaster. I give +you formal warning that the man you have known as Marston Greyle is +not Marston Greyle at all, but an impostor. All the property which you +have removed from the house, and now have on this vessel, belongs to +this lady, Miss Audrey Greyle, Lady of the Manor of Scarhaven. It is +at your peril that you move it, or that you cause this vessel to +leave this harbour. I claim the vessel and all that is on it on behalf +of Miss Greyle." + +The man addressed listened in silent attention, and showed no sign of any +surprise. As soon as Vickers had finished he turned, hurried down a +stairway, remained below for a few minutes, and came up again. + +"Will you kindly step this way, Miss Greyle and gentlemen?" he said +politely. "You must remember that I am only a servant. If you will come +down--" + +He led them down the stairs, along a thickly-carpeted passage, and opened +the door of a lighted saloon. All unthinking, the three stepped in--to +hear the door closed and locked behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + + +Vickers sprang back at that door as the sharp click of the turning key +caught his ear, and Copplestone, preceding him and following Audrey, who +had advanced fearlessly into the cabin, pulled himself up with a sudden, +sickening sense of treachery. The two young men looked at each other, and +a dead silence fell on them and the girl. Then Vickers laid his hand on +the door and shook it. + +"Locked in!" he muttered with a queer glance at his companions. "What +does that mean?" + +"Nothing good!" growled Copplestone who was secretly cursing his own +folly in allowing Audrey to leave the quay. "We're trapped!--that's what +it means. Why we're trapped isn't a question that matters very much under +the circumstances--the serious thing is that we certainly are trapped." + +Vickers turned to Audrey. + +"My fault!" he said contritely. "All my fault! But I meant it for the +best--it was the thing to do--and who on earth could have foreseen this. +Look here!--we've got to think pretty quick, Copplestone, that captain, +now? Has he done this on his own hook, or--is there somebody on board +who's at the top of things?" + +"I don't see any good in thinking quick, or asking one's self +questions," replied Copplestone. "We're locked in here. We've got Miss +Greyle into this mess--and her mother will be anxious and alarmed. I wish +we'd let this confounded yacht go where it liked before ever we'd--" + +"Don't!" broke in Audrey. "That's no good. Mr. Vickers certainly did what +he felt to be best--and who could foresee this? And I'm not afraid--and +as for my mother, if we don't return very soon, why, she knows where we +are and there are police in Scarhaven, and--" + +"How long are we going to be where we are?" asked Copplestone, grimly. +"The thing's moving!" + +There was no doubt of that very pertinent fact. Somewhere beneath them, +machinery began to work; above them there was hurry and scurry as ropes +and stays were thrown off. But so beautifully built was that yacht, and +so almost sound-proof the luxurious cabin in which they were prisoners, +that little of the noise of departure came to them. However, there was no +mistaking the increasing throb of the engines nor the fact that the +vessel was moving, and Vickers suddenly sprang on a lounge seat and moved +away a silken screen which curtained a port-hole window. + +"There's no doubt of that!" he exclaimed. + +"We're going through the outer harbour--we've passed the light at the end +of the quay. What do these people mean by carrying us out to sea? +Copplestone!--with all submission to you--whether it's relevant or not, I +wish we knew more of that captain chap!" + +"I know him," remarked Audrey. "I have been on this yacht before. His +name is Andrius. He's an American--or American-Norwegian, or something +like that." + +"And the crew?" asked Vickers. "Are they Scarhaven men?" + +"No," replied Audrey. "There isn't a Scarhaven man amongst them. My +cousin--I mean--you know whom I mean--bought this yacht just as it stood, +from an American millionaire early this spring, and he took over the +captain, crew, and everything." + +"So--we're in the hands of strangers!" exclaimed Vickers, while +Copplestone dug his hands into his pockets and began to stamp about. "I +wish I'd known all that before we came on board." + +"But what harm can they do us?" said Audrey, incredulous of danger. "You +don't suppose they'll want to murder us, surely! My own belief is that we +never should have been locked up here if you hadn't let them know how +much we know, Mr. Vickers." + +"Let them--I don't understand," said Vickers, turning a puzzled +glance on her. + +"Why," replied Audrey with a laugh which convinced both men of her +fearlessness, "you let the captain see that we know a great deal and he +thereupon ran downstairs--presumably to tell somebody of what you said. +And--here's the result!" + +"You think, then--" suggested Vickers. "You think that--" + +"I think the somebody--whoever he is--wants to know exactly how much we +do know," answered Audrey with another laugh. "And so we're being carried +off to be cross-examined--at somebody's leisure. Let's hope they won't +use thumb-screws and that sort of thing. And anyway," she continued, +looking from one to the other, "hadn't we better make the best of it? +We're going out to sea, that's certain--here's the bar!" + +A sudden lifting of the thickly-carpeted floor, a dip to the left, +another to the right, a plunge forward, a drop back, then a settling down +to a steady persistent roll, showed her companions that Audrey was +right--the yacht was crossing the bar which lay at the mouth of +Scarhaven Bay. Outside that lay the North Sea, and Copplestone suddenly +wondered which course the vessel was going to take, north, east, or +south. But before he could put his thoughts into words, the door was +suddenly unlocked, and Captain Andrius, suave, polite, deprecating, +walked into the cabin. + +"A thousands pardons--and two words of explanation!" he exclaimed, as he +executed a deep bow to his lady prisoner. "First--Miss Greyle, I have +sent a message to your mother that you are quite safe and will join her +in due course. Second--this is merely a temporary detention--you shall +all be landed--all in good time." + +Vickers as a legal man, assumed his most professional air. + +"Do you know what you are rendering yourself liable to, sir, by detaining +us at all?" he demanded. "An action--" + +Captain Andrius bowed again; again assumed his deprecating smile. He +waved the two men to seats and himself took a chair with his back to the +door by which he entered. + +"My dear sir!" he said courteously. "You forget that I am but a servant. +I am under orders. However, I give my word that no harm shall come to +you, that you shall be treated with every polite attention, and that you +shall be landed." + +"When--and where?" asked Vickers. + +"Tomorrow, certainly," replied Andrius. "As to where, I cannot exactly +say. But--where you will be in touch with--shall we say civilization?" + +He showed a set of fine white teeth in such a curious fashion as he spoke +the last word that Copplestone and Vickers instinctively glanced at each +other, with a mutual instinct of distrust. + +"Won't do!" said Vickers. "I insist that you put about and go into +Scarhaven again." + +Andrius spread out his open palms and shook his head "Impossible!" he +answered. "We are already _en voyage_. Time presses. Be +placable--tomorrow you shall be released." + +Vickers was about to answer this appeal with an angry refusal to be +either placable or tractable, but he suddenly stopped the words which +rose to his tongue. There was something in all this--some mystery, some +queer game, and it might be worth while to find it out. + +"Where are you taking this yacht?" he demanded brusquely. "Come, now!" + +"I am under--orders," said Andrius, with another smile. + +"Whose orders?" persisted Vickers. "Look here--it's no use trying to +burke facts. Who's on board this vessel? You know what I mean. Is the man +who calls himself Squire of Scarhaven here?" + +Andrius shook his head quietly and gave his questioner a shrewd glance. + +"Mr. Vickers," he said meaningly, "I know you! You are a lawyer--though a +young one. Lawyers are guarded in their speech. Now--we are alone--we +four. No one can hear anything we say. Tell me--is that right what you +said to me on deck, that the man who has called himself Marston Greyle is +not so at all?" + +"Absolutely right," replied Vickers. + +"An impostor?" demanded Andrius. + +"He is!" + +"And never had any right to--anything?" + +"No right whatever!" + +"Then," said Andrius, with a polite inclination of his head and shoulders +to Audrey, "the truth is that everything of the Scarhaven property +belongs to this lady?" + +"Everything!" exclaimed Vickers. "Land, houses, furniture, +valuables--everything. All the property which you have on this +yacht--pictures, china, silver, books, objects of art, as I am +instructed, removed from the house--are Miss Greyle's sole property. Once +more I warn you of what you are doing, and I demand that you immediately +return to Scarhaven. This very yacht belongs to Miss Greyle!" + +Andrius nodded, looked fixedly at the young solicitor for a moment, and +then rose. + +"I am obliged to you," he said. "That, of course, is your claim. But--the +other one, eh? It seems to me there might be something to be said for +that, you know? So, all I can do is to renew my assurance of polite +attention, offer you our best accommodation--which is luxurious--and +promise to land you--somewhere--tomorrow. Miss Greyle, we have two women +servants on board--I shall send them to you at once and they will attend +to you--please consider them your own. You, gentlemen, will perhaps join +me in my quarters?--I have two spare cabins close to my own which are at +your service." + +Copplestone and Vickers looked at each other and at Audrey--undecided and +vaguely suspicious. But Audrey was evidently neither alarmed nor +uneasy--she nodded a ready assent to the Captain's proposal. + +"Thank you, Captain Andrius," she said coolly. "I know the two women. You +may send one of them. Do what he suggests," she murmured, turning to +Copplestone, who had moved close to her, "I'm not one scrap afraid of +anything--and it's only until tomorrow. He'll land us--I'm sure of it." + +There was nothing for it, then, but to follow Andrius to his own +comfortable quarters. There, utterly ignoring the strange circumstances +under which they met, he played the part of host with genuine desire to +make his guests feel at ease, and when he showed them to their berths, +a little later, he emphasized his assurance of their absolute safety +and liberty. + +"You see, gentlemen, your movements are untrammelled," he said. "You can +go in and out of your quarters as you like. You can go where you like on +the yacht tomorrow morning. There is no restriction on you. Sleep +well--and tomorrow you are all free again, eh?" + +Copplestone got a word or two with Vickers--alone. + +"What do you think?" he muttered. "Shall you sleep?" + +"My impression--for I know what you're thinking about," said Vickers, "is +that Miss Greyle's as safe as if she were in her mother's house! She's no +fear, herself, anyway. There's some mystery, somewhere, and I can't make +this Andrius man out at all, but I believe all's right as regards +personal safety. There's Miss Greyle's cabin, anyhow, right opposite +ours--and I can keep an eye and an ear open even when I'm asleep!" + +But in spite of these assurances, Copplestone slept little. He was up, +dressed, and on deck by sunrise, staring around him in a fresh autumn +morning to get some notion of the yacht's whereabouts, and he had just +managed to make out a mere filmy line of land far to the westward when +Audrey appeared at his elbow. There was no one of any importance near +them and Copplestone impulsively seized her hands. + +"I've scarcely slept!" he blurted out, gazing intently at her. +"Couldn't! Blaming myself for letting you get into this confounded mess! +You're all right?" + +Audrey responded a little to the pressure of his hands before she +disengaged her own. + +"It wasn't your fault," she said. "It's nobody's fault. Don't blame Mr. +Vickers--he couldn't foresee this. Yes, I'm all right--and I slept like a +top. What's the use of worrying? Do you know," she went on, lowering her +voice and drawing nearer to him, "I believe something's going to come of +all this--something that'll clear matters up once and for all." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone, wonderingly. "What makes you think that?" + +"Don't know--instinct, intuitiveness, perhaps," she answered. +"Besides--I'm dead certain we're not the only people--I don't mean crew +and Captain--aboard the _Pike_. I believe there's somebody else. There's +some mystery, anyway. Keep that to yourself," she said as Andrius and +Vickers appeared from below. "Don't show any sign--wait to see how things +turn out." + +She turned away from him to greet the other two as unconcernedly as if +there were nothing unusual in the situation, and Copplestone marvelled at +her coolness. He himself, not so well equipped with patience, was +feverishly anxious to know how things would turn out, and when. But the +day went by and nothing happened, except that Captain Andrius was very +polite to his guests and that the yacht, a particularly fast sailer, +continued to make headway through the grey seas, sometimes in bare sight +of land and sometimes out of it. To one or two inquiries as to the +fulfilment of his promise Andrius made no more answer than a reassuring +nod; once when Vickers pressed him, he replied curtly that the day was +not yet over. Vickers drew Copplestone aside on hearing that. + +"Look here!" he said. "I've been reckoning things up as near as I can. I +make out that we've been running due north, or north-east ever since we +left Scarhaven last night. I reckon, too, that this vessel makes quite +twenty-two or three, knots an hour. We must be off the extreme north-east +coast of Scotland. And night's coming on!" + +"There are ports there that he can put into," said Copplestone. "The +thing is--will he keep his promise? Remember!--he must know very well +that if we once land anywhere within reach of a telegraph office, we can +wire particulars about him to every port in the world if we like--and +he's got to go somewhere, eventually, you know." + +Vickers shook his head as if this were a problem he would give up. It was +beyond him, he said, to even guess at what Andrius was after, or what was +going to happen. And nothing did happen until, as the three prisoners sat +at dinner with their polite gaoler, the _Pike_ came to a sudden stop and +hung gently on a quiet sea. Andrius looked up and smiled. + +"A pleasant night for your landing," he remarked. "Don't hurry--but there +will be a boat ready for you as soon as dinner is over." + +"And where are we?" asked Vickers. + +"That, my dear sir, you will see when you land." replied Andrius. +"You will, at any rate, be quite comfortable for the night, and in +the morning, I think, you will be able to journey--wherever you wish +to go to." + +There was something in the smile which accompanied the last words which +made Copplestone uneasy. But the prospect of regaining their liberty was +too good--he kept his own counsel. And half-an-hour later, he, Audrey and +Vickers, stood on deck, looking down on a boat alongside, in which were +two or three of the crew and a man holding a lanthorn. In front was the +dark sea, and ahead a darker mass which they took to be land. + +"You won't tell us what this place is?" said Vickers as he was about to +follow the others into the boat. "It's on the mainland, of course?" + +"The morning light, my good sir, will show you everything," replied +Andrius. "Be content that I have kept my promise--you have come off +luckily," he added with a significant look. + +Vickers felt a strange sense of alarm as the boat left the yacht. He +noticed two or three suspicious circumstances. As soon as they got away, +he saw that all the yacht's lights had been or were being darkened or +entirely obscured; at a dozen boat lengths they could see her no more. +Then a boat, swiftly pulled, passed them in the darkness, evidently +coming from the shore to which they were being taken: it, too, carried no +light. Nor were there any lights on the shore itself; all there was in +utter blackness. They were on the shingle within a quarter of an hour; +within a minute or two the yachtsmen had helped all three on to the +beach, had carried up certain boxes and packages which had been placed in +the boat, had set down the lighted lanthorn, jumped into the boat again +and vanished in the darkness. And in the silence, broken only by the drip +of water from the retreating oars, and by the scarcely-noticed ripple of +the waves, Audrey voiced exactly what her two companions felt. + +"Andrius has kept his word--and cheated us! We're stranded!" + +From somewhere out of the darkness came a groan--deep and heartfelt, as +if in entire agreement with Audrey's declaration. That it proceeded from +a human being was evident enough, and Vickers hastily snatched up the +lanthorn and strode in the direction from which it came. And there, +seated on the shingle, his whole attitude one of utter dejection and +misery, the three castaways found a sharer of their sorrows--Peter +Chatfield! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MAROONED + + +To each of these three young people this was the most surprising moment +which life had yet afforded. It was an astonishing thing to find a fellow +mortal there at all, but to find that mortal was the Scarhaven estate +agent was literally short of marvellous. What was also astounding was to +see Chatfield's only too evident distress. Swathed in a heavy, +old-fashioned ulster, with a plaid shawl round his shoulders and a +deerstalker hat tied over head and ears with a bandanna handkerchief he +sat on the beach nursing his knees, slightly rocking his fleshy figure to +and fro and moaning softly with the regularity of a minute bell. His eyes +were fixed on the dark expanse of waters at his feet; his lips, when he +was not moaning, worked incessantly; as he rocked his body he beat his +toes on the shingle. Clearly, Chatfield was in a bad way, mentally. That +he was not so badly off materially was made evident by the presence of a +half-open kit bag which obviously contained food and a bottle of spirits. + +For any notice that he took of them, Audrey, Vickers, and Copplestone +might have been no more than the pebbles on which they stood. In spite of +the fact that Vickers shone the light on his fat face, and that three +inquisitive pairs of eyes were trained on it, Chatfield continued to +stare moodily and disgustedly out to sea and to take no notice of his +gratuitous company. And so utterly extraordinary was his behaviour and +attitude that Audrey suddenly and almost involuntarily stepped forward +and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Mr. Chatfield!" she exclaimed. "What 's the matter? Are you ill?" + +The emphasis which she gave to the last word roused some quality of +Chatfield's subtle intellect. He flashed a swift look at his +questioner--a look of mingled contempt and derision, spiced with a dash +of sneering humour. And he found his tongue. + +"Ill!" he snorted. "Ill! She asks if I'm ill--me, a respectable man +what's maltreated and robbed before his own eyes by them as ought to fall +in humble gratitude at his feet! Ill!--aye, ill with something that's +worse nor any bodily aches and pains--let me tell you that! But not done +for, neither!" + +"He's all right," said Copplestone. "That's a flash of his old spirit. +You're all right, Chatfield, aren't you? And who's robbed and maltreated +you--and how and when--especially when--did you come here?" + +Chatfield looked up at his old assailant with a glare of dislike. + +"You keep your tongue to yourself, young feller!" he growled. "I +shouldn't never ha' been here at all if it hadn't been for the likes of +you--a pokin' your nose where it isn't wanted. It's 'cause o' you three +comin' aboard o' that there yacht last night as I am here--a castaway!" + +"Well, we're castaways, too, Mr. Chatfield," said Audrey. "And we can't +help believing that it's all your naughty conduct that's made us so. Why +don't you tell the truth?" + +Chatfield uttered a few grumpy and inarticulate sounds. + +"It'll be a bad day for more than one when I do that--as I will," he +muttered presently. "Oh aye, I 'll tell the truth--when it suits me! But +I'll be out o' this first." + +"You'll never get out of this first or last, until you tell us how you +got in," said Vickers, assuming a threatening tone. "You'd better tell us +all about it, you know. Come now!--you know me and my firm." + +Chatfield laughed grimly and shook his much-swathed head. + +"I ought to," he said. "I've given 'em more than one nice job and said +naught about their bills o' costs, neither, my lad. You keep a civil +tongue in your mouth--I ain't done for yet, noways! You let me get off +this here place, wherever it is, and within touch of a telegraph office, +and I'll make somebody suffer!" + +"Andrius, of course," said Copplestone. "Come now, he put you ashore +before he sent us off, didn't he? Why don't you own up?" + +"Never you mind, young feller," retorted Chatfield. "I was feeling very +cast down, but I'm better. I've something that'll keep me going--revenge! +I'll show 'em, once I'm off this place--I will so!" + +"Look here, Chatfield," said Vickers. "Do you know where this place is? +What is it? Is it on the mainland, or is it an island, or where are we? +It's all very well talking about getting off, but when and how are we to +get off? Why don't you be sensible and tell us what you know?" + +The estate agent arose slowly and ponderously, drawing his shawl about +him. He looked out seawards. In that black waste the steady beat of the +yacht's propellers could be clearly heard, but not a gleam of light came +from her, and it was impossible to decide in which direction she was +going. And Chatfield suddenly shook his fist at the throbbing sound which +came in regular pulsations through the night. + +"Never mind!" he said sneeringly. "We aren't at the North Pole +neither--I ain't a seafaring man, but I've a good idea of where we are! +And perhaps there won't be naught to take me off when it's daylight, and +perhaps there won't be no telegraphs near at hand, nor within a hundred +miles, and perhaps there ain't such a blessed person as that there +Marconi and his wireless in the world--oh, no! Just you wait, my fine +fellers--that's all!" + +"He's not addressing us, Vickers," said Copplestone. "You're decidedly +better, Chatfield--you're quite better. The notion of revenge and of +circumvention has come to you like balm. But you'd a lot better tell us +who you're referring to, and why you were put ashore. Listen, +Chatfield!--there's property of your own on that yacht, eh? That it? +Come, now?" + +Chatfield gave his questioner a look of indignant scorn. He stooped for +the kit-bag, picked it up, and turned away. + +"I don't want to have naught to do with you," he remarked over his +shoulder. "You keep yourselves to yourselves, and I'll keep myself to +myself. If it hadn't been for what you blabbed out last night, them +ungrateful devils 'ud never have had such ideas put into their heads!" + +As if he knew his way, Chatfield plodded heavily up the beach and was +lost in the darkness, and the three left behind stood helplessly staring +at each other. For a long time there was silence, broken only by the +agent's heavy tread on the shingle--at last Vickers spoke. + +"I think I can see through all this," he said. "Chatfield's cryptic +utterances were somewhat suggestive. 'Robbed'--'maltreated'--'them as +ought to have fallen in humble gratitude at his feet'--'vengeance'-- +'revenge'--'Marconi telegrams'--'ungrateful devils'--ah, I see it! +Chatfield had associates on the _Pike_--probably the impostor himself +and Andrius--probably, too, he had property of his own, as you suggested +to him, Copplestone. The whole gang was doubtless off with their loot to +far quarters of the globe. Very good--the other members have shelved +Chatfield. They've done with him. But--not if he knows it! That man will +hunt the _Pike_ and her people--whoever they are--relentlessly when he +gets off this." + +"I wish we knew what it is that we're on!" said Copplestone. + +"Impossible till daybreak," replied Vickers. "But I've an idea--this is +probably one of the seventy-odd islands of the Orkneys: I've sailed round +here before. If I'm right, it's most likely one of the outlying and +uninhabited ones. Andrius--or his controlling power--has dropped us--and +Chatfield--here, knowing that we may have to spend a few days on this +island before we succeed in getting off. Those few days will mean a great +deal to the _Pike_. She can be run into some safe harbourage on this +coast, given a new coat of paint and a new name, and be off before we can +do anything to stop her. I allow Chatfield to be right in this--that my +perhaps too hasty declaration to Andrius revealed to that gentleman how +he could make off with other people's property." + +"Nothing will make me believe that Andrius is the solely responsible +person for this last development," said Copplestone, moodily. "There were +other people on board--cleverly concealed. And what are we going to do?" + +Audrey had stepped away from the circle of light made by the lanthorn and +was gazing steadily in the direction which Chatfield had taken. + +"Those are cliffs, surely," she said presently. "Hadn't we better go up +the beach and see if we can't find some shelter until morning? +Fortunately we're all warmly clad, and Andrius was considerate enough to +throw rugs and things into the boat, as well as provisions. Come +along!--after all, we're not so badly off. And we have the satisfaction +of knowing that we can keep Chatfield under observation. Remember that!" + +But in the morning, when the first gleam of light came across the sea, +and Vickers, leaving his companions to prepare some breakfast from the +store of provisions which had been sent ashore with them, set out to make +a first examination of their surroundings, the agent was not to be seen. +What was to be seen was a breach of rock, sand, shingle, not a mile in +length, lying at the foot of high cliffs, and on the grey sea in front +not a sign of a sail, nor a wisp of smoke from a passing steamer. The +apparent solitude and isolation of the place was as profound as the +silence which overhung everything. + +Vickers made his way up the cliffs to their highest point and from its +summit took a leisurely view of his surroundings. He saw at once that +they were on an island, and that it was but one of many which lay spread +out over the sea towards the north and the west. It was a wedge-shaped +island this, and the cliffs on which he stood and the beach beneath +formed the widest side of it; from thence its lines drew away to a point +in the distance which he judged to be two miles off. Between him and that +point lay a sloping expanse of rough land, never cultivated since +creation, whereon there were vast masses of rock and boulder but no sign +of human life. No curling column of smoke went up from hut or cottage; +his ears caught neither the bleating of sheep nor the cry of +shepherd--all was still as only such places can be still. Nor could he +perceive any signs of life on the adjacent islands--which, to be sure, +were not very near. From the sea mists which wrapped one of them he saw +projecting the cap of a mountainous hill--that hill he recognized as +being on one of the principal islands of the group, and he then knew that +he and his companions had been set down on one of the outlying islands +which, from its position, was not in the immediate way of passing vessels +nor likely to be visited by fishermen. + +He was turning away from the top of the cliff after a long and careful +inspection, when he caught sight of a man's figure crossing the rocky +slope between him and this far-off point. That, he said to himself, was +Chatfield. Did Chatfield know of any place at that point visited by +fishing craft from the other islands? Had Chatfield ever been in the +Orkneys before? Was there any method in his wanderings? Or was he, too, +merely examining his surroundings--considering which was the likeliest +part of the island from which to attract attention? In the midst of these +speculation a sudden resolution came to him--one or other of the three +must keep an eye on Chatfield. Night or day, Chatfield must be watched. +And having already seen that Copplestone and Audrey had an unmistakable +liking for each other's society and would certainly not object to being +left together, he determined to watch Chatfield himself. Hurrying down +the cliffs, he hastily explained the situation to his companions, took +some food in his hands, and set out to follow the agent wherever he went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE OLD HAND + + +Half-an-hour later, when Vickers regained the top of the cliff and once +more looked across the island towards the far-off point, the figure which +he had previously seen making for it had turned back, and was plodding +steadily across the coarse grass and rock-strewn moorland in his own +direction. Chatfield had evidently taken a bird's eye view of the +situation from the vantage point of the slope and had come to the +conclusion that the higher part of the island was the most likely point +from which to attract attention. He came steadily forward, a big, +lumbering figure in the light mist, and Vickers as he went on to meet him +eyed him with a lively curiosity, wondering what secrets lay carefully +locked up in the man's heart and what happened on the _Pike_ that made +its captain or its owner bundle Chatfield out of it like a box of bad +goods for which there was no more use. And as he speculated, they met, +and Vickers saw at once that the old fellow's mood had changed during the +night. An atmosphere of smug oiliness sat upon Chatfield in the freshness +of the morning, and he greeted the young solicitor in tones which were +suggestive of a chastened spirit. + +"Morning, Mr. Vickers," he said. "A sweetly pretty spot it is that we +find ourselves in, sir--nevertheless, one's affairs sometimes makes us +long to quit the side of beauty, however much we would tarry by it! In +plain words, Mr. Vickers, I want to get out o' this. And I've been +looking round, and my opinion is that the best thing we can do is to +start as big a fire as we can find stuff for on yon bluff and keep +a-feeding on it. In the meantime, while you're considering of that, I'll +burn something of my own--I'm weary." + +He dropped down on a convenient boulder of limestone, settled his big +frame comfortably, and producing a pipe and a tobacco pouch, proceeded to +smoke. Vickers himself took another boulder and looked inquisitively at +his strange companion. He felt sure that Chatfield was up to something. + +"You say 'we' now," he remarked suddenly. "Last night you said you didn't +want to have anything to do with us. We were to keep to ourselves, and--" + +"Well, well, Mr. Vickers," broke in Chatfield. "One says things at one +time that one wouldn't say at another, you know. Facts is facts, sir, and +Providence has made us companions in distress. I've naught against +you--nor against the girl--as for t'other young man, he's of a +interfering nature--but I forgive him--he's young. I don't bear no ill +will--things being as they are. I've had time to reflect since last +night--and I don't see no reason why Miss Greyle and me shouldn't come to +terms--through you." + +Vickers lighted his own pipe, and took some time over it. + +"What are you after, Chatfield?" he asked at length. "Something, of +course. You say you want to come to terms with Miss Greyle. That, of +course, is because you know very well that Miss Greyle is the legal owner +of Scarhaven, and that--" + +Chatfield waved his pipe. + +"I don't!" he answered, with what seemed genuine eagerness. "I don't know +naught of the sort. I tell you, Mr. Vickers, I do _not_ know that the man +what we've known as the Squire of Scarhaven for a year gone by is _not_ +the rightful Squire--I do not! Fact, sir! But"--he lowered his voice, and +his sly eyes became slyer and craftier--"but I won't deny that during +this last week or two I may have had my suspicions aroused, that there +was something wrong--I don't deny that, Mr. Vickers." + +Vickers heard this with amazement. Young as he was, he had had various +dealings with Peter Chatfield, and he had an idea that he knew something +of him, subtle old fellow though he was, and he believed that Chatfield +was now speaking the truth. But, in that case, what of Copplestone's +revelation about the Falmouth and Bristol affair and the dead man? He +thought rapidly, and then determined to take a strong line. + +"Chatfield!" he said. "You're trying to bluff me. It won't do. Things +are known. I know 'em! I'll be candid with you--the time's come for +that. I'll tell you what I know--it'll all have to come out. You know +very well that the real Marston Greyle's dead. You were with him when he +died. What's more, you buried him at Bristol under the name of Mark +Grey. Hang it all, man, what's the use of lying about it?--you know +that's all true!" + +He was watching Chatfield's big face keenly, and he was astonished to see +that his dramatic impeachment produced no more effect than a slightly +superior smile. Instead of being floored, Chatfield was distinctly +unimpressed. + +"Aye!" he said, reflectively. "Aye, I expected to hear that. That's +Copplestone's work, of course--I knew he was some sort of detective as +soon as I got speech with him. His work and that there Sir Cresswell +Oliver's as is making a mountain out of a molehill about his brother, +who, of course, broke his neck quite accidental, poor man, and of that +London lawyer--Petherton. Aye--aye--but all the same, Mr. Vickers, it +don't alter matters--no-how!" + +"Good heavens, man, what do you mean?" exclaimed Vickers, who was +becoming more and more mystified. "Do you mean to tell me--come, come, +Chatfield, I'm not a fool! Why--Copplestone has found it all out--there's +no need to keep it secret, now. You were with Marston Greyle when he +died--you registered his death as Marston Greyle--and--" + +Chatfield laughed softly and gave his companion a swift glance out of one +corner of his right eye. + +"And put another name on a bit of a tombstone--six months afterwards, +what?" he said quietly. "Mr. Vickers, when you're as old as I am, +you'll know that this here world is as full o' puzzles as yon sea's +full o'fish!" + +Vickers could only stare at his companion in speechless silence after +that. He felt that there was some mystery about which Chatfield +evidently knew a great deal while he knew nothing. The old fellow's +coolness, his ready acceptance of the Bristol facts, his almost +contemptuous brushing aside of them, reduced Vickers to a feeling of +helplessness. And Chatfield saw it, and laughed, and drawing a +pocket-flask out of his garments, helped himself to a tot of +spirits--after which he good-naturedly offered like refreshment to +Vickers. But Vickers shook his head. + +"No, thanks," he said. He continued to stare at Chatfield much as he +might have, stared at the Sphinx if she had been present--and in the end +he could only think of one word. "Well?" he asked lamely. "Well?" + +"As to what, now?" inquired Chatfield with a sly smile. + +"About what you said," replied Vickers. "Miss Greyle, you know. I'm +about thoroughly tied up with all this. You evidently know a lot. Of +course you won't tell! You're devilish deep, Chatfield. But, between you +and me--what do you mean when you say that you don't see why you and Miss +Greyle shouldn't come to terms?" + +"Didn't I say that during this last week or two I'd had my suspicions +about the Squire?" answered Chatfield. "I did. I have had them +suspicions--got 'em stronger than ever since last night. So--what I say +is this. If things should turn out that Miss Greyle's the rightful owner +of Scarhaven, and if I help her to establish her claim, and if I help, +too, to recover them valuables that are on the _Pike_--there's a good +sixty to eighty thousand pounds worth of stuff, silver, china, paintings, +books, tapestry, on that there craft, Mr. Vickers!--if, I say, I do all +that, what will Miss Greyle give me? That's it--in a plain way of +speaking." + +"I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well--you'd +better come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on--now!" + +Copplestone and Audrey, having made a breakfast from the box of +provisions which Andrius had been good enough to send ashore with them, +had climbed to the head of the cliff after Vickers, and they were +presently astonished beyond measure to see him returning with Chatfield +under outward signs which suggested amity if not friendship. They paused +by a convenient nook in the rocks and silently awaited the approach of +these two strangely assorted companions. Vickers, coming near, gave them +a queer and a knowing look. + +"Mr. Chatfield," he said gravely, "has had the night in which to reflect. +Mr. Chatfield desires peaceable relations. Mr. Chatfield doesn't +see--now, having reflected--why he and Miss Greyle shouldn't be on good +terms. Mr. Chatfield desires to discuss these terms. Is that right, +Chatfield?" + +"Quite right, sir," assented the agent. He had been regarding the couple +who faced him benevolently and indulgently, and he now raised his hat to +them. "Servant, ma'am," he said with a bow to Audrey. "Servant, sir," he +continued, with another bow to Copplestone. "Ah--it's far better to be at +peace one with another than to let misunderstandings exist for ever. Mr. +Copplestone, sir, you and me's had words in times past--I brush 'em away, +sir, like that there--the memory's departed! I desire naught but better +feelings. Happen Mr. Vickers'll repeat what's passed between him and me." + +Copplestone stood rooted to the spot with amazement while Vickers hastily +epitomized the recent conversation; his mouth opened and his speech +failed him. But Audrey laughed and looked at Vickers as if Chatfield were +a new sort of entertainment. + +"What do you say to this, Mr. Vickers?" she asked. + +"Well, if you want to know," replied Vickers, "I believe Chatfield when +he says that he does _not_ know that the Squire is _not_ the Squire. May +seem strange, but I do! As a solicitor, I do." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Copplestone, finding his tongue. +"You--believe that!" + +"I've said so," retorted Vickers. + +"Thank you, sir," said Chatfield. "I'm obliged to you. Mr. Copplestone, +sir, doesn't yet understand that there's a deal of conundrum in life. +He'll know better--some day. He'll know, too, that the poet spoke +truthful when he said that things isn't what they seem." + +Copplestone turned angrily on Vickers. + +"Is this a farce?" he demanded. "Good heavens, man! you know what I +told you!" + +"Mr. Chatfield has a version," answered Vickers. "Why not hear it?" + +"On terms, Mr. Vickers," remarked Chatfield. "On terms, sir." + +"What terms?" asked Audrey. "To Mr. Chatfield's personal advantage, +of course." + +Chatfield, who was still the most unconcerned of the group, seated +himself on the rocks and looked at his audience. + +"I've said to Mr. Vickers here that if I help Miss Greyle to the estate, +I ought to be rewarded--handsome," he said. "Mind you, I don't know that +I can, for as I say, I do not know, as a matter of strict fact, that this +man as we've called the Squire, isn't the Squire. But recent events--very +recent events!--has made me suspicious that he isn't, and happen I can do +a good bit--a very good bit--to turning him out. Now, if I help in that +there work, will Miss Greyle continue me in my post of estate agent at +Scarhaven?" + +"Not for any longer than it will take to turn you out of it, Mr. +Chatfield," replied Audrey with an energy and promptitude which +surprised her companions. "So we need not discuss that. You will never +be my agent!" + +"Very good, ma'am--that's quite according to my expectations," said +Chatfield, meekly. "I was always a misunderstood man. However, this here +proposition will perhaps be more welcome. It's always been understood +that I was to have a retiring pension of five hundred pounds per annum. +The family has always promised it--I've letters to prove it. Will Miss +Greyle stand to that if she comes in? I've been a faithful servant for +nigh on to fifty years, Mr. Vickers, as all the neighbourhood is aware." + +"If I come in, as you call it, you shall have your pension," said Audrey. +Chatfield slowly felt in a capacious inner pocket and produced a large +notebook and a fountain pen. He passed them to Vickers. + +"We'll have that there in writing, signed and witnessed," he said. "Put, +if you please, Mr. Vickers, 'I agree that if I come into the Scarhaven +estate, Peter Chatfield shall at once be pensioned off with five hundred +pounds a year, to be paid quarterly. Same to be properly assured to him +for his life.' And then if Miss Greyle'll sign that document, and you +gentlemen'll witness it, I shall consider that henceforth I'm in Miss +Greyle's service. And," he added, with a significant glance all round, "I +shall be a deal more use as a friend nor what I should be as what you +might term an enemy--Mr. Vickers knows that." + +Vickers held a short consultation with Audrey, the result of which was +that the paper was duly signed, Witnessed, and deposited in Chatfield's +pocket. And Chatfield nodded his satisfaction. + +"All right," he said. "Now then, ma'am, and gentlemen, the next thing is +to get away out o' this, and get on the track of them as put us here. +We'd better start a big fire out o' this dry stuff--" + +"But what about these revelations you were going to make?" said Vickers. +"I understood you were to tell us--" + +"Sir," replied Chatfield, "I'll tell and I'll reveal in due course, and +in good order. Events, sir, is the thing! Let me get to the nearest +telegraph office, and we'll have some events, right smart. Let me +attract attention. I've sailed in these seas before. There's steamers +goes out of Kirkwall yonder frequent--we must get hold of one. A +telegraph office!--that's what I want. I'm a-going to set up a +blaze--and I'll set up a blaze elsewhere as soon as I can lay hands on a +bundle o' telegraph forms!" + +He leisurely took off his shawl and overcoat, laid them on a shelf of +rock, and moved away to collect the dry stuff which lay to hand. The +three young people exchanged glances. + +"What's this new mystery?" asked Audrey. + +"All bluff!--some deep game of his own," growled Copplestone. "He's the +most consummate old liar I ever--" + +"You're wrong this time, old chap!" interrupted Vickers. "He's a bad +'un--but he's on our side now--I'm convinced. It is a game he's playing, +and a deep one, and I don't know what it is, but it's for our +benefit--Chatfield's simply transferred his interest and influence to +us--that's all. For his own purposes, of course. And"--he suddenly +paused, gazed seaward, and then jumped to his feet. "Chatfield!" he +called quietly. "You needn't light any fire. Here's a steamer!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE YACHT COMES BACK + + +Chatfield, his arms filled with masses of dried bracken and coarse grass, +turned sharply on hearing Vickers's call and stared hard and long in the +direction which the young solicitor pointed out. His small, crafty eyes +became dilated to their full extent--suddenly they contracted again with +a look of cunning satisfaction, and throwing away his burdens he drew out +a big many-coloured handkerchief and mopped his high forehead as if the +perspiration which burst out were the result of intense mental relief. + +"Didn't I know we should be rescued from this here imprisonment!" he +cried with unctuous joy. "Thought they'd pinned me here for best part of +a week, no doubt, while they could get theirselves quietly away--far +away! But it's my experience 'ut them as has served the Lord's never +deserted, Mr. Vickers, and if you live as long as--" + +"Don't be blasphemous, Chatfield!" said Vickers, curtly. "None of that! +What we'd better think about is the chance of that steamer sighting us. +We'll light that fire, anyway!" + +"She's coming straight on for the island," remarked Copplestone, who had +been narrowly watching the approaching vessel. "So straight that you'd +think she was actually making for it." + +"She'll be some craft bound for Kirkwall," said Vickers, pointing +northward to the main group of islands. "And in that case she'll probably +take this channel on our west; that fire, now! Come on all of you, and +let's make as big a smoke as we can get out of this stuff." + +The weather being calm and the grass and bracken which they heaped +together as dry as tinder, there was little difficulty about raising a +thick column of smoke which presently rose high in the sky. But Audrey, +turning away from the successful result of their labours, suddenly +glanced at Copplestone with a look that challenged an answer to her own +thoughts. They were standing a little apart from the others and she +lowered her voice. + +"I say!" she murmured. "I don't think we need have bothered ourselves to +light that fire. That vessel, whatever it is, is making for us. Look!" + +Copplestone shaded his eyes and stared out across the sea. The steamer +was by that time no more than two or three miles away. But she was coming +towards them in a dead straight line, and as she was accordingly bow on, +and as her top deck and lamps were obscured by clouds of black smoke, +pouring furiously from her funnels, they could make little out of her +appearance. Copplestone's first notion was that she was a naval patrol +boat, or a torpedo destroyer. Whatever she was it seemed certain that she +was heading direct for the island, at that very point on which the +fugitives had been landed the previous night. And it was very evident +that she was in a great hurry to make her objective. + +"I think you're right," he said, turning to Audrey. "But it's strange +that any vessel should be making for an uninhabited island like this. +What--but you've got some notion in your mind?" he broke off suddenly, +seeing her glance at him again. "What is it?" + +Audrey shook her head, with a cautious look at Chatfield. + +"I was wondering if that's the _Pike_?--come back!" she whispered. "And +if it is--why?" + +Copplestone started, and took a longer and keener look at the +vessel. Before he could speak again, Vickers called out cheerily +across the rocks. + +"Come on, you two!" he cried. "She's seen us--she's coming in. They'll +have to send off a boat. Let's get down to the beach, so that they'll +know where there's a safe landing." + +He sprang over the edge of the cliff and hurried down the rough path; +Chatfield, picking up his coat and shawl, prepared to follow him; Audrey +and Copplestone lingered until he, too, had begun to lumber downward. + +"If that is the _Pike_," said Audrey, "there is something--wrong. Whoever +it is that is on the _Pike_ wouldn't come back to take us!" + +"You think there is somebody on the _Pike_--somebody other than Andrius?" +suggested Copplestone. + +"I believe the man who calls himself Marston Greyle was on the _Pike_," +announced Audrey. "I've always thought so. Whether Chatfield knew that +or not, I don't know. My own belief is that Chatfield did know. I believe +Chatfield was in with them, as the saying is. I think they were all +running away with as much of the Scarhaven property as they could lay +hands on and that having got it, they bundled Chatfield out and dumped +him down here, having no further use for him. And, if that's the _Pike_, +and they're returning here, it's because they want Chatfield!" + +Copplestone suddenly recognized that feminine instinct had solved a +problem which masculine reason had so far left unsolved. + +"By gad!" he exclaimed softly. "Then, if that is so, this is merely +another of Chatfield's games. You don't believe him?" + +"I would think myself within approachable distance of lunacy if I +believed a word that Peter Chatfield said," she answered calmly. "Of +course, he is playing a game of his own all through. He shall have his +pension--if I have the power to give it--but believe him--oh, no!" + +"Let's follow them," said Copplestone. "Something's going to happen--if +that is the _Pike_." + +"Look there, then," exclaimed Audrey as they began to descend the cliff. +"Chatfield's already uneasy." + +She pointed to the beach below, where Chatfield, now fully overcoated and +shawled again, had mounted a ridge of rock, and while gazing intently at +the vessel, was exchanging remarks with Vickers, who had evidently said +something which had alarmed him. They caught Chatfield's excited +ejaculations as they hurried over the sand. + +"Don't say that, Mr. Vickers!" he was saying imploringly. "For God's +sake, Mr. Vickers, don't suggest them there sort of thoughts. You make me +feel right down poorly, Mr. Vickers, to say such! It's worse than a bad +dream, Mr. Vickers--no, sir, no, surely you're mistaken!" + +"Bet you a fiver to a halfpenny it's the _Pike_," retorted Vickers. "I +know her lines. Besides she's heading straight here. Copplestone!" he +cried, turning to the advancing couple. "Do you know, I believe that's +the _Pike!_" + +Copplestone gave Audrey's elbow a gentle squeeze. + +"Look at old Chatfield!" he whispered. "By gad!--look at him. Yes," he +called out loudly, "We know it's the _Pike_--we saw that from the top of +the cliffs. She's coming straight in." + +"Oh, yes, it's the _Pike_," exclaimed Audrey. "Aren't you delighted, Mr. +Chatfield." + +The agent suddenly turned his big fat face towards the three young +people, with such an expression of craven fear on it that the sardonic +jest which Copplestone was about to voice died away on his lips. +Chatfield's creased cheeks and heavy jowl had become white as chalk; +great beads of sweat rolled down them; his mouth opened and shut +silently, and suddenly, as he raised his hands and wrung them, his knees +began to quiver. It was evident that the man was badly, terribly +afraid--and as they watched him in amazed wonder his eyes began to +search the shore and the cliffs as if he were some hunted animal seeking +any hole or cranny in which to hide. A sudden swelling of the light wind +brought the steady throb of the oncoming engines to his ears and he +turned on Vickers with a look that made the onlookers start. + +"For goodness sake, Mr. Vickers!" he said in a queer, strained voice. +"For heaven's sake, let's get ourselves away! Mr. Vickers--it ain't safe +for none of us. We'd best to run, sir--let's get to the other side of the +island. There's caves there--places--let's hide till something comes from +the other islands, or till these folks goes away--I tell you it's +dangerous for us to stop here!" + +"We're not afraid, Chatfield," replied Vickers. "What ails you! Why man, +you couldn't be more afraid if you'd murdered somebody! What do you +suppose these people want? You, of course. And you can't escape--if they +want you, they'll search the island till they get you. You've been +deceiving us, Chatfield--there's something you've kept back. Now, what is +it? What have they come back for?" + +"Yes, Mr. Chatfield, what has the _Pike_ come back for?" repeated Audrey, +coming nearer. "Come now--hadn't you better tell?" + +"It is the _Pike_," remarked Copplestone. "Look there! And they're going +to send in a boat. Better be quick, Chatfield." + +The agent turned an ashen face towards the yacht. She had swung round and +come to a halt, and the rattle of a boat being let down came menacingly +to the frightened man's ears. He tittered a deep groan and his eyes again +sought the cliffs. + +"It's not a bit of good, Chatfield," said Vickers. "You can't get away. +Good heavens, man!--what are you so frightened for!" + +Chatfield moaned and drew haltingly nearer to the other three, as if he +found some comfort in their mere presence. + +"It's the money!" he whispered. "The money as was in the Norcaster +Bank--two lots of it. He--the Squire--gave me authority to get out his +lot what was standing in his name, you know--and the other--the estate +lot--that was standing in mine--some fifty thousand pounds in all, Mr. +Vickers. I had it all in gold, packed in sealed chests--and they--those +on board there--thought I took them chests aboard the _Pike_ with me. I +did take chests, d'ye see--but they'd lead in 'em. The real stuff is +hidden--buried--never mind where. And I know what they've come back +for!--they've opened the chests I took on board, and they've found +there's naught but lead. And they want me--me!--me! They'll torture me to +make me tell where the real chests, the money is--torture me! Oh, for +God's sake, keep 'em away from me--help me to hide--help me to get +away--and I'll tell Miss Greyle then where the money's hid, and--oh, +Lord, they're coming! Mr. Vickers--Mr. Vickers--" + +He cast himself bodily at Vickers, as if to clutch him, but Vickers +stepped agilely aside, and Chatfield fell on the sand, where he lay +groaning while the others looked from him to each other. + +"Ah!" said Vickers at last. "So that's it, is it, Chatfield? Trying to +cheat everybody all round, eh? I suppose you'd have told Miss Greyle +later that these people had collared all that gold--and then you'd have +helped yourself to it? And now I know what you were doing on that yacht +when we boarded it--you were one of the gang, and you meant to hook it +with them--" + +"I didn't--I didn't!" screamed Chatfield, beating the sand with his hands +and feet. "I meant to slip away from 'em at a Scotch port we was to call +at, and then--" + +"Then you'd have gone back to the hidden chests and helped +yourself," sneered Vickers. "Chatfield, you're a wicked old +scoundrel, and an unmitigated liar! Give me that paper that Miss +Greyle signed, this instant!" + +"No!" interjected Audrey. "Let him keep it. He'll have trouble enough +presently. It's very evident they mean to have him." + +Chatfield heard the last few words and looked round at the edge of the +surf. The boat had grounded on the shingle, and half a dozen men had +leapt from it and were coming rapidly up the beach. + +"Armed, by George!" exclaimed Copplestone. "No chance for you, +Chatfield!" + +The agent suddenly sprang to his feet with a howl of terror. He gave one +more glance at the men and then he ran, clumsily, but with a speed made +desperate by terror. He made straight for the rocks--and at that, two of +the men, at a word from their leader, raised their rifles and fired. And +with a shriek that set all the echoes ringing, the sea-birds screaming, +and made Audrey clap her hands to her ears, Chatfield threw up his arms +and dropped heavily on the sands. + +"That's sheer murder!" exclaimed Vickers, as the yachtsmen came +running up. "You'll answer for that, you know. Unless you mean to +murder all of us." + +The leader, a smiling-faced fellow, touched his cap respectfully, and +grinned from ear to ear. + +"Lor' bless you, sir, we shot twenty feet over his head!" he said. "He's +too precious to shoot: they want him badly on board there. Now then, men, +pick him up and get him into the boat--he'll come round quick enough when +he finds he hasn't even a pellet in him. Handy, now! Captain's +compliments, sir," he went on, turning again to Vickers, and pointing to +certain things which were being unloaded from the boat, "and as he +understands that no vessel will pass here for two more days, sir, he's +sent you further provisions, some more wraps, and some books and papers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + + +Before Vickers and his companions had recovered from the surprise which +this extraordinary cool message had given them, the men had bundled +Chatfield across the beach and into the boat and were pulling quickly +back to the _Pike_. + +Audrey broke the silence with a ringing laugh. + +"Captain Andrius is certainly the perfection of polite pirates," she +exclaimed. "More food--more wraps--and books and papers! Was any marooned +mariner ever one-half so well treated?" + +"What's the fellow mean about no vessel passing here for two more days?" +growled Copplestone, who was glaring angrily at the yacht. "What's he so +meticulously correct for?" + +"I should say that he's referring to some weekly or bi-weekly steamer +which runs between Kirkwall and the mainland," replied Vickers. +"Well--it's good to know that, anyhow. But wait until the _Pike's_ +vamoosed again, and we'll make up such a column of smoke that it'll be +seen for many a mile. In fact, I'll go and gather a lot of dried stuff +now--you two can drag those boxes and things up the beach and see what +our gaolers have been good enough to send us." + +He went away up the cliffs, and Audrey and Copplestone, once more left +alone, looked at each other and laughed. + +"That's right," said Copplestone. "What I like about you is that you +take things that way." + +"Is it any use taking them any other way?" she asked. "Besides I've never +been at all frightened nor particularly concerned. I've always felt that +we were only put here so that we should be out of the way while our +captors got safely away with their booty, and as regards my mother, I +know her well enough to feel sure that she quickly sized things up, and +that she'll have taken measures of her own. Don't be surprised if we're +rescued through her means or if she has set somebody to work to catch the +predatory _Pike_." + +"Good!" said Copplestone. "But as regards the _Pike_, I wonder if you +observed something during the few minutes she was here. I'm sure Vickers +didn't--he was too busy, watching Chatfield." + +"So was I," replied Audrey. "What was it?" + +"I believe I'm unusually observant," answered Copplestone. "I seem to see +things--all at once, don't you know. I saw that since we made her +acquaintance--and were unceremoniously bundled off her--the _Pike_ has +got a new and quite different coat of paint. And I daresay she's changed +her name, too. From all of which I argue that when they got rid of us +here, the people who are working all this slipped quietly back to some +cove or creek on the Scotch coast, did a stiff turn at repainting, and +meant to be off to the other side of the world under new colours. And +while this was going on, Andrius, or his co-villain, found time to +examine those chests that Chatfield told us of, and when they found that +Chatfield had done them, they came back here quick. Now they're off to +make him reveal the whereabouts of the real chests." + +"Won't they be rather running their necks into a noose?" suggested +Audrey. "I'm dead certain that my mother will have raised a hue and cry +after them." + +"They're cute enough," said Copplestone. "Anyway, they'll run a good many +risks for the sake of fifty thousand pounds. What they may do is to run +into some very quiet inlet--there are hundreds on these northern +coasts--and take Chatfield to his hiding-place. Chatfield's like all +scoundrels of his type--a horrible coward if a pistol's held to his head. +Now they've got him, they'll force him to disgorge. Hang this compulsory +inactivity!--my nerves are all a-tingle to get going at things!" + +"Let's occupy ourselves with the things our generous gaolers have been +kind enough to send us, then," suggested Audrey. "We'd better carry them +up to our shelter." + +Copplestone went down to the things which the boat's crew had deposited +on the beach--a couple of small packing-cases, a bundle of wraps and +cushions, and some books, magazines and newspapers. He picked up a paper +with a cry which suggested a discovery of importance. + +"Look at that!" he exclaimed. "Do you see? A _Scotsman!_ Today's date! +And here--_Aberdeen Free Press_--same date!" + +"Well?" asked Audrey. "And what then?" + +"What then?" demanded Copplestone. "Where are your powers of deduction? +Why, that shows that the _Pike_ was somewhere this morning where she +could get the morning papers from Aberdeen and Edinburgh--therefore, +she's been, as I suggested, somewhere on the Scotch coast all night. It's +now noon--she's a fast sailer--I guess she's been within sixty miles of +us ever since she left us." + +"Isn't it more pertinent to speculate on where she'll be when we want to +find her?" asked Audrey. + +"More pertinent still to wonder when somebody will come to find us," +answered Copplestone as he shouldered one of the cases. "However, there's +a certain joy in uncertainty, so they say--we're tasting it." + +The joys of uncertainty, however, were not to endure. They had scarcely +completed the task of carrying up the newly-arrived stores to the shelter +which they had made in an angle of the rocks when Vickers hailed them +from a spur of the cliffs and waved his arms excitedly. + +"I say, you two!" he shouted. "There's a craft coming--from the +south-west. Come up! There!" he added, a few minutes later, when they +arrived, breathless, at his side. "Out yonder--a mere black blot--but +unmistakable! Do you know what that is, either of you? You don't? All +right, I do--ought to, because I'm a R.N.V.R. man myself. That's a +T.B.D., my friends!--torpedo-boat destroyer. What's more, far off as she +is, my experienced eye and sure knowledge tell me exactly what she is. +She's a class H. boat built last year--oil fuel--turbines--runs up to +thirty knots--and she's doing 'em, too, just now! Come on, +Copplestone--more stuff on this fire!" + +"I don't think we need be uneasy," said Copplestone. "Miss Greyle thinks +that her mother will have raised a hue and cry after the _Pike_. This +torpedo thing is probably looking round for us. She--what's that?" + +The sudden sharp crack of a gun came across the calm surface of the sea, +and the watchers turning from their fire towards the black object in the +distance saw a cloud of white smoke drifting away from it. + +"Hooray!" shouted Vickers. "She's seen our smoke-pillar! Shove more on, +just to let her know we understand. Saved!--this time, anyway." + +Half-an-hour later, a spick and span and eminently youthful-looking naval +lieutenant raised his cap to the three folk who stood eagerly awaiting +his approach at the edge of the surf. + +"Miss Greyle? Mr. Vickers? Mr. Copplestone?" he asked as he sprang from +his boat and came up. "Right!--we're searching for you--had wireless +messages this morning. Where's the pirate, or whatever he is?" + +"Somewhere away to the southward," answered Vickers, pointing into the +haze. "He was here two hours ago--but he's about as fast as they make +'em, and he's good reason to show a clean pair of heels. However, we've +ample grounds for believing him to have gone due south again. Where are +you from?" + +"Got the message off Dunnett Head, and we'll run you to Thurso," replied +the rescuer, motioning them to enter the boat. "Come on--our commander's +got some word or other for you. What's all this been?" he went on, gazing +at Audrey with youthful assurance as they moved away from the shore. "You +don't mean to say you've actually been kidnapped?" + +"Kidnapped and marooned," replied Vickers. "And I hope you'll catch our +kidnapper--he's got a tremendous amount of property on him which belongs +to this lady, and he'll make tracks for the other side of the Atlantic as +soon as he gets hold of some more which he's gone to collect." + +The lieutenant regarded Audrey with still more interest. "Oh, all right," +he said confidently. "He'll not get away. I guess they've wirelessed all +over the place--our message was from the Admiralty!" + +"That's Sir Cresswell's doing," said Copplestone, turning to Audrey. +"Your mother must have wired to him. I wonder what the message is?" he +asked, facing the lieutenant. "Do you know?" + +"Something about if you're found to tell you to get south as fast as +possible," he answered. "And we've worked that out for you. You can get +on by train from Thurso to Inverness, and from Inverness, of course, +you'll get the southern express. Well put you off at Thurso by two +o'clock--just time to give you such lunch as our table affords--bit +rough, you know. So you've really been all night on that island?" he went +on with unaffected curiosity. "What a lark!" + +"You'd have had an opportunity of studying character if you'd been +with us," replied Vickers. "We lost a fine specimen of humanity two +hours ago." + +"Tell about it aboard," said the lieutenant. "We'll be thankful--we've +been round this end-of-everywhere coast for a month and we're tired. It's +quite a Godsend to have a little adventure." + +Copplestone had been right in surmising that Sir Cresswell Oliver had +bestirred himself to find him and his companions. They were presently +shown his message. They were to get to Norcaster as quickly as possible, +and to wire their whereabouts as soon as they were found. If, as seemed +likely, they were picked up on the north coast of Scotland, they were to +ask at Inverness railway station for telegrams. And to Inverness after +being landed at Thurso they betook themselves, while the torpedo-boat +destroyer set off to nose round for the _Pike_, in case she came that way +back from wherever she had gone to. + +Copplestone came out of the station-master's office at Inverness with a +couple of telegrams and read their contents over to his companions in the +dining-room to which they adjourned. + +"This is from Mrs. Greyle," he said. "'All right and much relieved by +wire from Thurso. Bring Audrey home as quick as possible.' That's good! +And this--Great Scott! This is from Gilling! Listen!--'Just heard from +Petherton of your rescue. Come straight and sharp Norcaster. Meet me at +the "Angel." Big things afoot. Spurge most anxious see you. Important +news. Gilling.' So things have been going on," he concluded, turning +the second telegram over to Vickers. "I suppose we'll have to travel +all night?" + +"Night express in an hour," replied Vickers. "We shall make Norcaster +about five-thirty tomorrow morning." + +"Then let us wire the time of our arrival to Gilling. I'm anxious to know +what has brought him up there," said Copplestone. "And we'll wire to Mrs. +Greyle, too," he added, turning to Audrey. "She'll know then that you're +absolutely on the way." + +"I wonder what we're on the way to?" remarked Vickers with a grim smile. +"It strikes me that our recent alarms and excursions will have been as +nothing to what awaits us at Norcaster." + +What did await them on a cold, dismal morning at Norcaster was Gilling, +stamping up and down a windswept platform. And Gilling seized on +Copplestone almost before he could alight from the train. + +"Come to the 'Angel' straight off!" he said. "Mrs. Greyle's there +awaiting her daughter. I've work for you and Vickers at once--that chap +Spurge is somewhere about the 'Angel,' too--been hanging round there +since yesterday, heavy with news that he'll give to nobody but you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE SQUIRE + + +Such of the folk of the "Angel" hotel--a night porter, a waiter, a +chamber-maid--as were up and about that grey morning, wondered why the +two old gentlemen who had arrived from London the day before should rise +from their beds to hold a secret and mysterious conference with the +three young ones who, with a charming if tired-looking young lady, drove +up before the city clocks had struck six. But Sir Cresswell Oliver and +Mr. Petherton knew that there was no time to be lost, and as soon as +Audrey had been restored to and carried off by her mother to Mrs. +Greyle's room, they summoned Vickers and Copplestone to a private +parlour and demanded their latest news. Sir Cresswell listened eagerly, +and in silence, until Copplestone described the return of the _Pike_; at +that he broke his silence. + +"That's precisely what I feared!" he exclaimed. "Of course, if she's been +hurriedly repainted and renamed, she stands a fair chance of getting +away. Our instructions to the patrol boats up there are to look for a +certain vessel, the _Pike_--naturally they won't look for anything else. +We must get the wireless to work at once." + +"But there's this," said Copplestone. "They certainly fetched old +Chatfield to make him hand over the gold! They won't go away without +that! And he said that he'd hidden the gold somewhere near Scarhaven. +Therefore, they'll have to come down this coast to get it." + +"Not necessarily," replied Sir Cresswell, with a knowing shake of the +head. "You may be sure they're alive to all the exigencies of the +situation. They could do several things once they'd got Chatfield on +board again. Some of them could land with him at some convenient port and +make him take them to where he's hidden the money; they could recapture +that and go off to some other port, to which the yacht had meanwhile been +brought round. If we only knew where Chatfield had planted that +money--" + +"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers. + +"Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's a +wide term--a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hills +and moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought! +Well, that's all I can think of--getting into communication with patrol +boats and coastguard stations all along the coast between here and Wick. +And that mayn't be the least good. Somebody may have escorted Chatfield +ashore after they left you yesterday, brought him hereabouts by rail or +motor-car, and the yacht may have made a wide detour round the Shetlands +and be now well on her way to the North Atlantic." + +"But in that case--the money?" asked Copplestone. + +"They would get hold of the money, take it clean away, and ship it from +Liverpool, or Glasgow, or--anywhere," replied Sir Cresswell. "You may be +sure they've plenty of resources at command, and that they'll work +secretly. Of course, we must keep a look out round about here for any +sign or reappearance of Chatfield, but, as I say, this country is so wild +that he and his companions can easily elude observation, especially as +they're sure to come by night. Still, we must do what we can, and at +once. But first, there are one or two things I want to ask you young +men--you said, Mr. Vickers, that Chatfield solemnly insisted to you that +he did not know that the man who had posed as Marston Greyle was not +Marston Greyle?" + +"He did," replied Vickers, "and though Chatfield is an unmitigated old +scoundrel, I believe him." + +"You do!" exclaimed Gilling, who was listening eagerly. "Oh, come!" + +"I do--as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with an +appealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell you +that we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield's +badness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whether +the man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He's +doubtful--he's puzzled--but he doesn't know." + +"Odd!" murmured Sir Cresswell, after a minute's silence. "Odd! Very, very +odd! That shows that there's still some extraordinary mystery about this +which we haven't even guessed at. Well, now, another question--you got +the idea that some one else was aboard the yacht?" + +"Some one other than Andrius--in authority--yes!" answered Vickers. "We +certainly thought that." + +"Did you think it was the man we know as the Squire?" asked Sir +Cresswell. + +"We had a notion that he might be there," replied Vickers, with a glance +at Copplestone. "Especially after what happened to Chatfield. Of course, +we never saw him, or heard his voice, or saw a sign of him. Still, we +fancied--" + +Sir Cresswell rose from his chair and motioned to Petherton. + +"Well," he said, "I think you and I, Petherton, had better complete our +toilets, and then give a look in at the authorities here and find out if +anything has been received by wireless or from the coastguard stations +about the yacht. In the meantime," he added, turning to Vickers and +Copplestone, "Gilling can tell you what's been going on in your +absence--you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, as +we call him, was on the _Pike_ with you." + +The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling. + +"What have you got?" he asked eagerly. "Live news!" + +"Might have been livelier and more satisfactory," answered Gilling, "if +it hadn't been for the factor which none of us can help--luck! We tracked +the Squire." + +"You did?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Where?" + +"When I said we I should have said Swallow," continued Gilling. "You +remember that afternoon of our return from Bristol, Copplestone? It seems +ages away now, though as a matter of time it's only four days ago!--Well, +that afternoon Swallow, who had had two or three more keeping a sharp +look out for the Squire, got a telephone message from one of 'em saying +that he'd tracked his man to the Fragonard Club. I'd gone home to my +chambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, so +Swallow had to act on his own initiative. He set off for the Fragonard +Club, and outside it met his man. This particular man had been keeping a +watch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street. That +afternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door. He +followed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himself +turned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow. The Squire was +still in the Fragonard when Swallow got there: from that time he kept a +watch. The Squire remained in the Club for an hour--" + +"Which proves," interrupted Copplestone, "that he's a member, and that I +ought to have followed up my attempt to get in there." + +"Well, anyway," continued Gilling, "there he was, and thence he +eventually emerged, with a kit-bag. He got into a taxi, and Swallow heard +him order its driver to go to King's Cross. Now Swallow was there +alone--and he had just before that met his man scooting round to see if +there was a rear exit from the Fragonard, and he hadn't returned. +Swallow, of course, couldn't wait--every minute was precious. He +followed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book for +Northborough." + +"Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah, +well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?" + +"Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," said +Gilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow. So did Swallow, who, now +that he'd got him, was going to follow him to the North Pole, if need be. +The train was just starting--Swallow had no time to communicate with me. +Also, the train didn't stop until it reached Grantham. There he sent me a +wire, saying he was on the track of his man. Well, they went on to +Northborough, where they arrived late in the evening. There--what is it, +Copplestone," he broke off, seeing signs of a desire to speak on +Copplestone's part. + +"You're talking of the very same afternoon and evening that I came +down--four evenings ago," said Copplestone. "My train was the four +o'clock--I got to Norcaster at ten--surely they didn't come on the +same train!" + +"I feel sure they did, but anyhow, these trains to the North are usually +very long ones, and you were probably in a different part," replied +Gilling. "Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallow +followed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard him +commission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven. When they'd +gone Swallow got hold of another taxi, and told its driver to take him +to Scarhaven, too. Off they went--in a pitch-black night, I'm told--" + +"We know that!" said Vickers with a glance at Copplestone. "We motored +from Norcaster--just about the same time." + +"Well," continued Gilling, "it was at any rate so dark that Swallow's +driver, who appears to have been a very nervous chap, made very poor +progress. Also he took one or two wrong turnings. Finally he ran his car +into a guide post which stood where two roads forked--and there Swallow +was landed, scarcely halfway to Scarhaven. They couldn't get the car to +move, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord at +the nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it was +near or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did get +there, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay." + +"The _Pike_, of course," muttered Copplestone. + +"Of course--and some men on the quay told him," continued Gilling. "Well, +that put Swallow in a fix. He was dead certain, of course, that his man +was on that yacht. However, he didn't want to rouse suspicion, so he +didn't ask any of those quayside men if they'd seen the Squire. Instead, +remembering what I'd told him about Mrs. Greyle he asked for her house +and was directed to it. He found Mrs. Greyle in a state of great anxiety. +Her daughter had gone with you two to the yacht and had never returned; +Mrs. Greyle, watching from her windows, had seen the yacht go out to +sea. Swallow found her, of course, seriously alarmed as to what had +happened. Of course, he told her what he had come down for and they +consulted. Next morning--" + +"Stop a bit," interrupted Vickers. "Didn't Mrs. Greyle get any message +from the yacht about her daughter--Andrius said he'd sent one, anyway." + +"A lie!" replied Gilling. "She got no message. The only consolation she +had was that you and Copplestone were with Miss Greyle. Well, first thing +next morning Swallow and Mrs. Greyle set every possible means to work. +They went to the police--they wired to places up the coast and down the +coast to keep a look out--and Swallow also wired full particulars to Sir +Cresswell Oliver, with the result that Sir Cresswell went to the naval +authorities and got them to set their craft up north to work. Having done +all this, and finding that he could be of no more service at Scarhaven, +Swallow returned to town to see me and to consult. Now, of course, we +were in a position by then to approach that Fragonard Club--" + +"Ah!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Just so!" + +"The man, whoever he is, had been there an hour on the day Swallow and +his man tracked him," continued Gilling. "Therefore, something must be +known of him. Swallow and I, armed with certain credentials, went there. +And--we could find out next to nothing. The hall porter there said he +dimly remembered such a gentleman coming in and going upstairs, but he +himself was new to his job, didn't know all the members--there are +hundreds of 'em--and he took this man for a regular habitue. A waiter +also had some sort of recollection of the man, and seeing him in +conversation with another man whom he, the waiter, knew better, though he +didn't know his name. Swallow is now moving everything to find that +man--to find anybody who knows our man--and something will come of it, in +the end--must do. In the meantime I came down here with Sir Cresswell and +Mr. Petherton, to be on the spot. And, from your information, things will +happen here! That hidden gold is the thing--they'll not leave that +without an effort to get it. If we could only find out where that is and +watch it--then our present object would be achieved." + +"What is the present object?" asked Copplestone. + +"Why," replied Gilling, "we've got warrants out against both Chatfield +and the Squire for the murder of Bassett Oliver!--the police here have +them in hand. Petherton's seen to that. And if they can only be laid +hands on--What is it?" he asked turning to a sleepy-eyed waiter who, +after a gentle tap at the door, put a shock head into the room. +"Somebody want me?" + +"That there man, sir--you know," said the waiter. "Here again, +sir--stable-yard, sir." + +Gilling jumped up and gave Copplestone a look. + +"That's Spurge!" he muttered. "He said he'd be back at day-break. Wait +here--I'll fetch him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE REAVER'S GLEN + + +Zachary Spurge, presently ushered in by Gilling, who carefully closed +the door behind himself and his companion, looked as if his recent +lodging had been of an even rougher nature than that in which +Copplestone had found him at their first meeting. The rough horseman's +cloak in which he was buttoned to the edge of a red neckerchief and a +stubbly chin was liberally ornamented with bits of straw, scraps of +furze and other odds and ends picked up in woods and hedge-rows. Spurge, +indeed, bore unmistakable evidence of having slept out in wild places +for some nights and his general atmosphere was little more respectable +than that of a scarecrow. But he grinned cheerfully at Copplestone--and +then frowned at Vickers. + +"I didn't count for to meet no lawyers, gentlemen," he said, pausing on +the outer boundaries of the parlour, "I ain't a-goin' to talk before +'em, neither!" + +"He's a grudge against me--I've had to appear against him once or twice," +whispered Vickers to Copplestone. "You'd better soothe him down--I want +to know what he's got to tell." + +"It's all right, Spurge," said Copplestone. "Come--Mr. Vickers is on our +side this time; he's one of us. You can say anything you like before +him--or Mr. Gilling either. We're all in it. Pull your chair up--here, +alongside of me, and tell us what you've been doing." + +"Well, of course, if you puts it that way, Mr. Copplestone," replied +Spurge, coming to the table a little doubtfully. "Though I hadn't meant +to tell nobody but you what I've got to tell. However, I can see that +things is in such a pretty pass that this here ain't no one-man job--it's +a job as'll want a lot o' men! And I daresay lawyers and such-like is as +useful men in that way as you can lay hands on--no offence to you, Mr. +Vickers, only you see I've had experience o' your sort before. But if you +are taking a hand in this here--well, all right. But now, gentlemen," he +continued dropping into a chair at the table and laying his fur cap on +its polished surface, "afore ever I says a word, d'ye think that I could +be provided with a cup o' hot coffee, or tea, with a stiff dose o' rum in +it? I'm that cold and starved--ah, if you'd been where I been this last +twelve hours or so, you'd be perished." + +The sleepy waiter was summoned to attend to Spurge's wants--until they +were satisfied the poacher sat staring fixedly at his cap and +occasionally shaking his head. But after a first hearty gulp of strongly +fortified coffee the colour came back into his face, he sighed with +relief, and signalled to the three watchful young men to draw their +chairs close to his. + +"Ah!" he said, setting down his cup. "And nobody never wanted aught more +badly than I wanted that! And now then--the door being shut on us quite +safe, ain't it, gentlemen?--no eavesdroppers?--well, this here it is. I +don't know what you've been a-doing of these last few days, nor what may +have happened to each and all--but I've news. Serious news--as I reckons +it to be. Of--Chatfield!" + +Copplestone kicked Vickers under the table and gave him a look. + +"Chatfield again!" he murmured. "Well, go on, Spurge." + +"There's a lot to go on with, too, guv'nor," said Spurge, after taking +another evidently welcome drink. "And I'll try to put it all in order, as +it were--same as if I was in a witness-box," he added, with a sly glance +at Vickers. "You remember that day of the inquest on the actor gentleman, +guv'nor? Well, of course, when I went to give evidence at Scarhaven, at +that there inquest, I never expected but what the police 'ud collar me at +the end of it. However, I didn't mean that they should, if I could help +it, so I watched things pretty close, intending to slip off when I saw a +chance. Well, now, you'll bear in mind that there was a bit of a dust-up +when the thing was over--some on 'em cheering the Squire and some on 'em +grousing about the verdict, and between one and t'other I popped out and +off, and you yourself saw me making for the moors. Of course, me, knowing +them moors back o' Scarhaven as I do, it was easy work to make myself +scarce on 'em in ten minutes--not all the police north o' the Tees could +ha' found me a quarter of an hour after I'd hooked it out o' that +schoolroom! Well, but the thing then was--where to go next? 'Twasn't no +good going to Hobkin's Hole again--now that them chaps knew I was in the +neighbourhood they'd soon ha' smoked me out o' there. Once I thought of +making for Norcaster here, and going into hiding down by the docks--I've +one or two harbours o' refuge there. But I had reasons for wishing to +stop in my own country--for a bit at any rate. And so, after reckoning +things up, I made for a spot as Mr. Vickers there'll know by name of the +Reaver's Glen." + +"Good place, too, for hiding," remarked Vickers with a nod. + +"Best place on this coast--seashore and inland," said Spurge. "And as you +two London gentlemen doesn't know it, I'll tell you about it. If you was +to go out o' Scarhaven harbour and turn north, you'd sail along our coast +line up here to the mouth of Norcaster Bay and you'd think there was +never an inlet between 'em. But there is. About half-way between +Scarhaven and Norcaster there's a very narrow opening in the cliffs that +you'd never notice unless you were close in shore, and inside that +opening there's a cove that's big enough to take a thousand-ton +vessel--aye, and half-a-dozen of 'em! It was a favourite place for +smugglers in the old days, and they call it Darkman's Dene to this day in +memory of a famous old smuggler that used it a good deal. Well, now, at +the land end of that cove there's a narrow valley that runs up to the +moorland and the hills, full o' rocks and crags and precipices and such +like--something o' the same sort as Hobkin's Hole but a deal wilder, and +that's known as the Reaver's Glen, because in other days the +cattle-lifters used to bring their stolen goods, cattle and sheep, down +there where they could pen 'em in, as it were. There's piles o' places in +that glen where a man can hide--I picked out one right at the top, at the +edge of the moors, where there's the ruins of an old peel tower. I could +get shelter in that old tower, and at the same time slip out of it if +need be into one of fifty likely hiding places amongst the rocks. I got +into touch with my cousin Jim Spurge--the one-eyed chap at the +'Admiral's Arms,' Mr. Copplestone, that night--and I got in a supply of +meat and drink, and there I was. And--as things turned out, Chatfield had +got his eye on the very same spot!" + +Spurge paused for a minute, and picking out a match from a stand which +stood on the table, began to trace imaginary lines on the mahogany. + +"This is how things is there," he said, inviting his companions' +attention. "Here, like, is where this peel tower stands--that's a thick +wood as comes close up to its walls--that there is a road as crosses the +moors and the wood about, maybe, a hundred yards or so behind the tower +on the land side. Now, there, one afternoon as I was in that there tower, +a-reading of a newspaper that Jim had brought me the night before, I +hears wheels on that moorland road, and I looked out through a convenient +loophole, and who should I see but Peter Chatfield in that old pony trap +of his. He was coming along from the direction of Scarhaven, and when he +got abreast of the tower he pulled up, got out, left his pony to crop the +grass and came strolling over in my direction. Of course, I wasn't +afraid of him--there's so many ways in and out of that old peel as there +is out of a rabbit-warren--besides, I felt certain he was there on some +job of his own. Well, he comes up to the edge of the glen, and he looks +into it and round it, and up and down at the tower, and he wanders about +the heaps of fallen masonry that there is there, and finally he puts +thumbs in his armhole and went slowly back to his trap. 'But you'll be +coming back, my old swindler!' says I to myself. 'You'll be back again I +doubt not at all!' And back he did come--that very night. Oh, yes!" + +"Alone?" asked Copplestone. + +"A-lone!" replied Spurge. "It had got to be dark, and I was thinking of +going to sleep, having nought else to do and not expecting cousin Jim +that night, when I heard the sound of horses' feet and of wheels. So I +cleared out of my hole to where I could see better. Of course, it was +Chatfield--same old trap and pony--but this time he came from Norcaster +way. Well, he gets out, just where he'd got out before, and he leads the +pony and trap across the moor to close by the tower. I could tell by the +way that trap went over the grass that there was some sort of a load in +it and it wouldn't have surprised me, gentlemen, if the old reptile had +brought a dead body out of it. After a bit, I hear him taking something +out, something which he bumped down on the ground with a thump--I counted +nine o' them thumps. And then after a bit I heard him begin a moving of +some of the loose masonry what lies in such heaps at the foot o' the peel +tower--dark though it was there was light enough in the sky for him to +see to do that. But after he'd been at it some time, puffing and groaning +and grunting, he evidently wanted to see better, and he suddenly flashed +a light on things from one o' them electric torches. And then I see--me +being not so many yards away from him--nine small white wood boxes, all +clamped with metal bands, lying in a row on the grass, and I see, too, +that Chatfield had been making a place for 'em amongst the stones. +Yes--that was it--nine small white wood boxes--so small, considering, +that I wondered what made 'em so heavy." + +Copplestone favoured Vickers with another quiet kick. They were, +without doubt, hearing the story of the hidden gold, and it was +becoming exciting. + +"Well," continued Spurge. "Into the place he'd cleared out them boxes +went, and once they were all in he heaped the stones over 'em as natural +as they were before, and he kicked a lot o' small loose stones round +about and over the place where he'd been standing. And then the old +sinner let out a great groan as if something troubled him, and he fetched +a bottle out of his pocket and took a good pull at whatever was in it, +after which, gentlemen, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and +groaned again. He'd had his bit of light on all that time, but he doused +it then, and after that he led the old pony away across the bit of moor +to the road, and presently in he gets and drives slowly away towards +Scarhaven. And so there was I, d'ye see, Mr. Copplestone, left, as it +were, sold guardian of--what?" + +The three young men exchanged glances with each other while Spurge +refreshed himself with his fortified coffee, and their eyes asked similar +questions. + +"Ah!" observed Copplestone at last. "You don't know what, Spurge? You +haven't examined one of those boxes?" + +Spurge set his cup down and gave his questioner a knowing look. + +"I'll tell you my line o' conduct, guv'nor," he said. "So certain sure +have I been that something 'ud come o' this business of hiding them boxes +and that something valuable is in 'em that I've taken partiklar care ever +since Chatfield planted 'em there that night never to set foot within a +dozen yards of 'em. Why? 'Cause I know he'll ha' left footprints of his +own there, and them footprints may be useful. No, sir!--them boxes has +been guarded careful ever since Chatfield placed 'em where he did. +For--Chatfield's never been back!" + +"Never back, eh?" said Copplestone, winking at the other two. + +"Never been back--self nor spirit, substance nor shadow!--since that +night," replied Spurge. "Unless, indeed, he's been back since four +o'clock this morning, when I left there. However, if he's been 'twixt +then and now, my cousin Jim Spurge, he was there. Jim's been helping me +to watch. When I first came in here to see if I could hear anything about +you--Jim having told me that some London gentlemen was up here again--I +left him in charge. And there he is now. And now you know all I can tell +you, gentlemen, and as I understand there's some mystery about Chatfield +and that he's disappeared, happen you'll know how to put two and two +together. And if I'm of any use--" + +"Spurge," said Gilling. "How far is it to this Reaver's Glen--or, rather +to that peel tower?" + +"Matter of eight or nine miles, guv'nor, over the moors," replied Spurge. + +"How did you come in then?" asked Gilling. + +"Cousin Jim Spurge's bike--down in the stable-yard, now," answered +Spurge. "Did it comfortable in under the hour." + +"I think we ought to go out there--some of us," said Gilling. "We +ought--" + +At that moment the door opened and Sir Cresswell Oliver came in, holding +a bit of flimsy paper in his hand. He glanced at Spurge and then beckoned +the three young men to join him. + +"I've had a wireless message from the North Sea--and it puzzles me," he +said. "One of our ships up there has had news of what is surely the +_Pike_ from a fishing vessel. She was seen late yesterday afternoon going +due east--due east, mind you! If that was she--and I'm sure of it!--our +quarry's escaping us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE PEEL TOWER + + +Gilling took the message from Sir Cresswell and thoughtfully read +it over. Then he handed it back and motioned the old seaman to look +at Spurge. + +"I think you ought to know what this man has just told us, sir," he said. +"We've got a story from him that exactly fits in with what Chatfield told +Mr. Vickers when the _Pike_ returned to carry him off yesterday. +Chatfield, you'll remember, said that the gold he'd withdrawn from the +bank is hidden somewhere--well, there's no doubt that this man Zachary +Spurge knows where it is hidden. It's there now--and the presumption is, +of course, that these people on the _Pike_ will certainly come in to this +coast--somehow!--to get it. So in that case--eh?" + +"Gad!--that's valuable!" said Sir Cresswell, glancing again at Spurge, +and with awakened interest. "Let me hear this story." + +Copplestone epitomized Spurge's account, while the poacher listened +admiringly, checking off the main points and adding a word or two where +he considered the epitome lacking. + +"Very smart of you, my man," remarked Sir Cresswell, nodding benevolently +at Spurge when the story was over. "You're in a fair way to find yourself +well rewarded. Now gentlemen!" he continued, sitting down at the table, +and engaging the attention of the others, "I think we had better have a +council of war. Petherton has just gone to speak to the police +authorities about those warrants which have been taken out against +Chatfield and the impostor, but we can go on in his absence. Now there +seems to be no doubt that those chests which Spurge tells us of contain +the gold which Chatfield procured from the bank, and concerning which he +seems to have played his associates more tricks than one. However, his +associates, whoever they are--and mind you, gentlemen, I believe there +are more men than Chatfield and the Squire in all this!--have now got a +tight grip on Chatfield, and they'll force him to show them where that +gold is--they'll certainly not give up the chances of fifty thousand +pounds without a stiff try to get it. So--I'm considering all the +possibilities and probabilities--we may conclude that sooner or +later--sooner, most likely--somebody will visit this old peel tower that +Spurge talks of. But--who? For we're faced with this wireless message. +I've no doubt the vessel here referred to is the _Pike_--no doubt at all. +Now she was seen making due east, near this side of the Dogger Bank, late +last night--so that it would look as if these men were making for +Denmark, or Germany, rather than for this coast. But since receiving this +message, I have thought that point out. The _Pike_ is, I believe, a very +fast vessel?" + +"Very," answered Vickers. "She can do twenty-seven or eight knots an +hour." + +"Exactly," said Sir Cresswell. "Then in that case they may have put in +at some Northern port, landed Chatfield and two or three men to keep an +eye on him and to accompany him to this old tower, while the _Pike_ +herself has gone off till a more fitting opportunity arises of dodging in +somewhere to pick up the chests which Chatfield and his party will in the +meantime have removed. From what I have seen of it this is such a wild +part of the coast that Chatfield and such a small gang as I am imagining, +could easily come back here, keep themselves hidden and recover the +chests without observation. So our plain duty is to now devise some plan +for going to the Reaver's Glen and keeping a watch there until somebody +comes. Eh?" + +"There's another thing that's possible, sir," said Vickers, who had +listened carefully to all that Sir Cresswell had said. "The _Pike_ is +fitted for wireless telegraphy." + +"Yes?" said Sir Cresswell expectantly. "And you think--?" + +"You suggested that there may be more people than Chatfield and the +Squire in at this business," continued Vickers. "Just so! We--Copplestone +and myself--know very well that the skipper of the _Pike_, Andrius, is in +it: that's undeniable. But there may be others--or one other, or two--on +shore here. And as the _Pike_ can communicate by wireless, those on board +her may have sent a message to their shore confederates to remove those +chests. So--" + +"Capital suggestion!" said Sir Cresswell, who saw this point at once. "So +we'd better lose no time in arranging our expedition out there. +Spurge--you're the man who knows the spot best--what ought we to do about +getting there--in force?" + +Spurge, obviously flattered at being called upon to advise a great man, +entered into the discussion with enthusiasm. + +"Your honour mustn't go in force at all!" he said. "What's wanted, +gentlemen, is--strategy! Now if you'll let me put it to you, me knowing +the lie of the land, this is what had ought to be done. A small party +ought to go--with me to lead. We'll follow the road that cuts across the +moorland to a certain point; then we'll take a by-track that gets you to +High Nick; there we'll take to a thick bit o' wood and coppice that runs +right up to the peel tower. Nobody'll track us, nor see us from any +point, going that way. Three or four of us--these here young gentlemen, +now, and me--'ll be enough for the job--if armed. A revolver apiece your +honour--that'll be plenty. And as for the rest--what you might call a +reserve force--your honour said something just now about some warrants. +Is the police to be in at it, then?" + +"The police hold warrants for the two men we've been chiefly talking +about," replied Sir Cresswell. + +"Well let your honour come on a bit later with not more than three police +plain-clothes fellows--as far as High Nick," said Spurge. "The police'll +know where that is. Let 'em wait there--don't let 'em come further until +I send back a message by my cousin Jim, You see, guv'nor," he added, +turning to Copplestone, whom he seemed to regard as his own special +associate, "we don't know how things may be. We might have to wait hours. +As I view it, me having listened careful to what his honour the Admiral +there says--best respects to your honour--them chaps'll never come a-nigh +that place till it's night again, or at any rate, dusk, which'll be about +seven o'clock this evening. But they may watch, during the day, and it +'ud be a foolish thing to have a lot of men about. A small force such as +I can hide in that wood, and another in reserve at High Nick, which, +guv'nor, is a deep hole in the hill-top--that's the ticket!" + +"Spurge is right," said Sir Cresswell. "You youngsters go with him--get a +motor-car--and I'll see about following you over to High Nick with the +detectives. Now, what about being armed?" + +"I've a supply of service revolvers at my office, down this very street," +replied Vickers. "I'll go and get them. Here! Let's apportion our duties. +I'll see to that. Gilling, you see about the car. Copplestone, you order +some breakfast for us--sharp." + +"And I'll go round to the police," said Sir Cresswell. "Now, be careful +to take care of yourselves--you don't know what you've got to deal with, +remember." + +The group separated, and Copplestone went off to find the hotel people +and order an immediate breakfast. And passing along a corridor on his way +downstairs he encountered Mrs. Greyle, who came out of a room near by and +started at sight of him. + +"Audrey is asleep," she whispered, pointing to the door she had just +left. "Thank you for taking care of her. Of course I was afraid--but +that's all over now. And now the thing is--how are things?" + +"Coming to a head, in my opinion," answered Copplestone. "But how or in +what way, I don't know. Anyway, we know where that gold is--and they'll +make an attempt on it--that's sure! So--we shall be there." + +"But what fools Peter Chatfield and his associates must be--from their +own villainous standpoint--to have encumbered themselves with all that +weight of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle. "The folly of it seems incredible +when they could have taken it in some more easily portable form!" + +"Ah!" laughed Copplestone. "But that just shows Chatfield's extraordinary +deepness and craft! He no doubt persuaded his associates that it was +better to have actual bullion where they were going, and tricked them +into believing that he'd actually put it aboard the _Pike_! If it hadn't +been that they examined the boxes which he put on the _Pike_ and found +they contained lead or bricks, the old scoundrel would have collared the +real stuff for himself." + +"Take care that he doesn't collar it yet," said Mrs. Greyle with a laugh +as she went into her own room. "Chatfield is resourceful enough +for--anything. And--take care of yourselves!" + +That was the second admonition to be careful, and Copplestone thought of +both, as, an hour later, he, Gilling, Vickers and Spurge sped along the +desolate, wind-swept moorland on their way to the Reaver's Glen. It was +a typically North Country autumnal morning, cold, raw, rainy; the tops of +the neighbouring hills were capped with dark clouds; sea-birds called +dismally across the heather; the sea, seen in glimpses through vistas of +fir and pine, looked angry and threatening. + +"A fit morning for a do of this sort!" exclaimed Gilling suddenly. "Is it +pretty bare and bleak at this tower of yours, Spurge?" + +"You'll be warm enough, guv'nor, where I shall put you," answered Spurge. +"One as has knocked about these woods and moors as much as I've had to +knows as many places to hide his nose in as a fox does! I'll put you by +that tower where you'll be snug enough, and warm enough, too--and where +nobody'll see you neither. And here's High Nick and out we get." + +Leaving the car in a deep cutting of the hills and instructing the driver +to await the return of one or other of them at a wayside farmstead a mile +back, the three adventurers followed Spurge into the wood which led to +the top of the Beaver's Glen. The poacher guided them onward by narrow +and winding tracks through the undergrowth for a good half-mile; then he +led them through thickets in which there was no paths at all; finally, +after a gradual and cautious advance behind a high hedge of dense +evergreen, he halted them at a corner of the wood and motioned them to +look out through a loosely-laced network of branches. + +"Here we are!" he whispered. "Tower--Reaver's Glen--sea in the distance. +Lone spot, ain't it, gentlemen?" + +Copplestone and Gilling, who had never seen this part of the coast +before, looked out on the scene with lively interest. It was certainly a +prospect of romance and of wild, almost savage beauty on which they +gazed. Immediately in front of them, at a distance of twenty to thirty +yards, stood the old peel tower, a solid square mass of grey stone, +intact as to its base and its middle stories, ruinous and crumbling from +thence to what was left of its battlements and the turret tower at one +angle. The fallen stone lay in irregular heaps on the ground at its foot; +all around it were clumps of furze and bramble. From the level plateau on +which it stood the Glen fell away in horseshoe formation gradually +narrowing and descending until it terminated in a thick covert of fir and +pine that ran down to the land end of the cove of which Spurge had told +them. And beyond that stretched the wide expanse of sea, with here and +there a red-sailed fishing boat tossing restlessly on the white-capped +waves, and over that and the land was a chill silence, broken only by the +occasional cry of the sea-birds and the bleating of the mountain sheep. + +"A lone spot indeed!" said Gilling in a whisper. "Spurge, where is that +stuff hidden?" + +"Other side of the tower--in an angle of the old courtyard," replied +Spurge, "Can't see the spot from here." + +"And where's that road you told us about?" asked Copplestone. "The +moor road?" + +"Top o' the bank yonder--beyond the tower," said Spurge. "Runs round +yonder corner o' this wood and goes right round it to High Nick, where +we've cut across from. Hush now, all of you, gentlemen--I'm going to +signal Jim." + +Screwing up his mobile face into a strange contortion, Spurge emitted +from his puckered lips a queer cry--a cry as of some trapped animal--so +shrill and realistic that his hearers started. + +"What on earth's that represent?" asked Gilling. "It's blood-curdling?" + +"Hare, with a stoat's teeth in its neck," answered Spurge. "H'sh--I'll +call him again." + +No answer came to the first nor to the second summons--after a third, +equally unproductive, Spurge looked at his companions with a scared face. + +"That's a queer thing, guv'nors!" he muttered. "Can't believe as how our +Jim 'ud ever desert a post. He promised me faithfully as how he'd stick +here like grim death until I came back. I hope he ain't had a fit, nor +aught o' that sort--he ain't a strong chap at the best o' times, and--" + +"You'd better take a careful look round, Spurge," said Vickers. +"Here--shall I come with you?" + +But Spurge waved a hand to them to stay where they were. He himself crept +along the back of the hedge until he came to a point opposite the nearest +angle of the tower. And suddenly he gave a great cry--human enough this +time!--and the three young men rushing forward found him standing by the +body of a roughly-clad man in whom Copplestone recognized the one-eyed +odd-job man of the "Admiral's Arms." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FOOTPRINTS + + +The man was lying face downwards in the grass and weeds which clustered +thickly at the foot of the hedgerow, and on the line of rough, +weatherbeaten neck which showed between his fur cap and his turned-up +collar there was a patch of dried blood. Very still and apparently +lifeless he looked, but Vickers suddenly bent down, laid strong hands on +him and turned him over. + +"He's not dead!" he exclaimed. "Only unconscious from a crack on his +skull. Gilling!--where's that brandy you brought?--hand me the flask." + +Zachary Spurge watched in silence as Vickers and Gilling busied +themselves in reviving the stricken man. Then he quickly pulled +Copplestone's sleeve and motioned him away from the group. + +"Guv'nor!" he muttered. "There's been foul play here--and all along of +them nine boxes--that I'll warrant. Look you here, guv'nor--Jim's been +dragged to where we found him--dragged through this here gap in the hedge +and flung where he's lying. See--there's the plain marks, all through the +grass and stuff. Come on, guv'nor--let's see where they lead." + +The marks of a heavy, inanimate body having been dragged through the wet +grass were evidence enough, and Copplestone and Spurge followed them to a +corner of the old tower where they ceased. Spurge glanced round that +corner and uttered a sharp exclamation. + +"Just what I expected!" he said. "Leastways, what I expected as soon as I +see Jim a-lying there. Guv'nor, the stuff's gone!" + +He drew Copplestone after him and pointed to a corner of the weed-grown +courtyard where a cavity had been made in the mass of fallen masonry and +the stones taken from it lay about just as they had been displaced and +thrown aside. + +"That's where the nine boxes were," he continued. "Well, there ain't one +of 'em there now! Naught but the hole where they was! Well--this must ha' +been during the early morning--after I left Jim to go into Norcaster. And +of course him as put the stuff there must be him as fetched it +away--Chatfield. Let's see if there's footmarks about, guv'nor." + +"Wait a bit," said Copplestone. "We must be careful about that. Move +warily. We 'd better do it systematically. There'd have to be some sort +of a trap, a vehicle, to carry away those chests. Where's the nearest +point of that road you spoke of?" + +"Up there," replied Spurge, pointing to a flanking bank of heather. "But +they--or him--wasn't forced to come that way, guv'nor. He--or them--could +come up from that cove down yonder. It wouldn't surprise me if that there +yacht--the _Pike_, you know--had turned on her tracks and come in here +during the night. It's not more than a mile from this tower down to the +shore, and--" + +At that moment Vickers called to them, and they went back to find Jim +Spurge slowly opening his eyes and looking round him with consciousness +of his company. His one eye lightened a little as he caught sight of +Zachary, and the poacher bent down to him. + +"Jim, old man!" he said soothingly. "How are yer, Jim? Yer been hit by +somebody. Who was it, Jim?" + +"Give him a drop more brandy and lift him up a bit," counselled Gilling. +"He's improving." + +But it needed more than a mere drop of brandy, more than cousinly words +of adjuration, to bring the wounded man back to a state of speech. And +when at last he managed to make a feeble response, it was only to mutter +some incoherent and disjointed sentences about and being struck down from +behind--after which he again relapsed into semi-unconsciousness. + +"That's it guv'nor," muttered Spurge, nudging Copplestone. "That's the +ticket! Struck down from behind--that's what happened to him. Unawares, +so to speak, I can reckon of it up--easy. They comes in the +darkness--after I'd left him here. He hears of 'em, as he says, +a-moving about. Then he no doubt starts moving about--watching 'em, as +far as he can see. Then one of 'em gives him this crack on the +skull--life-preserver if you ask me--and down he goes! And then--they +drag him in here and leaves him. Don't care whether he's a goner or +not--not they! Well, an' what does it prove? That there's been more +than one of 'em, guv'nor. And in my opinion, where they've come from +is--down there!" + +He pointed down the glen in the direction of the sea, and the three +young men who were considerably exercised by this sudden turn of events +and the disappearance of the chests, looked after his out-stretched hand +and then at each other. + +"Well, we can't stand here doing nothing," said Gilling at last. "Look +here, we'd better divide forces. This chap'll have to be removed and got +to some hospital. Vickers!--I guess you're the quickest-footed of the +lot--will you run back to High Nick and tell that chauffeur to bring his +car round here? If Sir Cresswell and the police are there, tell them +what's happened. Spurge--you go down the glen there, and see if you can +see anything of any suspicious-looking craft in that bay you told us of. +Copplestone, we can't do any more for this man just now--let's look +round. This is a queer business," he went on when they had all departed, +and he and Copplestone were walking towards the tower. "The gold's gone, +of course?" + +"No sign of it here, anyway," answered Copplestone, leading him into the +ruinous courtyard and pointing to the cavity in the fallen masonry. +"That's where it was placed by Chatfield, according to Zachary Spurge." + +"And of course Chatfield's removed it during the night," remarked +Gilling. "That message which Sir Cresswell read us must have been all +wrong--the _Pike's_ come south and she's been somewhere about--maybe been +in that cove at the end of the glen--though she'll have cleared out of it +hours ago!" he concluded disappointedly. "We're too late!" + +"That theory's not necessarily correct," replied Copplestone. "Sir +Cresswell's message may have been quite right. For all we know the folks +on the Pike had confederates on shore. Go carefully, Gilling--let's see +if we can make out anything in the way of footprints." + +The ground in the courtyard was grassless, a flooring of grit and loose +stone, on which no impression could well be made by human foot. But +Copplestone, carefully prospecting around and going a little way up the +bank which lay between the tower and the moorland road, suddenly saw +something in the black, peat-like earth which attracted his attention and +he called to his companion. + +"I say!" he exclaimed. "Look at this! There!--that's unmistakable enough. +And fresh, too!" + +Gilling bent down, looked, and stared at Copplestone with a question +in his eyes. + +"By Gad!" he said. "A woman!" + +"And one who wears good and shapely footwear, too," remarked Copplestone. +"That's what you'd call a slender and elegant foot. Here it is +again--going up the bank. Come on!" + +There were more traces of this wearer of elegant foot-gear on the soft +earth of the bank which ran between the moorland and the stone-strewn +courtyard--more again on the edges of the road itself. There, too, were +plain signs that a motor-car of some sort had recently been pulled up +opposite the tower--Gilling pointed to the indentations made by the +studded wheels and to droppings of oil and petrol on the gravelly soil. + +"That's evident enough," he said. "Those chests have been fetched away +during the night, by motor, and a woman's been in at it! Confederates, of +course. Now then, the next thing is, which way did that motor go with its +contents?" + +They followed the tracks for a short distance along the road, until, +coming to a place where it widened at a gateway leading into the wood, +they saw that the car had there been backed and turned. Gilling carefully +examined the marks. + +"That car came from Norcaster and it's gone back to Norcaster," he +affirmed presently. "Look here!--they came up the hill at the side of the +wood--here they backed the car towards that gate, and then ran it +backwards till they were abreast of the tower--then, when they'd loaded +up with those chests they went straight off by the way they'd come. Look +at the tracks--plain enough." + +"Then we'd better get down towards Norcaster ourselves," said +Copplestone. "Call Spurge back--he'll find nothing in that cove. This job +has been done from land. And we ought to be on the track of these +people--they've had several hours start already." + +By this time Zachary Spurge had been recalled, Vickers had brought the +car round from High Nick, and the injured man was carefully lifted into +it and driven away. But at High Nick itself they met another car, +hurrying up from Norcaster, and bringing Sir Cresswell Oliver and three +other men who bore the unmistakable stamp of the police force. In one of +them Copplestone recognized the inspector from Scarhaven. + +The two cars met and stopped alongside each other, and Sir Cresswell, +with one sharp glance at the rough bandage which Vickers had fastened +round Jim Spurge's head, rapped out a question. + +"Gone!" replied Gilling, with equal brusqueness. "Came in a motor, during +the night, soon after Zachary Spurge left Jim. They hit him pretty hard +over his head and left him unconscious. Of course they've carried off the +boxes. Car appears to have gone to Norcaster. Hadn't you better turn?" + +Sir Cresswell pointed to the Scarhaven police inspector. + +"Here's news from Scarhaven," he said, bending forward to the other car, +"The inspector's just brought it. The Squire--whoever he was--is dead. +They found his body this morning, lying at the foot of a cliff near the +Keep. Foul play?--that's what you don't know, eh, inspector?" + +"Can't say at all, sir," answered the inspector. "He might have been +thrown down, he might have fallen down--it's a bad place. Anyway, what +the doctor said, just before I hurried in here to tell Mrs. Greyle, as +the next relative that we know of, is that he'd been dead some days--the +body, you see, was lying in a thicket at the foot of the cliff." + +"Some days!" exclaimed Copplestone, with a look at Gilling. "Days?" + +"Four or five days at least, sir," replied the inspector. "So the doctor +thinks. The place is a cliff between the high road from Northborough and +the house itself. There's a short cut across the park to the house from +that road. It looks as if--" + +"Ah!" interrupted Gilling. "It's clear how that happened, then. He took +that short cut, when he came from Northborough that night! But--if he's +dead, who's engineering all this? There's the fact, those chests of gold +have been removed from that old tower since Zachary Spurge left his +cousin in charge there early this morning. Everything looks as if they'd +been carried to Norcaster. Therefore--" + +"Turn this car round," commanded Sir Cresswell. "Of course, we must get +back to Norcaster. But what's to be done there?" + +The two cars went scurrying back to the old shipping town. When at +last they had deposited the injured man at a neighbouring hospital +and came to a stop near the "Angel," Zachary Spurge pulled +Copplestone's sleeve, and with a look full of significance, motioned +him aside to a quiet place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +SCARVELL'S CUT + + +The quiet place was a narrow alley, which opening out of the Market +Square in which the car had come to a halt, suddenly twisted away into a +labyrinth of ancient buildings that lay between the centre of the town +and the river. Not until Spurge had conducted Copplestone quite away from +their late companions did he turn and speak; when he spoke his words were +accompanied by a glance which suggested mystery as well as confidence. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "What's going to be done?" + +"Have you pulled me down here to ask that?" exclaimed Copplestone, a +little impatiently. "Good heavens, man, with all these complications +arising--the gold gone, the Squire dead--why, there'll have to be a +pretty deep consultation, of course. We'd better get back to it." + +But Spurge shook his head. + +"Not me, guv'nor!" he said resolutely. "I ain't no opinion o' +consultations with lawyers and policemen--plain clothes or otherwise. +They ain't no mortal good whatever, guv'nor, when it comes to horse +sense! 'Cause why? 'Tain't their fault--it's the system. They can't +do nothing, start nothing, suggest nothing!--they can only do things +in the official, cut-and-dried, red-tape way, Guv'nor--you and me +can do better." + +"Well?" asked Copplestone. + +"Listen!" continued Spurge. "There ain't no doubt that that gold was +carried off early this morning--must ha' been between the time I left Jim +and sun-up, 'cause they'd want to do the job in darkness. Ain't no +reasonable doubt, neither, that the motor-car what they used came here +into Norcaster. Now, guv'nor, I ask you--where is it possible they'd make +for? Not a railway station, 'cause them boxes 'ud be conspicuous and easy +traced when inquiry was made. And yet they'd want to get 'em away--as +soon as possible. Very well--what's the other way o' getting any stuff +out o' Norcaster? What? Why--that!" + +He jerked his thumb in the direction of a patch of grey water which shone +dully at the end of the alley and while his thumb jerked his eye winked. + +"The river!" he went on. "The river, guv'nor! Don't this here river, +running into the free and bounding ocean six miles away, offer the best +chance? What we want to do is to take a look round these here docks and +quays and wharves--keeping our eyes open--and our ears as well. Come on +with me, guv'nor--I know places all along this riverside where you could +hide the Bank of England till it was wanted--so to speak." + +"But the others?" suggested Copplestone. "Hadn't we better fetch them?" + +"No!" retorted Spurge, assertively. "Two on us is enough. You trust to +me, guv'nor--I'll find out something. I know these docks--and all that's +alongside 'em. I'd do the job myself, now--but it'll be better to have +somebody along of me, in case we want a message sending for help or +anything of that nature. Come on--and if I don't find out before noon if +there's any queer craft gone out o' this since morning--why, then, I +ain't what I believe myself to be." + +Copplestone, who had considerable faith in the poacher's shrewdness, +allowed himself to be led into the lowest part of the town--low in more +than one sense of the word. Norcaster itself, as regards its ancient +and time-hallowed portions, its church, its castle, its official +buildings and highly-respectable houses, stood on the top of a low +hill; its docks and wharves and the mean streets which intersected them +had been made on a stretch of marshland that lay between the foot of +that hill and the river. And down there was the smell of tar and of +merchandise, and narrow alleys full of sea-going men and raucous-voiced +women, and queer nooks and corners, and ships being laden and ships +being stripped of their cargoes and such noise and confusion and +inextricable mingling and elbowing that Copplestone thought it was as +likely to find a needle in a haystack as to make anything out relating +to the quest they were engaged in. + +But Zachary Spurge, leading him in and out of the throngs on the wharves, +now taking a look into a dock, now inspecting a quay, now stopping to +exchange a word or two with taciturn gentlemen who sucked their pipes at +the corners of narrow streets, now going into shady-looking public houses +by one door and coming out at another, seemed to be remarkably well +satisfied with his doings and kept remarking to his companion that they +would hear something yet. Nevertheless, by noon they had heard nothing, +and Copplestone, who considered casual search of this sort utterly +purposeless, announced that he was going to more savoury neighborhoods. + +"Give it another turn, guv'nor," urged Spurge. "Have a bit o' faith in +me, now! You see, guv'nor, I've an idea, a theory, as you might term it, +of my very own, only time's too short to go into details, like. Trust me +a bit longer, guv'nor--there's a spot or two down here that I'm fair +keen on taking a look at--come on, guv'nor, once more!--this is +Scarvell's Cut." + +He drew his unwilling companion round a corner of the wharf which they +were just then patrolling and showed him a narrow creek which, hemmed in +by ancient buildings, some of them half-ruinous, sail-lofts, and sheds +full of odds and ends of merchandise, cut into the land at an irregular +angle and was at that moment affording harbourage to a mass of small +vessels, just then lying high and dry on the banks from which the tide +had retreated. Along the side of this creek there was just as much +crowding and confusion as on the wider quays; men were going in and out +of the sheds and lofts; men were busy about the sides of the small craft. +And again the feeling of uselessness came over Copplestone. + +"What's the good of all this, Spurge!" he exclaimed testily. "You'll +never--" + +Spurge suddenly laid a grip on his companion's elbow and twisted him +aside into a narrow entry between the sheds. + +"That's the good!" he answered in an exulting voice. "Look there, +guv'nor! Look at that North Sea tug--that one, lying out there! Whose +face is, now a-peeping out o' that hatch? Come, now?" + +Copplestone looked in the direction which Spurge indicated. There, lying +moored to the wharf, at a point exactly opposite a tumble-down sail-loft, +was one of those strongly-built tugs which ply between the fishing fleets +and the ports. It was an eminently business-looking craft, rakish for its +class, and it bore marks of much recent sea usage. But Copplestone gave +no more than a passing glance at it--what attracted and fascinated his +eyes was the face of a man who had come up from her depths and was +looking out of a hatchway on the top deck--looking expectantly at the +sail-loft. There was grime and oil on that face, and the neck which +supported the unkempt head rose out of a rough jersey, but Copplestone +recognized his man smartly enough. In spite of the attempt to look like a +tug deck-hand there was no mistaking the skipper of the _Pike_. + +"Good heavens!" he muttered, as he stared across the crowded quay. +"Andrius!" + +"Right you are, guv'nor," whispered Spurge. "It's that very same, and no +mistake! And now you'll perhaps see how I put things together, like. No +doubt those folk as sent Sir Cresswell that message did see the _Pike_ +going east last evening--just so, but there wasn't no reason, considering +what that chap and his lot had at stake why they shouldn't put him and +one or two more, very likely, on one of the many tugs that's to be met +with out there off the fishing grounds. What I conclude they did, +guv'nor, was to charter one o' them tugs and run her in here. And I +expect they've got the stuff on board her, now, and when the tide comes +up, out they'll go, and be off into the free and open again, to pick the +_Pike_ up somewhere 'twixt here and the Dogger Bank. Ah!--smart 'uns they +are, no doubt. But--we've got 'em!" + +"Not yet," said Copplestone. "What are we to do. Better go back and get +help, eh?" + +He was keenly watching Andrius, and as the skipper of the _Pike_ suddenly +moved, he drew Spurge further into the alley. + +"He's coming out of that hatchway!" whispered Copplestone. "If he comes +ashore he'll see us, and then--" + +"No matter, guv'nor," said Spurge reassuringly. "They can't get out o' +Scarvell's Cut into the river till the tide serves. Yes, that's Cap'n +Andrius right enough--and he's coming ashore." + +Andrius had by that time drawn himself out of the hatchway and now +revealed himself in the jersey, the thick leg-wear, and short sea-boots +of an oceangoing man. Copplestone's recollection of him as he showed +himself on board the _Pike_ was of a very smartly attired, rather +dandified person--only some deep scheme, he knew, would have caused him +to assume this disguise, and he watched him with interest as he rolled +ashore and disappeared within the lower story of the sail-loft. Spurge, +too, watched with all his eyes, and he turned to Copplestone with a gleam +of excitement. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "We've trapped 'em beautiful! I know that place--I've +worked in there in my time. I know a way into it, from the back--we'll +get in that way and see what's being done. 'Tain't worked no longer, that +sail-loft--it's all falling to pieces. But first--help!" + +"How are we to get that?" asked Copplestone, eagerly. + +"I'll go it," replied Spurge. "I know a man just aback of here that'll +run up to the town with a message--chap that can be trusted, sure and +faithful. 'Bide here five minutes, sir--I'll send a message to Mr. +Vickers--this chap'll know him and'll find him. He can come down with the +rest--and the police, too, if he likes. Keep your eyes skinned, guv'nor." + +He twisted away like an eel into the crowd of workers and idlers, and +left Copplestone at the entrance to the alley, watching. And he had not +been so left more than a couple of minutes when a woman slipped past the +mouth of the alley, swiftly, quietly, looking neither to right nor left, +of whose veiled head and face he caught one glance. And in that glance he +recognized her--Addie Chatfield! + +But in the moment of that glance Copplestone also recognized something +vastly more important. Here was the explanation of the mystery of the +early-morning doings at the old tower. The footprints of a woman who wore +fashionable and elegant boots? Addie Chatfield, of course! Was she not +old Peter's daughter, a chip of the old block, even though a feminine +chip? And did not he and Gilling know that she had been mixed up with +Peter at the Bristol affair? Great Scott!--why, of course. Addie was an +accomplice in all these things! + +If Copplestone had the least shadow of doubt remaining in his mind as to +this conclusion, it was utterly dissipated when, peering cautiously round +the corner of his hiding-place, he saw Addie disappear within the old +sail-loft into which Andrius had betaken himself. Of course, she had gone +to join her fellow-conspirators. He began to fume and fret, cursing +himself for allowing Spurge to bring him down there alone--if only they +had had Gilling and Vickers with them, armed as they were-- + +"All right, guv'nor!" Spurge suddenly whispered at his shoulder. "They'll +be here in a quarter of an hour--I telephoned to 'em." + +"Do you know what?" exclaimed Copplestone, excitedly. "Old Chatfield's +daughter's gone in there, where Andrius went. Just now!" + +"What--the play-actress!" said Spurge. "You don't say, guv'nor? Ha!--that +explains everything--that's the missing link! Ha! But we'll soon know +what they're after, Mr. Copplestone. Follow me--quiet as a mouse." + +Once more submitting to be led, Copplestone followed his queer guide +along the alley. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE GREENGROCER'S CART + + +Spurge led Copplestone a little way up the narrow alley from the mouth of +which they had observed the recent proceedings, suddenly turned off into +a still narrower passage, and emerged at the rear of an ancient building +of wood and stones which looked as if a stout shove or a strong wind +would bring it down in dust and ruin. + +"Back o' that old sail-loft what looks out on this cut," he whispered, +glancing over his shoulder at Copplestone. "Now, guv'nor, we're going in +here. As I said before, I've worked in this place--did a spell here when +I was once lying low for a month or two. I know every inch of it, and if +that lot are under this roof I know where they'll be." + +"They'll show fight, you know," remarked Copplestone. + +"Well, but ain't we got something to show fight with, too?" answered +Spurge, with a knowing wink. "I've got my revolver handy, what Mr. +Vickers give me, and I reckon you can handle yours. However, it ain't +come to no revolver yet. What I want is to see and hear, +guv'nor--follow me." + +He had opened a ramshackle door in the rear of the premises as he spoke +and he now beckoned his companion to follow him down a passage which +evidently led to the front. There was no more than a dim light within, +but Copplestone could see that the whole place was falling to pieces. And +it was all wrapped in a dead silence. Away out on the quay was the rattle +of chains, the creaking of a windlass, the voices of men and shrill +laughter of women, but in there no sound existed. And Spurge suddenly +stopped his stealthy creeping forward and looked at Copplestone +suspiciously. + +"Queer, ain't it?" he whispered. "I don't hear a voice, nor yet the ghost +of one! You'd think that if they was in here they'd be talking. But we'll +soon see." + +Clambering up a pile of fallen timber which lay in the passage and +beckoning Copplestone to follow his example, Spurge looked through a +broken slat in the wooden partition into an open shed which fronted the +Cut. The shed was empty. Folk were passing to and fro in front of it; the +North Sea tug still lay at the wharf beyond; a man who was evidently its +skipper sat on a tub on its deck placidly smoking his short pipe--but of +Addie Chatfield or of Andrius there was no sign. And the silence in that +crumbling, rat-haunted house was deeper than ever. + +"Guv'nor!" muttered Spurge, "How long is it since you see--her?" + +"Almost as soon as you'd gone," answered Copplestone. + +"Ten minutes ago!" sighed Spurge. "Guv'nor--they've done us! They're off! +I see it--she must ha' caught sight o' me, nosing round, and she came +here and gave the others the office, and they bucked out at the back. +The back, Guv'nor! and Lord bless you, at the back o' this shanty there's +a perfect rabbit-warren o' places--more by token, they call it the +Warren. If they've got in there, why, all the police in Norcaster'll +never find 'em--leastways, I mean, to speak truthful, not without a deal +o' trouble." + +"What about upstairs?" asked Copplestone. + +"Upstairs, now?" said Spurge with a doubtful glance at the ramshackle +stairway. "Lord, mister!--I don't believe nobody could get up them +stairs! No--they've hooked it through the back here, into the Warren. And +once in there--" + +He ended with an eloquent gesture, and dismounting from his perch made +his way along the passage to a door which opened into the shed. Thence he +looked out on the quay, and along the crowded maze of Scarvell's Cut. + +"Here's some of 'em, anyway, guv'nor," he announced. "I see Mr. Vickers +and t'other London gentleman, and the old Admiral, at all events. There +they are--getting out of a motor at the end. But go to meet 'em, Mr. +Copplestone, while I keep my eye on this here tug and its skipper." + +Copplestone elbowed his way through the crowd until he met Sir Cresswell +and his two companions. All three were eager and excited: Copplestone +could only respond to their inquiries with a gloomy shake of the head. + +"We seem to have the devil's own luck!" he growled dismally. "Spurge and +I spotted Andrius by sheer accident. He was on a North Sea tug, or +trawler, along the quay here. Then Spurge ran off to summon you. While +he was away Miss Chatfield appeared--" + +"Addie Chatfield!" exclaimed Vickers. + +"Exactly. And that of course," continued Copplestone, glancing at +Gilling, "that without doubt--in my opinion, anyway--explains those +elegant footprints up at the tower. Addie Chatfield, I tell you! She +passed me as I was hiding at the entrance to an alley down the Cut here, +and she went into an old sail-loft, outside which the tug I spoke of is +moored, and into which Andrius had strolled a minute or two previously. +But--neither she nor Andrius are there now. They've gone! And Spurge says +that at the back of this quay there's a perfect rabbit-warren of courts +and alleys, and if--or, rather as they've escaped into that--eh?" + +The detectives who had accompanied Sir Cresswell on the interrupted +expedition to the old tower and who had now followed him and his +companions in a second car and arrived in time to hear Copplestone's +story, looked at each other. + +"That's right enough--comparatively speaking," said one. "But if they're +in the Warren we shall get 'em out. The first thing to do, gentlemen, is +to take a look at that tug." + +"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "Just what I was thinking. Let us +find out what its people have to say." + +The man who smoked his pipe in placid contentment on the deck of the tug +looked up in astonishment as the posse of eight crossed the plank which +connected him with the quay. Nevertheless he preserved an undaunted +front, kept his pipe in his tightly closed lips, and cocked a defiant eye +at everybody. + +"Skipper o' this craft?" asked the principal detective laconically. +"Right? Where are you from, then, and when did you come in here?" + +The skipper removed his pipe and spat over the rail. He put the pipe +back, folded his arms and glared. + +"And what the dickens may that be to do with you?" he inquired. "And who +may you be to walk aboard my vessel without leave?" + +"None of that, now!" said the detective. "Come on--we're police officers. +There's something wrong round here. We've got warrants for two men that +we believe to have been on your tug--one of 'em was seen here not so many +minutes ago. You'd far better tell us what you know. If you don't tell +now, you'll have to tell later. And--I expect you've been paid already. +Come on--out with it!" + +The skipper, whose gnarled countenance had undergone several changes +during this address, smote one red fist on top of the other. + +"Darned if I don't know as there was something on the crook in this here +affair!" he said, almost cheerily. "Well, well--but I ain't got nothing +to do with it. Warrants?--you say? Ah! And what might be the partiklar' +natur' o' them warrants?" + +"Murder!" answered the detective. "That's one charge, anyhow--for one of +'em, at any rate. There's others." + +"Murder's enough," responded the skipper. "Well, of course, nobody can +tell a man to be a murderer by merely looking at his mug. Not at +all!--nobody! However, this here is how it is. Last night it +were--evening, to be c'rect--dark. I was on the edge o' the fleet, out +there off the Dogger. A yacht comes up--smart 'un--very fast sailer--and +hails me. Was I going into Norcaster or anywheres about? Being a +Northborough tug, this, I wasn't. Would I go for a consideration--then +and there? Whereupon I asked what consideration? Then we bargains. +Eventual, we struck it at thirty pounds--cash down, which was paid, +prompt. I was to take two men straight and slick into Norcaster, to this +here very slip, Scarvell's Cut, to wait while they put a bit of a cargo +on board, and then to run 'em back to the same spot where I took 'em up. +Done! they come aboard--the yacht goes off east--I come careenin' west. +That's all! That part of it anyway." + +"And the men?" suggested the detective. "What sort were they, and where +are they?" + +"The men, now!" said the skipper. "Ah! Two on 'em--both done up in what +you might call deep-sea-style. But hadn't never done no deep-sea nor yet +any other sort o' sea work in their mortial days--hands as white and soft +as a lady's. One, an old chap with a dial like a full moon on him--sly +old chap, him! T'other a younger man, looked as if he'd something about +him--dangerous chap to cross. Where are they? Darned if I know. What I +knows, certain, is this--we gets in here about eight o'clock this +morning, and makes fast here, and ever since then them two's been as it +were on the fret and the fidge, allers lookin' out, so to speak, for +summun as ain't come yet. The old chap, he went across into that there +sail-maker's loft an hour ago, and t'other, he followed of him, recent. I +ain't seen 'em since. Try there. And I say?" + +"Well?" asked the detective. + +"Shall I be wanted?" asked the skipper. "'Cause if not, I'm off and away +as soon as the tide serves. Ain't no good me waitin' here for them chaps +if you're goin' to take and hang 'em!" + +"Got to catch 'em first," said the detective, with a glance at his two +professional companions. "And while we're not doubting your word at all, +we'll just take a look round your vessel--they might have slipped on +board again, you see, while your back was turned." + +But there was no sign of Peter Chatfield, nor of his daughter, nor of the +captain of the _Pike_ on that tug, nor anywhere in the sailmaker's loft +and its purlieus. And presently the detectives looked at one another and +their leader turned to Sir Cresswell. + +"If these people--as seems certain--have escaped into this quarter of the +town," he said, "there'll have to be a regular hunt for them! I've known +a man who was badly wanted stow himself away here for weeks. If Chatfield +has accomplices down here in the Warren, he can hide himself and +whoever's with him for a long time--successfully. We'll have to get a lot +of men to work." + +"But I say!" exclaimed Gilling. "You don't mean to tell me that three +people--one a woman--could get away through these courts and alleys, +packed as they are, without being seen? Come now!" + +The detectives smiled indulgently. + +"You don't know these folks," said one of them, inclining his head +towards a squalid street at the end of which they had all gathered. "But +they know _us_. It's a point of honour with them never to tell the truth +to a policeman or a detective. If they saw those three, they'd never +admit it to us--until it's made worth their while." + +"Get it made worth their while, then!" exclaimed Gilling, impatiently. + +"All in due course, sir," said the official voice. "Leave it to us." + +The amateur searchers after the iniquitous recognized the futility of +their own endeavours in that moment, and went away to discuss matters +amongst themselves, while the detectives proceeded leisurely, after their +fashion, into the Warren as if they were out for a quiet constitutional +in its salubrious byways. And Sir Cresswell Oliver remarked on the +difficulty of knowing exactly what to do once you had red-tape on one +side and unusual craftiness on the other. + +"You think there's no doubt that gold was removed this morning by +Chatfield's daughter?" he said to Copplestone as they went back to the +centre of the town together, Gilling and Vickers having turned aside +elsewhere and Spurge gone to the hospital to ask for news of his cousin. +"You think she was the woman whose footprints you saw up there at the +Beaver's Glen?" + +"Seeing that she's here in Norcaster and in touch with those two, what +else can I think?" replied Copplestone. "It seems to me that they got in +touch with her by wireless and that she removed the gold in readiness for +her father and Andrius coming in here by that North Sea tug. If we could +only find out where she's put those boxes, or where she got the car from +in which she brought it down from the tower--" + +"Vickers has already started some inquiries about cars," said Sir +Cresswell. "She must have hired a car somewhere in the town. Certainly, +if we could hear of that gold we should be in the way of getting on +their track." + +But they heard nothing of gold or of fugitives or of what the police and +detectives were doing until the middle of the afternoon. And then Mr. +Elkin, the manager of the bank from which Chatfield had withdrawn the +estate and the private balance, came hurrying to the "Angel" and to Mrs. +Greyle, his usually rubicund face pale with emotion, his hand waving a +scrap of crumpled paper. Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were at that moment in +consultation with Sir Cresswell Oliver and Copplestone--the bank manager +burst in on them without ceremony. + +"I say, I say!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Will you believe it!--the +gold's come back! It's all safe--every penny. Bless me!--I scarcely know +whether I'm dreaming or not. But--we've got it!" + +"What's all this?" demanded Sir Cresswell. "You've got--that gold?" + +"Less than an hour ago," replied the bank manager, dropping into a chair +and slapping his hand on his knees in his excitement, "a man who turned +out to be a greengrocer came with his cart to the bank and said he'd been +sent with nine boxes for delivery to us. Asked who had sent him he +replied that early this morning a lady whom he didn't know had asked him +to put the boxes in his shed until she called for them--she brought them +in a motor-car. This afternoon she called again at two o'clock, paid him +for the storage and for what he was to do, and instructed him to put the +boxes on his cart and bring them to us. Which," continued Mr. Elkin, +gleefully rubbing his hands together, "he did! With--this! And that, my +dear ladies and good gentlemen, is the most extraordinary document which, +in all my forty years' experience of banking matters, I have ever seen!" + +He laid a dirty, crumpled half-sheet of cheap note-paper on the table at +which they were all sitting, and Copplestone, bending over it, read aloud +what was there written. + +"MR. ELKIN--Please place the contents of the nine cases sent herewith to +the credit of the Greyle Estate. + +"PETER CHATFIELD, Agent." + +Amidst a chorus of exclamations Sir Cresswell asked a sharp question. + +"Is that really Chatfield's signature?" + +"Oh, undoubtedly!" replied Mr. Elkin. "Not a doubt of it. Of course, as +soon as I saw it, I closely questioned the greengrocer. But he knew +nothing. He said the lady was what he called wrapped up about her +face--veiled, of course--on both her visits, and that as soon as she'd +seen him set off with his load of boxes she disappeared. He lives, this +greengrocer, on the edge of the town--I've got his address. But I'm sure +he knows no more." + +"And the cases have been examined?" asked Copplestone. + +"Every one, my dear sir," answered the bank manager with a satisfied +smirk. "Every penny is there! Glorious!" + +"This is most extraordinary!" said Sir Cresswell. "What on earth does it +all mean? If we could only trace that woman from the greengrocer's +place--" + +But nothing came of an attempt to carry out this proposal, and no news +arrived from the police, and the evening had grown far advanced, and Mrs. +Greyle and Audrey, with Sir Cresswell, Mr. Petherton and Vickers, +Copplestone, and Gilling, were all in a private parlour together at a +late hour, when the door suddenly opened and a woman entered, who threw +back a heavy veil and revealed herself as Addie Chatfield. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + +If Copplestone had never seen Addie Chatfield before, if he had not known +that she was an actress of some acknowledged ability, her entrance into +that suddenly silent room would have convinced him that here was a woman +whom nature had undoubtedly gifted with the dramatic instinct. Addie's +presentation of herself to the small and select audience was eminently +dramatic, without being theatrical. She filled the stage. It was as if +the lights had suddenly gone down in the auditorium and up in the +proscenium, as if a hush fell, as if every ear opened wide to catch a +first accent. And Addie's first accents were soft and liquid--and +accompanied by a smile which was calculated to soften the seven hearts +which had begun to beat a little quicker at her coming. With the smile +and the soft accent came a highly successful attempt at a shy and modest +blush which mounted to her cheek as she moved towards the centre table +and bowed to the startled and inquisitive eyes. + +"I have come to ask--mercy!" + +There was a faint sigh of surprise from somebody. Sir Cresswell Oliver, +only realizing that a pretty woman, had entered the room, made haste to +place a chair for her. But before Addie could respond to his +old-fashioned bow, Mr. Petherton was on his legs. + +"Er!--I take it that this is the young wom--the Miss Chatfield of whom +we have had occasion to speak a good deal today," he said very stiffly. +"I think, Sir Cresswell--eh?" + +"Yes," said Sir Cresswell, glancing from the visitor to the old lawyer. +"You think, Petherton--yes?" + +"The situation is decidedly unpleasant," said Mr. Petherton, more icily +than ever. "Mr. Vickers will agree with me that it is most +unpleasant--and very unusual. The fact is--the police are now searching +for this--er, young lady." + +"But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraid +of the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask you +all to be merciful." + +"To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton. + +"Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with another +softening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so down +on an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There are +two of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old men +to be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?" + +Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked round +again, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a little +sheepishly at Mr. Petherton. + +"It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what Miss +Chatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own free +will--something. I should like to know what that something is. I think +Mrs. Greyle would like to know, too." + +"Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure +with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss +Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father." + +Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbed +by these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor. + +"Where is your father?" he demanded. + +"Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye that +lit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of +'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll do +no good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd come +to ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up. +The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tell +you all about it and then we can be friends?" + +Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were some +extraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, waved +them at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort. + +"I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what you +like--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!" + +Vickers gave Addie a sly look. + +"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no need +for you to tell anything against yourself, you know." + +"Me!" exclaimed Addie. "Why, I've been playing good angel all day +long--me incriminate myself, indeed! If Miss Greyle there only knew what +I'd done for her!--look here," she continued, suddenly turning to Sir +Cresswell. "I've come to tell all about it. And first of all--every penny +of that money that my father drew from the bank has been restored this +afternoon." + +"We know that," said Sir Cresswell. + +"Well, that was me!--I engineered that," continued Addie. "And +second--the _Pike_ will be back at Scarhaven during the night, to unload +everything that was being carried away. My doing, again! Because, I'm no +fool, and I know when a game's up." + +"So--there was a game?" suggested Vickers. + +Addie leaned forward from the chair which Sir Cresswell had given her at +the end of the table and planting her elbows on the table edge began to +check off her points on the tips of her slender fingers. She was well +aware that she had the stage to herself by that time and she showed her +consciousness of it. + +"You have it," she answered. "There was a game--and perhaps I know more +of it than anybody. I'll tell now. It began at Bristol. I was playing +there. One morning my father fetched me out from rehearsal to tell me +that he'd been down to Falmouth to meet the new Squire of Scarhaven, +Marston Greyle, and that he found him so ill that they'd had to go to a +doctor, who forbade Greyle to travel far at a time. They'd got to +Bristol--there, Greyle was so much worse that my father didn't know what +to do with him. He knew that I was in the town, so he came to me. I got +Greyle a quiet room at my lodgings. A doctor saw him--he said he was very +bad, but he didn't say that he was in immediate danger. However, he died +that very night." + +Addie paused for a moment, and Copplestone and Gilling exchanged glances. +So far, this was all known to them--but what was coming? + +"Now, I was alone with Greyle for awhile that evening," continued Addie. +"It was while my father was getting some food downstairs. Greyle said to +me that he knew he was dying, and he gave me a pocket-book in which he +said all his papers were: he said I could give it to my father. I believe +he became unconscious soon after that; anyway, he never mentioned that +pocket-book to my father. Neither did I. But after Greyle was dead I +examined its contents carefully. And when I was in London at the end of +the week, I showed them to--my husband." + +Addie again paused, and at least two of the men glanced at each other +with a look of surmise. Her--husband! "Who the--" + +"The fact is," she went on suddenly, "Captain Andrius is my husband. But +nobody knew that--not even my own father. We've been married three +years--I met him when I was crossing over to America once. We got +married--we kept the marriage secret for reasons of our own. Well, he met +me in London the Sunday after Greyle's death, and I showed him the +papers which were in Greyle's pocket-book. And--now this, of course, was +where it was very wicked in me--and him--though we've tried to make up +for it today, anyhow--we fixed up what I suppose you two gentlemen would +call a conspiracy. My husband had a brother, an actor--not up to much, +nor of much experience--who had been brought up in the States and who was +then in town, doing nothing. We took him into confidence, coached him up +in everything, furnished him with all the papers in the pocket-book, and +resolved to pass him off as the real Marston Greyle." + +Mr. Petherton stirred angrily in his chair and turned a protesting face +on Sir Cresswell. + +"Apart from being irregular," he exclaimed, "this is altogether +outrageous! This woman is openly boasting of conspiracy and--" + +"You're wrong!" said Addie. "I'm not boasting--I'm explaining. You ought +to be obliged to me. And--" + +"If Mrs. Andrius--to give the lady her real name--cares to unburden her +secrets to us, I really don't see why we shouldn't listen to them, Mr. +Petherton," observed Vickers. "It simplifies matters greatly." + +"That's what I say," agreed Addie. "I'm done with all this and I want to +clear things up, whatever comes of it. Well--I say we fixed that up with +my brother-in-law." + +"His name--his real name, if you please," inquired Vickers. + +"Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another name +for the stage," replied Addie. "We gave him the papers and arranged for +him to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all, +right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was an +imposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't know +for a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after the +real Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, he +produced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'd +buried. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be a +secretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had left +him in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to pass +himself off as the real man until he could get something substantial out +of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted +that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the +estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his +stewardship quick." + +"Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details +about which I am anxious to hear." + +"Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that. +Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth +certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody +accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till +that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And +now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about +your brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows it +better than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speak +privately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keep +during the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking many +minutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, which +one of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. And +we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met +Martin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knew +that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--we +both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave +each other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliver +went on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret tower +and went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there's +an end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak or +think, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round the +inside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!" + +Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes and +she kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readily +enough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almost +in her ear. + +"Is that the truth--the real truth?" + +"It's the absolute truth!" she answered, regarding him steadily. "I'm +not altogether a good sort, nor a very bad sort, but I'm telling you the +real truth in that. It was a sheer accident--he stepped off the parapet +and fell. Martin went into the base of the tower and came back saying he +was dead. We were both dazed--we separated. He went off to the house--I +went to my father by a roundabout way. We decided to let things take +their course. You all know a great deal of what happened. But--later--my +husband and Martin began to take certain things into their own hands. +They put me on one side. To this minute, I don't quite know how much my +father got into their secrets or how little, but I do know that they +determined to make what you might call a purse for themselves out of +Scarhaven. Martin left certain powers in his brother's hands and went +off to London. He was there, hidden, until Andrius got all ready for a +flight on the _Pike_. Then he set off to Scarhaven, to join her. But he +didn't join her, and none of us knew what had become of him until today, +when we heard of what had been found at Scarhaven. That explained it--he +had taken that short cut from the Northborough road through the woods +behind the Keep, and fallen over the cliff at the Hermit's steps. But +that very night, you, Mr. Vickers, and Mr. Copplestone and Miss Greyle, +nearly stopped everything, and if Andrius and Chatfield hadn't carried +you off, the scheme would have come to nothing. Well--you know what +happened after that--" + +"But," interjected Vickers, quickly, "not your share in the last +development." + +"My share's been to see that the thing was up, and that if I wanted to +save them all, I'd best put a stop to it," rejoined Addie, with a grim +smile. "I tell you, I didn't know what they'd been up to until today. I +was in England--never mind where--wondering what was going on. Yesterday +I got a code message from my husband. When he fetched my father away from +you, he forced him to tell where that gold was--then he wired to me--by +wireless--full instructions to recover it during last night. I did--never +you mind the exact means I took nor who it was that I got to help--I got +it--and I took good care to put it where I knew it would be safe. Then +this morning I went to meet the two of them at Scarvell's Cut. And I took +the upper hand then! I got them away from that sail-loft--safely. I made +my husband give me a code message for the man in charge of the _Pike_, +telling him to return at once to Scarhaven; I made my father write a note +to Elkin at the bank, telling him to place the gold which I sent with it +to the credit of the Greyle Estate. And when all that was done--I got +them away--they're gone!" + +Vickers, who had never taken his eyes off Addie during her lengthy +explanation, gave her a whimsical smile. + +"Safely?" he asked. + +"I'll defy the police to find 'em, anyway," replied Addie with a quick +response of lip and eye. "I don't do things by halves. I say--they're +gone! But--I'm here. Come, now--I've made a clean breast of it all. The +thing's over and done with. There's nothing to prevent Miss Greyle there +coming into her rights--I can prove 'em--my father can prove them. So--is +it any use doing what that old gentleman's just worrying to do? You can +all see what he wants--he's dying to hand me over to the police." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver rose, glanced at Audrey and her mother, received +some telepathic communication from them, and assumed his old +quarter-deck manner. + +"Not tonight, I think, Petherton," he said authoritatively. +"No--certainly not tonight!" + + * * * * * + +Some months later, when Audrey Greyle had come into possession of +Scarhaven, and had married Copplestone in the little church behind her +mother's cottage, she and her husband, to satisfy a mutual and +long-cherished desire, visited a certain romantic and retired part of the +country. And in the course of their wanderings they came across a very +pretty village, and in it a charmingly situated retreat, which looked so +attractive from the road along which they were walking that they halted +and peered at it through its trimly-kept boundary hedge. And there, +seated in the easiest of chairs on the smoothest of lawns, roses about +him, a cigar in his mouth, the newspaper in his hand, a glass at his +elbow, they saw Peter Chatfield. They looked at him for a long moment; +then they looked at each other and smiled delightedly, as children might +smile at a pleasure-giving picture, and they passed on in silence. But +when that village lay behind them, Copplestone gave his wife a sly +glance, and permitted himself to make an epigram. + +"Chatfield!" he said musingly. "Chatfield! sublimely ungrateful that he +isn't in Dartmoor." + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarhaven Keep, by J. S. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Scarhaven Keep + +Author: J. S. Fletcher + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9807] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 19, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARHAVEN KEEP *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + SCARHAVEN KEEP + + BY J.S. FLETCHER + + 1922 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + + I WANTED AT REHEARSAL + II GREY ROOK AND GREY SEA + III THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + IV THE ESTATE AGENT + V THE GREYLE HISTORY + VI THE LEADING LADY + VII LEFT ON GUARD + VIII RIGHT OF WAY + IX HOBKIN'S HOLE + X THE INVALID CURATE + XI BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + XII GOOD MEN AND TRUE + XIII MR. DENNIE + XIV BY PRIVATE TREATY + XV THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + XVI IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + XVII THE OLD PLAYBILL + XVIII THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + XIX THE STEAM YACHT + XX THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + XXI MAROONED + XXII THE OLD HAND + XXIII THE YACHT COMES BACK + XXIV THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + XXV THE SQUIRE + XXVI THE REAVER'S GLEN + XXVII THE PEEL TOWER +XXVIII THE FOOTPRINTS + XXIX SCARVELL'S CUT + XXX THE GREENGROCER'S CART + XXXI AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WANTED AT REHEARSAL + + +Jerramy, thirty years' stage-door keeper at the Theatre Royal, Norcaster, +had come to regard each successive Monday morning as a time for the +renewal of old acquaintance. For at any rate forty-six weeks of the +fifty-two, theatrical companies came and went at Norcaster with unfailing +regularity. The company which presented itself for patronage in the first +week of April in one year was almost certain to present itself again in +the corresponding week of the next year. Sometimes new faces came with +it, but as a rule the same old favourites showed themselves for a good +many years in succession. And every actor and actress who came to +Norcaster knew Jerramy. He was the first official person encountered on +entering upon the business of the week. He it was who handed out the +little bundles of letters and papers, who exchanged the first greetings, +of whom one could make useful inquiries, who always knew exactly what +advice to give about lodgings and landladies. From noon onwards of +Mondays, when the newcomers began to arrive at the theatre for the +customary one o'clock call for rehearsal, Jerramy was invariably employed +in hearing that he didn't look a day older, and was as blooming as ever, +and sure to last another thirty years, and his reception always +culminated in a hearty handshake and genial greeting from the great man +of the company, who, of course, after the fashion of magnates, always +turned up at the end of the irregular procession, and was not seldom late +for the fixture which he himself had made. + +At a quarter past one of a certain Monday afternoon in the course of a +sunny October, Jerramy leaned over the half-door of his sanctum in +conversation with an anxious-eyed man who for the past ten minutes had +hung about in the restless fashion peculiar to those who are waiting for +somebody. He had looked up the street and down the street a dozen times; +he had pulled out his watch and compared it with the clock of a +neighbouring church almost as often; he had several times gone up the +dark passage which led to the dressing-rooms, and had come back again +looking more perplexed than ever. The fact was that he was the business +manager of the great Mr. Bassett Oliver, who was opening for the week at +Norcaster in his latest success, and who, not quite satisfied with the +way in which a particular bit of it was being played called a special +rehearsal for a quarter to one. Everything and everybody was ready for +that rehearsal, but the great man himself had not arrived. Now Mr. +Bassett Oliver, as every man well knew who ever had dealings with him, +was not one of the irregular and unpunctual order; on the contrary, he +was a very martinet as regarded rule, precision and system; moreover, he +always did what he expected each member of his company to do. Therefore +his non-arrival, his half hour of irregularity, seemed all the more +extraordinary. + +"Never knew him to be late before--never!" exclaimed the business +manager, impatiently pulling out his watch for the twentieth time. "Not +in all my ten years' experience of him--not once." + +"I suppose you've seen him this morning, Mr. Stafford?" inquired Jerramy. +"He's in the town, of course?" + +"I suppose he's in the town," answered Mr. Stafford. "I suppose he's at +his old quarters--the 'Angel.' But I haven't seen him; neither had +Rothwell--we've both been too busy to call there. I expect he came on to +the 'Angel' from Northborough yesterday." + +Jerramy opened the half-door, and going out to the end of the passage, +looked up and down the street. + +"There's a taxi-cab coming round the corner now," he announced presently. +"Coming quick, too--I should think he's in it." + +The business manager bustled out to the pavement as the cab came to a +halt. But instead of the fine face and distinguished presence of Mr. +Bassett Oliver, he found himself confronting a young man who looked like +a well-set-up subaltern, or a cricket-and-football loving undergraduate; +a somewhat shy, rather nervous young man, scrupulously groomed, and +neatly attired in tweeds, who, at sight of the two men on the pavement, +immediately produced a card-case. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver?" he said inquiringly. "Is he here? I--I've got an +appointment with him for one o'clock, and I'm sorry I'm late--my train--" + +"Mr. Oliver is not here yet," broke in Stafford. "He's late, +too--unaccountably late, for him. An appointment, you say?" + +He was looking the stranger over as he spoke, taking him for some +stage-struck youth who had probably persuaded the good-natured actor to +give him an interview. His expression changed, however; as he glanced at +the card which the young man handed over, and he started a little and +held out his hand with a smile. + +"Oh!--Mr. Copplestone?" he exclaimed. "How do you do? My name's +Stafford--I'm Mr. Oliver's business manager. So he made an +appointment with you, did he--here, today? Wants to see you about +your play, of course." + +Again he looked at the newcomer with a smiling interest, thinking +secretly that he was a very youthful and ingenuous being to have written +a play which Bassett Oliver, a shrewd critic, and by no means easy to +please, had been eager to accept, and was about to produce. Mr. Richard +Copplestone, seen in the flesh, looked very young indeed, and very +unlike anything in the shape of a professional author. In fact he very +much reminded Stafford of the fine and healthy young man whom one sees +on the playing fields, and certainly does not associate with pen and +ink. That he was not much used to the world on whose edge he just then +stood Stafford gathered from a boyish trick of blushing through the tan +of his cheeks. + +"I got a wire from Mr. Oliver yesterday--Sunday," replied Mr. +Copplestone. "I ought to have had it in the morning, I suppose, but I'd +gone out for the day, you know--gone out early. So I didn't find it until +I got back to my rooms late at night. I got the next train I could from +King's Cross, and it was late getting in here." + +"Then you've practically been travelling all night?" remarked Stafford. +"Well, Mr. Oliver hasn't turned up--most unusual for him. I don't know +where--" Just then another man came hurrying down the passage from the +dressing-rooms, calling the business manager by name. + +"I say, Stafford!" he exclaimed, as he emerged on the street. "This is a +queer thing!--I'm sure there's something wrong. I've just rung up the +'Angel' hotel. Oliver hasn't turned up there! His rooms were all ready +for him as usual yesterday, but he never came. They've neither seen nor +heard of him. Did you see him yesterday?" + +"No!" replied Stafford. "I didn't. Never seen him since last thing +Saturday night at Northborough. He ordered this rehearsal for one--no, a +quarter to one, here, today. But somebody must have seen him yesterday. +Where's his dresser--where's Hackett?" + +"Hackett's inside," said the other man. "He hasn't seen him either, since +Saturday night. Hackett has friends living in these parts--he went off to +see them early yesterday morning, from Northborough, and he's only just +come. So he hasn't seen Oliver, and doesn't know anything about him; he +expected, of course, to find him here." + +Stafford turned with a wave of the hand towards Copplestone. + +"So did this gentleman," he said. "Mr. Copplestone, this is our +stage-manager, Mr. Rothwell. Rothwell, this is Mr. Richard Copplestone, +author of the new play that Mr. Oliver's going to produce next month. Mr. +Copplestone got a wire from him yesterday, asking him to come here today +at one o'clock, He's travelled all night to get here." + +"Where was the wire sent from?" asked Rothwell, a sharp-eyed, +keen-looking man, who, like Stafford, was obviously interested in the new +author's boyish appearance. "And when?" + +Copplestone drew some letters and papers from his pocket and selected +one. "That's it," he said. "There you are--sent off from Northborough at +nine-thirty, yesterday morning--Sunday." + +"Well, then he was at Northborough at that time," remarked Rothwell. +"Look here, Stafford, we'd better telephone to Northborough, to his +hotel. The 'Golden Apple,' wasn't it?" + +"No good," replied Stafford, shaking his head. "The 'Golden Apple' isn't +on the 'phone--old-fashioned place. We'd better wire." + +"Too slow," said Rothwell. "We'll telephone to the theatre there, and ask +them to step across and make inquiries. Come on!--let's do it at once." + +He hurried inside again, and Stafford turned to Copplestone. + +"Better send your cab away and come inside until we get some news," he +said. "Let Jerramy take your things into his sanctum--he'll keep an eye +on them till you want them--I suppose you'll stop at the 'Angel' with +Oliver. Look here!" he went on, turning to the cab driver, "just you wait +a bit--I might want you; wait ten minutes, anyway. Come in, Mr. +Copplestone." + +Copplestone followed the business manager up the passage to a +dressing-room, in which a little elderly man was engaged in unpacking +trunks and dress-baskets. He looked up expectantly at the sound of +footsteps; then looked down again at the work in hand and went silently +on with it. + +"This is Hackett, Mr. Oliver's dresser," said Stafford. "Been with +him--how long, Hackett?" + +"Twenty years next January, Mr. Stafford," answered the dresser quietly. + +"Ever known Mr. Oliver late like this?" inquired Stafford. + +"Never, sir! There's something wrong," replied Hackett. "I'm sure of it. +I feel it! You ought to go and look for him, some of you gentlemen." + +"Where?" asked Stafford. "We don't know anything about him. He's not come +to the 'Angel,' as he ought to have done, yesterday. I believe you're the +last person who saw him, Hackett. Aren't you, now?" + +"I saw him at the 'Golden Apple' at Northborough at twelve o'clock +Saturday night, sir," answered Hackett. "I took a bag of his to his rooms +there. He was all right then. He knew I was going off first thing next +morning to see an uncle of mine who's a farmer on the coast between here +and Northborough, and he told me he shouldn't want me until one o'clock +today. So of course, I came straight here to the theatre--I didn't call +in at the 'Angel' at all this morning." + +"Did he say anything about his own movements yesterday?" asked Stafford. +"Did he tell you that he was going anywhere?" + +"Not a word, Mr. Stafford," replied Hackett. "But you know his habits as +well as I do." + +"Just so," agreed Stafford. "Mr. Oliver," he continued, turning to +Copplestone, "is a great lover of outdoor life. On Sundays, when we're +travelling from one town to another, he likes to do the journey by +motor--alone. In a case like this, where the two towns are not very far +apart, it's his practice to find out if there's any particular beauty +spot or place of interest between them, and to spend his Sunday there. I +daresay that's what he did yesterday. You see, all last week we were at +Northborough. That, like Norcaster, is a coast town--there's fifty miles +between them. If he followed out his usual plan he'd probably hire a +motor-car and follow the coast-road, and if he came to any place that was +of special interest, he'd stop there. But--in the usual way of +things--he'd have turned up at his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel here last +night. He didn't--and he hasn't turned up here, either. So where is he?" + +"Have you made inquiries of the company, Mr. Stafford?" asked Hackett. +"Most of 'em wander about a bit of a Sunday--they might have seen him." + +"Good idea!" agreed Stafford. He beckoned Copplestone to follow him on +to the stage, where the members of the company sat or stood about in +groups, each conscious that something unusual had occurred. "It's really +a queer, and perhaps a serious thing," he whispered as he steered his +companion through a maze of scenery. "And if Oliver doesn't turn up, we +shall be in a fine mess. Of course, there's an understudy for his part, +but--I say!" he went on, as they stepped upon the stage, "Have any of you +seen Mr. Oliver, anywhere, since Saturday night? Can anybody tell +anything about him--anything at all? Because--it's useless to deny the +fact--he's not come here, and he's not come to town at all, so far as we +know. So--" + +Rothwell came hurrying on to the stage from the opposite wings. He +hastened across to Stafford and drew him and Copplestone a little aside. + +"I've heard from Northborough," he Said. "I 'phoned Waters, the manager +there, to run across to the 'Golden Apple' and make inquiries. The +'Golden Apple' people say that Oliver left there at eleven o'clock +yesterday morning. He was alone. He simply walked out of the hotel. And +they know nothing more." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GREY ROCK AND GREY SEA + + +The three men stood for a while silently looking at each other. +Copplestone, as a stranger, secretly wondered why the two managers seemed +so concerned; to him a delay of half an hour in keeping an appointment +did not appear to be quite as serious as they evidently considered it. +But he had never met Bassett Oliver, and knew nothing of his ways; he +only began to comprehend matters when Rothwell turned to Stafford with an +air of decision. + +"Look here!" he said. "You'd better go and make inquiry at Northborough. +See if you can track him. Something must be wrong--perhaps seriously +wrong. You don't quite understand, do you, Mr. Copplestone?" he went on, +giving the younger man a sharp glance. "You see, we know Mr. Oliver so +well--we've both been with him a good many years. He's a model of system, +regularity, punctuality, and all the rest of it. In the ordinary course +of events, wherever he spent yesterday, he'd have been sure to turn up at +his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel last night, and he'd have walked in here +this morning at half-past twelve. As he hasn't done either, why, then, +something unusual has happened. Stafford, you'd better get a move on." + +"Wait a minute," said Stafford. He turned again to the groups behind him, +repeating his question. + +"Has anybody anything to tell?" he asked anxiously. "We've just heard +that Mr. Oliver left his hotel at Northborough yesterday morning at +eleven o'clock, alone, walking. Has anybody any idea of any project, any +excursion, that he had in mind?" + +An elderly man who had been in conversation with the leading lady +stepped forward. + +"I was talking to Oliver about the coast scenery between here and +Northborough the other day--Friday," he remarked. "He'd never seen it--I +told him I used to know it pretty well once. He said he'd try and see +something of it on Sunday--yesterday, you know. And, I say--" here he +came closer to the two managers and lowered his voice--"that coast is +very wild, lonely, and a good bit dangerous--sharp and precipitous +cliffs. Eh?" + +Rothwell clapped a hand on Stafford's arm. + +"You'd really better be off to Northborough," he said with decision. +"You're sure to come across traces of him. Go to the 'Golden +Apple'--then the station. Wire or telephone me--here. Of course, this +rehearsal's off. About this evening--oh, well, a lot may happen before +then. But go at once--I believe you can get expresses from here to +North-borough pretty often." + +"I'll go with you--if I may," said Copplestone suddenly. "I might be of +use. There's that cab still at the door, you know--shall we run up to +the station?" + +"Good!" assented Stafford. "Yes, come by all means." He turned to +Rothwell for a moment. "If he should turn up here, 'phone to Waters at +the Northborough theatre, won't you?" he said. "We'll look in there as +soon as we arrive." + +He hurried out with Copplestone and together they drove up to the +station, where an express was just leaving for the south. Once on their +way to Northborough, Stafford turned to his companion with a grave shake +of the head. + +"I daresay you don't quite see the reason of our anxiety," he observed. +"You see, we know Oliver. He's a trick of wandering about by himself on +Sundays--when he gets the chance. Of course when there's a long journey +between two towns, he doesn't get the chance, and then he's all right. +But when, as in this case, the town of one week is fairly close to the +town of the next, he invariably spots some place of interest, an old +castle, or a ruined abbey, or some famous house, and goes looking round +it. And if he's been exploring some spot on this coast yesterday, and +it's as that chap Rutherford said, wild and dangerous, why, then--" + +"You think he may have had an accident--fallen over the cliffs or +something?" suggested Copplestone. + +"I don't like to think anything," replied Stafford. "But I shall be a +good deal relieved if we can get some definite news about him." + +The first half-hour at Northborough yielded nothing definite. A telephone +message from Rothwell had just come to the theatre when they drove up to +it--nothing had so far been heard of the missing man at Norcaster--either +at theatre or hotel. Stafford and Copplestone hurried across to the +"Golden Apple" and interviewed its proprietor; he, keenly interested in +the affair, could tell no more than that Mr. Bassett Oliver, having sent +his luggage forward to Norcaster, had left the house on foot at eleven +o'clock the previous morning, and had been seen to walk across the +market-place in the direction of the railway station. But an old +head-waiter, who had served the famous actor's breakfast, was able to +give some information; Mr. Oliver, he said, had talked a little to him +about the coast scenery between Northborough and Norcaster, and had asked +him which stretch of it was worth seeing. It was his impression that Mr. +Oliver meant to break his journey somewhere along the coast. + +"Of course, that's it," said Stafford, as he and Copplestone drove off +again. "He's gone to some place between the two towns. But where? Anyhow, +nobody's likely to forget Oliver if they've once seen him, and wherever +he went, he'd have to take a ticket. Therefore--the booking-office." + +Here at last, was light. One of the clerks in the booking-office came +forward at once with news. Mr. Bassett Oliver, whom he knew well enough, +having seen him on and off the stage regularly for the past five years, +had come there the previous morning, and had taken a first-class single +ticket for Scarhaven. He would travel to Scarhaven by the 11.35 train, +which arrived at Scarhaven at 12.10. Where was Scarhaven? On the coast, +twenty miles off, on the way to Norcaster; you changed for it at Tilmouth +Junction. Was there a train leaving soon for Scarhaven? There was--in +five minutes. + +Stafford and Copplestone presently found themselves travelling back along +the main line. A run of twenty minutes brought them to the junction, +where, at an adjacent siding they found a sort of train in miniature +which ran over a narrow-gauge railway towards the sea. Its course lay +through a romantic valley hidden between high heather-clad moorland; they +saw nothing of their destination nor of the coast until, coming to a stop +in a little station perched high on the side of a hill they emerged to +see shore and sea lying far beneath them. With a mutual consent they +passed outside the grey walls of the station-yard to take a comprehensive +view of the scene. + +"Just the place to attract Oliver!" muttered Stafford, as he gazed around +him. "He'd revel in it--fairly revel!" + +Copplestone gazed at the scene in silence. That was the first time he had +ever seen the Northern coast, and the strange glamour and romance of this +stretch of it appealed strongly to his artistic senses. He found himself +standing high above the landward extremity of a narrow bay or creek, much +resembling a Norwegian fiord in its general outlines; it ran in from the +sea between high shelving cliffs, the slopes of which were thickly wooded +with the hardier varieties of tree and shrub, through which at intervals +great, gaunt masses of grey rock cropped out. On the edge of the water at +either side of the bay were lines of ancient houses and cottages of grey +walls and red roofs, built and grouped with the irregularity of +individual liking; on the north side rose the square tower and low nave +of a venerable church; amidst a mass of wood on the opposite side stood a +great Norman keep, half ruinous, which looked down on a picturesque house +at its foot. Quays, primitive and quaint, ran along between the old +cottages and the water's edge; in the bay itself or nestling against the +worn timbers of the quays, were small craft whose red sails hung idly +against their tall masts and spars. And at the end of the quays and the +wooded promontories which terminated the land view, lay the North Sea, +cold, grey, and mysterious in the waning October light, and out of its +bosom rose, close to the shore, great masses of high grey rocks, strong +and fantastic of shape, and further away, almost indistinct in the +distance, an island, on the highest point of which the ruins of some old +religious house were silhouetted against the horizon. + +"Just the place!" repeated Stafford. "He'd have cheerfully travelled a +thousand miles to see this. And now--we know he came here--what we next +want to know is, what he did when he got here?" + +Copplestone, who had been taking in every detail of the scene before him, +pointed to a house of many gables and queer chimneys which stood a little +way beneath them at the point where the waters of a narrow stream ran +into the bay. + +"That looks like an inn," he said. "I think I can make out a sign on the +gable-end. Let's go down there and inquire. He would get here just about +time for lunch, wouldn't he, and he'd probably turn in there. Also--they +may have a telephone there, and you can call up the theatre at Norcaster +and find out if anything's been heard yet." + +Stafford smiled approvingly and started out in the direction of the +buildings towards which Copplestone had pointed. + +"Excellent notion!" he said. "You're quite a business man--an unusual +thing in authors, isn't it? Come on, then--and that is an inn, too--I can +make out the sign now--The 'Admiral's Arms'--Mary Wooler. Let's hope Mary +Wooler, who's presumably the landlady, can give us some useful news!" + +The "Admiral's Arms" proved to be an old-fashioned, capacious hostelry, +eminently promising and comfortable in appearance, which stood on the +edge of a broad shelf of headland, and commanded a fine view of the +little village and the bay. Stafford and Copplestone, turning in at the +front door, found themselves in a deep, stone-paved hall, on one side of +which, behind a bar window, a pleasant-faced, buxom woman, silk-aproned +and smartly-capped, was busily engaged in adding up columns of figures in +a big account-book. At sight of strangers she threw open a door and +smilingly invited them to walk into a snugly furnished bar-parlour where +a bright fire burned in an open hearth. Stafford gave his companion a +look--this again was just the sort of old-world place which would appeal +to Basset Oliver, supposing he had come across it. + +"I wonder if you can give me some information?" he asked presently, when +the good-looking landlady had attended to their requests for refreshment. +"I suppose you are the landlady--Mrs. Wooler? Well, now, Mrs. Wooler, did +you have a tall, handsome, slightly grey-haired gentleman in here to +lunch yesterday--say about one o'clock?" + +The landlady turned on her questioner with an intelligent smile. + +"You mean Mr. Oliver, the actor?" she said. + +"Good!" exclaimed Stafford, with a hearty sigh of relief. "I do! You know +him, then?" + +"I've often seen him, both at Northborough and at Norcaster," replied +Mrs. Wooler. "But I never saw him here before yesterday. Oh, yes! of +course I knew him as soon as he walked in, and I had a bit of chat with +him before he went out, and he remarked that though he'd been coming into +these parts for some years, he'd never been to Scarhaven before--usually, +he said, he'd gone inland of a Sunday, amongst the hills. Oh, yes, he was +here--he had lunch here." + +"We're seeking him," said Stafford, going directly to the question. "He +ought to have turned up at the 'Angel Hotel' at Norcaster last night, +and at the theatre today at noon--he did neither. I'm his business +manager, Mrs. Wooler. Now can you tell us anything--more than you've +already told, I mean?" + +The landlady, whose face expressed more and more concern as Stafford +spoke, shook her head. + +"I can't!" she answered. "I don't know any more. He was here perhaps an +hour or so. Then he went away, saying he was going to have a look round +the place. I expected he'd come in again on his way to the station, but +he never did. Dear, dear! I hope nothing's happened to him--such a fine, +pleasant man. And--" + +"And--what?" asked Stafford. + +"These cliffs and rocks are so dangerous," murmured Mrs. Wooler. "I +often say that no stranger ought to go alone here. They aren't safe, +these cliffs." + +Stafford set down his glass and rose. + +"I think you've got a telephone in your hall," he said. "I'll just call +up Norcaster and find out if they've heard anything. If they haven't--" + +He shook his head and went out, and Copplestone glanced at the landlady. + +"You say the cliffs are dangerous," he said. "Are they particularly so?" + +"To people who don't know them, yes," she replied. "They ought to be +protected, but then, of course, we don't get many tourists here, and the +Scarhaven people know the danger spots well enough. Then again at the end +of the south promontory there, beyond the Keep--" + +"Is the Keep that high square tower amongst the woods?" asked +Copplestone. + +"That's it--it's all that's left of the old castle," answered Mrs. +Wooler. "Well, off the point beneath that, there's a group of +rocks--you'd perhaps noticed them as you came down from the station? +They've various names--there's the King, the Queen, the Sugar-Loaf, and +so on. At low tide you can walk across to them. And of course, some +people like to climb them. Now, they're particularly dangerous! On the +Queen rock there's a great hole called the Devil's Spout, up which the +sea rushes. Everybody wants to look over it, you know, and if a man was +there alone, and his foot slipped, and he fell, why--" + +Stafford came back, looking more cast down than ever. + +"They've heard nothing there," he announced. "Come on--we'll go down and +see if we can hear anything from any of the people. We'll call in and see +you later, Mrs. Wooler, and if you can make any inquiries in the +meantime, do. Look here," he went on, when he and Copplestone had got +outside, "you take this south side of the bay, and I'll take the north. +Ask anybody you see--any likely person--fishermen and so on. Then come +back here. And if we've heard nothing--" + +He shook his head significantly, as he turned away, and Copplestone, +taking the other direction, felt that the manager's despondency was +influencing himself. A sudden disappearance of this sort was surely not +to be explained easily--nothing but exceptional happenings could have +kept Bassett Oliver from the scene of his week's labours. There must have +been an accident--it needed little imagination to conjure up its easy +occurrence. A too careless step, a too near approach, a loose stone, a +sudden giving way of crumbling soil, the shifting of an already detached +rock--any of these things might happen, and then--but the thought of what +might follow cast a greyer tint over the already cold and grey sea. + +He went on amongst the old cottages and fishing huts which lay at the +foot of the wooded heights on the tops of whose pines and firs the gaunt +ruins of the old Keep seemed to stand sentinel. He made inquiry at open +doors and of little groups of men gathered on the quay and by the +drawn-up boats--nobody knew anything. According to what they told him, +most of these people had been out and about all the previous afternoon; +it had been a particularly fine day, that Sunday, and they had all been +out of doors, on the quay and the shore, in the sunshine. But nobody had +any recollection of the man described, and Copplestone came to the +conclusion that Oliver had not chosen that side of the bay. There was, +however, one objection to that theory--so far as he could judge, that +side was certainly the more attractive. And he himself went on to the end +of it--on until he had left quay and village far behind, and had come to +a spit of sand which ran out into the sea exactly opposite the group of +rocks of which Mrs. Wooler had spoken. There they lay, rising out of the +surf like great monsters, a half-mile from where he stood. The tide was +out at that time, and between him and them stretched a shining expanse of +glittering wet sand. And, coming straight towards him across it, +Copplestone saw the slim and graceful figure of a girl. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + + +It was not from any idle curiosity that Copplestone made up his mind to +await the girl's nearer approach. There was no other human being in view, +and he was anxious to get some information about the rocks whose grim +outlines were rapidly becoming faint and indistinct in the gathering +darkness. And so as the girl came towards him, picking her way across the +pools which lay amidst the brown ribs of sand, he went forward, throwing +away all formality and reserve in his eagerness. + +"Forgive me for speaking so unceremoniously," he said as they met. "I'm +looking for a friend who has disappeared--mysteriously. Can you tell me +if, any time yesterday, afternoon or evening, you saw anywhere about here +a tall, distinguished-looking man--the actor type. In fact, he is an +actor--perhaps you've heard of him? Mr. Bassett Oliver." + +He was looking narrowly at the girl as he spoke, and she, too, looked +narrowly at him out of a pair of grey eyes of more than ordinary +intelligence and perception. And at the famous actor's name she started a +little and a faint colour stole over her cheeks. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver!" she exclaimed in a clear, cultured voice. "My +mother and I saw Mr. Oliver at the Northborough Theatre on Friday +evening. Do you mean that he--" + +"I mean--to put it bluntly--that Bassett Oliver is lost," answered +Copplestone. "He came to this place yesterday, Sunday, morning, to look +round; he lunched at the 'Admiral's Arms,' he went out, after a chat with +the landlady, and he's never been seen since. He should have turned up at +the 'Angel' at Norcaster last night, and at a rehearsal at the Theatre +Royal there today at noon--but he didn't. His manager and I have tracked +him here--and so far I can't hear of him. I've asked people all through +the village--this side, anyway--nobody knows anything." + +He and the girl still looked attentively at each other; Copplestone, +indeed, was quietly inspecting her while he talked. He judged her to be +twenty-one or two; she was a little above medium height, slim, graceful, +pretty, and he was quick to notice that her entire air and appearance +suggested their present surroundings. Her fair hair escaped from a +knitted cap such as fisher-folk wear; her slender figure was shown to +advantage by a rough blue jersey; her skirt of blue serge was short and +practical; she was shod in brogues which showed more acquaintance with +sand and salt water than with polish. And her face was tanned with the +strong northern winds, and the ungloved hands, small and shapely as they +were, were brown as the beach across which she had come. + +"I have not seen--nor heard--of Mr. Bassett Oliver--here," she answered. +"I was out and about all yesterday afternoon and evening, too--not on +this side of the bay, though. Have you been to the police-station?" + +"The manager may have been there," replied Copplestone. "He's gone along +the other shore. But--I don't think he'll get any help there. I'm afraid +Mr. Oliver must have met with an accident. I wanted to ask you a +question--I saw you coming from the direction of those rocks just now. +Could he have got out there across those sands, yesterday afternoon?" + +"Between three o'clock and evening--yes," said the girl. + +"And--is it dangerous out there?" + +"Very dangerous indeed--to any one who doesn't know them." + +"There's something there called the Devil's Spout?" + +"Yes--a deep fissure up which the sea boils. Oh! it seems dreadful to +think of--I hope he didn't fall in there. If he did--" + +"Well?" asked Copplestone bluntly, "what if he did?" + +"Nothing ever came out that once went in," she answered. "It's a sort of +whirlpool that's sucked right away into the sea. The people hereabouts +say it's bottomless." + +Copplestone turned his face towards the village. + +"Oh, well," he said, with an accent of hopelessness. "I can't do any more +down here, it's growing dusk. I must go back and meet the manager." + +The girl walked along at his side as he turned towards the village. + +"I suppose you are one of Mr. Oliver's company?" she observed presently. +"You must all be much concerned." + +"They're all greatly concerned," answered Copplestone. "But I don't +belong to the company. No--I came to Norcaster this morning to meet Mr. +Oliver--he's going--I hope I oughtn't to say was going!--to produce a +play of mine next month, and he wanted to talk about the rehearsals. +Everything, of course, was at a standstill when I reached Norcaster at +one o 'clock, so I came with Stafford, the business manager, to see +what we could do about tracking Mr. Oliver. And I'm afraid, I'm very +much afraid--" + +He paused, as a gate, set in the thick hedge of a garden at this point of +the village, suddenly opened to let out a man, who at sight of the girl +stopped, hesitated, and then waited for her approach. He was a tall, +well-built man of apparently thirty years, dressed in a rough tweed +knickerbocker suit, but the dusk had now so much increased that +Copplestone could only gather an impression of ordinary good-lookingness +from the face that was turned inquiringly on his companion. The girl +turned to him and spoke hurriedly. + +"This is my cousin, Mr. Greyle, of Scarhaven Keep," she murmured. "He may +be able to help. Marston!" she went on, raising her voice, "can you give +any help here? This gentleman--" she paused, looking at Copplestone. + +"My name is Richard Copplestone," he said. + +"Mr. Copplestone is looking for Mr. Bassett Oliver, the famous actor," +she continued, as the three met. "Mr. Oliver has mysteriously +disappeared. Mr. Copplestone has traced him here, to Scarhaven--he was +here yesterday, lunching at the inn--but he can't get any further news. +Did you see anything, or hear anything of him?" + +Marston Greyle, who had been inspecting the stranger narrowly in the +fading light, shook his head. + +"Bassett Oliver, the actor," he said. "Oh, yes, I saw his name on the +bills in Norcaster the other day. Came here, and has disappeared, you +say? Under what circumstances?" + +Copplestone had listened carefully to the newcomer's voice; more +particularly to his accent. He had already gathered sufficient knowledge +of Scarhaven to know that this man was the Squire, the master of the old +house and grey ruin in the wood above the cliff; he also happened to +know, being something of an archaeologist and well acquainted with family +histories, that there had been Greyles of Scarhaven for many hundred +years. And he wondered how it was that though this Greyle's voice was +pleasant and cultured enough, its accent was decidedly American. + +"Perhaps I'd better explain," said Copplestone. "I've already told most +of it to this lady, but you will both understand more fully if I tell you +more. It's this way--" and he went on to tell everything that had +happened and come to light since one o'clock that day. "So you see, it's +here," he concluded; "we're absolutely certain that Oliver went out of +the 'Admiral's Arms' up there about half-past two yesterday, but--where? +From that moment, no one seems to have seen him. Yet how he could come +along this village street, this quay, without being seen--" + +"He need not have come along the quayside," interrupted the girl. "There +is a cliff path just below the inn which leads up to the Keep." + +"Also, he mayn't have taken this side of the bay, either." remarked +Greyle. "He may have chosen the other. You didn't see or hear of him on +your side, Audrey?" + +"Nothing!" replied the girl. "Nothing!" + +Marston Greyle had fallen into line with the other two, and they were now +walking along the quay in the direction of the "Admiral's Arms." And +presently Stafford, accompanied by a policeman, came hurriedly round a +corner and quickened his steps at sight of Copplestone. The policeman, +evidently much puzzled and interested, saluted the Squire obsequiously as +the two groups met. + +"No news at all!" exclaimed Stafford, glancing at Copplestone's +companions. "You got any?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "Not a word. This is Mr. Greyle, of the +Keep--he has heard nothing. This lady--Miss Greyle?--was out a good deal +yesterday afternoon; she knows Oliver quite well by sight, but she did +not see him. So if you've no news--" + +Marston Greyle interrupted, turning to the policeman. + +"What ought to be done, Haskett?" he asked. "You've had cases of +disappearance to deal with before, eh?" + +"Can't say as I have, sir, in my time," answered the policeman. +"Leastways, not of this sort. Of course, we can get search parties +together, and one of 'em can go along the coast north'ards, and the other +can go south'ards, and we might have a look round the rocks out yonder, +tomorrow, as soon as it's light. But if the gentleman went out there, and +had the bad luck to fall into that Devil's Spout, why, then, sir, I'm +afraid all the searching in the world'll do no good. And the queer thing +is, gentlemen, if I may express an opinion, that nobody ever saw the +gentleman after he had left Mrs. Wooler's! That seems--" + +A fisherman came lounging across the quay from the shadow of one of the +neighbouring cottages. He touched his cap to Marston Greyle, and looked +inquiringly at the two strangers. + +"Are you the gentlemen as is asking after another gentleman?" he said. +"'Cause if so, I make no doubt as how I had a word or two with him +yesterday afternoon." + +Stafford and Copplestone turned sharply on the newcomer--an elderly +man of plain and homely aspect who responded frankly to their +questioning glances. He went on at once, before they could put their +questions into words. + +"It 'ud be about half-past two, or maybe a bit nearer three o'clock," he +said. "Up yonder it was, about a hundred yards this side of the +'Admiral's Arms.' I was sitting on a baulk o' timber there, doing +nothing, when he comes along--a tall, fine-looking man. He gives me a +pleasant sort o' nod, and said it was a grand day, and we got talking a +bit, about the scenery and such-like, and he said he'd never been here +before. Then he pointed up to the big house and the old Keep yonder, and +asked whose place that might be, and I said that was the Squire's. 'And +who may the Squire be?' says he. 'Mr. Marston Greyle,' says I, 'Recent +come into the property.' 'Marston Greyle!' he says, sharp-like. 'Why, I +used to know a young man of that very name in America!' he says. 'Very +like,' says I, 'I have heard as how the Squire had been in them parts +before he came here.' 'Bless me!' he says, 'I've a good mind to call on +him. How do you get up there?' he says. So I showed him that side path +that runs up through the plantation to near the top, and I told him that +if he followed that till he came to the Keep, he'd find another path +there as would take him to the door of the house. And he gave me a +shilling to drink his health, and off he went, the way as I'd pointed +out. D'ye think that'll be the same gentleman, now?" + +Nobody answered this question. Everybody there was looking at Marston +Greyle. The little group had drawn near to the light of one of the three +gas-lamps which feebly illuminated the quay; it seemed to Copplestone +that the Squire's face had paled when the fisherman arrived at the middle +of his story. But it flushed as his companion turned to him, and he +laughed, a little uneasily. + +"Said he knew me--in America?" he exclaimed. "I don't remember meeting +Mr. Bassett Oliver out there. But then I met so many Englishmen in one +place or another that I may have been introduced to him somewhere, at +some time, and--forgotten all about it." + +Stafford spoke--with unnecessary abruptness, in Copplestone's opinion. + +"I don't think it very likely that any one would forget Bassett Oliver," +he said. "He isn't--or wasn't--the sort of man anybody could forget, once +they'd met him. Anyhow--did he come to your house yesterday afternoon as +this man suggests?" + +Marston Greyle drew himself up. He looked Stafford up and down. Then he +made a slight gesture to the girl, whose face had already assumed a +troubled expression. + +"If I had seen Mr. Bassett Oliver yesterday, sir, we should not be +discussing his possible whereabouts now," said Greyle, icily. "Are you +coming, Audrey?" + +The girl hesitated, glanced at Copplestone, and then walked away with her +cousin. Stafford sniffed contemptuously. + +"Ass!" he muttered. "Couldn't he see that what I meant was that Oliver +must either have been mistaken, or have referred to some other Greyle +whom he met? Hang his pride! Well, now," he went on, turning to the +fisherman, "you're dead certain about what you've told us?" + +"As certain as mortal man can be of aught there is!" answered the +informant. "Sure certain, mister." + +"Make a note of it, constable," said Stafford. "Mr. Oliver was last seen +going up the path to the Keep, having said he meant to call on Mr. +Marston Greyle. I'll call on you again tomorrow morning. Copplestone!" he +went on, drawing his companion away, "I'm off to Norcaster--I shall see +the police there and get detectives. There's something seriously wrong +here--and by heaven, we've got to get to the bottom of it! Now, look +here--will you stay here for the night, so as to be on the spot? I'll +come back first thing in the morning and bring your luggage--I can't come +sooner, for there are heaps of business matters to deal with. You +will--good! Now I can just catch a train. Copplestone!--keep your eyes +and ears open. It's my firm belief--I don't know why--that there's been +foul play. Foul play!" + +Stafford hurried away up hill to the station, and Copplestone, after +waiting a minute or two, turned along the quay on the north of the +bay--following Audrey Greyle, who was in front, alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ESTATE AGENT + + +Copplestone had kept a sharp watch on Marston Greyle and his cousin when +they walked off, and he had seen that they had parted at a point a little +farther along the shore road--the man turning up into the wood, the girl +going forward along the quay which led to the other half of the village. +He quickened his pace and followed her, catching her up as she came to a +path which led towards the old church. At the sound of his hurrying steps +she turned and faced him, and he saw in the light of a cottage lamp that +she still looked troubled and perplexed. + +"Forgive me for running after you," said Copplestone as he went up to +her. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about--about that little scene +down there, you know. Your cousin misunderstood Mr. Stafford--what +Stafford meant was that--" + +"I saw what Mr. Stafford meant," she broke in quickly. "I'm sorry my +cousin didn't see it. It was--obvious." + +"All the same, Stafford put it rather--shall we say, brusquely," remarked +Copplestone. "Of course, he's terribly upset about Oliver's +disappearance, and he didn't consider the effect of his words. And it was +rather a surprise to hear that Oliver had known some man of your +cousin's name over there in America, wasn't it?" + +"And that Mr. Oliver should mysteriously disappear just after making such +an announcement," said Audrey. "That certainly seems very surprising." + +The two looked at each other, a question in the eyes of each, and +Copplestone knew that the trouble in the girl's eyes arose from inability +to understand what was already a suspicious circumstance. + +"But after all, that may have been a mere coincidence," he hastened to +say. "Let's hope things may be cleared. I only hope that Oliver hasn't +met with an accident and is lying somewhere without help. I'm going to +remain here for the night, however, and Stafford will come back early in +the morning and go more thoroughly into things--I suppose there'll have +to be a search of the neighbourhood." + +They had walked slowly up a path on the side of the cliff as they talked, +and now the girl stopped before a small cottage which stood at the end of +the churchyard, set in a tree-shaded garden, and looking out on the bay. +She laid her hand on the gate, glancing at Copplestone, and suddenly she +spoke, a little impulsively. + +"Will you come in and speak to my mother?" she said. "She was a great +admirer of Mr. Oliver's acting--and she knew him at one time. She will be +interested--and grieved." + +Copplestone followed her up the garden and into the house, where she led +the way into a small old-fashioned parlour in which a grey-haired woman, +who had once been strikingly handsome, and whose face seemed to the +visitor to bear traces of great trouble, sat writing at a bureau. She +turned in surprise as her daughter led Copplestone in, but her manner +became remarkably calm and collected as Audrey explained who he was and +why he was there. And Copplestone, watching her narrowly, fancied that he +saw interest flash into her eyes when she heard of Bassett Oliver's +remark to the fisherman. But she made no comment, and when Audrey had +finished the story, she turned to Copplestone as if she had already +summed up the situation. + +"We know this place so well--having lived here so long, you know," she +said, "that we can make a fairly accurate guess at what Mr. Oliver might +do. There seems no doubt that he went up the path to the Keep. According +to Mr. Marston Greyle's statement, he certainly did not go to the house. +Well, he might have done one of two other things. There is a path which +leads from the Keep down to the beach, immediately opposite the big rocks +which you have no doubt seen. There is another path which turns out of +the woods and follows the cliffs towards Lenwick, a village along the +coast, a mile away. But--at that time, on a Sunday afternoon, both paths +would be frequented. Speaking from knowledge, I should say that Mr. +Oliver cannot have left the woods--he must have been seen had he done so. +It's impossible that he could have gone down to the shore or along the +cliffs without being seen, too--impossible!" + +There was a certain amount of insistence in the last few words which +puzzled Copplestone--also they conveyed to him a queer suggestion which +repulsed him; it was almost as if the speaker was appealing to him to use +his own common-sense about a difficult question. And before he could make +any reply Mrs. Greyle put a direct inquiry to him. + +"What is going to be done?" + +"I don't know, exactly," answered Copplestone. "I'm going to stay here +for the night, anyway, on the chance of hearing something. Stafford is +coming back in the morning--he spoke of detectives." + +He looked a little doubtfully at his questioner as he uttered the last +word, and again he saw the sudden strange flash of unusual interest in +her eyes, and she nodded her head emphatically. + +"Precisely!--the proper thing to do," she said. "There must have been +foul play--must!" + +"Mother!" exclaimed Audrey, half doubtfully. "Do you really think--that?" + +"I don't think anything else," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I certainly don't +believe that Bassett Oliver would put himself into any position of danger +which would result in his breaking his neck. Bassett Oliver never left +Scarhaven Wood!" + +Copplestone made no comment on this direct assertion. + +Instead, after a brief silence, he asked Mrs. Greyle a question. + +"You knew Mr. Oliver--personally?" + +"Five and twenty years ago--yes," she answered. "I was on the stage +myself before my marriage. But I have never met him since then. I have +seen him, of course, at the local theatres." + +"He--you won't mind my asking?" said Copplestone, diffidently, "he didn't +know that you lived here?" + +Mrs. Greyle smiled, somewhat mysteriously. + +"Not at all--my name wouldn't have conveyed anything to him," she +answered. "He never knew whom I married. Otherwise, if he met some one +named Marston Greyle in America he would have connected him with me, and +have made inquiry about me, and had he known I lived here, he would have +called. It is odd, Audrey, that if your cousin met Mr. Oliver over there +he should have forgotten him. For one doesn't easily forget a man of +reputation--and Mr. Oliver was that of course!--and on the other hand, +Marston Greyle is not a common name. Did you ever hear the name before, +Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Only in connection with your own family--I have read of the Greyles of +Scarhaven," replied Copplestone. "But, after all, I suppose it is not +confined to your family. There may be Greyles in America. Well--it's all +very queer," he went on, as he rose to leave. "May I come in tomorrow and +tell you what's being done?--I'm sure Stafford means to leave no stone +unturned--he's tremendously keen about it." + +"Do!" said Mrs. Greyle, heartily. "But the probability is that you'll see +us out and about in the morning--we spend most of our time out of doors, +having little else to do." + +Copplestone went away feeling more puzzled than ever. + +Now that he was alone, for the first time since meeting Audrey Greyle on +the beach, he was able to reflect on certain events of the afternoon in +uninterrupted fashion. He thought over them as he walked back towards the +"Admiral's Arms." It was certainly a strange thing that Bassett Oliver, +after remarking to the fisherman that he had known a Mr. Marston Greyle +in America, and hearing that the Squire of Scarhaven had been in that +country, should have gone up to the house saying that he would call on +the Squire and should never have been seen again. It was certainly +strange that if this Marston Greyle, of Scarhaven, had met Bassett Oliver +in America he should have completely forgotten the fact. Bassett Oliver +had a considerable reputation in the United States--he was, in fact, more +popular in that country than in his own, and he had toured in the +principal towns and cities across there regularly for several years. To +meet him there was to meet a most popular celebrity--could any man forget +it? Therefore, were there two men of the name of Marston Greyle? + +That was one problem--closely affecting Oliver's disappearance. The other +had nothing to do with Oliver's disappearance--nevertheless, it +interested Richard Copplestone. He was a young man of quick perception +and accurate observation, and his alert eyes had seen that the Squire of +Scarhaven occupied a position suggestive of power and wealth. The house +which stood beneath the old Keep was one of size and importance, the sort +of place which could only be kept up by a rich man--Copplestone's glances +at its grounds, its gardens, its entrance lodge, its entire surroundings +had shown him that only a well-to-do man could live there. How came it, +then, that the Squire's relations--his cousin and her mother--lived in a +small and unpretentious cottage, and were obviously not well off as +regards material goods? Copplestone had the faculty of seeing things at a +glance, and refined and cultivated as the atmosphere of Mrs. Greyle's +parlour was, it had taken no more than a glance from his perceptive eyes +to see that he was there confronted with what folk call genteel poverty. +Mrs. Greyle's almost nun-like attire of black had done duty for a long +time; the carpet was threadbare; there was an absence of those little +touches of comfort with which refined women of even modest means love to +surround themselves; a sure instinct told him that here were two women +who had to carefully count their pence, and lay out their shillings with +caution. Genteel, quiet poverty, without doubt--and yet, on the other +side of the little bay, a near kinsman whose rent-roll must run to a few +thousands a year! + +And yet one more curious occasion of perplexity--to add to the other two. +Copplestone had felt instinctively attracted to Audrey Greyle when he met +her on the sands, and the attraction increased as he walked at her side +towards the village. In his quiet unobtrusive fashion he had watched her +closely when they encountered the man whom she introduced as her cousin; +and he had fancied that her manner underwent a curious change when +Marston Greyle came on the scene--she had seemed to become constrained, +chilled, distant, aloof--not with the stranger, himself, but with her +kinsman. This fancy had become assurance during the conversation which +had abruptly ended when Greyle took offence at Stafford's brusque remark. +Copplestone had seen a sudden look in the girl's eyes when the fisherman +repeated what Oliver had said about meeting a Mr. Marston Greyle in +America; it was a look of sharply awakened--what? Suspicion? +apprehension?--he could not decide. But it was the same look which had +come into her mother's eyes later on. Moreover, when the Squire turned +huffily away, taking his cousin with him, Copplestone had noticed that +there was evidently a smart passage of words between them after leaving +the little group on the quay, and they had parted unceremoniously, the +man turning on his heel up a side path into his own grounds and the girl +going forward with a sudden acceleration of pace. All this made +Copplestone draw a conclusion. + +"There's no great love lost between the gentleman at the big house and +his lady relatives in the little cottage," he mused. "Also, around the +gentleman there appears to be some cloud of mystery. What?--and has it +anything to do with the Oliver mystery?" + +He went back to the inn and made his arrangements with its landlady, who +by that time was full to overflowing with interest and amazement at the +strange affair which had brought her this guest. But Mrs. Wooler had eyes +as well as ears, and noticing that Copplestone was already looking weary +and harassed, she hastened to provide a hot dinner for him, and to +recommend a certain claret which in her opinion possessed remarkable +revivifying qualities. Copplestone, who had eaten nothing for several +hours, accepted her hospitable attentions with gratitude, and he was +enjoying himself greatly in a quaint old-world parlour, in close +proximity to a bright fire, when Mrs. Wooler entered with a countenance +which betokened mystery in every feature. + +"There's the estate agent, Mr. Chatfield, outside, very anxious to have a +word with you about this affair," she said. "Would you be for having him +in? He's the sort of man," she went on, sinking her tones to a whisper, +"who must know everything that's going on, and, of course, having the +position he has, he might be useful. Mr. Peter Chatfield, Mr. Greyle's +agent, and his uncle's before him--that's who he is--Peeping Peter, they +call him hereabouts, because he's fond of knowing everybody's business." + +"Bring him in," said Copplestone. He was by no means averse to having a +companion, and Mrs. Wooler's graphic characterization had awakened his +curiosity. "Tell him I shall be glad to see him." + +Mrs. Wooler presently ushered in a figure which Copplestone's dramatic +sense immediately seized on. He saw before him a tall, heavily-built +man, with a large, solemn, deeply-lined face, out of which looked a +pair of the smallest and slyest eyes ever seen in a human being--queer, +almost hidden eyes, set beneath thick bushy eyebrows above which rose +the dome of an unusually high forehead and a bald head. As for the rest +of him, Mr. Peter Chatfield had a snub nose, a wide slit of a mouth, and +a flabby hand; his garments were of a Quaker kind in cut and hue; he +wore old-fashioned stand-up collars and a voluminous black stock; in one +hand he carried a stout oaken staff, in the other a square-crowned +beaver hat; altogether, his mere outward appearance would have gained +notice for him anywhere, and Copplestone rejoiced in him as a character. +He rose, greeted his visitor cordially, and invited him to a seat by the +fire. The estate agent settled his heavy figure comfortably, and made a +careful inspection of the young stranger before he spoke. At last he +leaned forward. + +"Sir!" he whispered in a confidential tone. "Do you consider this here a +matter of murder?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GREYLE HISTORY + + +If Copplestone had followed his first natural impulse, he would have +laughed aloud at this solemnly propounded question: as it was, he found +it difficult to content himself with a smile. + +"Isn't it a little early to arrive at any conclusion, of any sort, Mr. +Chatfield?" he asked. "You haven't made up your own mind, surely?" +Chatfield pursed up his long thin lips and shook his head, continuing to +stare fixedly at Copplestone. + +"Now I may have, and I may not have, mister," he said at last, suddenly +relaxing. "What I was asking of was--what might you consider?" + +"I don't consider at all--yet," answered Copplestone. "It's too soon. Let +me offer you a glass of claret." + +"Many thanks to you, sir, but it's too cold for my stomach," responded +the visitor. "A drop of gin, now, is more in my line, since you're so +kind. Ah, well, in any case, sir, this here is a very unfortunate affair. +I'm a deal upset by it--I am indeed!" + +Copplestone rang the bell, gave orders for Mr. Chatfield's suitable +entertainment with gin and cigars, and making an end of his dinner, drew +up a chair to the fire opposite his visitor. + +"You are upset, Mr. Chatfield?" he remarked. "Now, why?" + +Chatfield sipped his gin and water, and flourished a cigar with a +comprehensive wave of his big fat hand. + +"Oh, in general, sir!" he said. "Things like this here are not pleasant +to have in a quiet, respectable community like ours. There's very wicked +people in this world, mister, and they will not control what's termed the +unruly member. They will talk. You'll excuse me, but I doubt not that I'm +a good deal more than twice your age, and I've learnt experience. My +experience, sir, is that a wise man holds his tongue until he's called +upon to use it. Now, in my opinion, it was a very unwise thing of yon +there sea-going man, Ewbank, to say that this unfortunate play-actor told +him that he'd met our Squire in America--very unfortunate!" + +Copplestone pricked his ears. Had the estate agent come there to tell him +that? And if so, why? + +"Oh!" he said. "You've heard that, have you? Now who told you that, Mr. +Chatfield? For I don't think that's generally known." + +"If you knew this here village, mister, as well as what I do," replied +Chatfield coolly, "you'd know that there is known all over the place by +this time. The constable told me, and of course yon there man, Ewbank, +he'll have told it all round since he had that bit of talk with you and +your friend. He'll have been in to every public there is in Scarhaven, +repeating of it. And a very, very serious complexion, of course, could be +put on them words, sir." + +"How?" asked Copplestone. + +"Put it to yourself, sir," replied Chatfield. "The unfortunate man comes +here, tells Ewbank he knew Mr. Greyle in that far-away land, says he'll +call on him, is seen going towards the big house--and is never seen no +more! Why, sir, what does human nature--which is wicked--say?" + +"What does your human nature--which I'm sure is not wicked, say?" +suggested Copplestone. "Come, now!" + +"What I say, sir, is neither here nor there," answered the agent. "It's +what evil-disposed tongues says." + +"But they haven't said anything yet," said Copplestone. + +"I should say they've said a deal, sir," responded Chatfield, +lugubriously. "I know Scarhaven tongues. They'll have thrown out a deal +of suspicious talk about the Squire." + +"Have you seen Mr. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. He was already sure that +the agent was there with a purpose, and he wanted to know its precise +nature. "Is he concerned about this?" + +"I have seen Mr. Greyle, mister, and he is concerned about what yon man, +Ewbank, related," replied Chatfield. "Mr. Greyle, sir, came straight to +me--I reside in a residence within the park. Mr. Greyle, mister, says +that he has no recollection whatever of meeting this play-actor person in +America--he may have done and he mayn't. But he doesn't remember him, and +it isn't likely he should--him, an English landlord and a gentleman +wouldn't be very like to remember a play-actor person that's here today +and gone tomorrow! I hope I give no offence, sir--maybe you're a +play-actor yourself." + +"I am not," answered Copplestone. He sat staring at his visitor for +awhile, and when he spoke again his voice had lost its cordial tone. +"Well," he said, "and what have you called on me about?" + +Chatfield looked up sharply, noticing the altered tone. + +"To tell you--and them as you no doubt represent--that Mr. Greyle will be +glad to help in any possible way towards finding out something in this +here affair," he answered. "He'll welcome any inquiry that's opened." + +"Oh!" said Copplestone. "I see! But you're making a mistake, Mr. +Chatfield. I don't represent anybody. I'm not even a relation of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. In fact, I never met Mr. Oliver in my life: never spoke +to him. So--I'm not here in any representative or official sense." + +Chatfield's small eyes grew smaller with suspicious curiosity. + +"Oh?" he said questioningly. "Then--what might you be here for, mister?" + +Copplestone stood up and rang the bell. + +"That's my business." he answered. "Sorry I can't give you any more +time," he went on as Mrs. Wooler opened the door. "I'm engaged now. If +you or Mr. Greyle want to see Mr. Oliver's friends I believe his brother, +Sir Cresswell Oliver, will be here tomorrow--he's been wired for anyhow." + +Chatfield's mouth opened as he picked up his hat. He stared at this +self-assured young man as if he were something quite new to him. + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver!" he exclaimed. "Did you say, sir?" + +"I said Sir Cresswell Oliver--quite plainly," answered Copplestone. + +Chatfield's mouth grew wider. + +"You don't mean to tell me that a play-actor's own brother to a titled +gentleman!" he said. + +"Good-night!" replied Copplestone, motioning his visitor towards the +door. "I can't give you any more time, really. However, as you seem +anxious, Mr. Bassett Oliver is the younger brother of Rear-Admiral Sir +Cresswell Oliver, Baronet, and I should imagine that Sir Cresswell will +want to know a lot about what's become of him. So you'd better--or Mr. +Greyle had better--speak to him. Now once more--good-night." + +When Chatfield had gone, Copplestone laughed and flung himself into an +easy chair before the fire. Of course, the stupid, ignorant, +self-sufficient old fool had come fishing for news--he and his master +wanted to know what was going to be done in the way of making inquiry. +But why?--why so much anxiety if they knew nothing whatever about Bassett +Oliver's strange disappearance? "Why this profession of eager willingness +to welcome any inquiry that might be made? Nobody had accused Marston +Greyle of having anything to do with Bassett Oliver's strange exit--if it +was an exit--why, then-- + +"But it's useless speculating," he mused. "I can't do anything--and here +I am, with nothing to do!" + +He had pleaded an engagement, but he had none, of course. There was a +shelf of old books in the room, but he did not care to read. And +presently, hands in pockets, he lounged out into the hall and saw Mrs. +Wooler standing at the door of the little parlour into which she had +shown him and Stafford earlier in the day. + +"There's nobody in here, sir," she said, invitingly; "if you'd like to +smoke your pipe here--" + +"Thank you--I will," answered Copplestone. "I got rid of that old +fellow," he observed confidentially when he had followed the landlady +within, and had dropped into a chair near her own. "I think he had +come--fishing." + +"That's his usual occupation," said Mrs. Wooler, with a meaning smile. "I +told you he was called Peeping Peter. He's the sort of man who will have +his nose in everybody's affairs. But," she added, with a shake of the +head which seemed to mean a good deal more than the smile, "he doesn't +often come here. This is almost the only house in Scarhaven that doesn't +belong to the Greyle estate. This house, and the land round it, have +belonged to the Wooler family as long as the rest of the place has +belonged to the Greyles. And many a Greyle has wanted to buy it, and +every Wooler has refused to sell it--and always will!" + +"That's very interesting," said Copplestone. "Does the present Greyle +want to buy?" + +The landlady picked up a piece of sewing and sat down in a chair which +seemed to be purposely placed so that she could keep an eye on the +adjacent bar-parlour on one side and the hall on the other. + +"I don't know much about what the present Squire would like," she said. +"Nobody does. He's a newcomer, and nobody knows anything about him. You +saw him this afternoon?" + +"I met a young lady on the sands who turned out to be his cousin, and he +came up while I was talking to her," replied Copplestone. "Yes, I saw +him. I'm afraid Mr. Stafford, who came in here with me, you know, +offended him," he continued, and gave Mrs. Wooler an account of what had +happened. "Is he rather--touchy?" he concluded. + +"I don't know that he is," she said. "No one sees much of him. You see +he's a stranger: although he's a Greyle, he's not a Scarhaven man. Of +course, I know all his family history--I'm Scarhaven born and bred. In my +time there have been three generations of Greyles. The first one I knew +was this Squire's grandfather, old Mr. Stephen Greyle: he died when I was +a girl in my 'teens. He had three sons and no daughters. The three sons +were all different in their tastes and ideas; the eldest, Stephen John, +who came into the estates on his father's death, was a real home bird--he +never left Scarhaven for more than a day or two at a time all his life. +And he never married--he was a real old bachelor, almost a woman-hater. +The next one, Marcus, went out to America and settled there--he was the +father of this present Squire, Mr. Marston Greyle. Then there was the +third son, Valentine--he went to live in London. And years after he came +back here, very poor, and settled down in a little house near Scarhaven +Church with his wife and daughter--that was the daughter you met this +afternoon, Miss Audrey. I don't know why, and nobody else knows, either, +but the last Squire, Stephen John, never had anything to do with +Valentine and his family; what's more, when Valentine died and left the +widow and daughter very poorly off, Stephen John did nothing for them. +But he himself died very soon after Valentine, and then of course, as +Marcus had already died in America, everything came to this Mr. Marston. +And, as I said, he's a stranger to Scarhaven folk and Scarhaven ways. +Indeed, you might say to England and English ways, for I understand he'd +never been in England until he came to take up the family property." + +"Is he more friendly with the mother and daughter than the last Squire +was?" asked Copplestone, who had been much interested in this chapter of +family history. + +Mrs. Wooler made several stitches in her sewing before she answered this +direct question, and when, she spoke it was in lower tones and with a +glance of caution. + +"He would be, if he could!" she said. "There are those in the village who +say that he wants to marry his cousin. But the truth is--so far as one +can see or learn it--that for some reason or other, neither Mrs. +Valentine Greyle nor Miss Audrey can bear him! They took some queer +dislike to the young man when he first came, and they've kept it up. Of +course, they're outwardly friendly, and he occasionally, I believe, goes +to the cottage, but they rarely go to the big house, and it's very seldom +they're ever seen together. I have heard--one does hear things in +villages--that he'd be very glad to do something handsome for them, but +they're both as proud as they're poor, and not the sort to accept aught +from anybody. I believe they've just enough to live on, but it can't be a +great deal, for everybody knows that Valentine Greyle made ducks and +drakes of his fortune long before he came back to Scarhaven, and old +Stephen John only left them a few hundreds of pounds. However--there it +is. However much the new Squire wants to marry his cousin, it's very flat +she'll not have anything to say to him. I've once or twice had an +opportunity of seeing those two together, and it's my private opinion +that Miss Audrey dislikes that young man just about as heartily as she +possibly could!" + +"What does Mr. Marston Greyle find to do with himself in this place?" +asked Copplestone, turning the conversation. "Can't be very lively for +him if he's a man of any activity." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Mrs. Wooler. "I think he's a good deal like +his uncle, the last squire--he certainly never goes anywhere, except out +to sea in his yacht. He shoots a bit, and fishes a bit, and so on, and +spends a lot of time with Peeping Peterhe's a widower, is Chatfield, and +lives alone, except when his daughter runs down to see him. And that +daughter, bye-the-bye, Mr. Copplestone, is on the stage." + +"Dear me!" said Copplestone. "That is surprising! Her father made several +contemptuous references to play-actors when he was talking to me." + +"Oh, he hates them, and all connected with them!" replied Mrs. Wooler, +laughing. "All the same, his own daughter has been on the stage for a +good five years, and I fancy she's doing well. A fine, handsome girl she +is, too--she's been down here a good deal lately, and--" + +The landlady suddenly paused, hearing a light step in the hall. She +glanced through the window and then turned to Copplestone with an +arch smile. + +"Talk of the--you know," she exclaimed. "Here's Addie Chatfield herself!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LEADING LADY + + +Copplestone looked up with interest as the door of the private parlour +was thrown open, and a tall, handsome young woman burst in with a +briskness of movement which betokened unusual energy and vivacity. He +got an impression of the old estate agent's daughter in one glance, +and wondered how Chatfield came to have such a good-looking girl as +his progeny. The impression was of dark, sparkling eyes, a mass of +darker, highly-burnished hair, bright colour, a flashing vivacious +smile, a fine figure, a general air of sprightliness and glowing +health--this was certainly the sort of personality that would +recommend itself to a considerable mass of theatre-goers, and +Copplestone, as a budding dramatist, immediately began to cast Addie +Chatfield for an appropriate part. + +The newcomer stopped short on the threshold as she caught sight of a +stranger, and she glanced with sharp inquisitiveness at Copplestone as he +rose from his chair. + +"Oh!--I supposed you were alone, Mrs. Wooler," she exclaimed. "You +usually are, you know, so I came in anyhow--sorry!" + +"Come in," said the landlady. "Don't go, Mr. Copplestone. This is Miss +Adela Chatfield. Your father has just been to see this gentleman, +Addie--perhaps he told you?" + +Addie Chatfield dropped into a chair at Mrs. Wooler's side, and looked +the stranger over slowly and carefully." + +"No," she answered. "My father didn't tell me--he doesn't tell me +anything about his own affairs. All his talk is about mine--the iniquity +of them, and so on." + +She showed a fine set of even white teeth as she made this remark, and +her eyes sought Copplestone's again with a direct challenge. Copplestone +looked calmly at her, half-smiling; he was beginning, in his youthful +innocence, to think that he already understood this type of young woman. +And seeing him smile, Addie also smiled. + +"Now I wonder whatever my father wanted to see you about?" she said, with +a strong accent on the personal pronoun. "For you don't look his sort, +and he certainly isn't yours--unless you're deceptive." + +"Perhaps I am," responded Copplestone, still keeping his eyes on her. +"Your father wanted to see me about the strange disappearance of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. That was all." + +The girl's glance, bold and challenging, suddenly shifted before +Copplestone's steady look. She half turned to Mrs. Wooler, and her colour +rose a little. + +"I've heard of that," she said, with an affectation of indifference. "And +as I happen to know a bit of Bassett Oliver, I don't see what all this +fuss is about. I should say Bassett Oliver took it into his head to go +off somewhere yesterday on a little game of his own, and that he's turned +up at Norcaster by this time, and is safe in his dressing-room, or on the +stage. That's my notion." + +"I wish I could think it the correct one," replied Copplestone. "But we +can soon find out if it is--there's a telephone in the hall. Yet--I'm so +sure that you're wrong, that I'm not even going to ring Norcaster up. Mr. +Bassett Oliver has--disappeared here!" + +"Are you a member of his company?" asked Addie, again looking Copplestone +over with speculative glances. + +"Not at all! I'm a humble person whose play Mr. Oliver was about to +produce next month, in consequence of which I came down to see him, and +to find this state of affairs. And--having nothing else to do--I'm now +here to help to find him--alive or dead." + +"Oh!" said Addie. "So--you're a writer?" + +"I understand that you are an actress?" responded Copplestone. "I wonder +if I've ever seen you anywhere?" + +Addie bowed her head and gave him a sharp glance. + +"Evidently not!" she retorted. "Or you wouldn't wonder! As if anybody +could forget me, once they'd seen me! I believe you're pulling my leg, +though. Do you live in town?" + +"I live," replied Copplestone slowly and with affected solemnity, "in +chambers in Jermyn Street." + +"And do you mean to tell me that you didn't see me last year in _The +Clever Lady Hartletop?_" she exclaimed. + +Copplestone put the tips of his fingers together and his head on one side +and regarded her critically. + +"What part did you play?" he asked innocently. + +"Part? Why, _the_ part, of course!" she retorted. "Goodness! Why, I +created it! And played it to crowded houses for nearly two hundred +nights, too!" + +"Ah!" said Copplestone. "But I'll make a confession to you. I rarely +visit the theatre. I never saw _Lady Hartletop._ I haven't been in a +theatre of any sort for two years. So you must forgive me. I congratulate +you on your success." + +Addie received this tribute with a mollified smile, which changed to a +glance of surprised curiosity. + +"You never go to the theatre?--and yet you write plays!" she exclaimed. +"That's queer, isn't it? But I believe writing people are queer--they +look it, anyhow. All the same, you don't look like a writer--what does he +look like, Mrs. Wooler? Oh, I know--a sort of nice little officer boy, +just washed and tidied up!" + +The landlady, who had evidently enjoyed this passage at arms, laughed as +she gave Copplestone a significant glance. + +"And when did you come down home, Addie?" she asked quietly. "I didn't +know you were here again." + +"Came down Saturday night," said Addie. "I'm on my way to +Edinburgh--business there on Wednesday. So I broke the journey here--just +to pay my respects to my worshipful parent." + +"I think I heard you say that you knew Mr. Bassett Oliver?" asked +Copplestone. "You've met him?" + +"Met him in this country and in America," replied Addie, calmly. "He was +on tour over there when I was--three years ago. We were in two or three +towns together at the same time--different houses, of course. I never saw +much of him in London, though." + +"You didn't see anything of him yesterday, here?" suggested Copplestone. + +Addie stared and glanced at the landlady. + +"Here?" she exclaimed. "Goodness, no! When I'm here of a Sunday, I lie in +bed all day, or most of it. Otherwise, I'd have to walk with my parent to +the family pew. No--my Sundays are days of rest! You really think this +disappearance is serious?" + +"Oliver's managers--who know him best, of course--think it most serious," +replied Copplestone. "They say that nothing but an accident of a really +serious nature would have kept him from his engagements." + +"Then that settles it!" said Addie. "He's fallen down the Devil's Spout. +Plain as plain can be, that! He's made his way there, been a bit too +daring, and slipped over the edge. And whoever falls in there never comes +out again!--isn't that it, Mrs. Wooler?" + +"That's what they say," answered the landlady. + +"But I don't remember any accident at the Devil's Spout in my time." + +"Well, there's been one now, anyway--that's flat," remarked Addie. "Poor +old Bassett--I'm sorry for him! Well, I'm off. Good-night, Mr. +Copplestone--and perhaps you'll so far overcome your repugnance to the +theatre as to come and see me in one some day?" + +"Supposing I escort you homeward instead--now?" suggested Copplestone. +"That will at least show that I am ready to become your devoted--" + +"Admirer, I suppose," said Addie. "I'm afraid he's not quite as innocent +as he looks, Mrs. Wooler. Well--you can escort me as far as the gates of +the park, then--I daren't take you further, because it's so dark in there +that you'd surely lose your way, and then there'd be a second +disappearance and all sorts of complications." + +She went out of the inn, laughing and chattering, but once outside she +suddenly became serious, and she involuntarily laid her hand on +Copplestone's arm as they turned down the hillside towards the quay. + +"I say!" she said in a low voice. "I wasn't going to ask questions in +there, but--what's going to be done about this Oliver affair? Of course +you're stopping here to do something. What?" + +Copplestone hesitated before answering this direct question. He had not +seen anything which would lead him to suppose that Miss Adela Chatfield +was a disingenuous and designing young woman, but she was certainly +Peeping Peter's daughter, and the old man, having failed to get anything +out of Copplestone himself, might possibly have sent her to see what she +could accomplish. He replied noncommittally. + +"I'm not in a position to do anything," he said. "I'm not a relative--not +even a personal friend. I daresay you know that Bassett Oliver was--one's +already talking of him in the past tense!--the brother of Rear-Admiral +Sir Cresswell Oliver, the famous seaman?" + +"I knew he was a man of what they call family, but I didn't know that," +she answered. "What of it?" + +"Stafford's wired to Sir Cresswell," replied Copplestone. "Hell be down +here some time tomorrow, no doubt. And of course he'll take everything +into his own hands." + +"And he'll do--what?" she asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Copplestone. "Set the police to work, I +should think. They'll want to find out where Bassett Oliver went, where +he got to, when he turned up to the Keep, saying he'd go and call on +the Squire, as he'd met some man of that name in America. By-the-bye, +you said you'd been in America. Did you meet anybody of the Squire's +name there?" + +They were passing along the quay by that time, and in the light of one of +its feeble gas-lamps he turned and looked narrowly at his companion. He +fancied that he saw her face change in expression at his question; if +there was any change, however, it was so quick that it was gone in a +second. She shook her head with emphatic decision. + +"I?" she exclaimed. "Never! It's a most uncommon name, that. I never +heard of anybody called Greyle except at Scarhaven." + +"The present Mr. Greyle came from America," said Copplestone. + +"I know, of course," she answered. "But I never met any Greyles out +there. Bassett Oliver may have done, though. I know he toured in a lot +of American towns--I only went to three--New York, Chicago, St. Louis. +I suppose," she continued, turning to Copplestone with a suggestion of +confidence in her manner, "I suppose you consider it a very damning +thing that Bassett Oliver should disappear, after saying what he did +to Ewbank." + +It was very evident to Copplestone that whether Miss Chatfield had spoken +the truth or not when she said that her father had not told her of his +visit to the "Admiral's Arms," she was thoroughly conversant with all the +facts relating to the Oliver mystery, and he was still doubtful as to +whether she was not seeking information. + +"Does it matter at all what I think," he answered evasively. "I've no +part in this affair--I'm a mere spectator. I don't know how what you +refer to might be considered by people who are accustomed to size things +up. They might say all that was a mere coincidence." + +"But what do you think?" she said with feminine persistence. "Come, now, +between ourselves?" + +Copplestone laughed. They had come to the edge of the wooded park in +which the estate agent's house stood, and at a gate which led into it, +he paused. + +"Between ourselves, then, I don't think at all--yet," he answered. "I +haven't sized anything up. All I should say at present is that if--or +as, for I'm sure the fisherman repeated accurately what he heard--as +Oliver said he met somebody called Marston Greyle in America, why--I +conclude he did. That's all. Now, won't you please let me see you +through these dark woods?" + +But Addie said her farewell, and left him somewhat abruptly, and he +watched her until she had passed out of the circle of light from the lamp +which swung over the gate. She passed on into the shadows--and +Copplestone, who had already memorized the chief geographical points of +his new surroundings, noticed what she probably thought no stranger would +notice--that instead of going towards her father's house, she turned up +the drive to the Squire's. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +LEFT ON GUARD + + +Stafford was back at Scarhaven before breakfast time next morning, +bringing with him a roll of copies of the _Norcaster Daily Chronicle_, +one of which he immediately displayed to Copplestone and Mrs. Wooler, who +met him at the inn door. He pointed with great pride to certain staring +headlines. + +"I engineered that!" he exclaimed. "Went round to the newspaper office +last night and put them up to everything. Nothing like publicity in these +cases. There you are! + +MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF FAMOUS ACTOR! BASSETT OLIVER MISSING! +INTERVIEW WITH MAN WHO SAW HIM LAST! + +That's the style, Copplestone!--every human being along this coast'll be +reading that by now!" + +"So there was no news of him last night?" asked Copplestone. + +"Neither last night nor this morning, my boy," replied Stafford. "Of +course not! No--he never left here, not he! Now then, let Mrs. Wooler +serve us that nice breakfast which I'm sure she has in readiness, and +then we're going to plunge into business, hot and strong. There's a +couple of detectives coming on by the nine o'clock train, and we're going +to do the whole thing thoroughly." + +"What about his brother?" inquired Copplestone. + +"I wired him last night to his London address, and got a reply first +thing this morning," said Stafford. "He's coming along by the 5:15 A.M. +from King's Cross--he'll be here before noon. I want to get things to +work before he arrives, though. And the first thing to do, of course, is +to make sympathetic inquiry, and to search the shore, and the cliffs, and +these woods--and that Keep. All that we'll attend to at once." + +But on going round to the village police-station they found that +Stafford's ideas had already been largely anticipated. The news of the +strange gentleman's mysterious disappearance had spread like wild-fire +through Scarhaven and the immediate district during the previous evening, +and at daybreak parties of fisher-folk had begun a systematic search. +These parties kept coming in to report progress all the morning: by noon +they had all returned. They had searched the famous rocks, the woods, the +park, the Keep, and its adjacent ruins, and the cliffs and shore for some +considerable distance north and south of the bay, and there was no +result. Not a trace, not a sign of the missing man was to be found +anywhere. And when, at one o'clock, Stafford and Copplestone walked up to +the little station to meet Sir Cresswell Oliver, it was with the +disappointing consciousness that they had no news to give him. + +Copplestone, who nourished a natural taste for celebrities of any sort, +born of his artistic leanings and tendencies, had looked forward with +interest to meeting Sir Cresswell Oliver, who, only a few months +previously, had made himself famous by a remarkable feat of seamanship in +which great personal bravery and courage had been displayed. He had a +vague expectation of seeing a bluff, stalwart, sea-dog type of man; +instead, he presently found himself shaking hands with a very +quiet-looking, elderly gentleman, who might have been a barrister or a +doctor, of pleasant and kindly manners. With him was another gentleman of +a similar type, and of about the same age, whom he introduced as the +family solicitor, Mr. Petherton. And to these two, in a private +sitting-room at the "Admiral's Arms," Stafford, as Bassett Oliver's +business representative, and Copplestone, as having remained on the spot +since the day before, told all and every detail of what had transpired +since it was definitely established that the famous actor was missing. +Both listened in silence and with deep attention; when all the facts had +been put before them, they went aside and talked together; then they +returned and Sir Cresswell besought Stafford and Copplestone's attention. + +"I want to tell you young gentlemen precisely what Mr. Petherton and I +think it best to do," he said in the mild and bland accents which had so +much astonished Copplestone. "We have listened, as you will admit, with +our best attention. Mr. Petherton, as you know, is a man of law; I +myself, when I have the good luck to be ashore, am a Chairman of +Quarter Sessions, so I'm accustomed to hearing and weighing evidence. We +don't think there's any doubt that my poor brother has met with some +curious mishap which has resulted in his death. It seems impossible, +going on what you tell us from the evidence you've collected, that he +could ever have approached that Devil's Spout place unseen; it also +seems impossible that he could have had a fatal fall over the cliffs, +since his body has not been found. No--we think something befell him in +the neighbourhood of Scarhaven Keep. But what? Foul play? Possibly! If +it was--why? And there are three people Mr. Petherton and I would like +to speak to, privately--the fisherman, Ewbank, Mr. Marston Greyle, and +Mrs. Valentine Greyle. We should like to hear Ewbank's story for +ourselves; we certainly want to see the Squire; and I, personally, wish +to see Mrs. Greyle because, from what Mr. Copplestone there has told us, +I am quite sure that I, too, knew her a good many years ago, when she +was acquainted with my brother Bassett. So we propose, Mr. Stafford, to +go and see these three people--and when we have seen them, I will tell +you and Mr. Copplestone exactly what I, as my brother's representative, +wish to be done." + +The two younger men waited impatiently in and about the hotel while their +elders went on their self-appointed mission. Stafford, essentially a man +of activity, speculated on their reasons for seeing the three people whom +Sir Cresswell Oliver had specifically mentioned: Copplestone was +meanwhile wondering if he could with propriety pay another visit to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage that night. It was drawing near to dusk when the two +quiet-looking, elderly gentlemen returned and summoned the younger ones +to another conference. Both looked as reserved and bland as when they had +set out, and the old seaman's voice was just as suave as ever when he +addressed them. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, "we have paid our visits, and I suppose I had +better tell you at once that we are no wiser as to actual facts than we +were when we left you earlier in the afternoon. The man Ewbank stands +emphatically by his story; Mr. Marston Greyle says that he cannot +remember any meeting with my brother in America, and that he certainly +did not call on him here on Sunday: Mrs. Valentine Greyle has not met +Bassett for a great many years. Now--there the matter stands. Of course, +it cannot rest there. Further inquiries will have to be made. Mr. +Petherton and I are going on to Norcaster this evening, and we shall have +a very substantial reward offered to any person who can give any +information about my brother. That may result in something--or in +nothing. As to my brother's business arrangements, I will go fully into +that matter with you, Mr. Stafford, at Norcaster, tomorrow. Now, Mr. +Copplestone, will you have a word or two with me in private?" + +Copplestone followed the old seaman into a quiet corner of the room, +where Sir Cresswell turned on him with a smile. + +"I take it," he said, "that you are a young gentleman of leisure, and +that you can abide wherever you like, eh?" + +"Yes, you may take that as granted," answered Copplestone, wondering what +was coming. + +"Doesn't much matter if you write your plays in Jermyn Street +or--anywhere else, eh?" questioned Sir Cresswell with a humorous smile. + +"Practically, no," replied Copplestone. + +Sir Cresswell tapped him on the shoulder. + +"I want you to do me a favour," he said. "I shall take it as a kindness +if you will. I don't want to talk about certain ideas which Petherton and +I have about this affair, yet, anyway--not even to you--but we _have_ +formed some ideas this afternoon. Now, do you think you could manage to +stay where you are for a week or two?" + +"Here?" exclaimed Copplestone. + +"This seems very comfortable," said Sir Cresswell, looking round. "The +landlady is a nice, motherly person; she gave me a very well-cooked +lunch; this is a quiet room in which to do your writing, eh?" + +"Of course I can stay here," answered Copplestone, who was a good deal +bewildered. "But--mayn't I know why--and in what capacity?" + +"Just to keep your eyes and your ears open," said Sir Cresswell. "Don't +seem to make inquiries--in fact, don't make any inquiry--do nothing. I +don't want you to do any private detective work--not I! Just stop here +a bit--amuse yourself--write--read--and watch things quietly. And--don't +be cross--I've an elderly man's privilege, you know--you'll send your +bills to me." + +"Oh, that's all right, thanks!" said Copplestone, hurriedly. "I'm pretty +well off as regards this world's goods." + +"So I guessed when I found that you lived in the expensive atmosphere of +Jermyn Street," said Sir Cresswell, with a sly laugh. "But all the same, +you'll let me be paymaster here, you know--that's only fair." + +"All right--certainly, if you wish it," agreed Copplestone. "But look +here--won't you trust me? I assure you I'm to be trusted. You suspect +somebody! Hadn't you better give me your confidence? I won't tell a +soul--and when I say that, I mean it literally. I won't tell one +single soul!" + +Sir Cresswell waited a moment or two, looking quietly at Copplestone. +Then he clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"All right, my lad," he said. "Yes!--we do suspect somebody. Marston +Greyle! Now you know it." + +"I expected that," answered Copplestone. "All right, sir. And my orders +are--just what you said." + +"Just what I said," agreed Sir Cresswell. "Carry on at that--eyes and +ears open; no fuss; everything quiet, unobtrusive, silent. +Meanwhile--Petherton will be at work. And I say--if you want company, +you know--I think you'll find it across the bay there at Mrs. +Greyle's--eh?" + +"I was there last night," said Copplestone. "I liked both of them +very much. You knew Mrs. Greyle once upon a time, I think; you and +your brother?" + +"We did!" replied Sir Cresswell, with a sigh. "Um!--the fact is, both +Bassett and I were in love with her at that time. She married another man +instead. That's all!" + +He gave Copplestone a squeeze of the elbow, laughed, and went across to +the solicitor, who was chatting to Stafford in one of the bow windows. +Ten minutes later all three were off to Norcaster, and Copplestone was +alone, ruminating over this sudden and extraordinary change in the +hiterto even tenor of his life. Little more than twenty-four hours +previously, all he had been concerned about was the production of his +play by Bassett Oliver--here he was now, mixed up in a drama of real +life, with Bassett Oliver as its main figure, and the plot as yet +unrevealed. And he himself was already committed to play in it--but +what part? + +Now that the others had gone, Copplestone began to feel strangely alone. +He had accepted Sir Cresswell Oliver's commission readily, feeling +genuinely interested in the affair, and being secretly conscious that he +would be glad of the opportunity of further improving his acquaintance +with Audrey Greyle. But now that he considered things quietly, he began +to see that his position was a somewhat curious and possibly invidious +one. He was to watch--and to seem not to watch. He was to listen--and +appear not to listen. The task would be difficult--and perhaps +unpleasant. For he was very certain that Marston Greyle would resent his +presence in the village, and that Chatfield would be suspicious of it. +What reason could he, an utter stranger, have for taking up his quarters +at the "Admiral's Arms?" The tourist season was over: Autumn was well set +in; with Autumn, on that coast, came weather which would send most +southerners flying homewards. Of course, these people would say that he +was left there to peep and pry--and they would all know that the Squire +was the object of suspicion. It was all very well, his telling Mrs. +Wooler that being an idle man he had taken a fancy to Scarhaven, and +would stay in her inn for a few weeks, but Mrs. Wooler, like everybody +else, would see through that. However, the promise had been given, and he +would keep it--literally. He would do nothing in the way of active +detective work--he would just wait and see what, if anything, turned up. + +But upon one thing Copplestone had made up his mind determinedly before +that second evening came--he would make no pretence to Audrey Greyle and +her mother. And availing himself of their permission to call again, he +went round to the cottage, and before he had been in it five minutes told +them bluntly that he was going to stay at Scarhaven awhile, on the +chance of learning any further news of Bassett Oliver. + +"Which," he added, with a grim smile, "seems about as likely as that +I should hear that I am to be Lord Chancellor when the Woolsack is +next vacant!" + +"You don't know," remarked Mrs. Greyle. "A reward for information is to +be offered, isn't it?" + +"Do you think that will do much good?" asked Copplestone. + +"It depends upon the amount," replied Mrs. Greyle. "We know these people. +They are close and reserved--no people could keep secrets better. For all +one knows, somebody in this village may know something, and may at +present feel it wisest to keep the knowledge to himself. But if +money--what would seem a lot of money--comes into question--ah!" + +"Especially if the information could be given in secret," said Audrey. +"Scarhaven folk love secrecy--it's the salt of life to them: it's in +their very blood. Chatfield is an excellent specimen. He'll watch you as +a cat watches a mouse when he finds you're going to stay here." + +"I shall be quite open," said Copplestone. "I'm not going to indulge in +any secret investigations. But I mean to have a thorough look round the +place. That Keep, now?--may one look round that?" + +"There's a path which leads close by the Keep, from which you can get a +good outside view of it," replied Audrey. "But the Keep itself, and the +rest of the ruins round about it are in private ground." + +"But you have a key, Audrey, and you can take Mr. Copplestone in there," +said Mrs. Greyle. "And you would show him more than he would find out for +himself--Audrey," she continued, turning to Copplestone, "knows every +inch of the place and every stone of the walls." + +Copplestone made no attempt to conceal his delight at this suggestion. He +turned to the girl with almost boyish eagerness. + +"Will you?" he exclaimed. "Do! When?" + +"Tomorrow morning, if you like," replied Audrey. "Meet me on the south +quay, soon after ten." + +Copplestone was down on the quay by ten o'clock. He became aware as he +descended the road from the inn that the fisher-folk, who were always +lounging about the sea-front, were being keenly interested in something +that was going on there. Drawing nearer he found that an energetic +bill-poster was attaching his bills to various walls and doors. Sir +Cresswell and his solicitor had evidently lost no time, and had set a +Norcaster printer to work immediately on their arrival the previous +evening. And there the bill was, and it offered a thousand pounds reward +to any person who should give information which would lead to the finding +of Bassett Oliver, alive or dead. + +Copplestone purposely refrained from mingling with the groups of men and +lads who thronged about the bills, eagerly discussing the great affair of +the moment. He sauntered along the quay, waiting for Audrey. She came at +last with an enigmatic smile on her lips. + +"Our particular excursion is off, Mr. Copplestone," she said. +"Extraordinary events seem to be happening. Mr. Chatfield called on us an +hour ago, took my key away from me, and solemnly informed us that +Scarhaven Keep is strictly closed until further notice!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RIGHT OF WAY + + +The look of blank astonishment which spread over Copplestone's face on +hearing this announcement seemed to afford his companion great +amusement, and she laughed merrily as she signed to him to turn back +towards the woods. + +"All the same," she observed, "I know how to steal a countermarch on +Master Chatfield. Come along!--you shan't be disappointed." + +"Does your cousin know of that?" asked Copplestone. "Are those his +orders?" + +Audrey's lips curled a little, and she laughed again--but this time the +laughter was cynical. + +"I don't think it much matters whether my cousin knows or not," she said. +"He's the nominal Squire of Scarhaven, but everybody knows that the real +over-lord is Peter Chatfield. Peter Chatfield does--everything. And--he +hates me! He won't have had such a pleasant moment for a long time as he +had this morning when he took my key away from me and warned me off." + +"But why you?" asked Copplestone. + +"Oh--Peter is deep!" she said. "Peter, no doubt, knew that you came to +see us last night--Peter knows all that goes on in Scarhaven. And he put +things together, and decided that I might act as your cicerone over the +Keep and the ruins, and so--there you are!" + +"Why should he object to my visiting the Keep?" demanded Copplestone. + +"That's obvious! He considers you a spy," replied Audrey. "And--there may +be reasons why he doesn't desire your presence in those ancient regions. +But--we'll go there, all the same, if you don't mind breaking rules and +defying Peter." + +"Not I!" said Copplestone. "Hang Peter!" + +"There are people who firmly believe that Peter Chatfield should have +been hanged long since," she remarked quietly. "I'm one of them. +Chatfield is a bad old man--thoroughly bad! But I'll circumvent him in +this, anyhow. I know how to get into the Keep in spite of him and of his +locks and bolts. There's a big curtain wall, twenty feet high, all round +the Keep, but I know where there's a hole in it, behind some bushes, and +we'll get in there. Come along!" + +She led him up the same path through the woods along which Bassett Oliver +had gone, according to Ewbank's account. It wound through groves of fir +and pine until it came out on a plateau, in the midst of which, +surrounded by a high irregular wall, towered at the angles and buttressed +all along its length, stood Scarhaven Keep. And there, at the head of a +path which evidently led up from the big house, stood Chatfield, angry +and threatening. Beyond him, distributed at intervals about the other +paths which converged on the plateau were other men, obviously estate +labourers, who appeared to be mounting guard over the forbidden spot. + +"Now there's going to be a row!--between me and Chatfield," murmured +Audrey. "You play spectator--don't say a word. Leave it to me. We are on +our rights along this path--take no notice of Peter." + +But Chatfield was already bearing down on them, his solemn-featured face +dark with displeasure. He raised his voice while he was yet a dozen +yards away. + +"I thought I'd told you as you wasn't to come near these here ruins!" he +said, addressing Audrey in a fashion which made Copplestone's fingers +itch to snatch the oak staff from the agent and lay it freely about his +person. "My orders was to that there effect! And when I give orders I +mean 'em to be obeyed. You'll turn straight back where you came from, +miss, and in future do as I instruct--d'ye hear that, now?" + +"If you expect me to keep quiet or dumb under that sort of thing," +whispered Copplestone, bending towards Audrey, "you're very much mistaken +in me! I shall give this fellow a lesson in another minute if--" + +"Well, wait another minute, then," said Audrey, who had continued to walk +forward, steadily regarding the agent's threatening figure. "Let me talk +a little, first--I'm enjoying it. Are you addressing me, Mr. Chatfield?" +she went on in her sweetest accents. "I hear you speaking, but I don't +know if you are speaking to me. If so, you needn't shout." + +"You know very well who I'm a-speaking to," growled Chatfield. "I told +you you wasn't to come near these ruins--it's forbidden, by order. You'll +take yourself off, and that there young man with you--we want no paid +spies hereabouts!" + +"If you speak to me like that again I'll knock you down!" exclaimed +Copplestone, stepping forward before Audrey could stop him. "Or to this +lady, either. Stand aside, will you?" + +Chatfield twisted on his heel with a surprising agility--not to stand +aside, but to wave his arm to the men who stood here and there, +behind him. + +"Here, you!" he shouted. "Here, this way, all of you! This here fellow's +threatening me with assault. You lay a finger on me, you young snapper, +and I'll have you in the lock-up in ten minutes. Stand between us, you +men!--he's for knocking me down. Now then!" he went on, as the bodyguard +got between him and Copplestone, "off you go, out o' these grounds, both +of you--quick! I'll have no defiance of my orders from neither gel nor +boy, man nor woman. Out you go, now--or you'll be put out." + +But Audrey continued to advance, still watching the agent. "You're under +a mistake, Mr. Chatfield," she said calmly. "You will observe that Mr. +Copplestone and I are on this path. You know very well that this is a +public foot-path, with a proper and legal right-of-way from time +immemorial. You can't turn us off it, you know--without exposing yourself +to all sorts of pains and penalties. You men know that, too," she +continued, turning to the labourers and dropping her bantering tone. "You +all know this is a public footpath. So stand out of our way, or I'll +summon every one of you!" + +The last words were spoken with so much force and decision that the three +labourers involuntarily moved aside. But Chatfield hastened to oppose +Audrey's progress, planting himself in front of a wicket-gate which there +stood across the path, and he laughed sneeringly. + +"And where would you find money to take summonses out?" he said, with a +look of contempt, "I should think you and your mother's something better +to do with your bit o' money than that. Now then, no more words!--back +you turn!" + +Copplestone's temper had been gradually rising during the last few +minutes. Now, at the man's carefully measured taunts, he let it go. +Before Chatfield or the labourers saw what he was at, he sprang on the +agent's big form, grasped him by the neck with one hand, twisted his oak +staff away from him with the other, flung him headlong on the turf, and +raised the staff threateningly. + +"Now!" he said, "beg Miss Greyle's pardon, instantly, or I'll split your +wicked old head for you. Quick, man--I mean it!" + +Before Chatfield, moaning and groaning, could find his voice capable +of words, Marston Greyle, pale and excited, came round a corner of +the ruins. + +"What's this, what's all this?" he demanded. "Here, yon sir, what are +you doing with that stick! What--" + +"I'm about to chastise your agent for his scoundrelly insolence to your +cousin," retorted Copplestone with cheerful determination. "Now then, my +man, quick--I always keep my word!" + +"Hand the stick to Mr. Marston Greyle, Mr. Copplestone," said Audrey in +her demurest manner. "I'm sure he would beat Chatfield soundly if he had +heard what he said to me--his cousin." + +"Thank you, but I'm in possession," said Copplestone, grimly. "Mr. +Marston Greyle can kick him when I've thrashed him. Now, then--are you +going to beg Miss Greyle's pardon, you hoary sinner?" + +"What on earth is it all about?" exclaimed Greyle, obviously upset and +afraid. "Chatfield, what have you been saying? Go away, you men--go away, +all of you, at once. Mr. Copplestone, don't hit him. Audrey, what is it? +Hang it all!--I seem to have nothing but bother--it's most annoying. What +is it, I say?" + +"It is merely, Marston, that your agent there, after trying to turn Mr. +Copplestone and myself off this public foot-path, insulted me with +shameful taunts about my mother's poverty," replied Audrey. "That's all! +Whereupon--as you were not here to do it--Mr. Copplestone promptly and +very properly knocked him down. And now--is Mr. Copplestone to punish him +or--will you?" + +Copplestone, keeping a sharp eye on the groaning and sputtering agent, +contrived at the same time to turn a corner of it on Marston Greyle. That +momentary glance showed him much. The Squire was mortally afraid of his +man. That was certain--as certain as that they were there. He stood, a +picture of vexation and indecision, glancing furtively at Chatfield, then +at Audrey, and evidently hating to be asked to take a side. + +"Confound it all, Chatfield!" he suddenly burst out. "Why don't you mind +what you're saying? It's all very well, Audrey, but you shouldn't have +come along here--especially with strangers. The fact is, I'm so upset +about this Oliver affair that I'm going to have a thorough search and +examination of the Keep and the ruins, and, of course, we can't allow any +one inside the grounds while it's going on. You should have kept to +Chatfield's orders--" + +"And since when has a Greyle of Scarhaven kept to a servant's orders?" +interrupted Audrey, with a sneer that sent the blood rushing to the +Squire's face. "Never!--until this present regime, I should think. +Orders, indeed!--from an agent! I wonder what the last Squire of +Scarhaven would have said to a proposition like that? Mr. +Copplestone--you've punished that bad old man quite sufficiently. Will +you open the gate for me--and we'll go on our way." + +The girl spoke with so much decision that Copplestone moved away from +Chatfield, who struggled to his feet, muttering words that sounded very +much like smothered curses. + +"I'll have the law on you!" he growled, shaking his fist at Copplestone. +"Before this day's out, I'll have the law!" + +"Sooner the better," retorted Copplestone. "Nothing will please me so +much as to tell the local magistrates precisely what you said to your +master's kinswoman. You know where I'm to be found--and there," he +added, throwing a card at the agent's feet, "there you'll find my +permanent address." + +"Give me my walking-stick!" demanded Chatfield. + +"Not I!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That's mine, my good man, by right of +conquest. You can summon me, or arrest me, if you like, for stealing it." + +He opened the wicket-gate for Audrey, and together they passed through, +skirted the walls of the ruins, and went away into the higher portion of +the woods. Once there the girl laughed. + +"Now there'll be another row!" she said. "Between master and man +this time." + +"I think not!" observed Copplestone, with unusual emphasis. "For the +master is afraid of the man." + +"Ah!--but which is master and which is man?" asked Audrey in a low voice. + +Copplestone stopped and looked narrowly at her. + +"Oh?" he said quietly, "so you've seen that?" + +"Does it need much observation?" she replied. "My mother and I have known +for some time that Marston Greyle is entirely under Peter Chatfield's +thumb. He daren't do anything--save by Chatfield's permission." + +Copplestone walked on a few yards, ruminating. + +"Why!" he asked suddenly. + +"How do we know?" retorted Audrey. + +"Well, in cases like that," said Copplestone, "it generally means that +one man has a hold on the other. What hold can Chatfield have on your +cousin? I understand Mr. Marston Greyle came straight to his inheritance +from America. So what could Chatfield know of him--to have any hold?" + +"Oh, I don't know--and I don't care--much," replied Audrey, as they +passed out of the woods on to the headlands beyond. "Never mind all +that--here's the sea and the open sky--hang Chatfield, and Marston, too! +As we can't see the Keep, let's enjoy ourselves some other way. What +shall we do?" + +"You're the guide, conductress, general boss!" answered Copplestone. +"Shall I suggest something that sounds very material, though? Well, then, +can't we go along these cliffs to some village where we can find a nice +old fishing inn and get a simple lunch of some sort?" + +"That's certainly material and eminently practical," laughed Audrey. "We +can--that place, along there to the south--Lenwick. And so, come on--and +no more talk of Squire and agent. I've a remarkable facility in throwing +away unpleasant things." + +"It's a grand faculty--and I'll try to imitate you," said Copplestone. +"So--today's our own, eh? Is that it?" + +"Say until the middle of this afternoon," responded Audrey. "Don't forget +that I have a mother at home." + +It was, however, well past the middle of the afternoon when these two +returned to Scarhaven, very well satisfied with themselves. They had +found plenty to talk about without falling back on Marston Greyle, or +Peter Chatfield, or the event of the morning, and Copplestone suddenly +remembered, almost with compunction, that he had been so engrossed in +his companion that he had almost forgotten the Oliver mystery. But that +was sharply recalled to him as he entered the "Admiral's Arms." Mrs. +Wooler came forward from her parlour with a mysterious smile on her +good-looking face. + +"Here's a billet-doux for you, Mr. Copplestone," she said. "And I can't +tell you who left it. One of the girls found it lying on the hall table +an hour ago." With that she handed Copplestone a much thumbed, very +grimy, heavily-sealed envelope. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOBKIN'S HOLE + + +Copplestone carried the queer-looking missive into his private +sitting-room and carefully examined it, back and front, before slitting +it open. The envelope was of the cheapest kind, the big splotch of red +wax at the flap had been pressed into flatness by the summary method of +forcing a coarse-grained thumb upon it; the address was inscribed in +ill-formed characters only too evidently made with difficulty by a bad +pen, which seemed to have been dipped into watery ink at every third or +fourth letter. And it read thus:-- + +"THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN STAYING AT 'THE ADMIRAL '--PRIVATE" + +The envelope contained nothing but a scrap of paper obviously torn from a +penny cash book. No ink had been used in transcribing the two or three +lines which were scrawled across this scrap--the vehicle this time was an +indelible pencil, which the writer appeared to have moistened with his +tongue every now and then, some letters being thicker and darker than +others. The message, if mysterious, was straightforward enough. "_Sir,"_ +it ran, "_if so be as you'd like to have a bit of news from one as has +it, take a walk through Hobkin's Hole tomorrow morning and look out for +Yours truly--Him as writes this_." + +Like most very young men Copplestone on arriving at what he called +manhood (by which he meant the age of twenty-one years), had drawn up for +himself a code of ethics, wherein he had mentally scheduled certain +things to be done and certain things not to be done. One of the things +which he had firmly resolved never to do was to take any notice of an +anonymous letter. Here was an anonymous letter, and with it a conflict +between his principles and his inclinations. In five minutes he learnt +that cut-and-dried codes are no good when the hard facts of every-day +life have to be faced and that expediency is a factor in human existence +which has its moral values. In plain English, he made up his mind to +visit Hobkin's Hole next morning and find out who the unknown +correspondent was. + +He was half tempted to go round to the cottage and show the queer scrawl +to Audrey Greyle, of whom, having passed six delightful hours in her +company--he was beginning to think much more than was good for him, +unless he intended to begin thinking of her always. But he was still +young enough to have a spice of bashfulness about him, and he did not +want to seem too pushing or forward. Again, it seemed to him that the +anonymous letter conveyed, in some subtle fashion, a hint that it was to +be regarded as sacred and secret, and Copplestone had a strong sense of +honour. He knew that Mrs. Wooler was femininely curious to hear all about +that letter, but he took care not to mention it to her. Instead he +quietly consulted an ordnance map of the district which hung framed and +glazed in the hall of the inn, and discovering that Hobkin's Hole was +marked on it as being something or other a mile or two out of Scarhaven +on the inland side, he set out in its direction next morning after +breakfast, without a word to anyone as to where he was going. And that he +might not be entirely defenceless he carried Peter Chatfield's oaken +staff with him--that would certainly serve to crack any ordinary skull, +if need arose for measure of defence. + +The road which Copplestone followed out of the village soon turned off +into the heart of the moorlands that lay, rising and falling in irregular +undulations, between the sea and the hills. He was quickly out of sight +of Scarhaven, and in the midst of a solitude. All round him stretched +wide expanses of heather and gorse, broken up by great masses of rock: +from a rise in the road he looked about him and saw no sign of a human +habitation and heard nothing but the rush of the wind across the moors +and the plaintive cry of the sea-birds flapping their way to the +cultivated land beyond the barrier of hills. And from that point he saw +no sign of any fall or depression in the landscape to suggest the place +which he sought. But at the next turn he found himself at the mouth of a +narrow ravine, which cut deep into the heart of the hill, and was dark +and sombre enough to seem a likely place for secret meetings, if for +nothing more serious and sinister. It wound away from a little bridge +which carried the road over a brawling stream; along the side of that +stream were faint indications of a path which might have been made by +human feet, but was more likely to have been trodden out by the mountain +sheep. This path was quickly obscured by dwarf oaks and alder bushes, +which completely roofed in the narrow valley, and about everything hung a +suggestion of solitude that would have caused any timid or suspicious +soul to have turned back. But Copplestone was neither timid nor +suspicious, and he was already intensely curious about this adventure; +wherefore, grasping Peter Chatfield's oaken cudgel firmly in his right +hand, he jumped over the bridge and followed the narrow path into the +gloom of the trees. + +He soon found that the valley resolved itself into a narrow and rocky +defile. The stream, level at first, soon came tumbling down amongst huge +boulders; the path disappeared; out of the oaks and alder high cliffs of +limestones began to lift themselves. The morning was unusually dark and +grey, even for October, and as leaves, brown and sere though they were, +still clustered thickly on the trees, Copplestone quickly found himself +in a gloom that would have made a nervous person frightened. He also +found that his forward progress became increasingly difficult. At the +foot of a tall cliff which suddenly rose up before him he was obliged to +pause; on that side of the stream it seemed impossible to go further. But +as he hesitated, peering here and there under the branches of the dwarf +oaks, he heard a voice, so suddenly, that he started in spite of himself. + +"Guv'nor!" + +Copplestone looked around and saw nothing. Then came a low laugh, as if +the unseen person was enjoying his perplexity. + +"Look overhead, guv'nor," said the voice. "Look aloft!" + +Copplestone glanced upward, and saw a man's head and face, framed in a +screen of bushes which grew on a shelf of the limestone cliff. The head +was crowned by a much worn fur cap; the face, very brown and seamed and +wrinkled, was ornamented by a short, well-blackened clay pipe, from the +bowl of which a wisp of blue smoke curled upward. And as he grew +accustomed to the gloom he was aware of a pair of shrewd, twinkling eyes, +and a set of very white teeth which gleamed like an animal's. + +"Hullo!" said Copplestone. "Come out of that!" + +The white teeth showed themselves still more; their owner laughed again. + +"You come up, guv'nor," he said. "There's a natural staircase round the +corner. Come up and make yourself at home. I've a nice little parlour +here, and a matter of refreshment in it, too." + +"Not till you show yourself," answered Copplestone. "I want to see what +I'm dealing with. Come out, now!" + +The unseen laughed again, moved away from his screen, and presently +showed himself on the edge of the shelf of rock. And Copplestone found +himself staring at a queer figure of a man--an under-sized, +quaint-looking fellow, clad in dirty velveteens, a once red waistcoat, +and leather breeches and gaiters, a sort of compound between a poacher, a +game-keeper, and an ostler. But quainter than figure or garments was the +man's face--a gnarled, weather-beaten, sea-and-wind stained face, which, +in Copplestone's opinion, was holiest enough and not without abundant +traces of a sense of humour. + +Copplestone at once trusted that face. He swung himself up by the nooks +and crannies of the rock, and joined the man on his ledge. + +"Well?" he said. "You're the chap who sent me that letter? Why?" + +"Come this way, guv'nor," replied the brown-faced one. "Well talk more +comfortable, like, in my parlour. Here you are!" + +He led Copplestone along the ridge behind the bushes, and presently +revealed a cave in the face of the overhanging limestone, mostly natural, +but partly due to artifice, wherein were rude seats, covered over with +old sacking, a box or two which evidently served for pantry and larder, +and a shelf on which stood a wicker-covered bottle in company with a row +of bottles of ale. + +The lord of this retreat waved a hospitable hand towards his cellar. + +"You'll not refuse a poor man's hospitality, guv'nor?" he said politely. +"I can give you a clean glass, and if you'll try a drop of rum, there's +fresh water from the stream to mix it with--good as you'll find in +England. Or, maybe, it being the forepart of the day, you'd prefer ale, +now? Say the word!" + +"A bottle of ale, then, thank you," responded Copplestone, who saw that +he had to deal with an original, and did not wish to appear +stand-offish. "And whom am I going to drink with, may I ask?" + +The man carefully drew the cork of a bottle, poured out its contents with +the discrimination of a bartender, handed the glass to his visitor with a +bow, helped himself to a measure of rum, and bowed again as he drank. + +"My best respects to you, guv'nor," he said. "Glad to see you in Hobkin's +Hole Castle--that's here. Queer place for gentlemen to meet in, ain't it? +Who are you talking to, says you? My name, guv'-nor--well-known +hereabouts--is Zachary Spurge!" + +"You sent me that note last night?" asked Copplestone, taking a seat and +filling his pipe. "How did you get it there--unseen?" + +"Got a cousin as is odd-job man at the 'Admiral's Arms,'" replied +Spurge. "He slipped it in for me. You may ha' seen him there, +guv'nor--chap with one eye, and queer-looking, but to be trusted. As I +am!--down to the ground." + +"And what do you want to see me about?" inquired Copplestone. "What's +this bit of news you've got to tell?" + +Zachary Spurge thrust a hand inside his velveteen jacket and drew out a +much folded and creased paper, which, on being unwrapped, proved to be +the bill which offered a reward for the finding of Bassett Oliver. He +held it up before his visitor. + +"This!" he said. "A thousand pound is a vast lot o' money, guv'nor! Now, +if I was to tell something as I knows of, what chances should I have of +getting that there money?" + +"That depends," replied Copplestone. "The reward is to be given to--but +you see the plain wording of it. Can you give information of that sort?" + +"I can give a certain piece of information, guv'nor," said Spurge. +"Whether it'll lead to the finding of that there gentleman or not I can't +say. But something I do know--certain sure!" + +Copplestone reflected awhile. + +"Ill tell you what, Spurge," he said. "I'll promise you this much. If you +can give any information I'll give you my word that--whether what you can +tell is worth much or little--you shall be well paid. That do?" + +"That'll do, guv'nor," responded Spurge. "I take your word as between +gentlemen! Well, now, it's this here--you see me as I am, here in a +cave, like one o' them old eremites that used to be in the ancient days. +Why am I here! 'Cause just now it ain't quite convenient for me to show +my face in Scarhaven. I'm wanted for poaching, guv'nor--that's the fact! +This here is a safe retreat. If I was tracked here, I could make my way +out at the back of this hole--there's a passage here--before anybody +could climb that rock. However, nobody suspects I'm here. They +think--that is, that old devil Chatfield and the police--they think I'm +off to sea. However, here I am--and last Sunday afternoon as ever was, I +was in Scarhaven! In the wood I was, guv'nor, at the back of the Keep. +Never mind what for--I was there. And at precisely ten minutes to three +o'clock I saw Bassett Oliver." + +"How did you know him?" demanded Copplestone. + +"Cause I've had many a sixpenn'orth of him at both Northborough and +Norcaster," answered Spurge. "Seen him a dozen times, I have, and knew +him well enough, even if I'd only viewed him from the the-ayter gallery. +Well, he come along up the path from the south quay. He passed within a +dozen yards of me, and went up to the door in the wall of the ruins, +right opposite where I was lying doggo amongst some bushes. He poked the +door with the point of his stick--it was ajar, that door, and it went +open. And so he walks in--and disappears. Guv'nor!--I reckon that'ud be +the last time as he was seen alive!--unless--unless--" + +"Unless--what?" asked Copplestone eagerly. + +"Unless one other man saw him," replied Spurge solemnly. "For there was +another man there, guv'nor. Squire Greyle!" + +Copplestone looked hard at Spurge; Spurge returned the stare, and nodded +two or three times. + +"Gospel truth!" he said. "I kept where I was--I'd reasons of my own. May +be eight minutes or so--certainly not ten--after Bassett Oliver walked in +there, Squire Greyle walked out. In a hurry, guv'nor. He come out quick. +He looked a bit queer. Dazed, like. You know how quick a man can think, +guv'nor, under certain circumstances? I thought quicker'n lightning. I +says to myself 'Squire's seen somebody or something he hadn't no taste +for!' Why, you could read it on his face! plain as print. It was there!" + +"Well?" said Copplestone. "And then?" + +"Then," continued Spurge. "Then he stood for just a second or two, +looking right and left, up and down. There wasn't a soul in +sight--nobody! But--he slunk off--sneaked off--same as a fox sneaks away +from a farm-yard. He went down the side of the curtain-wall that shuts in +the ruins, taking as much cover as ever he could find--at the end of the +wall, he popped into the wood that stands between the ruins and his +house. And then, of course, I lost all sight of him." + +"And--Mr. Oliver?" said Copplestone. "Did you see him again?" + +Spurge took a pull at his rum and water, and relighted his pipe. + +"I did not," he answered. "I was there until a quarter-past three--then I +went away. And no Oliver had come out o' that door when I left." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INVALID CURATE + + +Spurge and his visitor sat staring at each other in silence for a few +minutes; the silence was eventually broken by Copplestone. + +"Of course," he said reflectively, "if Mr. Oliver was looking round those +ruins he could easily spend half an hour there." + +"Just so," agreed Spurge. "He could spend an hour. If so be as he was one +of these here antiquarian-minded gents, as loves to potter about old +places like that, he could spend two hours, three hours, profitable-like. +But he'd have come out in the end, and the evidence is, guv'nor, that he +never did come out! Even if I am just now lying up, as it were, I'm fully +what they term o-fay with matters, and, by all accounts, after Bassett +Oliver went up that there path, subsequent to his bit of talk with +Ewbank, he was never seen no more 'cepting by me, and possibly by Squire +Greyle. Them as lives a good deal alone, like me guv'nor, develops what +you may call logical faculties--they thinks--and thinks deep. I've +thought. B.O.--that's Oliver--didn't go back by the way he'd come, or +he'd ha' been seen. B.O. didn't go forward or through the woods to the +headlands, or he'd ha' been seen, B.O. didn't go down to the shore, or +he'd ha' been seen. 'Twixt you and me, guv'nor, B.O.'s dead body is in +that there Keep!" + +"Are you suggesting anything?" asked Copplestone. + +"Nothing, guv'nor--no more than that," answered Spurge. "I'm making no +suggestion and no accusation against nobody. I've seen a bit too much of +life to do that. I've known more than one innocent man hanged there at +Norcaster Gaol in my time all through what they call circumstantial +evidence. Appearances is all very well--but appearances may be against a +man to the very last degree, and yet him be as innocent as a new born +baby! No--I make no suggestions. 'Cepting this here--which has no doubt +occurred to you, or to B.O.'s brother. If I were the missing gentleman's +friends I should want to know a lot! I should want to know precisely what +he meant when he said to Dan'l Ewbank as how he'd known a man called +Marston Greyle in America. 'Taint a common name, that, guv'nor." + +Copplestone made no answer to these observations. His own train of +thought was somewhat similar to his host's. And presently he turned to a +different track. + +"You saw no one else about there that afternoon?" he asked. + +"No one, guv'nor," replied Spurge. + +"And where did you go when you left the place?" inquired Copplestone. + +"To tell you the truth, guv'nor, I was waiting there for that cousin o' +mine--him as carried you the letter," answered Spurge. "It was a fixture +between us--he was to meet me there about three o'clock that day. If he +wasn't there, or in sight, by a quarter-past three I was to know he +wasn't able to get away. So as he didn't come, I slipped back into the +woods, and made my way back here, round by the moors." + +"Are you going to stay in this place?" asked Copplestone. + +"For a bit, guv'nor--till I see how things are," replied Spurge. "As I +say, I'm wanted for poaching, and Chatfield's been watching to get his +knife into me this long while. All the same, if more serious things drew +his attention off, he might let it slide. What do you ask for, guv'nor?" + +"I wanted to know where you could be found in case you were required to +give evidence about seeing Mr. Oliver," replied Copplestone. "That +evidence may be wanted." + +"I've thought of that," observed Spurge. "And you can always find that +much out from my cousin at the 'Admiral.' He keeps in touch with me--if +it got too hot for me here, I should clear out to Norcaster--there's a +spot there where I've laid low many a time. You can trust my cousin--Jim +Spurge, that's his name. One eye, no mistaking of him--he's always about +the yard there at Mrs. Wooler's." + +"All right," said Copplestone. "If I want you, I'll tell him. By-the-bye, +have you told this to anybody?" + +"Not to a soul, guv'nor," replied Spurge. "Not even to Jim. No--I kept it +dark till I could see you. Considering, of course, that you are left in +charge of things, like." + +Copplestone presently went away and returned slowly to Scarhaven, +meditating deeply on what he had heard. He saw no reason to doubt the +truth of Zachary Spurge's tale--it bore the marks of credibility. But +what did it amount to? That Spurge saw Bassett Oliver enter the ruins of +the Keep, by the one point of ingress; that a few moments later he saw +Marston Greyle come away from the same place, evidently considerably +upset, and sneak off in a manner which showed that he dreaded +observation. That was all very suspicious, to say the least of it, taken +in relation to Oliver's undoubted disappearance--but it was only +suspicion; it afforded no direct proof. However, it gave material for a +report to Sir Cresswell Oliver, and he determined to write out an account +of his dealings with Spurge that afternoon, and to send it off at once by +registered letter. + +He was busily engaged in this task when Mrs. Wooler came into his +sitting-room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that +she was full of news. + +"Never rains but it pours!" she said with a smile. "Though, to be sure, +it isn't a very heavy shower. I've got another visitor now, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Oh?" responded Copplestone, not particularly interested. "Indeed!" + +"A young clergyman from London--the Reverend Gilling," continued the +landlady. "Been ill for some time, and his doctor has recommended him to +try the north coast air. So he came down here, and he's going to stop +awhile to see how it suits him." + +"I should have thought the air of the north coast was a bit strong for +an invalid," remarked Copplestone. "I'm not delicate, but I find it quite +strong enough for me." + +"I daresay it's a case of kill or cure," replied Mrs. Wooler. "Chest +complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks +particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he's a very good +appetite and that his doctor says he's to live well and to eat as much as +ever he can." + +Copplestone got a view of his fellow-visitor that afternoon in the hall +of the inn, and agreed with the landlady that he showed no evident signs +of delicacy of health. He was a good type of the conventional curate, +with a rather pale, good-humoured face set between his round collar and +wide brimmed hat, and he glanced at Copplestone with friendly curiosity +and something of a question in his eyes. And Copplestone, out of good +neighbourliness, stopped and spoke to him. + +"Mrs. Wooler tells me you're come here to pick up," he remarked. "Pretty +strong air round this quarter of the globe!" + +"Oh, that's all right!" said the new arrival. "The air of Scarhaven +will do me good--it's full of just what I want." He gave Copplestone +another look and then glanced at the letters which he held in his hand. +"Are you going to the post-office?" he asked. "May I come?--I want to +go there, too." + +The two young men walked out of the inn, and Copplestone led the way +down the road towards the northern quay. And once they were well out +of earshot of the "Admiral's Arms," and the two or three men who +lounged near the wall in front of it, the curate turned to his +companion with a sly look. + +"Of course you're Mr. Copplestone?" he remarked. "You can't be anybody +else--besides, I heard the landlady call you so." + +"Yes," replied Copplestone, distinctly puzzled by the other's manner. +"What then?" + +The curate laughed quietly, and putting his fingers inside his heavy +overcoat, produced a card which he handed over. + +"My credentials!" he said. + +Copplestone glanced at the card and read "Sir Cresswell Oliver," He +turned wonderingly to his companion, who laughed again. + +"Sir Cresswell told me to give you that as soon as I conveniently could," +he said. "The fact is, I'm not a clergyman at all--not I! I'm a private +detective, sent down here by him and Petherton. See?" + +Copplestone stared for a moment at the wide-brimmed hat, the round +collar, the eminently clerical countenance. Then he burst into laughter. +"I congratulate you on your make-up, anyway!" he exclaimed. "Capital!" + +"Oh, I've been on the stage in my time," responded the private detective. +"I'm a good hand at fitting myself to various parts; besides I've played +the conventional curate a score of times. Yes, I don't think anybody +would see through me, and I'm very particular to avoid the clergy." + +"And you left the stage--for this?" asked Copplestone. "Why, now?" + +"Pays better--heaps better," replied the other calmly. "Also, it's more +exciting--there's much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I +am--my name, by-the-bye is Gilling, though I'm not the Reverend Gilling, +as Mrs. Wooler will call me. And so--as I've made things plain--how's +this matter going so far?" + +Copplestone shook his head. + +"My orders," he said, with a significant look, "are--to say nothing +to any one." + +"Except to me," responded Gilling. "Sir Cresswell Oliver's card is my +passport. You can tell me anything." + +"Tell me something first," replied Copplestone. "Precisely what are you +here for? If I'm to talk confidentially to you, you must talk in the same +fashion to me." + +He stopped at a deserted stretch of the quay, and leaning against the +wall which separated it from the sand, signed to Gilling to stop also. + +"If we're going to have a quiet talk," he went on, "we'd better have it +now--no one's about, and if any one sees us from a distance they'll +only think we're, what we look to be--casual acquaintances. Now--what +is your job?" + +Gilling looked about him and then perched himself on the wall. + +"To watch Marston Greyle," he replied. + +"They suspect him?" asked Copplestone. + +"Undoubtedly!" + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver said as much to me--but no more. Have they said +more to you?" + +"The suspicion seemed to have originated with Petherton. Petherton, in +spite of his meek old-fashioned manners, is as sharp an old bird as +you'll find in London! He fastened at once on what Bassett Oliver said +to that fisherman, Ewbank. A keen nose for a scent, Petherton's! And he +'s determined to find out who it was that Bassett Oliver met in the +United States under the name of Marston Greyle. He's already set the +machinery in motion. And in the meantime, I'm to keep my eye on this +Squire--as I shall!" + +"Why watch him particularly?" + +"To see that he doesn't depart for unknown regions--or, if he does, to +follow in his track. He's not to be lost sight of until this mystery is +cleared. Because--something is wrong." + +Copplestone considered matters in silence for a few moments, and decided +not to reveal the story of Zachary Spurge to Gilling--yet awhile at any +rate. However, he had news which there was no harm in communicating. + +"Marston Greyle," he said, presently, "or his agent, Peter Chatfield, or +both, in common agreement, are already doing something to solve the +mystery--so far as Greyle's property is concerned. They've closed the +Keep and its surrounding ruins to the people who used to be permitted to +go in, and they're conducting an exhaustive search--for Bassett Oliver, +of course." + +Gilling made a grimace. + +"Of course!" he said, cynically. "Just so! I expected something of that +sort. That's all part of a clever scheme." + +"I don't understand you," remarked Copplestone. "How--a clever scheme?" + +"Whitewash!" answered Gilling. "Sheer whitewash! You don't suppose that +either Greyle or Chatfield are fools?--I should say they're far from it, +from what little I've heard of 'em. Well--don't they know very well that +Marston Greyle is under suspicion? All right--they want to clear him. So +they close their ruins and make a search--a private search, mind you--and +at the end they announce that nothing's been found--and there you are! +And--supposing they did find something--supposing they found Bassett +Oliver's body--What is it?" he asked suddenly, seeing Copplestone staring +hard across the sands at the opposite quay. "Something happened?" + +"By Gad!--I believe something has happened!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Look +there--men running down the hillside from the Keep. And listen--they're +shouting to those fellows on the other quay. Come on across! Will it be +out of keeping with your invalid pose if you run?" + +Gilling answered that question by lightly vaulting the wall and dropping +to the sands beneath. + +"I'm not an invalid in my legs, anyhow," he answered, as they began to +splash across the pools left by the recently retreated tide. "By +George!--I believe something has happened, too! Look at those people, +running out of their cottages!" + +All along the south quay the fisher-folk, men, women, and children, were +crowding eagerly towards the gate of the path by which Bassett Oliver had +gone up towards the Keep. When Copplestone and his companion gained the +quay and climbed up its wall they were pouring in at this gate, and +swarming up to the woods, all talking at the top of their voices. +Copplestone suddenly recognized Ewbank on the fringe of the crowd and +called to him. + +"What is it?" he demanded. "What's happened?" + +Ewbank, a man of leisurely movement, paused and waited for the two young +men to come up. At their approach he took his pipe out of his mouth, and +inclined his head towards the Keep. + +"They're saying something's been found up there." he replied. "I don't +know what. But Chatfield, he's sent two men down here to the village. One +of 'em's gone for the police and the doctor, and t'other's gone to the +'Admiral,' looking for you. You're wanted up there--partiklar!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + + +By the time Copplestone and the pseudo-curate had reached the plateau of +open ground surrounding the ruins it seemed as if half the population of +Scarhaven had gathered there. Men, women and children were swarming about +the door in the curtain wall, all manifesting an eager desire to pass +through. But the door was strictly guarded. Chatfield, armed with a new +oak cudgel stood there, masterful and lowering; behind him were several +estate labourers, all keeping the people back. And within the door stood +Marston Greyle, evidently considerably restless and perturbed, and every +now and then looking out on the mob which the fast-spreading rumour had +called together. In one of these inspections he caught sight of +Copplestone, and spoke to Chatfield, who immediately sent one of his +body-guard through the throng. + +"Mr. Greyle says will you go forward, sir?" said the man. "Your friend +can go in too, if he likes." + +"That's your clerical garb," whispered Copplestone as he and Gilling made +their way to the door. "But why this sudden politeness?" + +"Oh, that's easy to reckon up," answered Gilling. "I see through it. They +want creditable and respectable witnesses to something or other. This +big, heavy-jowled man is Chatfield, of course?" + +"That's Chatfield," responded Copplestone. "What's he after?" + +For the agent, as the two young men approached, ostentiously turned away +from them, moving a few steps from the door. He muttered a word or two to +the men who guarded it and they stood aside and allowed Copplestone and +the curate to enter. Marston Greyle came forward, eyeing Gilling with a +sharp glance of inspection. He turned from him to Copplestone. + +"Will you come in?" he asked, not impolitely and with a certain anxiety +of manner. "I want you to--to be present, in fact. This gentleman is a +friend of yours?" + +"An acquaintance of an hour," interposed Gilling, with ready wit. "I have +just come to stay at the inn--for my health's sake." + +"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to accompany us?" said Greyle. "The fact +is, Mr. Copplestone, we've found Mr. Bassett Oliver's body." + +"I thought so," remarked Copplestone. + +"And as soon as the police come up," continued Greyle, "I want you all to +see exactly where it is. No one's touched it--no one's been near it. Of +course, he's dead!" + +He lifted his hand with a nervous gesture, and the two others, who were +watching him closely, saw that he was trembling a good deal, and that his +face was very pale. + +"Dead!--of course," he went on. "He--he must have been killed +instantaneously. And you'll see in a minute or two why the body wasn't +found before--when we made that first search. It's quite explainable. The +fact is--" + +A sudden bustle at the door in the wall heralded the entrance of two +policemen. The Squire went forward to meet them. The prospect of +immediate action seemed to pull him together and his manner changed to +one of assertive superintendence of things. + +"Now, Mr. Chatfield!" he called out. "Keep all these people away! Close +the door and let no one enter on any excuse. Stay there yourself and see +that we are not interrupted. Come this way now," he went on, addressing +the policemen and the two favoured spectators. + +"You've found him, then, sir?" asked the police-sergeant in a thick +whisper, as Greyle led his party across the grass to the foot of the +Keep. "I suppose it's all up with the poor gentleman; of course? The +doctor, he wasn't in, but they'll send him up as soon--" + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver is dead," interrupted Greyle, almost harshly. "No +doctors can do any good. Now, look here," he continued, pulling them to a +sudden halt, "I want all of you to take particular notice of this old +tower--the Keep. I believe you have not been in here before, Mr. +Copplestone--just pay particular attention to this place. Here you see is +the Keep, standing in the middle of what I suppose was the courtyard of +the old castle. It's a square tower, with a stair-turret at one angle. +The stair in that turret is in a very good state of preservation--in +fact, it is quite easy to climb to the top, and from the top there's a +fine view of land and sea: the Keep itself is nearly a hundred feet in +height. Now the inside of the Keep is completely gutted, as you'll +presently see--there isn't a floor left of the five or six which were +once there. And I'm sorry to say there's very little protection when +one's at the top--merely a narrow ledge with a very low parapet, which in +places is badly broken. Consequently, any one who climbs to the top must +be very careful, or there's the danger of slipping off that ledge and +falling to the bottom. Now in my opinion that's precisely what happened +on Sunday afternoon. Oliver evidently got in here, climbed the stairs in +the turret to enjoy the view and fell from the parapet. And why his body +hasn't been found before I'll now show you." + +He led the way to the extreme foot of the Keep, and to a very low-arched +door, at which stood a couple of the estate labourers, one of whom +carried a lighted lantern. To this man the Squire made a sign. + +"Show the way," he said, in a low voice. + +The man turned and descended several steps of worn and moss-covered stone +which led through the archway into a dark, cellar-like place smelling +strongly of damp and age. Greyle drew the attention of his companions to +a heap of earth and rubbish at the entrance. + +"We had to clear all that out before we could get in here," he said. +"This archway hadn't been opened for ages. This, of course, is the very +lowest story of the Keep, and half beneath the level of the ground +outside. Its roof has gone, like all the rest, but as you see, something +else has supplied its place. Hold up your lantern, Marris!" + +The other men looked up and saw what the Squire meant. Across the tower, +at a height of some fifteen or twenty feet from the floor, Nature, left +unchecked, had thrown a ceiling of green stuff. Bramble, ivy, and other +spreading and climbing plants had, in the course of years, made a +complete network from wall to wall. In places it was so thick that no +light could be seen through it from beneath; in other places it was thin +and glimpses of the sky could be seen from above the grey, tunnel-like +walls. And in one of those places, close to the walls, there was a +distinct gap, jagged and irregular, as if some heavy mass had recently +plunged through the screen of leaf and branch from the heights above, and +beneath this the startled searchers saw the body, lying beside a heap of +stones and earth in the unmistakable stillness of death. + +"You see how it must have happened," whispered Greyle, as they all bent +round the dead man. "He must have fallen from the very top of the +Keep--from the parapet, in fact--and plunged through this mass of green +stuff above us. If he had hit that where it's so thick--there!--it might +have broken his fall, but, you see, he struck it at the very thinnest +part, and being a big and heavyish man, of course, he'd crash right +through it. Now of course, when we examined the Keep on Monday morning, +it never struck us that there might be something down here--if you go up +the turret stairs to the top and look down on this mass of green stuff +from the very top, you'll see that it looks undisturbed; there's scarcely +anything to show that he fell through it, from up there. But--he did!" + +"Whose notion was it that he might be found here?" asked Copplestone. + +"Chatfield's," replied the Squire. "Chatfield's. He and I were up at the +top there, and he suddenly suggested that Oliver might have fallen from +the parapet and be lying embedded in that mass of green stuff beneath. We +didn't know then--even Chatfield didn't know--that there was this empty +space beneath the green stuff. But when we came to go into it, we found +there was, so we had that archway cleared of all the stone and rubbish +and of course we found him." + +"The body'll have to be removed, sir," whispered the police-sergeant. +"It'll have to be taken down to the inn, to wait the inquest." + +Marston Greyle started. + +"Inquest!" he said. "Oh!--will that have to be held? I suppose so--yes. +But we'd better wait until the doctor comes, hadn't we? I want him--" + +The doctor came into the gloomy vault at that moment, escorted by +Chatfield, who, however, immediately retired. He was an elderly, +old-fashioned somewhat fussy-mannered person, who evidently attached +much more importance to the living Squire than to the dead man, and he +listened to all Marston Greyle's explanations and theories with great +deference and accepted each without demur. "Ah yes, to be sure!" he said, +after a perfunctory examination of the body. "The affair is easily +understood. It is precisely as you suggest, Squire. The unfortunate man +evidently climbed to the top of the tower, missed his footing, and fell +headlong. That slight mass of branch and leaf would make little +difference--he was, you see, a heavy man--some fourteen or fifteen stone, +I should think. Oh, instantaneous death, without a doubt! Well, well, +these constables must see to the removal of the body, and we must let my +friend the coroner know--he will hold the inquest tomorrow, no doubt. +Quite a mere formality, my dear sir!--the whole thing is as plain as a +pikestaff. It will be a relief to know that the mystery is now +satisfactorily solved." + +Outside in the welcome freshness, Copplestone turned to the doctor. + +"You say the inquest will be held tomorrow?" he asked. The doctor looked +his questioner up and down with an inquiry which signified doubt as to +Copplestone's right to demand information. + +"In the usual course," he replied stiffly. + +"Then his brother, Sir Cresswell Oliver, and his solicitor, Mr. +Petherton, must be wired for from London," observed Copplestone, turning +to Greyle. "I'll communicate with them at once. I suppose we may go up +the tower?" he continued as Greyle nodded his assent. "I'd like to see +the stairs and the parapet." + +Greyle looked a little doubtful and uneasy. + +"Well, I had meant that no one should go up until all this was gone +into," he answered. "I don't want any more accidents. You'll be careful?" + +"We're both young and agile," responded Copplestone. + +"There's no need for alarm. Do you care to go up, Mr. Gilling?" + +The pseudo-curate accepted the invitation readily, and he and +Copplestone entered the turret. They had climbed half its height before +Copplestone spoke. + +"Well?" he whispered. "What do you think?" + +"It may be accident," muttered Gilling. "It--mayn't." + +"You think he might have been--what?--thrown down?" + +"Might have been caught unawares, and pushed over. Let's see what there +is up above, anyway." + +The stair in the turret, much worn, but comparatively safe, and lighted +by loopholes and arrow-slits, terminated in a low arched doorway, through +which egress was afforded to a parapet which ran completely round the +inner wall of the Keep. It was in no place more than a yard wide; the +balustrading which fenced it in was in some places completely gone, a +mere glance was sufficient to show that only a very cool-headed and +extremely sure-footed person ought to traverse it. Copplestone contented +himself with an inspection from the archway; he looked down and saw at +once that a fall from that height must mean sure and swift death: he saw, +too, that Greyle had been quite right in saying that the sudden plunge of +Oliver's body through the leafy screen far beneath had made little +difference to the appearance of that screen as seen from above. And now +that he saw everything it seemed to him that the real truth might well +lie in one word--accident. + +"Coming round this parapet?" asked Gilling, who was looking narrowly +about him. + +"No!" replied Copplestone. "I can't stand looking down from great +heights. It makes my head swim. Are you?" + +"Sure!" answered Gilling. He took off his heavy overcoat and handed it to +his companion. "Mind holding it?" he asked. "I want to have a good look +at the exact spot from which Oliver must have fallen. There's the +gap--such as it is, and it doesn't look much from here, does it?--in the +green stuff, down below, so he must have been here on the parapet exactly +above it. Gad! it's very narrow, and a bit risky, this, when all's said +and done!" + +Copplestone watched his companion make his way round to the place from +which it was only too evident Oliver must have fallen. Gilling went +slowly, carefully inspecting every yard of the moss and lichen-covered +stones. Once he paused some time and seemed to be examining a part of the +parapet with unusual attention. When he reached the precise spot at which +he had aimed, he instantly called across to Copplestone. + +"There's no doubt about his having fallen from here!" he said. "Some of +the masonry on the very edge of this parapet is loose. I could dislodge +it with a touch." + +"Then be careful," answered Copplestone. "Don't cross that bit!" + +But Gilling quietly continued his progress and returned to his companion +by the opposite side from which he had set out, having thus accomplished +the entire round. He quietly reassumed his overcoat. + +"No doubt about the fall," he said as they turned down the stair. "The +next thing is--was it accidental?" + +"And--as regards that--what's to be done next?" asked Copplestone. + +"That's easy. We must go at once and wire for Sir Cresswell and old +Petherton," replied Gilling. "It's now four-thirty. If they catch an +evening express at King's Cross they'll get here early in the morning. If +they like to motor from Norcaster they can get here in the small hours. +But--they must be here for that inquest." + +Greyle was talking to Chatfield at the foot of the Keep when they got +down. The agent turned surlily away, but the Squire looked at both with +an unmistakable eagerness. + +"There's no doubt whatever that Oliver fell from the parapet," said +Copplestone. "The marks of a fall are there--quite unmistakably." + +Greyle nodded, but made no remark, and the two made their way through +the still eager crowd and went down to the village post-office. Both were +wondering, as they went, about the same thing--the evident anxiety and +mental uneasiness of Marston Greyle. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GOOD MEN AND TRUE + + +Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in the +evening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he and +Petherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon after +midnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival. +Copplestone made all arrangements for their reception, and after +snatching a couple of hours' sleep was up to receive them. By two o'clock +in the morning Sir Cresswell and the old solicitor and Gilling--smuggled +into their sitting-room--had heard all he had to tell about Zachary +Spurge and his story. + +"We must have that fellow at the inquest," said Petherton. "At any cost +we must have him! That's flat!" + +"You think it wise?" asked Sir Cresswell. "Won't it be a bit previous? +Wouldn't it be better to wait until we know more?" + +"No--we must have his evidence," declared Petherton. "It will serve as an +opening. Besides, this inquest will have to be adjourned--I shall ask for +that. No--Spurge must be produced." + +"If Spurge comes into Scarhaven," observed Copplestone, "he'll be +promptly collared by the police. They want him for poaching." + +"Then they can get him when the proceedings are over," retorted the old +lawyer, dryly. "They daren't touch him while he's giving evidence and +that's all we want. Perhaps he won't come?--Oh he'll come all right if +we make it worth his while. A month in Norcaster gaol will mean nothing +to him if he knows there's a chance of that reward or something +substantial out of it at the end of his sentence. You must go out to +this retreat of his and bring him in--we must have him. Better go very +early in the morning. + +"I'll go now," said Copplestone. "It's as easy to go by night as by day." +He left the other three to seek their beds, and himself slipped quietly +out of the hotel by one of the ground-floor windows and set off in a +pitch-black night to seek Spurge in his lair. And after sundry barkings +of his shins against the rocks and scratchings of his hands and cheeks by +the undergrowth of Hobkin's Hole he rounded the poacher out and delivered +his message. + +Spurge, blinking at his visitor in the pale light of a guttering candle, +shook his head. + +"I'll come, guv'nor," he said. "Of course. I'll come--and I'll trust to +luck to get away, and it don't matter a deal if the luck's agen me--I've +done a month in Norcaster before today, and it ain't half a bad +rest-cure, if you only take it that way. But guv'nor--that old lawyer's +making a mistake! You didn't ought to have my bit of evidence at this +stage. It's too soon. You want to work up the case a bit. There's such a +thing, guv'nor, in this world as being a bit previous. This here's too +previous--you want to be surer of your facts. Because you know, guv'nor +nobody'll believe my word agen Squire Greyle's. Guv'nor--this here +inquest'll be naught but a blooming farce! Mark me! You ain't a native o' +this part--I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aught +agen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor--all a blooming +farce! Mark my words!" + +"All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly of +Spurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run." + +"Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothing +else. You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call my +name out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward." + +There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like him +in the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten-o'clock +that morning. It seemed to Copplestone that it would have been a physical +impossibility to crowd more people within the walls than had assembled +when the coroner, a local solicitor, who was obviously testy, irritable, +self-important and afflicted with deafness, took his seat and looked +sourly on the crowd of faces. Copplestone had already seen him in +conversation with the village doctor, the village police, Chatfield, and +Marston Greyle's solicitor, and he began to see the force of Spurge's +shrewd remarks. What, of course, was most desired was secrecy and +privacy--the Scarhaven powers had no wish that the attention of all the +world should be drawn to this quiet place. But outsiders were there in +plenty. Stafford and several members of Bassett Oliver's company had +motored over from Norcaster and had succeeded in getting good places: +there were half-a-dozen reporters from Norcaster and Northborough, and +plain-clothes police from both towns. And there, too, were all the +principal folk of the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, +and, a little distance from Audrey, alert and keenly interested, was +Addie Chatfield. + +It needed very little insight or observation on the part of an +intelligent spectator to see how things were going. The twelve good men +and true, required under the provisions of the old statute to form a +jury, were all of them either Scarhaven tradesmen or Scarhaven +householders or labourers on the estate. Their countenances, as they took +their seats under the foremanship of a man whom Copplestone already knew +as Chatfield's under-steward, showed plainly that they regarded the whole +thing as a necessary formality and that they were already prepared with a +verdict. This impression was strengthened by the coroner's opening +remarks. In his opinion, the whole affair--to which he did not even refer +as unfortunate--was easily and quickly explained and understood. The +deceased had come to the village to look round--on a Sunday be it +observed--had somehow obtained access to the Keep, where, the ruins being +strictly private and not open to the public on any consideration on +Sunday, he had no right to be; had indulged his curiosity by climbing to +the top of the ancient tower and had paid for it by falling down from +that terrible height and breaking his neck. All that was necessary was +for them to hear evidence bearing out these facts--after which they would +return a verdict in accordance with what they had heard. Very fortunately +the facts were plain, and it would not be necessary to call many +witnesses. + +Sir Cresswell Oliver turned to Copplestone who sat at one side of him, +while Petherton sat on the other. + +"I don't know if you notice that Greyle isn't here?" he whispered grimly. +"In my opinion, he doesn't intend to show! We'll see!" + +Certainly the Squire was not in the place. And there were soon signs that +those who conducted the proceedings evidently did not consider his +presence necessary. The witnesses were few; their examinations was +perfunctory; they were out of the extemporised witness-box as soon as +they were in it. Sir Cresswell Oliver--to give formal identification. +Mrs. Wooler--to prove that the deceased man came to her house. One of the +foremen of the estate--to prove the great care with which the Squire had +searched for traces of the missing man. One of the estate labourers--to +prove the actual finding of the body. The doctor--to prove, beyond all +doubt, that the deceased had broken his neck. + +The coroner, an elderly man, obviously well satisfied with the trend of +things, took off his spectacles and turned to the jury. + +"You have heard everything there is to be heard, gentlemen," said he. "As +I remarked at the opening of this inquest, the case is one of great +simplicity. You will have no difficulty in deciding that the deceased +came to his death by accident--as to the exact wording of your verdict, +you had better put it in this way:--that the deceased Bassett Oliver died +as the result--" + +Petherton, who, noticing the coroner's deafness, had contrived to seat +himself as close to his chair of office as possible, quietly rose. + +"Before the jury consider any verdict," he said in his loudest tones, +"they must hear certain evidence which I wish to call. And first of +all--is Mr. Marston Greyle present in this room?" + +The coroner frowned, and the Squire's solicitor turned to Petherton. + +"Mr. Greyle is not present," he said. "He is not at all well. There is no +need for his presence--he has no evidence to give." + +"If you don't have Mr. Greyle down here at once," said Petherton, +quietly, "this inquest will have to be adjourned for his attendance. +You had better send for him--or I'll get the authorities to do so. In +the meantime, we '11 call one or two witnesses,--Daniel Ewbank!--to +begin with." + +There was a brief and evidently anxious consultation between Greyle's +solicitor and the coroner; there were dark looks at Petherton and his +companions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly. + +"We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, us +as sits here. Our verdict is--" + +"You'll have to bear Ewbank and anybody I like to call, my good sir," +retorted Petherton quietly. "I am better acquainted with the law than you +are." He turned to the coroner's officer. "I warned you this morning to +produce Ewbank," he said. "Now, where is he?" + +Out of a deep silence a shrill voice came from the rear of the crowd. + +"Knows better than to be here, does Dan'l Ewbank, mister! He's off!" + +"Very good--or bad--for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly. +"Then--until Mr. Marston Greyle comes--we will call Zachary Spurge." + +The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurge +suddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and it +was at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say, +no one there would attach any importance to it. The laughter continued +and increased while Spurge was under examination. Petherton appealed to +the coroner; the coroner affected not to hear. And once more the foreman +of the jury interrupted. + +"We don't want to hear no more o' this stuff!" he said. "It's an insult +to us to put a fellow like that before us. We don't believe a word o' +what he says. We don't believe he was within a mile o' them ruins on +Sunday afternoon. It's all a put-up job!" + +Petherton leaned towards the reporters. + +"I hope you gentlemen of the press will make a full note of these +proceedings," he observed suavely. "You at any rate are not biassed or +prejudiced." + +The coroner heard that in spite of his deafness, and he grew purple. + +"Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is a most improper observation! It's a +reflection on my position, sir, and I've a great mind--" + +"Mr. Coroner," observed Petherton, leaning towards him, "I shall hand in +a full report concerning your conduct of these proceedings to the Home +Office tomorrow. If you attempt to interfere with my duty here, all the +worse for you. Now, Spurge, you can stand down. And as I see Mr. Greyle +there--call Marston Greyle!" + +The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and had +heard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, and +disturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and his +party were distinctly those of displeasure. + +"Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle--" + +But Greyle's own solicitor was on his legs, insisting on his right to put +a first question. In spite of Petherton, he put it. + +"You heard the evidence of the last witness?--Spurge. Is there a word of +truth in it?" + +Marston Greyle--who certainly looked very unwell--moistened his lips. + +"Not one word!" he answered. "It's a lie!" + +The solicitor glanced triumphantly at the Coroner and the jury, and the +crowd raised unchecked murmurs of approval. Again the foreman endeavoured +to stop the proceedings. + +"We regard all this here as very rude conduct to Mr. Greyle," he said +angrily. "We're not concerned--" + +"Mr. Foreman!" said Petherton. "You are a foolish man--you are +interfering with justice. Be warned!--I warn you, if the Coroner doesn't. +Mr. Greyle, I must ask you certain questions. Did you see the deceased +Bassett Oliver on Sunday last?" + +"No!" + +"I needn't remind you that you are on your oath. Have you ever met the +deceased man in your life?" + +"Never!" + +"You never met him in America?" + +"I may have met him--but not to my recollection. If I did, it was in such +a casual fashion that I have completely forgotten all about it." + +"Very well--you are on your oath, mind. Where did you live in America, +before you succeeded to this estate?" + +The Squire's solicitor intervened. + +"Don't answer that question!" he said sharply. "Don't answer any more. I +object altogether to your line," he went on, angrily, turning to +Petherton. "I claim the Coroner's protection for the witness." + +"I quite agree," said the Coroner. "All this is absolutely irrelevant. +You can stand down," he continued, turning to the Squire. "I will have no +more of this--and I will take the full responsibility!" + +"And the consequences, Mr. Coroner," replied Petherton calmly. "And the +first consequence is that I now formally demand an adjournment of this +inquest, _sine die_." + +"On what grounds, sir?" demanded the Coroner. + +"To permit me to bring evidence from America," replied Petherton, with a +side glance at Marston Greyle. "Evidence already being prepared." + +The Coroner hesitated, looked at Greyle's solicitor, and then turned +sharply to the jury. + +"I refuse that application!" he said. "You have heard all I have to say, +gentlemen," he went on, "and you can return your verdict." + +Petherton quietly gathered up his papers and motioned to his friends to +follow him out of the schoolroom. The foreman of the jury was returning a +verdict of accidental death as they passed through the door, and they +emerged into the street to an accompaniment of loud cheers for the Squire +and groans for themselves. + +"What a travesty of justice!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "That fellow +Spurge was right, you see, Copplestone. I wish we hadn't brought him +into danger." + +Copplestone suddenly laughed and touched Sir Cresswell's arm. He pointed +to the edge of the moorland just outside the school-yard. Spurge was +disappearing over that edge, and in a moment had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MR. DENNIE + + +Amongst the little group of actors and actresses who had come over from +Norcaster to hear all that was to be told concerning their late manager, +sat an old gentleman who, hands folded on the head of his walking cane, +and chin settled on his hands, watched the proceedings with silent and +concentrated attention. He was a striking figure of an old +gentleman--tall, distinguished-looking, handsome, with a face full of +character, the strong lines and features of which were further +accentuated by his silvery hair. He was a smart old gentleman, too, well +and scrupulously attired and groomed, and his blue bird's-eye necktie, +worn at a rakish angle, gave him the air of something of a sporting man +rather than of a follower of Thespis. His fellow members of the Oliver +company seemed to pay him great attention, and at various points of the +proceedings whispered questions to him as to an acknowledged authority. + +This old gentleman, when the inquest came to its extraordinary end and +the crowd went out murmuring and disputing, separated himself from his +companions and made his way towards Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, who +were quietly setting out homewards. To Audrey's surprise the two elders +shook hands in silence, and inspected each other with a palpable +wistfulness of look. + +"And yet it's twenty-five years since we met, isn't it?" said the old +gentleman, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But I knew you at +once--I was wondering if you remembered me?" + +"Why, of course," responded Mrs. Greyle. "Besides, I've had an +advantage over you. I've seen you, you know, several times--at +Norcaster. We go to the theatre now and then. Audrey--this is Mr. +Dennie--you've seen him, too." + +"On the stage--on the stage!" murmured the old actor, as he shook hands +with the girl. "Um!--I wonder if any of us are ever really off it! This +affair, for instance--there's a drama for you! By the-bye--this young +Squire--he's your relation, of course?" + +"My nephew-in-law, and Audrey's cousin," replied Mrs. Greyle. Mr. Dennie, +who had walked along with them towards their cottage, stopped in a quiet +stretch of the quay, and looked meditatively at Audrey. + +"Then this young lady," he said, "is next heir to the Greyle estates, eh? +For I understand this present Squire isn't married. Therefore--" + +"Oh, that's something that isn't worth thinking about," replied Mrs. +Greyle hastily. "Don't put such notions into the girl's head, Mr. Dennie. +Besides, the Greyle estates are not entailed, you know. The present owner +can do what he pleases with them--besides that, he's sure to marry." + +"All the same," observed Mr. Dennie, imperturbably, "if this young man +had not been in existence, this child would have succeeded, eh?" + +"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Greyle a little impatiently. "But what's +the use of talking about that, my old friend! The young man is in +possession--and there you are!" + +"Do you like the young man?" asked Mr. Dennie. "I take an old fellow's +privilege in asking direct questions, you know. And--though we haven't +seen each other for all these years--you can say anything tome." + +"No, we don't," replied Mrs. Greyle. "And we don't know why we don't--so +there's a woman's answer for you. Kinsfolk though we are, we see little +of each other." + +Mr. Dennie made no remark on this. He walked along at Audrey's side, +apparently in deep thought, and suddenly he looked across at her mother. + +"What do you think about this extraordinary story of Bassett Oliver's +having met a Marston Greyle over there in America?" he asked abruptly. +"What do people here think about it?" + +"We're not in a position to hear much of what other people think," +answered Mrs. Greyle. "What I think is that if this Marston Greyle ever +did meet such a very notable and noticeable man as Bassett Oliver it's a +very, very strange thing that he's forgotten all about it!" + +Mr. Dennie laughed quietly. + +"Aye, aye!" he said. "But--don't you think we folk of the profession are +a little bit apt to magnify our own importance? You say 'Bless me, how +could anybody ever forget an introduction to Bassett Oliver!' But we must +remember that to some people even a famous actor is of no more importance +than--shall we say a respectable grocer? Marston Greyle may be one of +those people--it's quite possible he may have been introduced, quite +casually, to Oliver at some club, or gathering, something-or-other, over +there and have quite forgotten all about it. Quite possible, I think." + +"I agree with you as to the possibility, but certainly not as to the +probability," said Mrs. Greyle, dryly. "Bassett Oliver was the sort of +man whom nobody would forget. But here we are at our cottage--you'll come +in, Mr. Dennie?" + +"It will only have to be for a little time, my dear lady," said the old +actor, pulling out his watch. "Our people are going back very soon, and I +must join them at the station." + +"I'll give you a glass of good old wine," said Mrs. Greyle as they went +into the cottage. "I have some that belonged to my father-in-law, the old +Squire. You must taste it--for old times' sake." + +Mr. Dennie followed Audrey into the little parlour as Mrs. Greyle +disappeared to another part of the house. And the instant they were +alone, he tapped the girl's arm and gave her a curiously warning look. + +"Hush, my dear!" he whispered. "Not a word--don't want your mother to +know! Listen--have you a specimen--letter--anything--of your cousin, the +Squire's handwriting? Anything so long as it's his. You have? Give it to +me--say nothing to your mother. Wait until tomorrow morning. I'll run +over to see you again--about noon. It's important--but silence!" + +Audrey, scarcely understanding the old man's meaning, opened a desk and +drew out one or two letters. She selected one and handed it to Mr. +Dennie, who made haste to put it away before Mrs. Greyle returned. He +gave Audrey another warning look. + +"That was what I wanted!" he said mysteriously. "I thought of it during +the inquest. Never mind why, just now--you shall know tomorrow." + +He lingered a few minutes, chatting to his hostess about old times as he +sipped the old Squire's famous port; then he went off to the little +station, joined Stafford and his fellow actors and actresses, and +returned with them to Norcaster. And at Norcaster Mr. Dennie separated +himself from the rest and repaired to his quiet lodgings--rooms which he +had occupied for many years in succession whenever he went that way on +tour--and once safely bestowed in them he pulled out a certain +old-fashioned trunk, which he had owned since boyhood and lugged about +wherever he went in two continents, and from it, after much methodical +unpacking, he disinterred a brown paper parcel, neatly tied up with green +ribbon. From this parcel he drew a thin packet of typed matter and a +couple of letters--the type script he laid aside, the letters he opened +out on his table. Then he took from his pocket the letter which Audrey +Greyle had given him and put it side by side with those taken from the +parcel. And after one brief glance at all three Mr. Dennie made +typescript and letters up again into a neat packet, restored them to his +trunk, locked them up, and turned to the two hours' rest which he always +took before going to the theatre for his evening's work. + +He was back at Scarhaven by eleven o'clock the next morning, with his +neat packet under his arm and he held it up significantly to Audrey who +opened the door of the cottage to him. + +"Something to show you," he said with a quiet smile as he walked in. +"To show you and your mother." He stopped short on the threshold of the +little parlour, where Copplestone was just then talking to Mrs. Greyle. +"Oh!" he said, a little disappointedly, "I hoped to find you +alone--I'll wait." + +Mrs. Greyle explained who Copplestone was, and Mr. Dennie immediately +brightened. "Of course--of course!" he explained. "I know! Glad to meet +you, Mr. Copplestone--you don't know me, but I know you--or your +work--well enough. It was I who read and recommended your play to our +poor dear friend. It's a little secret, you know," continued Mr. Dennie, +laying his packet on the table, "but I have acted for a great many years +as Bassett Oliver's literary adviser--taster, you might say. You know, he +had a great number of plays sent to him, of course, and he was a very +busy man, and he used to hand them over to me in the first place, to take +a look at, a taste of, you know, and if I liked the taste, why, then he +took a mouthful himself, eh? And that brings me to the very point, my +dear ladies and my dear young gentleman, that I have come specially to +Scarhaven this morning to discuss. It's a very, very serious matter +indeed," he went on as he untied his packet of papers, "and I fear that +it's only the beginning of something more serious. Come round me here at +this table, all of you, if you please." + +The other three drew up chairs, each wondering what was coming, and +the old actor resumed his eyeglasses and gave obvious signs of +making a speech. + +"Now I want you all to attend to me, very closely," he said. "I shall +have to go into a detailed explanation, and you will very soon see what +I am after. As you may be aware, I have been a personal friend of +Bassett Oliver for some years, and a member of his company without break +for the last eight years. I accompanied Oliver Bassett on his two trips +to the United States--therefore, I was with him when he was last there, +years ago. + +"Now, while we were at Chicago that time, Bassett came to me one day with +the typescript of a one-act play and told me that it had been sent to him +by a correspondent signing himself Marston Greyle; who in a covering +letter, said that he sprang from an old English family, and that the play +dealt with a historic, romantic episode in its history. The principal +part, he believed, was one which would suit Bassett--therefore he begged +him to consider the matter. Bassett asked me to read the play, and I took +it away, with the writer's letter, for that purpose. But we were just +then very busy, and I had no opportunity of reading anything for a time. +Later on, we went to St. Louis, and there, of course, Bassett, as usual, +was much feted and went out a great deal, lunching with people and so on. +One day he came to me, 'By-the-bye, Dennie!' he said, 'I met that Mr. +Marston Greyle today who sent me that romantic one-act thing. He wanted +to know if I'd read it, and I had to confess that it was in your hands. +Have you looked at it?' I, too, had to confess--I hadn't. 'Well,' said +he, 'read it and let me know what you think--will it suit me?' I made +time to read the little play during the following week, and I told +Bassett that I didn't think it would suit him, but I felt sure it might +suit Montagu Gaines, who plays just such parts. Bassett thereupon wrote +to the author and said what I, his reader, thought, and kindly offered, +as he knew Gaines intimately, to show the little work to him on his +return to England. And this Mr. Marston Greyle wrote back, thanking +Bassett warmly and accepting his kind offer. Accordingly, I brought the +play with me to England. Montagu Gaines, however, had just set off on a +two years' tour to Australia--consequently, the play and the author's two +letters have remained in my possession ever since. And--here they are!" + +Mr. Dennie laid his hand dramatically on his packet, looked significantly +at his audience, and went on. + +"Now, when I heard all that I did hear at that inquest yesterday," he +said, "I naturally remembered that I had in my possession two letters +which were undoubtedly written to Bassett Oliver by a young man named +Marston Greyle, whom Oliver--just as undoubtedly!--had personally met in +St. Louis. And so when the inquest was over, Mr. Copplestone, I recalled +myself to Mrs. Greyle here, whom I had known many years ago, and I walked +back to this house with her and her charming daughter, and--don't be +angry, Mrs. Greyle--while the mother's back was turned--on hospitable +thoughts intent--I got the daughter to lend me--secretly--a letter +written by the present Squire of Scarhaven. Armed with that, I went home +to my lodgings in Norcaster, found the letter written by the American +Marston Greyle, and compared it with them. And--here is the result!" + +The old actor selected the two American letters from his papers, laid +them out on the table, and placed the letter which Audrey had given him +beside them. + +"Now!" he said, as his three companions bent eagerly over these exhibits, +"Look at those three letters. All bear the same signature, Marston +Greyle--but the hand-writing of those two is as different from that of +this one as chalk is from cheese!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY PRIVATE TREATY + + +There was little need for the three deeply interested listeners to look +long at the letters--one glance was sufficient to show even a careless +eye that the hand which had written one of them had certainly not written +the other two. The letter which Audrey had handed to Mr. Dennie was +penned in the style commonly known as commercial--plain, commonplace, +utterly lacking in the characteristics which are supposed to denote +imagination and a sense of artistry. It was the sort of caligraphy which +one comes across every day in shops and offices and banks--there was +nothing in any upstroke, downstroke or letter which lifted it from the +very ordinary. But the other two letters were evidently written by a man +of literary and artistic sense, possessing imagination and a liking for +effect. It needed no expert in handwriting to declare that two totally +different individuals had written those letters. + +"And now," observed Mr. Dennie, breaking the silence and putting into +words what each of the others was vaguely feeling, "the question is--what +does all this mean? To start with, Marston Greyle is a most uncommon +name. Is it possible there can be two persons of that name? That, at any +rate, is the first thing that strikes me." + +"It is not the first thing that strikes me," said Mrs. Greyle. She took +up the typescript which the old actor had brought in his packet, and held +its title-page significantly before him. "That is the first thing that +strikes me!" she exclaimed. "The Marston Greyle who sent this to Bassett +Oliver said according to your story--that he sprang from a very old +family in England, and that this is a dramatization of a romantic episode +in its annals. Now there is no other old family in England named Greyle, +and this episode is of course, the famous legend of how Prince Rupert +once sought refuge in the Keep yonder and had a love-passage with a lady +of the house. Am I right, Mr. Dennie?" + +"Quite right, ma'am, quite correct," replied the old actor. "It is +so--you have guessed correctly!" + +"Very well, then--the Marston Greyle who wrote this, and those letters, +and who met Bassett Oliver was without doubt the son of Marcus Greyle, +who went to America many years ago. He was the same Marston Greyle, who, +his father being dead, of course succeeded his uncle, Stephen John +Greyle--that seems an absolute certainty. And in that case," continued +Mrs. Greyle, looking earnestly from one to the other, "in that case--who +is the man now at Scarhaven Keep?" + +A dead silence fell on the little room. Audrey started and flushed at her +mother's eager, pregnant question; Mr. Dennie sat up very erect and took +a pinch of snuff from his old-fashioned box. Copplestone pushed his chair +away from the table and began to walk about. And Mrs. Greyle continued to +look from one face to the other as if demanding a reply to her question. + +"Mother!" said Audrey in a low voice. "You aren't suggesting--" + +"Ahem!" interrupted Mr. Dennie. "A moment, my dear. There is nothing, I +believe," he continued, waxing a little oracular, "nothing like plain +speech. We are all friends--we have a common cause--justice! It may be +that justice demands our best endeavours not only as regards our deceased +friend, Bassett Oliver, but in the interests of--this young lady. So--" + +"I wish you wouldn't, Mr. Dennie!" exclaimed Audrey. "I don't like this +at all. Please don't!" + +She turned, almost instinctively, to seek Copplestone's aid in repressing +the old man. But Copplestone was standing by the window, staring moodily +at the wind-swept quay beyond the garden, and Mr. Dennie waved his +snuff-box and went on. + +"An old man's privilege!" he said. "In your interests, my dear. Allow +me." He turned again to Mrs. Greyle. "In plain words, ma'am, you are +wondering if the present holder of the estates is really what he claims +to be. Plain English, eh?" + +"I am!" answered Mrs. Greyle with a distinct ring of challenge and +defiance. "And now that it comes to the truth, I have wondered that ever +since he came here. There!" + +"Why, mother?" asked Audrey, wonderingly. + +"Because he doesn't possess a single Greyle characteristic," replied Mrs. +Greyle, readily enough, "I ought to know--I married Valentine Greyle, +and I knew Stephen John, and I saw plenty of both, and something of their +father, too, and a little of Marcus before he emigrated. This man does +not possess one Single scrap of the Greyle temperament!" + +Mr. Dennie put away his snuff-box and drumming on the table with his +fingers looked out of his eye corners at Copplestone who still stood with +his back to the rest, staring out of the window. + +"And what," said Mr. Dennie, softly, "what--er, does our good friend Mr. +Copplestone say?" + +Copplestone turned swiftly, and gave Audrey a quick glance. + +"I say," he answered in a sharp, business-like fashion, "that Gilling, +who's stopping at the inn, you know, is walking up and down outside here, +evidently looking out for me, and very anxious to see me, and with your +permission, Mrs. Greyle, I'd like to have him in. Now that things have +got to this pitch, I'd better tell you something--I don't see any good in +concealing it longer. Gilling isn't an invalid curate at all!--he's a +private detective. Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton, the solicitor, +sent him down here to watch Greyle--the Squire, you know--that's +Gilling's job. They suspect Greyle--have suspected him from the very +first--but of what I don't know. Not--not of this, I think. Anyway, they +do suspect him, and Gilling's had his eye on him ever since he came here. +And I'd like to fetch Gilling in here, and I'd like him to know all that +Mr. Dennie's told us. Because, don't you see, Sir Cresswell and +Petherton ought to know all that, immediately, and Gilling's their man." + +Audrey's brows had been gathering in lines of dismay and perplexity +all the time Copplestone was talking, but her mother showed no +signs of anything but complete composure, crowned by something very +like satisfaction, and she nodded a ready acquiescence in +Copplestone's proposal. + +"By all means!" she responded. "Bring Mr. Gilling in at once." + +Copplestone hurried out into the garden and signalled to the +pseudo-curate, who came hurrying across from the quay. One glance at him +showed Copplestone that something had happened. + +"Gad!--I thought I should never attract your attention!" said Gilling +hastily. "Been making eyes at you for ten minutes. I say--Greyle's off!" + +"Off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "How do you mean--off?" + +"Left Scarhaven, anyhow--for London," replied Gilling. "An hour ago I +happened to be at the station, buying a paper, when he drove up--luggage +and man with him, so I knew he was off for some time. And I took good +care to dodge round by the booking-office when the man took the tickets. +King's Cross. So that's all right, for the time being." + +"How do you mean--all right?" asked Copplestone. "I thought you were to +keep him in sight?" + +"All right," repeated Gilling. "I have more eyes than these, my boy! I've +a particularly smart partner in London--name of Swallow--and he and I +have a cypher code. So soon as the gentleman had left, I repaired to the +nearest post office and wired a code message to Swallow. Swallow will +meet that train when it strikes King's Cross. And it doesn't matter if +Greyle hides himself in one of the spikes on top of the Monument or +inside the lion house at the Zoo--Swallow will be there! No man ever got +away from Swallow--once Swallow had set eyes on him." + +Copplestone looked, listened, and laughed. + +"Professional pride!" he said. "All right. I want you to come in here +with me--to Mrs. Greyle's. Something's happened here, too. And of such a +serious nature that I've taken the liberty of telling them who and what +you really are. You'll forgive me when you hear what it is that we've +learnt here this morning." + +Gilling had looked rather doubtful at Copplestone's announcement, but he +immediately turned towards the cottage. + +"Oh, well!" he said good-naturedly. "I'm sure you wouldn't have told if +you hadn't felt there was good reason. What is this fresh news?--something +about--him?" + +"Very much about him," answered Copplestone. "Come in." + +He himself, at Mrs. Greyle's request, gave Gilling a brief account of +Mr. Dennie's revelations, the old actor supplementing it with a shrewd +remark or two. And then all four turned to Gilling as to an expert in +these matters. + +"Queer!" observed Gilling. "Decidedly queer! There may be some +explanation, you know: I've known stranger things than that turn out to +be perfectly straight and plain when they were gone into. But--putting +all the facts together--I don't think there's much doubt that there's +something considerably wrong in this case. I should like to repeat it to +my principals--I must go up to town in any event this afternoon. Better +let me have all those documents, Mr. Dennie--I'll give you a proper +receipt for them. There's something very valuable in them, anyhow." + +"What?" asked Copplestone. + +"The address in St. Louis from which that Marston Greyle wrote to Bassett +Oliver." replied Gilling. "We can communicate with that address--at once. +We may learn something there. But," he went on, turning to Mrs. Greyle, +"I want to learn something here--and now. I want to know where and under +what circumstances the Squire came to Scarhaven. You were here then, of +course, Mrs. Greyle? You can tell me?" + +"He came very quietly," replied Mrs. Greyle. "Nobody in Scarhaven--unless +it was Peter Chatfield--knew of his coming. In fact, nobody in these +parts, at any rate--knew he was in England. The family solicitors in +London may have known. But nothing was ever said or written to me, though +my daughter, failing this man, is the next in succession." + +"I do wish you'd leave all that out, mother!" exclaimed Audrey. "I +don't like it." + +"Whether you like it or not, it's the fact," said Mrs. Greyle +imperturbably, "and it can't be left out. Well, as I say, no one knew the +Squire had come to England, until one day Chatfield calmly walked down +the quay with him, introducing him right and left. He brought him here." + +"Ah!" said Gilling. "That's interesting. Now I wonder if you found out if +he was well up in the family history?" + +"Not then, but afterwards," answered Mrs. Greyle. "He is particularly +well up in the Greyle records--suspiciously well up." + +"Why suspiciously?" asked Cobblestone. + +"He knows more--in a sort of antiquarian and historian fashion--than +you'd suppose a young man of his age would," said Mrs. Greyle. "He gives +you the impression of having read it up--studied it deeply. And--his +usual tastes don't lie in that direction." + +"Ah!" observed Mr. Dennie, musingly. "Bad sign, ma'am,--bad sign! Looks +as if he had been--shall we say put up to overstudying his part. That's +possible! I have known men who were so anxious to be what one calls +letter-perfect, Mr. Copplestone, that though they knew their parts, they +didn't know how to play them. Fact, sir!" + +While the old actor was chuckling over this reminiscence, Gilling turned +quietly to Mrs. Greyle. + +"I think you suspect this man?" he said. + +"Frankly--yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I always have done, though I have +said so little--" + +"Mother!" interrupted Audrey. "Is it really worth while saying so much +now! After all, we know nothing, and if this is all mere +supposition--however," she broke off, rising and going away from the +group, "perhaps I had better say nothing." + +Copplestone too rose and followed her into the window recess. + +"I say!" he said entreatingly. "I hope you don't think me interfering? I +assure you--" + +"You!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no!--of course. I think you're anxious to +clear things up about Mr. Oliver. But I don't want my mother dragged into +it--for a simple reason. We've got to live here--and Chatfield is a +vindictive man." + +"You're frightened of him?" said Copplestone incredulously. "You!" + +"Not for myself," she answered, giving him a warning look and glancing +apprehensively at Mrs. Greyle, who was talking eagerly to Mr. Dennie and +Gilling. "But my mother is not as strong as she looks and it would be a +blow to her to leave this place and we are the Squire's tenants, and +therefore at Chatfield's mercy. And you know that Chatfield does as he +likes! Now do you understand?" + +"It maddens me to think that you should be at Chatfield's mercy!" +muttered Copplestone. "But do you really mean to say that if--if +Chatfield thought you--that is, your mother--were mixed up in anything +relating to the clearing up of this affair he would--" + +"Drive us out without mercy," replied Audrey. "That's dead certain." + +"And that your cousin would let him?" exclaimed Copplestone. +"Surely not!" + +"I don't think the Squire has any control over Chatfield," she answered. +"You have seen them together." + +"If that's so," said Copplestone, "I shall begin to think there is +something queer about the Squire in the way your mother suggests. It +looks as if Chatfield had a hold on him. And in that case--" + +He suddenly broke off as a smart automobile drove up to the cottage door +and set down a tall, distinguished-looking man who after a glance at the +little house walked quickly up the garden. Audrey's face showed surprise. + +"Mother!" she said, turning to Mrs. Greyle. "There's Lord Altmore here! +He must want you. Or shall I go?" + +Mrs. Greyle quitted the room hastily. The others heard her welcome the +visitor, lead him up the tiny hall; they heard a door shut. Audrey looked +at Copplestone. + +"You've heard of Lord Altmore, haven't you?" she said. "He's our +biggest man in these parts--he owns all the country at the back, +mountains, valleys, everything. The Greyle land shuts him off from the +sea. In the old days, Greyles and Altmores used to fight over their +boundaries, and--" + +Mrs. Greyle suddenly showed herself again and looked at her daughter. + +"Will you come here, Audrey?" she said. "You gentlemen will excuse both +of us for a few minutes?" + +Mother and daughter went away, and the two young men drew up their +chairs to the table at which Mr. Dennie sat and exchanged views with him +on the curious situation. Half-an-hour went by; then steps and voices +were heard in the hall and the garden; Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were seeing +their visitor out to his car. In a few minutes the car sped away, and +they came back to the parlour. One glance at their faces showed Gilling +that some new development had cropped up and he nudged Copplestone. + +"Here is remarkable news!" said Mrs. Greyle as she went back to her +chair. "Lord Altmore called to tell me of something that he thought I +ought to know. It is almost unbelievable, yet it is a fact. Marston +Greyle--if he is Marston Greyle!--has offered to sell Lord Altmore the +entire Scarhaven estate, by private treaty. Imagine it!--the estate which +has belonged to the Greyles for five hundred years!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + + +The two younger men received this announcement with no more than looks +of astonished inquiry, but the elder one coughed significantly, had +further recourse to his snuff-box and turned to Mrs. Greyle with a +knowing glance. + +"My dear lady!" he said impressively. "Now this is a matter in which I +believe I can be of service--real service! You may have forgotten the +fact--it is all so long ago--and perhaps I never mentioned it in the old +days--but the truth is that before I went on the stage, I was in the law. +The fact is, I am a duly and fully qualified solicitor--though," he +added, with a dry chuckle, "it is a good five and twenty years since I +paid the six pounds for the necessary annual certificate. But I have not +forgotten my law--or some of it--and no doubt I can furbish up a little +more, if necessary. You say that Mr. Marston Greyle, the present owner of +Scarhaven, has offered to sell his estate to Lord Altmore? But--is not +the estate entailed?" + +"No!" replied Mrs. Greyle. "It is not." + +Mr. Dennie's face fell--unmistakably. He took another pinch of snuff and +shook his head. + +"Then in that case," he said dryly, "all the lawyers in the world can't +help. It's his--absolutely--and he can do what he pleases with it. Five +hundred years, you say? Remarkable!--that a man should want to sell land +his forefathers have walked over for half a thousand years! +Extraordinary!" + +"Did Lord Altmore say if any reason had been given him as to why Mr. +Greyle wished to sell?" asked Gilling. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle, who was obviously greatly upset by the recent +news. "He did. Mr. Greyle gave as his reason that the north does not suit +him, and that he wishes to buy an estate in the south of England. He +approached Lord Altmore first because it is well-known that the Altmores +have always been anxious to extend their own borders to the coast." + +"Does Lord Altmore want to buy?" asked Gilling. + +"It is very evident that he would be quite willing to buy," said +Mrs. Greyle. + +"What made him come to you," continued Gilling. "He must have had +some reason?" + +"He had a reason," Mrs. Greyle answered, with a glance at Audrey. "He +knows the family history, of course--he is very well aware that my +daughter is at present the heir apparent. He therefore thought we ought +to know of this offer. But that is not quite all. Lord Altmore has, of +course, read the accounts of the inquest in this morning's paper. Also +his steward was present at the inquest. And from what he has read, and +from what his steward told him, Lord Altmore thinks there is something +wrong--he thinks, for instance, that Marston Greyle should explain this +mystery about the meeting with Bassett Oliver in America. At any rate, +he will go no further in any negotiations until that mystery is +properly cleared up. Shall I tell you what Lord Altmore said on that +point? He said--" + +"Is it worth while, mother?" interrupted Audrey. "It was only his +opinion." + +"It is worth while--amongst ourselves--" insisted Mrs. Greyle. "Why not? +Lord Altmore said--in so many words--'I have a sort of uneasy feeling, +after reading the evidence at that inquest, and hearing what my +steward's impressions were, that this man calling himself Marston Greyle +may not be Marston Greyle at all and I shall want good proof that he is +before I even consider the proposal he has made to me.' There! +So--what's to be done?" + +"The law, ma'am," observed Mr. Dennie, solemnly, "the law must step in. +You must get an injunction, ma'am, to prevent Mr. Marston Greyle from +dealing with the property until his own title to it has been established. +That, at any rate, is my opinion." + +"May I ask a question?" said Copplestone who had been listening +and thinking intently. "Did Lord Altmore say when this offer was +made to him?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "A week ago." + +"A week ago!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That is, before last Sunday--before +the Bassett Oliver episode. Then--the offer to sell is quite independent +of that affair!" + +"Strange--and significant!" muttered Gilling. + +He rose from his chair and looked at his watch. + +"Well," he went on, "I am going off to London. Will you give me leave, +Mrs. Greyle, to report all this to Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. +Petherton? They ought to know." + +"I'm going, too," declared Copplestone, also rising. "Mrs. Greyle, I'm +sure will entrust the whole matter to us. And Mr. Dennie will trust us +with those papers." + +"Oh, certainly, certainly!" asserted Mr. Dennie, pushing his packet +across the table. "Take care of 'em, my boy!--ye don't know how important +they may turn out to be." + +"And--Mrs. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. + +"Tell whatever you think it best to tell," replied Mrs. Greyle. "My own +opinion is that a lot will have to be told--and to come out, yet." + +"We can catch a train in three-quarters of an hour, Copplestone," said +Gilling. "Let's get back and settle up with Mrs. Wooler and be off." + +Copplestone contrived to draw Audrey aside. + +"This isn't good-bye," he whispered, with a meaning look. "You'll +see me back here before many days are over. But listen--if anything +happens here, if you want anybody's help--in any way--you know what +I mean--promise you'll wire to me at this address. Promise!--or I +won't go." + +"Very well," said Audrey, "I promise. But--why shall you come back?" + +"Tell you when I come," replied Copplestone with another look. +"But--I shall come--and soon. I'm only going because I want to be of +use--to you." + +An hour later he and Gilling were on their way to London, and from +opposite corners of a compartment which they had contrived to get to +themselves, they exchanged looks. + +"This is a queer business, Copplestone!" said Gilling. "It strikes me +it's going to be a big one, too. And--it's coming to a point round +Squire Greyle." + +"Do you think your man will have tracked him?" asked Copplestone. + +"It will be the first time Swallow's ever lost sight of anybody if he +hasn't," answered Gilling. "He's a human ferret! However, I wired to him +just before we left, telling him to meet me at King's Cross, so we'll +get his report. Oh, he'll have followed him all right--I don't imagine +for a moment that Greyle is trying to evade anybody, at this juncture, +at any rate." + +But when--four hours later--the train drew into King's Cross--and +Gilling's partner, a young and sharp-looking man, presented himself, it +was with a long and downcast face and a lugubrious shake of the head. + +"Done!--for the first time in my life!" he growled in answer to +Gilling's eager inquiry. "Lost him! Never failed before--as you know. +Well, it had to come, I suppose--can't go on without an occasional +defeat. But--I'm a bit licked as to the whole thing--unless your man is +dodging somebody. Is he?" + +"Tell your tale," commanded Gilling, motioning Copplestone to follow him +and Swallow aside. + +"I was up here in good time this afternoon to meet his train," reported +Swallow. "I spotted him and his man at once; no difficulty, as your +description of both was so full. They were together while the luggage +was got out; then he, Greyle, gave some instructions to the man and left +him. He himself got into a taxi-cab; I got into another close behind and +gave its driver certain orders. Greyle drove straight to the Fragonard +Club--you know." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Gilling. "Did he, now? That's worth knowing." + +"What's the Fragonard Club?" asked Copplestone. "Never heard of it." + +"Club of folk connected with the stage and the music-halls," answered +Gilling, testily. "In a side street, off Shaftesbury Avenue--tell you +more of it, later. Go on, Swallow." + +"He paid off his driver there, and went in," continued Swallow. "I paid +mine and hung about--there's only one entrance and exit to that spot, as +you know. He came out again within five minutes, stuffing some letters +into his pocket. He walked away across Shaftesbury Avenue into Wardour +Street--there he went into a tobacconist's shop. Of course, I hung about +again. But this time he didn't come. So at last I walked in--to buy +something. He wasn't there!" + +"Pooh!--he'd slipped out--walked out--when you weren't looking!" said +Gilling. "Why didn't you keep your eye on the ball, man?--you!" + +"You be hanged!" retorted Swallow. "Never had an eyelash off that shop +door from the time he entered until I, too, entered." + +"Then there's a side-door to that shop--into some alley or passage," +said Gilling. + +"Not that I could find," answered Swallow. "Might be at the rear of the +premises perhaps, but I couldn't ascertain, of course. Remember!--there's +another thing. He may have stopped on the premises. There's that in it. +However, I know the shop and the name." + +"Why didn't you bring somebody else with you, to follow the man and the +luggage?" demanded Gilling, half-petulantly. + +Swallow shook his head. + +"There I made a mess of it, I confess," he admitted. "But it never struck +me they'd separate. I thought, of course, they'd drive straight to some +hotel, and--" + +"And the long and the short of it is, Greyle's slipped you," said +Gilling. "Well--there's no more to be done tonight. The only thing of +value is that Greyle called at the Fragonard. What's a country +squire--only recently come to England, too!--to do with the Fragonard? +That is worth something. Well--Copplestone, we'd better meet in the +morning at Petherton's. You be there at ten o'clock, and I'll get Sir +Cresswell Oliver to be there, too." + +Copplestone betook himself to his rooms in Jermyn Street; it seemed an +age--several ages--since he had last seen the familiar things in them. +During the few days which had elapsed since his hurried setting-off to +meet Bassett Oliver so many things had happened that he felt as if he +had lived a week in a totally different world. He had met death, and +mystery, and what appeared to be sure evidence of deceit and cunning and +perhaps worse--fraud and crime blacker than fraud. But he had also met +Audrey Greyle. And it was only natural that he thought more about her +than of the strange atmosphere of mystery which wrapped itself around +Scarhaven. She, at any rate, was good to think upon, and he thought much +as he looked over the letters that had accumulated, changed his clothes, +and made ready to go and dine at his club, Already he was counting the +hours which must elapse before he would go back to her. + +Nevertheless, Copplestone's mind was not entirely absorbed by this +pleasant subject; the events of the day and of the arrival in London +kept presenting themselves. And coming across a fellow club-member +whom he knew for a thorough man about town, he suddenly plumped him +with a question. + +"I say!" he said. "Do you know the Fragonard Club?" + +"Of course!" replied the other man. "Don't you?" + +"Never even heard of it till this evening," said Copplestone. +"What is it?" + +"Mixed lot!" answered his companion. "Theatrical and music-hall folk--men +and women--both. Lively spot--sometimes. Like to have a look in when they +have one of their nights?" + +"Very much," assented Copplestone. "Are you a member?" + +"No, but I know several men who are members," said the other. "I'll fix +it all right. Worth going to when they've what they call a +house-dinner--Sunday night, of course." + +"Thanks," said Copplestone. "I suppose membership of that's confined to +the profession, eh?" + +"Strictly," replied his friend. "But they ain't at all particular about +their guests--you'll meet all sorts of people there, from judges to +jockeys, and millionairesses to milliners." + +Copplestone was still wondering what the Squire of Scarhaven could have +to do with the Fragonard Club when he went to Mr. Petherton's office the +next morning. He was late for the appointment which Gilling had made, and +when he arrived Gilling had already reported all that had taken place the +day before to the solicitor and to Sir Cresswell Oliver. And on that +Copplestone produced the papers entrusted to him by Mr. Dennie and they +all compared the handwritings afresh. + +"There is certainly something wrong, somewhere," remarked Petherton, +after a time. "However, we are in a position to begin a systematic +inquiry. Here," he went on, drawing a paper from his desk, "is a +cablegram which arrived first thing this morning from New York--from an +agent who has been making a search for me in the shipping lists. This is +what he says: 'Marston Greyle, St. Louis, Missouri, booked first-class +passenger from New York to Falmouth, England, by S.S. _Araconda_, +September 28th, 1912.' There--that's something definite. And the next +thing," concluded the old lawyer, with a shrewd glance at Sir Cresswell, +"is to find out if the Marston Greyle who landed at Falmouth is the same +man whom we have recently seen!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + + +Sir Cresswell Oliver took the cablegram from Petherton and read it over +slowly, muttering the precise and plain wording to himself. + +"Don't you think, Petherton, that we had better get a clear notion of our +exact bearings?" he said as he laid it back on the solicitor's desk. +"Seems to me that the time's come when we ought to know exactly where we +are. As I understand it, the case is this--rightly or wrongly we suspect +the present holder of the Scarhaven estates. We suspect that he is not +the rightful owner--that, in short, he is no more the real Marston Greyle +than you are. We think that he's an impostor--posing as Marston Greyle. +Other people--Mrs. Valentine Greyle, for example--evidently think so, +too. Am I right?" + +"Quite!" responded Petherton. "That's our position--exactly." + +"Then--in that case, what I want to get at is this," continued Sir +Cresswell. "How does this relate to my brother's death? What's the +connection? That--to me at any rate--is the first thing of importance. Of +course I have a theory. This, that the impostor did see my brother last +Sunday afternoon. That he knew that my brother would at once know that +he, the impostor, was not the real Marston Greyle, and that the +discovery would lead to detection. And therefore he put him out of the +way. He might accompany him to the top of the tower and fling him down. +It's possible. Do you follow me?" + +"Precisely," replied Petherton. "I, too, incline to that notion, though +I've worked it out in a different fashion. My reconstruction of what took +place at Scarhaven Keep is as follows--I think that Bassett Oliver met +the Squire--we'll call this man that for the sake of clearness--when he +entered the ruins. He probably introduced himself and mentioned that he +had met a Marston Greyle in America. Then the Squire saw the +probabilities of detection--and what subsequently took place was most +likely what you suggest. It may have been that the Squire recognized +Bassett Oliver, and knew that he'd met Marston Greyle; it may have been +that he didn't know him and didn't know anything until Bassett Oliver +enlightened him. But--either way--I firmly believe that Bassett Oliver +came to his death by violence--that he was murdered. So--there's the case +in a nutshell! Murdered!--to keep his tongue still." + +"What's to be done, then?" asked Sir Cresswell as Petherton tapped the +cablegram. + +"The first thing," he answered, "is to make use of this. We now know that +the real Marston Greyle--who certainly did live in St. Louis, where his +father had settled--left New York for England to take up his inheritance, +on September 28th, 1912, and booked a passage to Falmouth. He would land +at Falmouth from the _Araconda_ about October 5th. Probably there is +some trace of him at Falmouth. He no doubt stayed a night there. Anyway, +somebody must go to Falmouth and make inquiries. You'd better go, +Gilling, and at once. While you're away your partner had better resume +his search for the man we know as the Squire. You've two good clues--the +fact that he visited the Fragonard Club and that particular tobacconist's +shop. Urge Swallow to do his best--the man must be kept in sight. See to +both these things immediately." + +"Swallow is at work already," replied Gilling. "He's got good help, too, +and his failure yesterday has put him on his mettle. As for me, I'll go +to Falmouth by the next express. Let me have that cablegram." + +"I'll go with you," said Copplestone. "I may be of some use--and I'm +interested. But," he paused and looked questioningly at the old +solicitor. "What about the other news we brought you?" he asked. "About +this sale of the estate, you know? If this man is an impostor--" + +"Leave that to me," replied Petherton, with a shrewd glance at Sir +Cresswell. "I know the Greyle family solicitors--highly respectable +people--only a few doors away, in fact--and I'm going round to have a +quiet little chat with them in a few minutes. There will be no sale! +Leave me to deal with that matter--and if you young men are going to +Falmouth, off you go!" + +It was late that night when Copplestone and Gilling arrived at this +far-off Cornish seaport, and nothing could be done until the following +morning. To Copplestone it seemed as if they were in for a difficult +task. Over twelve months had elapsed since the real Marston Greyle left +America for England; he might not have stayed in Falmouth, might not have +held any conversation with anybody there who would recollect him! how +were they going to trace him? But Gilling--now free of his clerical +attire and presenting himself as a smart young man of the professional +classes type--was quick to explain that system, accurate and definite +system, would expedite matters. + +"We know the approximate date on which the _Araconda_ would touch here," +he said as they breakfasted together. "As things go, it would be from +October 4th to 6th, according to the quickness of her run across the +Atlantic. Very well--if Marston Greyle stayed here, he'd have to stay at +some hotel. Accordingly, we visit all the Falmouth hotels and examine +their registers of that date--first week of October, 1912. If we find his +name--good! We can then go on to make inquiries. If we don't find any +trace of him, then we know it's all up--he probably went straight away by +train after landing. We'll begin with this hotel first." + +There was no record of any Marston Greyle at that hotel, nor at the next +half-dozen at which they called. A visit to the shipping office of the +line to which the _Araconda_ belonged revealed the fact that she reached +Falmouth on October 5th at half-past ten in the evening, and that the +name of Marston Greyle was on the list of first-class passengers. +Gilling left the office in cheery mood. + +"That simplifies matters," he said. "As the _Araconda_ reached here late +in the evening, the passengers who landed from her would be almost +certain to stay the night in Falmouth. So we've only to resume our round +of these hotels in order to hit something pertinent. This is plain and +easy work, Copplestone--no corners in it. We'll strike oil before noon." + +They struck oil at the very next hotel they called at--an old-fashioned +house in close proximity to the harbour. There was a communicative +landlord there who evidently possessed and was proud of a retentive +memory, and he no sooner heard the reason of Gilling's call upon him than +he bustled into activity, and produced the register of the previous year. + +"But I remember the young gentleman you're asking about," he remarked, as +he took the book from a safe and laid it open on the table in his private +room. "Not a common name, is it? He came here about eleven o'clock of the +night you've mentioned--there you are!--there's the entry. And +there--higher up--is the name of the man who came to meet him. He came +the day before--to be here when the _Araconda_ got in." + +The two visitors, bending over the book, mutually nudged each other as +their eyes encountered the signatures on the open page. There, in the +handwriting of the letters which Mr. Dennie had so fortunately preserved, +was the name Marston Greyle. But it was not the sight of that which +surprised them; they had expected to see it. What made them both thrill +with the joy of an unexpected discovery was the sight of the signature +inserted some lines above it, under date October 4th. Lest they should +exhibit that joy before the landlord, they mutually stuck their elbows +into each other and immediately affected the unconcern of indifference. + +But there the signature was--_Peter Chatfield_. Peter Chatfield!--they +both knew that they were entering on a new stage of their quest; that the +fact that Chatfield had travelled to Falmouth to meet the new owner of +Scarhaven meant much--possibly meant everything. + +"Oh!" said Gilling, as steadily as possible. "That gentleman came to meet +the other, did he? Just so. Now what sort of man was he?" + +"Big, fleshy man--elderly--very solemn in manner and appearance," +answered the landlord. "I remember him well. Came in about five o 'clock +in the afternoon of the 4th just after the London train arrived--and +booked a room. He told me he expected to meet a gentleman from New York, +and was very fidgety about fixing it up to go off in the tender to the +_Araconda_ when she came into the Bay. However, I found out for him that +she wouldn't be in until next evening, so of course he settled down to +wait. Very quiet, reserved old fellow--never said much." + +"Did he go off on the tender next night?" asked Gilling. + +"He did--and came back with this other gentleman and his baggage--this +Mr. Greyle," answered the landlord. "Mr. Chatfield had booked a room for +Mr. Greyle." + +"And what sort of man was Mr. Greyle?" inquired Gilling. "That's really +the important thing. You've an exceptionally good memory--I can see that. +Tell us all you can recollect about him." + +"I can recollect plenty," replied the landlord, shaking his head. "As for +his looks--a tallish, slightly-built young fellow, between, I should say, +twenty-five and twenty-eight. Stooped a good bit. Very dark hair and +eyes--eyes a good deal sunken in his face. Very pale--good-looking--good +features. But ill--my sakes! he was ill!" + +"Ill!" exclaimed Gilling, with a glance at Copplestone. "Really ill!" + +"He was that ill," said the landlord, "that me and my wife never expected +to see him get up that next morning. We wanted them to have a doctor but +Mr. Greyle himself said that it was nothing, but that he had some heart +trouble and that the voyage had made it worse. He said that if he took +some medicine which he had with him, and a drop of hot brandy-and-water, +and got a good night's sleep he'd be all right. And next morning he +seemed better, and he got up to breakfast--but my wife said to me that if +she'd seen death on a man's face it was on his! She's a bit of a +persuasive tongue, has my wife, and when she heard that these two +gentlemen were thinking of going a long journey--right away to the far +north, it was, I believe--she got 'em to go and see the doctor first, for +she felt that Mr. Greyle wasn't fit for the exertion." + +"Did they go?" asked Gilling. + +"They did! I talked, myself, to the old gentleman," replied the landlord. +"And I showed them the way to our own doctor--Dr. Tretheway. And as a +result of what he said to them, I heard them decide to break up their +journey into stages, as you might term it. They left here for Bristol +that afternoon--to stay the night there." + +"You're sure of that?--Bristol?" asked Gilling. + +"Ought to be," replied the landlord, with laconic assurance. "I +went to the station with them and saw them off. They booked to +Bristol--anyway--first class." + +Gilling looked at his companion. + +"I think we'd better see this Dr. Tretheway," he remarked. + +Dr. Tretheway, an elderly man of grave manners and benevolent aspect, +remembered the visit of Mr. Marston Greyle well enough when he had turned +up its date in his case book. He also remembered the visitor's companion, +Mr. Chatfield, who seemed unusually anxious and concerned about Mr. +Greyle's health. + +"And as to that," continued Dr. Tretheway, "I learnt from Mr. Greyle that +he had been seriously indisposed for some months before setting out for +England. The voyage had been rather a rough one; he had suffered much +from sea-sickness, and, in his state of health, that was unfortunate for +him. I made a careful examination of him, and I came to the conclusion +that he was suffering from a form of myocarditis which was rapidly +assuming a very serious complexion. I earnestly advised him to take as +much rest as possible, to avoid all unnecessary fatigue and all +excitement, and I strongly deprecated his travelling in one journey to +the north, whither I learnt he was bound. On my advice, he and Mr. +Chatfield decided to break that journey at Bristol, at Birmingham, and at +Leeds. By so doing, you see, they would only have a short journey each +day, and Mr. Greyle would be able to rest for a long time at a stretch. +But--I formed my own conclusions." + +"And they were--what?" asked Gilling. + +"That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent +school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could +from there, and to put himself under his treatment. But my impression was +that he had already reached a very, very serious stage." + +"You think he was then likely to die suddenly?" suggested Gilling. + +"It was quite possible. I should not have been surprised to hear of his +death," answered Dr. Tretheway. "He was, in short, very ill indeed." + +"You never heard anything?" inquired Gilling. + +"Nothing at all--though I often wondered. Of course," said the doctor +with a smile, "they were only chance visitors--I often have +trans-atlantic passengers drop in--and they forget that a physician would +sometimes like to know how a case submitted to him in that way has +turned out. No, I never heard any more." + +"Did they give you any address, either of them?" asked Copplestone, +seeing that Gilling had no more to ask. + +"No," replied the doctor, "they did not. I knew of course, from what +they told me that Mr. Greyle had come off the _Araconda_ the night +before, and that he was passing on. No--I only gathered that they were +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster from the fact that Mr. Greyle +asked if a journey to that place would be too much for him--he said +with a laugh, that over there in the United States a journey of five +hundred miles would be considered a mere jaunt! He was very plucky, +poor fellow, but--" + +Dr. Tretheway ended with a significant shake of the head, and his two +visitors left him and went out into the autumn sunlight. + +"Copplestone!" said Gilling as they walked away. "That chap--the real +Marston Greyle--is dead! That's as certain as that we're alive! And now +the next thing is to find out where he died and when. And by George, +that's going to be a big job!" + +"How are you going to set about it?" asked Copplestone. "It seems as if +we were up against a blank wall, now." + +"Not at all, my son!" retorted Gilling, cheerfully. "One step at a +time--that's the sure thing to go on, in my calling. We've found out a +lot here, and quickly, too. And--we know where our next step lies. +Bristol! Like looking for needles in a bundle of hay? Not a bit of it. +If those two broke their journey at Bristol, they'd have to stop at an +hotel. Well, now we'll adjourn to Bristol--bearing in mind that we're on +the track of Peter Chatfield!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE OLD PLAYBILL + + +Gilling's cheerful optimism was the sort of desirable quality that is a +good thing to have, but all the optimism in the world is valueless in +face of impregnable difficulty. And the difficulty of tracing Chatfield +and his sick companion in a city the size of Bristol did indeed seem +impregnable when Gilling and Copplestone had been attacking it for +twenty-four hours. They had spent a whole day in endeavouring to get +news; they had gone in and out of hotels until they were sick of the +sight of one; they had made exhaustive inquiries at the railway station +and of the cabmen who congregated there; nobody remembered anything at +all about a big, heavy-faced man and a man in his company who seemed to +be very ill. And on the second night Copplestone intimated plainly that +in his opinion they were wasting their time. + +"How do we even know that they ever came to Bristol?" he asked, as he and +Gilling refreshed themselves with a much needed dinner. "The Falmouth +landlord saw Chatfield take tickets for Bristol! That's nothing to go on! +Put it to yourself in this way. Greyle may have found even that journey +too much for him. They may, in that case, have left the train at +Plymouth--or at Exeter--or at Taunton: it would stop at each place. Seems +to me we're wasting time here--far better get nearer more tangible +things. Chatfield, for instance. Or, go back to town and find out what +your friend Swallow has done." + +"Swallow," replied Gilling, "has done nothing so far, or I should have +heard. Swallow knows exactly where I am, and where I shall be until I +give him further notice. Don't be discouraged, my friend--one is often +on the very edge of a discovery when one seems to be miles away from it. +Give me another day--and if we haven't found out something by tomorrow +evening I'll consult with you as to our next step. But I've a plan for +tomorrow morning which ought to yield some result." + +"What?" demanded Copplestone, doubtfully. + +"This! There is in every centre of population an official who registers +births, marriages, and deaths. Now we believe the real Marston Greyle to +be dead. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that he did die here, in +Bristol, whither he and Chatfield certainly set off when they left +Falmouth. What would happen? Notice of his death would have to be given +to the Registrar--by the nearest relative or by the person in attendance +on the deceased. That person would, in this case, be Chatfield. If the +death occurred suddenly, and without medical attendance, an inquest would +have to be held. If a doctor had been in attendance he would give a +signed certificate of the cause of death, which he would hand to the +relatives or friends in attendance, who, in their turn, would have to +hand it to the Registrar. Do you see the value of these points? What we +must do tomorrow morning is to see the Registrar--or, as there will be +more than one in a place this size--each of them in turn, in the +endeavour to find out if, early in October, 1912, Peter Chatfield +registered the death of Marston Greyle here. But remember--he may not +have registered it under that name. He may, indeed, not have used his own +name--he's deep enough for anything. That however, is our next best +chance--search of the registers. Let's try it, anyway, first thing in the +morning. And as we've had a stiff day, I propose we dismiss all thought +of this affair for the rest of the evening and betake ourselves to some +place of amusement--theatre, eh?" + +Copplestone made no objection to that, and when dinner was over, they +walked round to the principal theatre in time for the first act of a play +which having been highly successful in London had just started on a round +of the leading provincial theatres. Between the second and third acts of +this production there was a long interval, and the two companions +repaired to the foyer to recuperate their energies with a drink and a +cigarette. While thus engaged, Copplestone encountered an old school +friend with whom he exchanged a few words: Gilling, meanwhile strolled +about, inspecting the pictures, photographs and old playbills on the +walls of the saloon and its adjacent apartments. And suddenly, he turned +back, waited until Copplestone's acquaintance had gone away, and then +hurried up and smacked his co-searcher on the shoulder. + +"Didn't I tell you that one's often close to a thing when one seems +furthest off it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Come here, my son, and look +at what I've just found." + +He drew Copplestone away to a quiet corner and pointed out an old +playbill, framed and hung on the wall. Copplestone stared at it and saw +nothing but the title of a well-known comedy, the names of one or two +fairly celebrated actors and actresses and the usual particulars which +appear on all similar announcements. + +"Well?" he asked. "What of this?" + +"That!" replied Gilling, flicking the tip of his finger on a line in the +bill. "That my boy!" + +Copplestone looked again. He started at what he read. + +_Margaret Sayers_.......MISS ADELA CHATFIELD. + +"And now look at that!" continued Gilling, with an accentuation of his +triumphal note. "See! These people were here for a fortnight--from +October 3rd to 17th--1912. Therefore--if Peter Chatfield brought Marston +Greyle to Bristol on October 6th, Peter Chatfield's daughter would also +be in the town!" + +Copplestone looked over the bill again, rapidly realizing possibilities. + +"Would Chatfield know that?" he asked reflectively. + +"It's only likely that he would," replied Gilling. "Even if father and +daughter don't quite hit things off in their tastes, it's only reasonable +to suppose that Peter would usually know his daughter's whereabouts. And +if he brought Greyle here, ill, and they had to stop, it's only likely +that Peter would turn to his daughter for help. Anyway, Copplestone, here +are two undoubted facts:--Chatfield and Greyle booked from Falmouth for +Bristol on October 6th, 1912, and may therefore be supposed to have come +here. That's one fact. The other is--Addie Chatfield was certainly in +Bristol on that date and for eleven days after it." + +"Well--what next?" asked Copplestone. + +"I've been thinking that over while you stared at the bill," answered +Gilling. "I think the best thing will be to find out where Addie +Chatfield put herself up during her stay. I daresay you know that in most +of these towns there are lodgings which are almost exclusively devoted to +the theatrical profession. Actors and actresses go to them year after +year; their owners lay themselves out for their patrons--what's more, +your theatrical landlady always remembers names and faces, and has her +favourites. Now, in my stage experience, I never struck Bristol, so I +don't know much about it, but I know where we can get information--the +stage door-keeper. He'll tell us where the recognized lodgings are--and +then we must begin a round of inquiry. When? Just now, my boy!--and a +good time, too, as you'll see." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone. + +"Best hour of the evening," replied Gilling with glib assurance. +"Landladies enjoying an hour of ease before beginning to cook supper +for their lodgers, now busy on the stage. Always ready to talk, +theatrical landladies, when they've nothing to do. Trust me for +knowing the ropes!--come round to the stage door and let's ask the +keeper a question or two." + +But before they had quitted the foyer an interruption came in the shape +of a shrewd-looking gentleman in evening dress, who wore his opera hat at +a rakish angle and seemed to be very much at home as he strolled about, +hands in pockets, looking around him at all and sundry. He suddenly +caught sight of Gilling, smiled surprisedly and expansively, and came +forward with outstretched hand. + +"Bless our hearts, is it really yourself, dear boy!" exclaimed this +apparition. "Really, now? And what brings you here--God bless my soul and +eyes--why I haven't seen you this--how long is it, dear boy!" + +"Three years," answered Gilling, promptly clasping the outstretched hand. +"But what are you doing here--boss, eh?" + +"Lessee's manager, dear boy--nice job, too," whispered the other. "Been +here two years--good berth." He deftly steered Gilling towards the +refreshment bar, and glanced out of his eye corner at Copplestone. +"Friend of yours?" he suggested hospitably. "Introduce us, dear boy--my +name is the same as before, you know!" + +"Mr. Copplestone, Mr. Montmorency," said Gilling. "Mr. Montmorency, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Servant, sir," said Mr. Montmorency. "Pleased to meet any friend of my +friend! And what will you take, dear boys, and how are things with +you, Gilling, old man--now who on earth would have thought of seeing +you here?" + +Copplestone held his peace while Gilling and Mr. Montmorency held +interesting converse. He was sure that his companion would turn this +unexpected meeting to account, and he therefore felt no surprise when +Gilling, after giving him a private nudge, plumped the manager with a +direct question. + +"Did you see Addie Chatfield when she was here about a year ago?" he +asked. "You remember--she was here in _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_--here a +fortnight." + +"I remember very well, dear boy," responded Mr. Montmorency, with a +judicial sip at the contents of his tumbler. "I saw the lady several +times. More by token, I accidentally witnessed a curious little scene +between Miss Addie and a gentleman whom Nature appeared to have specially +manufactured for the part of heavy parent--you know the type. One morning +when that company was here, I happened to be standing in the vestibule, +talking to the box-office man, when a large, solemn-faced individual, +Quakerish in attire, and evidently not accustomed to the theatre walked +in and peered about him at our rich carpets and expensive +fittings--pretty much as if he was appraising their value. At the same +time, I observed that he was in what one calls a state--a little, perhaps +a good deal, upset about something. Wherefore I addressed myself to him +in my politest manner and inquired if I could serve him. Thereupon he +asked if he could see Miss Adela Chatfield on very important business. +Now, I wasn't going to let him see Miss Addie, for I took him to be a man +who might have a writ about him, or something nasty of that sort. But at +that very moment, Miss Addie, who had been rehearsing, and had come out +by the house instead of going through the stage door, came tripping into +the vestibule and let off a sharp note of exclamation. After which she +and old wooden-face stepped into the street together, and immediately +exchanged a few words. And that the old man told her something very +serious was abundantly evident from the expression of their respective +countenances. But, of course, I never knew what it was, nor who he was, +dear boy--not my business, don't you know." + +"They went away together, those two?" asked Gilling, favouring +Copplestone with another nudge. + +"Up the street together, certainly, talking most earnestly," replied Mr. +Montmorency. + +"Ever see that old chap again?" asked Gilling. + +"I never did, dear boy,--once was sufficient," said Mr. Montmorency, +lightly. "But," he continued, dropping his bantering tone, "are these +questions pertinent?--has this to do with this new profession of yours, +dear boy? If so--mum's the word, you know." + +"I'll tell you what, Monty," answered Gilling. "I wish you'd find out for +me where Addie Chatfield lodged when she was here that time. Can it be +done? Between you and me, I do want to know about that, old chap. Never +mind why, now--I will tell you later. But it's serious." + +Mr. Montmorency tapped the side of his handsome nose. + +"All right, my boy!" he said. "I understand--wicked, wicked world! Done? +Dear boy, it shall be done! Come down to the stage door--our man knows +every landlady in the town!" + +By various winding ways and devious passages he led the two young men +down to the stage door. Its keeper, not being particularly busy at that +time, was reading the evening newspaper in his glass-walled box, and +glanced inquiringly at the strangers as Mr. Montmorency pulled them up +before him. + +"Prickett," said Mr. Montmorency, leaning into the sanctum over its +half-door and speaking confidentially. "You keep a sort of register of +lodgings don't you, Prickett? Now I wonder if you could tell me where +Miss Adela Chatfield, of the _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_ Company stopped +when she was last here?--that's a year ago or about it. Prickett," he +went on, turning to Gilling, "puts all this sort of thing down, +methodically, so that he can send callers on, or send up urgent letters +or parcels during the day--isn't that it, Prickett?" + +"That's about it, sir," answered the door-keeper. He had taken down a +sort of ledger as the manager spoke, and was now turning over its leaves. +He suddenly ran his finger down a page and stopped its course at a +particular line. + +"Mrs. Salmon, 5, Montargis Crescent--second to the right outside," he +announced briefly. "Very good lodgings, too, are those." + +Gilling promised Mr. Montmorency that he would look him up later on, +and went away with Copplestone to Montargis Crescent. Within five +minutes they were standing in a comfortably furnished, old-fashioned +sitting-room, liberally ornamented with the photographs of actors and +actresses and confronting a stout, sharp-eyed little woman who +listened intently to all that Gilling said and sniffed loudly when he +had finished. + +"Remember Miss Chatfield being here!" she exclaimed. "I should think I do +remember! I ought to! Bringing mortal sickness into my house--and then +death--and then a funeral--and her and her father going away never giving +me an extra penny for the trouble!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + + +Gilling's glance at his companion was quiet enough, but it spoke volumes. +Here, by sheer chance, was such a revelation as they had never dreamed of +hearing!--here was the probable explanation of at least half the mystery. +He turned composedly to the landlady. + +"I've already told you who and what I am," he said, pointing to the card +which he had handed to her. "There are certain mysterious circumstances +about this affair which I want to get at. What you've said just now is +abundant evidence that you can help. If you do and will help, you'll be +well paid for your trouble. Now, you speak of sickness--death--a funeral. +Will you tell us all about it?" + +"I never knew there was any mystery about it," answered the landlady, as +she motioned her visitors to seat themselves. "It was all above-board as +far as I knew. Of course, I've always been sore about it--I'd a great +deal of trouble, and as I say, I never got anything for it--that is, +anything extra. And me doing it really to oblige her and her father!" + +"They brought a sick man here?" suggested Gilling. + +"I'll tell you how it was," said Mrs. Salmon, seating herself and showing +signs of a disposition to confidence. "Miss Chatfield, she'd been here, I +think, three days that time--I'd had her once before a year or two +previous. One morning--I'm sure it was about the third day that the +_Swayne Necklace_ Company was here--she came in from rehearsal in a +regular take-on. She said that her father had just called on her at the +theatre. She said he'd been to Falmouth to meet a relation of theirs +who'd come from America and had found him to be very ill on landing--so +ill that a Falmouth doctor had given strict orders that he mustn't travel +any further than Bristol, on his way wherever he wanted to go. They'd got +to Bristol and the young man was so done up that Mr. Chatfield had had to +drive him to another doctor--one close by here--Dr. Valdey--as soon as +they arrived. Dr. Valdey said he must go to bed at once and have at least +two days' complete rest in bed, and he advised Mr. Chatfield to get quiet +rooms instead of going to a hotel. So Mr. Chatfield, knowing that his +daughter was here, do you see, sought her out and told her all about it. +She came to me and asked me if I knew where they could get rooms. Well +now, I had my drawing-room floor empty that week, and as it was only for +two or three days that they wanted rooms I offered to take Mr. Chatfield +and the young man in. Of course, if I'd known how ill he was, I +shouldn't. What I understood--and mind you, I don't say they wilfully +deceived me, for I don't think they did--what I understood was that the +young man simply wanted a real good rest. But he was evidently a deal +worse than what even Dr. Valdey thought. He'd stopped at Dr. Valdey's +surgery while Mr. Chatfield went to see about rooms, and they moved him +from there straight in here. And as I say, he was a deal worse than they +thought, much worse, and the doctor had to be fetched to him more than +once during the afternoon. Still Dr. Valdey himself never said to me that +there was any immediate danger. But that's neither here nor there--the +young fellow died that night." + +"That night!" exclaimed Gilling, "the night he came here?" + +"Very same night," assented Mrs. Salmon. "Brought in here about two in +the afternoon and died just before midnight--soon after Miss Chatfield +came in from the theatre. Went very suddenly at the end." + +"Were you present?" asked Copplestone. + +"I wasn't. Nobody was with him but Mr. Chatfield--Miss Chatfield was +getting her supper down here," replied Mrs. Salmon. "And I was busy +elsewhere." + +"Was there an inquest then, inquired Gilling?" + +"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Salmon, shaking her head. "Oh, no!--there was no need +for that--the doctor, ye see, had been seeing him all day. Oh, no--the +cause of death was evident enough, in a way of speaking. Heart." + +"Did they bury him here, then?" asked Gilling. + +"Two days after," replied Mrs. Salmon. "Kept everything very quiet, they +did. I don't believe Miss Chatfield told any of the theatre people--she +went to her work just the same, of course. The old gentleman saw to +everything--funeral and all. I'll say this for them.--they gave me no +unnecessary trouble, but still, there's trouble that is necessary when +you've death in a house and a funeral at the door, and they ought to have +given me something for what I did. But they didn't, so I considered it +very mean. Mr. Chatfield, he stayed two days after the funeral, and when +he left he just said that his daughter would settle up with me. But when +she came to pay she added nothing to my bill, and she walked out +remarking that if her father hadn't given me anything extra she was sure +she shouldn't. Shabby!" + +"Very shabby!" agreed Gilling. "Well, you won't find my clients quite so +mean, ma'am. But just a word--don't mention this matter to anybody until +you hear from me. And as I like to give some earnest of payment here's a +bank-note which you can slip into your purse--on account, you understand. +Now, just a question or two:--Did you hear the young man's name?" + +The landlady, whose spirits rose visibly on receipt of the bank-note, +appeared to reflect on hearing this question, and she shook her head as +if surprised at her own inability to answer it satisfactorily. + +"Well, now," she said, "it may seem a queer thing to say, but I don't +recollect that I ever did! You see, I didn't see much of him after he +once got here. I was never in his room with them, and they didn't mention +his name--that I can remember--when they spoke about him before me. I +understood he was a relative--cousin or something of that sort." + +"Didn't you see any name on the coffin?" asked Gilling. + +"I didn't," replied Mrs. Salmon. "You see, the undertaker fetched him +away when him and his men brought the coffin--the next day. He took +charge of the coffin for the second night, and the funeral took place +from there. But I'll tell you what--the undertaker'll know the name, and +of course the doctor does. They're both close by." + +Gilling took names and addresses and once more pledging the landlady to +secrecy, led Copplestone away. + +"That's the end of another chapter," he said when they were clear of that +place. "We know now that Marston Greyle died there--in that very house, +Copplestone!--and that Peter Chatfield was with him. That's fact!" + +"And it's fact, too, that the daughter knows," observed Copplestone in a +low voice. + +"Fact, too, that Addie Chatfield was in it," agreed Gilling. "Well--but +what happened next? However, before we go on to that, there are three +things to do in the morning. We must see this Dr. Valdey, and the +undertaker--and Marston Greyle's grave." + +"And then?" asked Copplestone. + +"Stiff, big question," sighed Gilling. "Go back to town and report, I +think--and find out if Swallow has discovered anything. And egad! there's +a lot to discover! For you see we're already certain that at the stage at +which we've arrived a conspiracy began--conspiracy between Chatfield, his +daughter, and the man who's been passing himself off as Marston Greyle. +Now, who is the man? Where did they get hold of him? Is he some relation +of theirs? All that's got to be found out. Of course, their object is +very clear, Marston Greyle, the real Simon Pure, was dead on their hands. +His legal successor was his cousin, Miss Audrey. Chatfield knew that when +Miss Audrey came into power his own reign as steward of Scarhaven would +be brief. And so--but the thing is so plain that one needn't waste breath +on it. And I tell you what's plain too, Copplestone--Miss Audrey Greyle +is the lady of Scarhaven! Good luck to her! You'll no doubt be glad to +communicate the glad tidings!" + +Copplestone made no answer. He was utterly confounded by the recent +revelations and was wondering what the mother and daughter in the little +cottage so far away in the grey north would say when all these things +were told them. + +"Let's make dead certain of everything," he said after a long pause. +"Don't let's leave any loophole." + +"Oh, we'll leave nothing--here at any rate," replied Gilling, +confidently. "But you'll find in the morning that we already know almost +everything." + +In this he was right. The doctor's story was a plain one. The young man +was very ill indeed when brought to him, and though he did not anticipate +so early or sudden an end, he was not surprised when death came, and had +of course, no difficulty about giving the necessary certificate. Just as +plain was the undertaker's account of his connection with the affair--a +very ordinary transaction in his eyes. And having heard both stories, +there was nothing to do but to visit one of the adjacent cemeteries and +find a certain grave the number of which they had ascertained from the +undertaker's books. It was easily found--and Copplestone and Gilling +found themselves standing at a new tombstone, whereon the monumental +mason had carved four lines:-- + +MARK GREY + +BORN APRIL 12TH, 1884 + +DIED OCTOBER 6TH, 1912 + +AGED 28 TEARS. + +"Short, simple, eminently suited to the purpose," murmured Gilling as the +two turned away. "Somebody thought things out quickly and well, +Copplestone, when this poor fellow died. Do you know I've been thinking +as we walked up here that if Bassett Oliver had never taken it into his +head to visit Scarhaven that Sunday this fraud would never have been +found out! The chances were all against its ever being found out. +Consider them! A young man who is an absolute stranger in England comes +to take up an inheritance, having on him no doubt, the necessary proofs +of identification. He's met by one person only--his agent. He dies next +day. The agent buries him, under a false name, takes his effects and +papers, gets some accomplice to personate him, introduces that accomplice +to everybody as the real man--and there you are! Oh, Chatfield knew what +he was doing! Who on earth, wandering in this cemetery, would ever +connect Mark Grey with Marston Greyle?" + +"Just so--but there was one danger-spot which must have given Chatfield +and his accomplices a good many uneasy hours," answered Copplestone. "You +know that Marston Greyle actually registered in his own name at Falmouth +and was known to the land lord and the doctor there." + +"Yes--and Falmouth is three hundred miles from London and five hundred +from Scarhaven," replied Gilling dryly. "And do you suppose that whoever +saw Marston Greyle at Falmouth cared two pins--comparatively--what became +of him after he left there? No--Chatfield was almost safe from detection +as soon as he'd got that unfortunate young fellow laid away in that +grave. However we know now--what we do know. And the next thing, now that +we know Marston Greyle lies behind us there, is to get back to town and +catch the chap who took his place. We'll wire to Swallow and to +Petherton and get the next express." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton were in conference with Swallow at the +solicitor's office when Gilling and Copplestone arrived there in the +early afternoon. Gilling interrupted their conversation to tell the +result of his investigations. Copplestone, watching the effect, saw that +neither Sir Cresswell nor Petherton showed surprise. Petherton indeed, +smiled as if he had anticipated all that Gilling had to say. + +"I told you that I knew the Greyle family solicitors," he observed. "I +find that they have only once seen the man whom we will call the Squire. +Chatfield brought him there. He produced proofs of identification--papers +which Chatfield no doubt took from the dead man. Of course, the +solicitors never doubted for a moment that he was the real Marston +Greyle!--never dreamed of fraud: Well--the next step. We must concentrate +on finding this man. And Swallow has nothing to tell--yet. He has never +seen anything more of him. You'd better turn all your attention to that, +Gilling--you and Swallow. As for Chatfield and his daughter, I suppose we +shall have to approach the police." + +Copplestone presently went home to his rooms in Jermyn Street, puzzled +and wondering; And there, lying on top of a pile of letters, he found a +telegram--from Audrey Greyle. It had been dispatched from Scarhaven at an +early hour of the previous day, and it contained but three words--_Can +yon come?_ + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE STEAM YACHT + + +Copplestone had seen and learned enough of Audrey Greyle during his brief +stay at Scarhaven to make him assured that she would not have sent for +him save for very good and grave reasons. It had been with manifest +reluctance that she had given him her promise to do so: her entire +behaviour during the conference with Mr. Dennie and Gilling had convinced +him that she had an inherent distaste for publicity and an instinctive +repugnance to calling in the aid of strangers. He had never expected that +she would send for him--he himself knew that he should go back to her, +but the return would be on his own initiative. There, however, was her +summons, definite as it was brief. He was wanted--and by her. And without +opening one of his letters, he snatched up the whole pile, thrust it into +his pocket, hurriedly made some preparation for his journey and raced off +to King's Cross. + +He fumed and fretted with impatience during the six hours' journey down +to Norcaster. It was ten o'clock when he arrived there, and as he knew +that the last train to Scarhaven left at half-past-nine he hurried to get +a fast motor-car that would take him over the last twenty miles of his +journey. He had wired to Audrey from Peterborough, telling her that he +was on his way and should motor out from Norcaster, and when he had +found a car to his liking he ordered its driver to go straight to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage, close by Scarhaven church. And just then he heard a +voice calling his name, and turning saw, running out of the station, a +young, athletic-looking man, much wrapped and cloaked, who waved a hand +at him and whose face he had some dim notion of having seen before. + +"Mr. Copplestone?" panted the new arrival, coming up hurriedly. "I almost +missed you--I got on the wrong platform to meet your train. You don't +know me, though you may have seen me at the inquest on Mr. Bassett Oliver +the other day--my name's Vickers--Guy Vickers." + +"Yes?" said Copplestone. "And--" + +"I'm a solicitor, here in Norcaster," answered Vickers. "I--at least, my +firm, you know--we sometimes act for Mrs. Greyle at Scarhaven. I got a +wire from Miss Greyle late this evening, asking me to meet you here when +the London train got in and to go on to Scarhaven with you at once. She +added the words _urgent business_ so--" + +"Then in heaven's name, let's be off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "It'll take +us a good hour and a quarter as it is. Of course," he went on, as they +moved away through the Norcaster streets, "of course, you haven't any +notion of what this urgent business is?" + +"None whatever!" replied Vickers. "But I'm quite sure that it is urgent, +or Miss Greyle wouldn't have said so. No--I don't know what her exact +meaning was, but of course, I know there's something wrong about the +whole thing at Scarhaven--seriously wrong!" + +"You do, eh?" exclaimed Copplestone. "What now?" + +"Ah, that I don't know!" replied Vickers, with a dry laugh. "I wish I +did. But--you know how people talk in these provincial places--ever since +that inquest there have been all sorts of rumours. Every club and public +place in Norcaster has been full of talk--gossip, surmise, speculation. +Naturally!" + +"But--about what?" asked Copplestone. + +"Squire Greyle, of course," said the young solicitor; "that inquest was +enough to set the whole country talking. Everybody thinks--they couldn't +think otherwise--that something is being hushed up. Everybody's agog to +know if Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. Petherton are applying for a +re-opening of the inquest. You've just come from town, I believe! Did you +hear anything?" + +Copplestone was wondering whether he ought to tell his companion of his +own recent discoveries. Like all laymen, he had an idea that you can tell +anything to a lawyer, and he was half-minded to pour out the whole story +to Vickers, especially as he was Mrs. Greyle's solicitor. But on second +thoughts he decided to wait until he had ascertained the state of affairs +at Scarhaven. + +"I didn't hear anything about that," he replied. "Of course, that inquest +was a mere travesty of what such an inquiry should have been." + +"Oh, an utter farce!" agreed Vickers. "However, it produced just the +opposite effect to that which the wire-pullers wanted. Of course, +Chatfield had squared that jury! But he forgot the press--and the local +reporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that all +the Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody's +talking of it, as I said--people are asking what this evidence from +America is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on. +And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven." + +"Have you seen Mrs. or Miss Greyle since the inquest?" asked Copplestone, +who was anxious to keep off subjects on which he might be supposed to +possess information. "Have you been over there?" + +"No--not since that day," replied Vickers. "And I don't care how soon we +do see them, for I'm a bit anxious about this telegram. Something must +have happened." + +Copplestone looked out of the window on his side of the car. Already they +were clear of the Norcaster streets and on the road which led to +Scarhaven. That road ran all along the coast, often at the very edge of +the high, precipitous cliffs, with no more between it and the rocks far +beneath than a low wall. It was a road of dangerous curves and corners +which needed careful negotiation even in broad daylight, and this was a +black, moonless and starless night. But Copplestone had impressed upon +his driver that he must get to Scarhaven as quickly as possible, and he +and his companion were both so full of their purpose that they paid no +heed to the perpetual danger which they ran as the car tore round +propections and down deep cuts at a speed which at other times they would +have considered suicidal. And at just under the hour they ran on the +level stretch by the "Admiral's Arms" and looking down at the harbour saw +the lighted port-holes of some ship which lay against the south quay, and +on the quay itself men moving about in the glare of lamps. + +"What's going on there?" said Vickers. "Late for a vessel to be loading +at a place like this where time's of no great importance." + +Copplestone offered no suggestion. He was hotly impatient to reach the +cottage, and as soon as the car drew up at its gate he burst out, bade +the driver wait, and ran eagerly up to the path to Audrey, who opened the +door as he advanced. In another second he had both her hands in his +own--and kept them there. + +"You're all right?" he demanded in tones which made clear to the girl how +anxious he had been. "There's nothing wrong--with you or your +mother--personally, I mean? You see, I didn't get your wire until this +afternoon, and then I raced off as quick--" + +"I know," she said, responding a little to the pressure of his hands. "I +understand. You may be sure I shouldn't have wired if I hadn't felt it +absolutely necessary. Somebody was wanted--and you'd made me promise, and +so--Yes," she continued, drawing back as Vickers came up, "we are all +right, personally, but--there's something very wrong indeed somewhere. +Will you both come in and see mother?" + +Mrs. Greyle, looking worn and ill, appeared just then in the hall, and +called to them to come in. She preceded them into the parlour and turned +to the young men as soon as Audrey closed the door. + +"I'm more thankful to see you gentlemen than I've ever been in my +life--for anything!" she said. "Something is happening here which needs +the attention of men--we women can't do anything. Let me tell you what it +is. Yesterday morning, very early the Squire's steam-yacht, the _Pike_, +was brought into the inner harbour and moored against the quay just +opposite the park gates. We, of course, could see it, and as we knew he +had gone away we wondered why it was brought in there. After it had been +moored, we saw that preparations of some sort were being made. Then +men--estate labourers--began coming down from the house, carrying +packing-cases, which were taken on board. And while this was going on, +Mrs. Peller, the housekeeper, came hurrying here, in a state of great +consternation. She said that a number of men, sailors and estate men, +were packing up and removing all the most valuable things in the +house--the finest pictures, the old silver, the famous collection of +china which Stephen John Greyle made--and spent thousands upon thousands +of pounds in making!--the rarest and most valuable books out of the +library--all sorts of things of real and great value. Everything was +being taken down to the _Pike_--and the estate carpenter, who was in +charge of all this, said it was by the Squire's orders, and produced to +Mrs. Peller his written authority. Of course, Mrs. Peller could do +nothing against that, but she came hurrying to tell us, because she, like +everybody else, is much exercised by these recent events. And so Audrey +and I pocketed our pride, and went to see Peter Chatfield. But Peter +Chatfield, like his master, had gone! He had left home the previous +evening, and his house was locked up." + +Copplestone and Vickers exchanged glances, and the young solicitor signed +Mrs. Greyle to proceed. + +"Then," she added, "to add to that, as we came away from Chatfield's +house, we met Mr. Elkin, the bank-manager from Norcaster. He had come +over in a motor-car, to see me--privately. He wanted to tell me--in +relation to all these things--that within the last few days, the Squire +and Peter Chatfield had withdrawn from the bank the very large balances +of two separate accounts. One was the Squire's own account, in his +name--the other was an estate account, on which Chatfield could draw. In +both cases the balances withdrawn were of very large amount. Of course, +as Mr. Elkin pointed out, it was all in order, and no objection could be +raised. But it was unusual, for a large balance had always existed on +both these accounts. And, Mr. Elkin added, so many strange rumours are +going about Norcaster and the district, that he felt seriously uneasy, +and thought it his duty to see me at once. And now--what is to be done? +The house is being stripped of the best part of its valuables, and in my +opinion when that yacht sails it will be for some foreign port. What +other object can there be in taking these things away? Of course, as +nothing is entailed, and there are no heirlooms, everything is absolutely +the Squire's property, so--" + +Copplestone, who had been realizing the serious significance of these +statements, saw that it was time to speak, if energetic methods were to +be taken at once. + +"I'd better tell you the truth," he said interrupting Mrs. Greyle. "I +might have told you, Vickers, as we came along, but I decided to wait, +until we got here and found out how things were. Mrs. Greyle, the man you +speak of as the Squire, is no more the owner of Scarhaven than I am! He +is not Marston Greyle at all. The real Marston Greyle who came over from +America, died the day after he landed, in lodgings at Bristol to which +Peter Chatfield and his daughter had taken him, and he is buried in a +Bristol cemetery under the name of Mark Grey; Gilling and I found that +out during these last few days. It's an absolute fact. So the man who has +been posing here as the rightful owner is--an impostor!" + +A dead silence followed this declaration. The mother and daughter after +one long look at Copplestone turned and looked at each other. But +Vickers, quick to realize the situation, started from his seat, with +evident intention of doing something. + +"That's--the truth?" he exclaimed, turning to Copplestone. "No possible +flaw in it?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "It's sheer fact." + +"Then in that case," said Vickers, "Miss Greyle is the owner of +Scarhaven, of everything in the house, of every stick, stone and pebble, +about the place! And we must act at once. Miss Greyle, you will have to +assert yourself. You must do what I tell you to do. You must get ready at +once--this minute!--and come down with me and Mrs. Greyle to that yacht +and stop all these proceedings. In our presence you must lay claim to +everything that's been taken from the house--yes, and to the yacht +itself. Come, let's hurry!" + +Audrey hesitated and looked at Mrs. Greyle. + +"Very well," she said quietly. "But--not my mother." + +"No need!" said Vickers. "You will have us with you." + +Audrey hurried from the room, and Mrs. Greyle turned anxiously to +Vickers. + +"What shall you do?" she asked. + +"Warn all concerned," answered Vickers, with a snap of the jaw which +showed Copplestone that he was a man of determination. "Warn them, if +necessary, that the man they have known as Marston Greyle is an impostor, +and that everything they are handling belongs to Miss Greyle. The +Scarhaven people know me, of course--there ought not to be any great +difficulty with them--and as regards the yacht people--" + +"You know," interrupted Mrs. Greyle, "that this man--the impostor--has +made himself very popular with the people here? You saw how they cheered +him after the inquest? You don't think there is danger in Audrey going +down there?" + +"Wouldn't it be enough if you and I went?" suggested Copplestone. "It's +very late to drag Miss Greyle out." + +"I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary," said Vickers. "If your +story is true--I mean, of course, since it is true--Miss Greyle is +owner and mistress, and she must be on the spot. It's all we can do, +anyway," he continued, as Audrey, wrapped in a big ulster, came back to +the parlour. "Even now we may be too late. And if that yacht once sails +away from here--" + +There were signs that the yacht's departure was imminent when they went +down to the south quay and came abreast of her. The lights on the shore +were being extinguished; the estate labourers were gone; only two or +three sailors were busy with ropes and gear. And Vickers hurried his +little party up a gangway and on to the deck. A hard-faced, keen-eyed, +man, evidently in authority, came forward. + +"Are you the captain of this vessel?" demanded Vickers in tones of +authority. "You are? I am Mr. Vickers, solicitor, of Norcaster. I give +you formal warning that the man you have known as Marston Greyle is +not Marston Greyle at all, but an impostor. All the property which you +have removed from the house, and now have on this vessel, belongs to +this lady, Miss Audrey Greyle, Lady of the Manor of Scarhaven. It is +at your peril that you move it, or that you cause this vessel to +leave this harbour. I claim the vessel and all that is on it on behalf +of Miss Greyle." + +The man addressed listened in silent attention, and showed no sign of any +surprise. As soon as Vickers had finished he turned, hurried down a +stairway, remained below for a few minutes, and came up again. + +"Will you kindly step this way, Miss Greyle and gentlemen?" he said +politely. "You must remember that I am only a servant. If you will come +down--" + +He led them down the stairs, along a thickly-carpeted passage, and opened +the door of a lighted saloon. All unthinking, the three stepped in--to +hear the door closed and locked behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + + +Vickers sprang back at that door as the sharp click of the turning key +caught his ear, and Copplestone, preceding him and following Audrey, who +had advanced fearlessly into the cabin, pulled himself up with a sudden, +sickening sense of treachery. The two young men looked at each other, and +a dead silence fell on them and the girl. Then Vickers laid his hand on +the door and shook it. + +"Locked in!" he muttered with a queer glance at his companions. "What +does that mean?" + +"Nothing good!" growled Copplestone who was secretly cursing his own +folly in allowing Audrey to leave the quay. "We're trapped!--that's what +it means. Why we're trapped isn't a question that matters very much under +the circumstances--the serious thing is that we certainly are trapped." + +Vickers turned to Audrey. + +"My fault!" he said contritely. "All my fault! But I meant it for the +best--it was the thing to do--and who on earth could have foreseen this. +Look here!--we've got to think pretty quick, Copplestone, that captain, +now? Has he done this on his own hook, or--is there somebody on board +who's at the top of things?" + +"I don't see any good in thinking quick, or asking one's self +questions," replied Copplestone. "We're locked in here. We've got Miss +Greyle into this mess--and her mother will be anxious and alarmed. I wish +we'd let this confounded yacht go where it liked before ever we'd--" + +"Don't!" broke in Audrey. "That's no good. Mr. Vickers certainly did what +he felt to be best--and who could foresee this? And I'm not afraid--and +as for my mother, if we don't return very soon, why, she knows where we +are and there are police in Scarhaven, and--" + +"How long are we going to be where we are?" asked Copplestone, grimly. +"The thing's moving!" + +There was no doubt of that very pertinent fact. Somewhere beneath them, +machinery began to work; above them there was hurry and scurry as ropes +and stays were thrown off. But so beautifully built was that yacht, and +so almost sound-proof the luxurious cabin in which they were prisoners, +that little of the noise of departure came to them. However, there was no +mistaking the increasing throb of the engines nor the fact that the +vessel was moving, and Vickers suddenly sprang on a lounge seat and moved +away a silken screen which curtained a port-hole window. + +"There's no doubt of that!" he exclaimed. + +"We're going through the outer harbour--we've passed the light at the end +of the quay. What do these people mean by carrying us out to sea? +Copplestone!--with all submission to you--whether it's relevant or not, I +wish we knew more of that captain chap!" + +"I know him," remarked Audrey. "I have been on this yacht before. His +name is Andrius. He's an American--or American-Norwegian, or something +like that." + +"And the crew?" asked Vickers. "Are they Scarhaven men?" + +"No," replied Audrey. "There isn't a Scarhaven man amongst them. My +cousin--I mean--you know whom I mean--bought this yacht just as it stood, +from an American millionaire early this spring, and he took over the +captain, crew, and everything." + +"So--we're in the hands of strangers!" exclaimed Vickers, while +Copplestone dug his hands into his pockets and began to stamp about. "I +wish I'd known all that before we came on board." + +"But what harm can they do us?" said Audrey, incredulous of danger. "You +don't suppose they'll want to murder us, surely! My own belief is that we +never should have been locked up here if you hadn't let them know how +much we know, Mr. Vickers." + +"Let them--I don't understand," said Vickers, turning a puzzled +glance on her. + +"Why," replied Audrey with a laugh which convinced both men of her +fearlessness, "you let the captain see that we know a great deal and he +thereupon ran downstairs--presumably to tell somebody of what you said. +And--here's the result!" + +"You think, then--" suggested Vickers. "You think that--" + +"I think the somebody--whoever he is--wants to know exactly how much we +do know," answered Audrey with another laugh. "And so we're being carried +off to be cross-examined--at somebody's leisure. Let's hope they won't +use thumb-screws and that sort of thing. And anyway," she continued, +looking from one to the other, "hadn't we better make the best of it? +We're going out to sea, that's certain--here's the bar!" + +A sudden lifting of the thickly-carpeted floor, a dip to the left, +another to the right, a plunge forward, a drop back, then a settling down +to a steady persistent roll, showed her companions that Audrey was +right--the yacht was crossing the bar which lay at the mouth of +Scarhaven Bay. Outside that lay the North Sea, and Copplestone suddenly +wondered which course the vessel was going to take, north, east, or +south. But before he could put his thoughts into words, the door was +suddenly unlocked, and Captain Andrius, suave, polite, deprecating, +walked into the cabin. + +"A thousands pardons--and two words of explanation!" he exclaimed, as he +executed a deep bow to his lady prisoner. "First--Miss Greyle, I have +sent a message to your mother that you are quite safe and will join her +in due course. Second--this is merely a temporary detention--you shall +all be landed--all in good time." + +Vickers as a legal man, assumed his most professional air. + +"Do you know what you are rendering yourself liable to, sir, by detaining +us at all?" he demanded. "An action--" + +Captain Andrius bowed again; again assumed his deprecating smile. He +waved the two men to seats and himself took a chair with his back to the +door by which he entered. + +"My dear sir!" he said courteously. "You forget that I am but a servant. +I am under orders. However, I give my word that no harm shall come to +you, that you shall be treated with every polite attention, and that you +shall be landed." + +"When--and where?" asked Vickers. + +"Tomorrow, certainly," replied Andrius. "As to where, I cannot exactly +say. But--where you will be in touch with--shall we say civilization?" + +He showed a set of fine white teeth in such a curious fashion as he spoke +the last word that Copplestone and Vickers instinctively glanced at each +other, with a mutual instinct of distrust. + +"Won't do!" said Vickers. "I insist that you put about and go into +Scarhaven again." + +Andrius spread out his open palms and shook his head "Impossible!" he +answered. "We are already _en voyage_. Time presses. Be +placable--tomorrow you shall be released." + +Vickers was about to answer this appeal with an angry refusal to be +either placable or tractable, but he suddenly stopped the words which +rose to his tongue. There was something in all this--some mystery, some +queer game, and it might be worth while to find it out. + +"Where are you taking this yacht?" he demanded brusquely. "Come, now!" + +"I am under--orders," said Andrius, with another smile. + +"Whose orders?" persisted Vickers. "Look here--it's no use trying to +burke facts. Who's on board this vessel? You know what I mean. Is the man +who calls himself Squire of Scarhaven here?" + +Andrius shook his head quietly and gave his questioner a shrewd glance. + +"Mr. Vickers," he said meaningly, "I know you! You are a lawyer--though a +young one. Lawyers are guarded in their speech. Now--we are alone--we +four. No one can hear anything we say. Tell me--is that right what you +said to me on deck, that the man who has called himself Marston Greyle is +not so at all?" + +"Absolutely right," replied Vickers. + +"An impostor?" demanded Andrius. + +"He is!" + +"And never had any right to--anything?" + +"No right whatever!" + +"Then," said Andrius, with a polite inclination of his head and shoulders +to Audrey, "the truth is that everything of the Scarhaven property +belongs to this lady?" + +"Everything!" exclaimed Vickers. "Land, houses, furniture, +valuables--everything. All the property which you have on this +yacht--pictures, china, silver, books, objects of art, as I am +instructed, removed from the house--are Miss Greyle's sole property. Once +more I warn you of what you are doing, and I demand that you immediately +return to Scarhaven. This very yacht belongs to Miss Greyle!" + +Andrius nodded, looked fixedly at the young solicitor for a moment, and +then rose. + +"I am obliged to you," he said. "That, of course, is your claim. But--the +other one, eh? It seems to me there might be something to be said for +that, you know? So, all I can do is to renew my assurance of polite +attention, offer you our best accommodation--which is luxurious--and +promise to land you--somewhere--tomorrow. Miss Greyle, we have two women +servants on board--I shall send them to you at once and they will attend +to you--please consider them your own. You, gentlemen, will perhaps join +me in my quarters?--I have two spare cabins close to my own which are at +your service." + +Copplestone and Vickers looked at each other and at Audrey--undecided and +vaguely suspicious. But Audrey was evidently neither alarmed nor +uneasy--she nodded a ready assent to the Captain's proposal. + +"Thank you, Captain Andrius," she said coolly. "I know the two women. You +may send one of them. Do what he suggests," she murmured, turning to +Copplestone, who had moved close to her, "I'm not one scrap afraid of +anything--and it's only until tomorrow. He'll land us--I'm sure of it." + +There was nothing for it, then, but to follow Andrius to his own +comfortable quarters. There, utterly ignoring the strange circumstances +under which they met, he played the part of host with genuine desire to +make his guests feel at ease, and when he showed them to their berths, +a little later, he emphasized his assurance of their absolute safety +and liberty. + +"You see, gentlemen, your movements are untrammelled," he said. "You can +go in and out of your quarters as you like. You can go where you like on +the yacht tomorrow morning. There is no restriction on you. Sleep +well--and tomorrow you are all free again, eh?" + +Copplestone got a word or two with Vickers--alone. + +"What do you think?" he muttered. "Shall you sleep?" + +"My impression--for I know what you're thinking about," said Vickers, "is +that Miss Greyle's as safe as if she were in her mother's house! She's no +fear, herself, anyway. There's some mystery, somewhere, and I can't make +this Andrius man out at all, but I believe all's right as regards +personal safety. There's Miss Greyle's cabin, anyhow, right opposite +ours--and I can keep an eye and an ear open even when I'm asleep!" + +But in spite of these assurances, Copplestone slept little. He was up, +dressed, and on deck by sunrise, staring around him in a fresh autumn +morning to get some notion of the yacht's whereabouts, and he had just +managed to make out a mere filmy line of land far to the westward when +Audrey appeared at his elbow. There was no one of any importance near +them and Copplestone impulsively seized her hands. + +"I've scarcely slept!" he blurted out, gazing intently at her. +"Couldn't! Blaming myself for letting you get into this confounded mess! +You're all right?" + +Audrey responded a little to the pressure of his hands before she +disengaged her own. + +"It wasn't your fault," she said. "It's nobody's fault. Don't blame Mr. +Vickers--he couldn't foresee this. Yes, I'm all right--and I slept like a +top. What's the use of worrying? Do you know," she went on, lowering her +voice and drawing nearer to him, "I believe something's going to come of +all this--something that'll clear matters up once and for all." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone, wonderingly. "What makes you think that?" + +"Don't know--instinct, intuitiveness, perhaps," she answered. +"Besides--I'm dead certain we're not the only people--I don't mean crew +and Captain--aboard the _Pike_. I believe there's somebody else. There's +some mystery, anyway. Keep that to yourself," she said as Andrius and +Vickers appeared from below. "Don't show any sign--wait to see how things +turn out." + +She turned away from him to greet the other two as unconcernedly as if +there were nothing unusual in the situation, and Copplestone marvelled at +her coolness. He himself, not so well equipped with patience, was +feverishly anxious to know how things would turn out, and when. But the +day went by and nothing happened, except that Captain Andrius was very +polite to his guests and that the yacht, a particularly fast sailer, +continued to make headway through the grey seas, sometimes in bare sight +of land and sometimes out of it. To one or two inquiries as to the +fulfilment of his promise Andrius made no more answer than a reassuring +nod; once when Vickers pressed him, he replied curtly that the day was +not yet over. Vickers drew Copplestone aside on hearing that. + +"Look here!" he said. "I've been reckoning things up as near as I can. I +make out that we've been running due north, or north-east ever since we +left Scarhaven last night. I reckon, too, that this vessel makes quite +twenty-two or three, knots an hour. We must be off the extreme north-east +coast of Scotland. And night's coming on!" + +"There are ports there that he can put into," said Copplestone. "The +thing is--will he keep his promise? Remember!--he must know very well +that if we once land anywhere within reach of a telegraph office, we can +wire particulars about him to every port in the world if we like--and +he's got to go somewhere, eventually, you know." + +Vickers shook his head as if this were a problem he would give up. It was +beyond him, he said, to even guess at what Andrius was after, or what was +going to happen. And nothing did happen until, as the three prisoners sat +at dinner with their polite gaoler, the _Pike_ came to a sudden stop and +hung gently on a quiet sea. Andrius looked up and smiled. + +"A pleasant night for your landing," he remarked. "Don't hurry--but there +will be a boat ready for you as soon as dinner is over." + +"And where are we?" asked Vickers. + +"That, my dear sir, you will see when you land." replied Andrius. +"You will, at any rate, be quite comfortable for the night, and in +the morning, I think, you will be able to journey--wherever you wish +to go to." + +There was something in the smile which accompanied the last words which +made Copplestone uneasy. But the prospect of regaining their liberty was +too good--he kept his own counsel. And half-an-hour later, he, Audrey and +Vickers, stood on deck, looking down on a boat alongside, in which were +two or three of the crew and a man holding a lanthorn. In front was the +dark sea, and ahead a darker mass which they took to be land. + +"You won't tell us what this place is?" said Vickers as he was about to +follow the others into the boat. "It's on the mainland, of course?" + +"The morning light, my good sir, will show you everything," replied +Andrius. "Be content that I have kept my promise--you have come off +luckily," he added with a significant look. + +Vickers felt a strange sense of alarm as the boat left the yacht. He +noticed two or three suspicious circumstances. As soon as they got away, +he saw that all the yacht's lights had been or were being darkened or +entirely obscured; at a dozen boat lengths they could see her no more. +Then a boat, swiftly pulled, passed them in the darkness, evidently +coming from the shore to which they were being taken: it, too, carried no +light. Nor were there any lights on the shore itself; all there was in +utter blackness. They were on the shingle within a quarter of an hour; +within a minute or two the yachtsmen had helped all three on to the +beach, had carried up certain boxes and packages which had been placed in +the boat, had set down the lighted lanthorn, jumped into the boat again +and vanished in the darkness. And in the silence, broken only by the drip +of water from the retreating oars, and by the scarcely-noticed ripple of +the waves, Audrey voiced exactly what her two companions felt. + +"Andrius has kept his word--and cheated us! We're stranded!" + +Prom somewhere out of the darkness came a groan--deep and heartfelt, as +if in entire agreement with Audrey's declaration. That it proceeded from +a human being was evident enough, and Vickers hastily snatched up the +lanthorn and strode in the direction from which it came. And there, +seated on the shingle, his whole attitude one of utter dejection and +misery, the three castaways found a sharer of their sorrows--Peter +Chatfield! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MAROONED + + +To each of these three young people this was the most surprising moment +which life had yet afforded. It was an astonishing thing to find a fellow +mortal there at all, but to find that mortal was the Scarhaven estate +agent was literally short of marvellous. What was also astounding was to +see Chatfield's only too evident distress. Swathed in a heavy, +old-fashioned ulster, with a plaid shawl round his shoulders and a +deerstalker hat tied over head and ears with a bandanna handkerchief he +sat on the beach nursing his knees, slightly rocking his fleshy figure to +and fro and moaning softly with the regularity of a minute bell. His eyes +were fixed on the dark expanse of waters at his feet; his lips, when he +was not moaning, worked incessantly; as he rocked his body he beat his +toes on the shingle. Clearly, Chatfield was in a bad way, mentally. That +he was not so badly off materially was made evident by the presence of a +half-open kit bag which obviously contained food and a bottle of spirits. + +For any notice that he took of them, Audrey, Vickers, and Copplestone +might have been no more than the pebbles on which they stood. In spite of +the fact that Vickers shone the light on his fat face, and that three +inquisitive pairs of eyes were trained on it, Chatfield continued to +stare moodily and disgustedly out to sea and to take no notice of his +gratuitous company. And so utterly extraordinary was his behaviour and +attitude that Audrey suddenly and almost involuntarily stepped forward +and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Mr. Chatfield!" she exclaimed. "What 's the matter? Are you ill?" + +The emphasis which she gave to the last word roused some quality of +Chatfield's subtle intellect. He flashed a swift look at his +questioner--a look of mingled contempt and derision, spiced with a dash +of sneering humour. And he found his tongue. + +"I'll!" he snorted. "I'll! She asks if I'm ill--me, a respectable man +what's maltreated and robbed before his own eyes by them as ought to fall +in humble gratitude at his feet! I'll!--aye, ill with something that's +worse nor any bodily aches and pains--let me tell you that! But not done +for, neither!" + +"He's all right," said Copplestone. "That's a flash of his old spirit. +You're all right, Chatfield, aren't you? And who's robbed and maltreated +you--and how and when--especially when--did you come here?" + +Chatfield looked up at his old assailant with a glare of dislike. + +"You keep your tongue to yourself, young feller!" he growled. "I +shouldn't never ha' been here at all if it hadn't been for the likes of +you--a pokin' your nose where it isn't wanted. It's 'cause o' you three +comin' aboard o' that there yacht last night as I am here--a castaway!" + +"Well, we're castaways, too, Mr. Chatfield," said Audrey. "And we can't +help believing that it's all your naughty conduct that's made us so. Why +don't you tell the truth?" + +Chatfield uttered a few grumpy and inarticulate sounds. + +"It'll be a bad day for more than one when I do that--as I will," he +muttered presently. "Oh aye, I '11 tell the truth--when it suits me! But +I'll be out o' this first." + +"You'll never get out of this first or last, until you tell us how you +got in," said Vickers, assuming a threatening tone. "You'd better tell us +all about it, you know. Come now!--you know me and my firm." + +Chatfield laughed grimly and shook his much-swathed head. + +"I ought to," he said. "I've given 'em more than one nice job and said +naught about their bills o' costs, neither, my lad. You keep a civil +tongue in your mouth--I ain't done for yet, noways! You let me get off +this here place, wherever it is, and within touch of a telegraph office, +and I'll make somebody suffer!" + +"Andrius, of course," said Copplestone. "Come now, he put you ashore +before he sent us off, didn't he? Why don't you own up?" + +"Never you mind, young feller," retorted Chat-field. "I was feeling very +cast down, but I'm better. I've something that'll keep me going--revenge! +I'll show 'em, once I'm off this place--I will so!" + +"Look here, Chatfield," said Vickers. "Do you know where this place is? +What is it? Is it on the mainland, or is it an island, or where are we? +It's all very well talking about getting off, but when and how are we to +get off? Why don't you be sensible and tell us what you know?" + +The estate agent arose slowly and ponderously, drawing his shawl about +him. He looked out seawards. In that black waste the steady beat of the +yacht's propellers could be clearly heard, but not a gleam of light came +from her, and it was impossible to decide in which direction she was +going. And Chatfield suddenly shook his fist at the throbbing sound which +came in regular pulsations through the night. + +"Never mind!" he said sneeringly. "We aren't at the North Pole +neither--I ain't a seafaring man, but I've a good idea of where we are! +And perhaps there won't be naught to take me off when it's daylight, and +perhaps there won't be no telegraphs near at hand, nor within a hundred +miles, and perhaps there ain't such a blessed person as that there +Marconi and his wireless in the world--oh, no! Just you wait, my fine +fellers--that's all!" + +"He's not addressing us, Vickers," said Copplestone. "You're decidedly +better, Chatfield--you're quite better. The notion of revenge and of +circumvention has come to you like balm. But you'd a lot better tell us +who you're referring to, and why you were put ashore. Listen, +Chatfield!--there's property of your own on that yacht, eh? That it? +Come, now?" + +Chatfield gave his questioner a look of indignant scorn. He stooped for +the kit-bag, picked it up, and turned away. + +"I don't want to have naught to do with you," he remarked over his +shoulder. "You keep yourselves to yourselves, and I'll keep myself to +myself. If it hadn't been for what you blabbed out last night, them +ungrateful devils 'ud never have had such ideas put into their heads!" + +As if he knew his way, Chatfield plodded heavily up the beach and was +lost in the darkness, and the three left behind stood helplessly staring +at each other. For a long time there was silence, broken only by the +agent's heavy tread on the shingle--at last Vickers spoke. + +"I think I can see through all this," he said. "Chatfield's cryptic +utterances were somewhat suggestive. 'Robbed'--'maltreated'--'them as +ought to have fallen in humble gratitude at his feet'--'vengeance'-- +'revenge'--'Marconi telegrams'--'ungrateful devils'--ah, I see it! +Chatfield had associates on the _Pike_--probably the impostor himself +and Andrius--probably, too, he had property of his own, as you suggested +to him, Copplestone. The whole gang was doubtless off with their loot to +far quarters of the globe. Very good--the other members have shelved +Chatfield. They've done with him. But--not if he knows it! That man will +hunt the _Pike_ and her people--whoever they are--relentlessly when he +gets off this." + +"I wish we knew what it is that we're on!" said Copplestone. + +"Impossible till daybreak," replied Vickers. "But I've an idea--this is +probably one of the seventy-odd islands of the Orkneys: I've sailed round +here before. If I'm right, it's most likely one of the outlying and +uninhabited ones. Andrius--or his controlling power--has dropped us--and +Chatfield--here, knowing that we may have to spend a few days on this +island before we succeed in getting off. Those few days will mean a great +deal to the _Pike_. She can be run into some safe harbourage on this +coast, given a new coat of paint and a new name, and be off before we can +do anything to stop her. I allow Chatfield to be right in this--that my +perhaps too hasty declaration to Andrius revealed to that gentleman how +he could make off with other people's property." + +"Nothing will make me believe that Andrius is the solely responsible +person for this last development," said Copplestone, moodily. "There were +other people on board--cleverly concealed. And what are we going to do?" + +Audrey had stepped away from the circle of light made by the lanthorn and +was gazing steadily in the direction which Chatfield had taken. + +"Those are cliffs, surely," she said presently. "Hadn't we better go up +the beach and see if we can't find some shelter until morning? +Fortunately we're all warmly clad, and Andrius was considerate enough to +throw rugs and things into the boat, as well as provisions. Come +along!--after all, we're not so badly off. And we have the satisfaction +of knowing that we can keep Chatfield under observation. Remember that!" + +But in the morning, when the first gleam of light came across the sea, +and Vickers, leaving his companions to prepare some breakfast from the +store of provisions which had been sent ashore with them, set out to make +a first examination of their surroundings, the agent was not to be seen. +What was to be seen was a breach of rock, sand, shingle, not a mile in +length, lying at the foot of high cliffs, and on the grey sea in front +not a sign of a sail, nor a wisp of smoke from a passing steamer. The +apparent solitude and isolation of the place was as profound as the +silence which overhung everything. + +Vickers made his way up the cliffs to their highest point and from its +summit took a leisurely view of his surroundings. He saw at once that +they were on an island, and that it was but one of many which lay spread +out over the sea towards the north and the west. It was a wedge-shaped +island this, and the cliffs on which he stood and the beach beneath +formed the widest side of it; from thence its lines drew away to a point +in the distance which he judged to be two miles off. Between him and that +point lay a sloping expanse of rough land, never cultivated since +creation, whereon there were vast masses of rock and boulder but no sign +of human life. No curling column of smoke went up from hut or cottage; +his ears caught neither the bleating of sheep nor the cry of +shepherd--all was still as only such places can be still. Nor could he +perceive any signs of life on the adjacent islands--which, to be sure, +were not very near. From the sea mists which wrapped one of them he saw +projecting the cap of a mountainous hill--that hill he recognized as +being on one of the principal islands of the group, and he then knew that +he and his companions had been set down on one of the outlying islands +which, from its position, was not in the immediate way of passing vessels +nor likely to be visited by fishermen. + +He was turning away from the top of the cliff after a long and careful +inspection, when he caught sight of a man's figure crossing the rocky +slope between him and this far-off point. That, he said to himself, was +Chatfield. Did Chatfield know of any place at that point visited by +fishing craft from the other islands? Had Chatfield ever been in the +Orkneys before? Was there any method in his wanderings? Or was he, too, +merely examining his surroundings--considering which was the likeliest +part of the island from which to attract attention? In the midst of these +speculation a sudden resolution came to him--one or other of the three +must keep an eye on Chatfield. Night or day, Chatfield must be watched. +And having already seen that Copplestone and Audrey had an unmistakable +liking for each other's society and would certainly not object to being +left together, he determined to watch Chatfield himself. Hurrying down +the cliffs, he hastily explained the situation to his companions, took +some food in his hands, and set out to follow the agent wherever he went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE OLD HAND + + +Half-an-hour later, when Vickers regained the top of the cliff and once +more looked across the island towards the far-off point, the figure which +he had previously seen making for it had turned back, and was plodding +steadily across the coarse grass and rock-strewn moorland in his own +direction. Chatfield had evidently taken a bird's eye view of the +situation from the vantage point of the slope and had come to the +conclusion that the higher part of the island was the most likely point +from which to attract attention. He came steadily forward, a big, +lumbering figure in the light mist, and Vickers as he went on to meet him +eyed him with a lively curiosity, wondering what secrets lay carefully +locked up in the man's heart and what happened on the _Pike_ that made +its captain or its owner bundle Chatfield out of it like a box of bad +goods for which there was no more use. And as he speculated, they met, +and Vickers saw at once that the old fellow's mood had changed during the +night. An atmosphere of smug oiliness sat upon Chatfield in the freshness +of the morning, and he greeted the young solicitor in tones which were +suggestive of a chastened spirit. + +"Morning, Mr. Vickers," he said. "A sweetly pretty spot it is that we +find ourselves in, sir--nevertheless, one's affairs sometimes makes us +long to quit the side of beauty, however much we would tarry by it! In +plain words, Mr. Vickers, I want to get out o' this. And I've been +looking round, and my opinion is that the best thing we can do is to +start as big a fire as we can find stuff for on yon bluff and keep +a-feeding on it. In the meantime, while you're considering of that, I'll +burn something of my own--I'm weary." + +He dropped down on a convenient boulder of limestone, settled his big +frame comfortably, and producing a pipe and a tobacco pouch, proceeded to +smoke. Vickers himself took another boulder and looked inquisitively at +his strange companion. He felt sure that Chatfield was up to something. + +"You say 'we' now," he remarked suddenly. "Last night you said you didn't +want to have anything to do with us. We were to keep to ourselves, and--" + +"Well, well, Mr. Vickers," broke in Chatfield. "One says things at one +time that one wouldn't say at another, you know. Facts is facts, sir, and +Providence has made us companions in distress. I've naught against +you--nor against the girl--as for t'other young man, he's of a +interfering nature--but I forgive him--he's young. I don't bear no ill +will--things being as they are. I've had time to reflect since last +night--and I don't see no reason why Miss Greyle and me shouldn't come to +terms--through you." + +Vickers lighted his own pipe, and took some time over it. + +"What are you after, Chatfield?" he asked at length. "Something, of +course. You say you want to come to terms with Miss Greyle. That, of +course, is because you know very well that Miss Greyle is the legal owner +of Scarhaven, and that--" + +Chatfield waved his pipe. + +"I don't!" he answered, with what seemed genuine eagerness. "I don't know +naught of the sort. I tell you, Mr. Vickers, I do _not_ know that the man +what we've known as the Squire of Scarhaven for a year gone by is _not_ +the rightful Squire--I do not! Fact, sir! But"--he lowered his voice, and +his sly eyes became slyer and craftier--"but I won't deny that during +this last week or two I may have had my suspicions aroused, that there +was something wrong--I don't deny that, Mr. Vickers." + +Vickers heard this with amazement. Young as he was, he had had various +dealings with Peter Chatfield, and he had an idea that he knew something +of him, subtle old fellow though he was, and he believed that Chatfield +was now speaking the truth. But, in that case, what of Copplestone's +revelation about the Falmouth and Bristol affair and the dead man? He +thought rapidly, and then determined to take a strong line. + +"Chatfield!" he said. "You're trying to bluff me. It won't do. Things +are known. I know 'em! I'll be candid with you--the time's come for +that. I'll tell you what I know--it'll all have to come out. You know +very well that the real Marston Greyle's dead. You were with him when he +died. What's more, you buried him at Bristol under the name of Mark +Grey. Hang it all, man, what's the use of lying about it?--you know +that's all true!" + +He was watching Chatfield's big face keenly, and he was astonished to see +that his dramatic impeachment produced no more effect than a slightly +superior smile. Instead of being floored, Chatfield was distinctly +unimpressed. + +"Aye!" he said, reflectively. "Aye, I expected to hear that. That's +Copplestone's work, of course--I knew he was some sort of detective as +soon as I got speech with him. His work and that there Sir Cresswell +Oliver's as is making a mountain out of a molehill about his brother, +who, of course, broke his neck quite accidental, poor man, and of that +London lawyer--Petherton. Aye--aye--but all the same, Mr. Vickers, it +don't alter matters--no-how!" + +"Good heavens, man, what do you mean?" exclaimed Vickers, who was +becoming more and more mystified. "Do you mean to tell me--come, come, +Chatfield, I'm not a fool! Why--Copplestone has found it all out--there's +no need to keep it secret, now. You were with Marston Greyle when he +died--you registered his death as Marston Greyle--and--" + +Chatfield laughed softly and gave his companion a swift glance out of one +corner of his right eye. + +"And put another name on a bit of a tombstone--six months afterwards, +what?" he said quietly. "Mr. Vickers, when you're as old as I am, +you'll know that this here world is as full o' puzzles as yon sea's +full o'fish!" + +Vickers could only stare at his companion in speechless silence after +that. He felt that there was some mystery about which Chatfield +evidently knew a great deal while he knew nothing. The old fellow's +coolness, his ready acceptance of the Bristol facts, his almost +contemptuous brushing aside of them, reduced Vickers to a feeling of +helplessness. And Chatfield saw it, and laughed, and drawing a +pocket-flask out of his garments, helped himself to a tot of +spirits--after which he good-naturedly offered like refreshment to +Vickers. But Vickers shook his head. + +"No, thanks," he said. He continued to stare at Chatfield much as he +might have, stared at the Sphinx if she had been present--and in the end +he could only think of one word. "Well?" he asked lamely. "Well?" + +"As to what, now?" inquired Chatfield with a sly smile. + +"About what you said," replied Vickers. "Miss Greyle, you know. I'm +about thoroughly tied up with all this. You evidently know a lot. Of +course you won't tell! You're devilish deep, Chatfield. But, between you +and me--what do you mean when you say that you don't see why you and Miss +Greyle shouldn't come to terms?" + +"Didn't I say that during this last week or two I'd had my suspicions +about the Squire?" answered Chatfield. "I did. I have had them +suspicions--got 'em stronger than ever since last night. So--what I say +is this. If things should turn out that Miss Greyle's the rightful owner +of Scarhaven, and if I help her to establish her claim, and if I help, +too, to recover them valuables that are on the _Pike_--there's a good +sixty to eighty thousand pounds worth of stuff, silver, china, paintings, +books, tapestry, on that there craft, Mr. Vickers!--if, I say, I do all +that, what will Miss Greyle give me? That's it--in a plain way of +speaking." + +"I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well--you'd +better come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on--now!" + +Copplestone and Audrey, having made a breakfast from the box of +provisions which Andrius had been good enough to send ashore with them, +had climbed to the head of the cliff after Vickers, and they were +presently astonished beyond measure to see him returning with Chatfield +under outward signs which suggested amity if not friendship. They paused +by a convenient nook in the rocks and silently awaited the approach of +these two strangely assorted companions. Vickers, coming near, gave them +a queer and a knowing look. + +"Mr. Chatfield," he said gravely, "has had the night in which to reflect. +Mr. Chatfield desires peaceable relations. Mr. Chatfield doesn't +see--now, having reflected--why he and Miss Greyle shouldn't be on good' +terms. Mr. Chatfield desires to discuss these terms. Is that right, +Chatfield?" + +"Quite right, sir," assented the agent. He had been regarding the couple +who faced him benevolently and indulgently, and he now raised his hat to +them. "Servant, ma'am," he said with a bow to Audrey. "Servant, sir," he +continued, with another bow to Copplestone. "Ah--it's far better to be at +peace one with another than to let misunderstandings exist for ever. Mr. +Copplestone, sir, you and me's had words in times past--I brush 'em away, +sir, like that there--the memory's departed! I desire naught but better +feelings. Happen Mr. Vickers'll repeat what's passed between him and me." + +Copplestone stood rooted to the spot with amazement while Vickers hastily +epitomized the recent conversation; his mouth opened and his speech +failed him. But Audrey laughed and looked at Vickers as if Chatfield were +a new sort of entertainment. + +"What do you say to this, Mr. Vickers?" she asked. + +"Well, if you want to know," replied Vickers, "I believe Chatfield when +he says that he does _not_ know that the Squire is _not_ the Squire. May +seem strange, but I do! As a solicitor, I do." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Copplestone, finding his tongue. +"You--believe that!" + +"I've said so," retorted Vickers. + +"Thank you, sir," said Chatfield. "I'm obliged to you. Mr. Copplestone, +sir, doesn't yet understand that there's a deal of conundrum in life. +He'll know better--some day. He'll know, too, that the poet spoke +truthful when he said that things isn't what they seem." + +Copplestone turned angrily on Vickers. + +"Is this a farce?" he demanded. "Good heavens, man! you know what I +told you!" + +"Mr. Chatfield has a version," answered Vickers. "Why not hear it?" + +"On terms, Mr. Vickers," remarked Chatfield. "On terms, sir." + +"What terms?" asked Audrey. "To Mr. Chatfield's personal advantage, +of course." + +Chatfield, who was still the most unconcerned of the group, seated +himself on the rocks and looked at his audience. + +"I've said to Mr. Vickers here that if I help Miss Greyle to the estate, +I ought to be rewarded--handsome," he said. "Mind you, I don't know that +I can, for as I say, I do not know, as a matter of strict fact, that this +man as we've called the Squire, isn't the Squire. But recent events--very +recent events!--has made me suspicious that he isn't, and happen I can do +a good bit--a very good bit--to turning him out. Now, if I help in that +there work, will Miss Greyle continue me in my post of estate agent at +Scarhaven?" + +"Not for any longer than it will take to turn you out of it, Mr. +Chatfield," replied Audrey with an energy and promptitude which +surprised her companions. "So we need not discuss that. You will never +be my agent!" + +"Very good, ma'am--that's quite according to my expectations," said +Chatfield, meekly. "I was always a misunderstood man. However, this here +proposition will perhaps be more welcome. It's always been understood +that I was to have a retiring pension of five hundred pounds per annum. +The family has always promised it--I've letters to prove it. Will Miss +Greyle stand to that if she comes in? I've been a faithful servant for +nigh on to fifty years, Mr. Vickers, as all the neighbourhood is aware." + +"If I come in, as you call it, you shall have your pension," said Audrey. +Chatfield slowly felt in a capacious inner pocket and produced a large +notebook and a fountain pen. He passed them to Vickers. + +"We'll have that there in writing, signed and witnessed," he said. "Put, +if you please, Mr. Vickers, 'I agree that if I come into the Scarhaven +estate, Peter Chatfield shall at once be pensioned off with five hundred +pounds a year, to be paid quarterly. Same to be properly assured to him +for his life.' And then if Miss Greyle'll sign that document, and you +gentlemen'll witness it, I shall consider that henceforth I'm in Miss +Greyle's service. And," he added, with a significant glance all round, "I +shall be a deal more use as a friend nor what I should be as what you +might term an enemy--Mr. Vickers knows that." + +Vickers held a short consultation with Audrey, the result of which was +that the paper was duly signed, Witnessed, and deposited in Chatfield's +pocket. And Chatfield nodded his satisfaction. + +"All right," he said. "Now then, ma'am, and gentlemen, the next thing is +to get away out o' this, and get on the track of them as put us here. +We'd better start a big fire out o' this dry stuff--" + +"But what about these revelations you were going to make?" said Vickers. +"I understood you were to tell us--" + +"Sir," replied Chatfield, "I'll tell and I'll reveal in due course, and +in good order. Events, sir, is the thing! Let me get to the nearest +telegraph office, and we'll have some events, right smart. Let me +attract attention. I've sailed in these seas before. There's steamers +goes out of Kirkwall yonder frequent--we must get hold of one. A +telegraph office!--that's what I want. I'm a-going to set up a +blaze--and I'll set up a blaze elsewhere as soon as I can lay hands on a +bundle o' telegraph forms!" + +He leisurely took off his shawl and overcoat, laid them on a shelf of +rock, and moved away to collect the dry stuff which lay to hand. The +three young people exchanged glances. + +"What's this new mystery?" asked Audrey. + +"All bluff!--some deep game of his own," growled Copplestone. "He's the +most consummate old liar I ever--" + +"You're wrong this time, old chap!" interrupted Vickers. "He's a bad +'un--but he's on our side now--I'm convinced. It is a game he's playing, +and a deep one, and I don't know what it is, but it's for our +benefit--Chatfield's simply transferred his interest and influence to +us--that's all. For his own purposes, of course. And"--he suddenly +paused, gazed seaward, and then jumped to his feet. "Chatfield!" he +called quietly. "You needn't light any fire. Here's a steamer!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE YACHT COMES BACK + + +Chatfield, his arms filled with masses of dried bracken and coarse grass, +turned sharply on hearing Vickers's call and stared hard and long in the +direction which the young solicitor pointed out. His small, crafty eyes +became dilated to their full extent--suddenly they contracted again with +a look of cunning satisfaction, and throwing away his burdens he drew out +a big many-coloured handkerchief and mopped his high forehead as if the +perspiration which burst out were the result of intense mental relief. + +"Didn't I know we should be rescued from this here imprisonment!" he +cried with unctuous joy. "Thought they'd pinned me here for best part of +a week, no doubt, while they could get theirselves quietly away--far +away! But it's my experience 'ut them as has served the Lord's never +deserted, Mr. Vickers, and if you live as long as--" + +"Don't be blasphemous, Chatfield!" said Vickers, curtly. "None of that! +What we'd better think about is the chance of that steamer sighting us. +We'll light that fire, anyway!" + +"She's coming straight on for the island," remarked Copplestone, who had +been narrowly watching the approaching vessel. "So straight that you'd +think she was actually making for it." + +"She'll be some craft bound for Kirkwall," said Vickers, pointing +northward to the main group of islands. "And in that case she'll probably +take this channel on our west; that fire, now! Come on all of you, and +let's make as big a smoke as we can get out of this stuff." + +The weather being calm and the grass and bracken which they heaped +together as dry as tinder, there was little difficulty about raising a +thick column of smoke which presently rose high in the sky. But Audrey, +turning away from the successful result of their labours, suddenly +glanced at Copplestone with a look that challenged an answer to her own +thoughts. They were standing a little apart from the others and she +lowered her voice. + +"I say!" she murmured. "I don't think we need have bothered ourselves to +light that fire. That vessel, whatever it is, is making for us. Look!" + +Copplestone shaded his eyes and stared out across the sea. The steamer +was by that time no more than two or three miles away. But she was coming +towards them in a dead straight line, and as she was accordingly bow on, +and as her top deck and lamps were obscured by clouds of black smoke, +pouring furiously from her funnels, they could make little out of her +appearance. Copplestone's first notion was that she was a naval patrol +boat, or a torpedo destroyer. Whatever she was it seemed certain that she +was heading direct for the island, at that very point on which the +fugitives had been landed the previous night. And it was very evident +that she was in a great hurry to make her objective. + +"I think you're right," he said, turning to Audrey. "But it's strange +that any vessel should be making for an uninhabited island like this. +What--but you've got some notion in your mind?" he broke off suddenly, +seeing her glance at him again. "What is it?" + +Audrey shook her head, with a cautious look at Chatfield. + +"I was wondering if that's the _Pike_?--come back!" she whispered. "And +if it is--why?" + +Copplestone started, and took a longer and keener look at the +vessel. Before he could speak again, Vickers called out cheerily +across the rocks. + +"Come on, you two!" he cried. "She's seen us--she's coming in. They'll +have to send off a boat. Let's get down to the beach, so that they'll +know where there's a safe landing." + +He sprang over the edge of the cliff and hurried down the rough path; +Chatfield, picking up his coat and shawl, prepared to follow him; Audrey +and Copplestone lingered until he, too, had begun to lumber downward. + +"If that is the _Pike_," said Audrey, "there is something--wrong. Whoever +it is that is on the _Pike_ wouldn't come back to take us!" + +"You think there is somebody on the _Pike_--somebody other than Andrius?" +suggested Copplestone. + +"I believe the man who calls himself Marston Greyle was on the _Pike_," +announced Audrey. "I've always thought so. Whether Chatfield knew that +or not, I don't know. My own belief is that Chatfield did know. I believe +Chatfield was in with them, as the saying is. I think they were all +running away with as much of the Scarhaven property as they could lay +hands on and that having got it, they bundled Chatfield out and dumped +him down here, having no further use for him. And, if that's the _Pike_, +and they're returning here, it's because they want Chatfield!" + +Copplestone suddenly recognized that feminine instinct had solved a +problem which masculine reason had so far left unsolved. + +"By gad!" he exclaimed softly. "Then, if that is so, this is merely +another of Chatfield's games. You don't believe him?" + +"I would think myself within approachable distance of lunacy if I +believed a word that Peter Chatfield said," she answered calmly. "Of +course, he is playing a game of his own all through. He shall have his +pension--if I have the power to give it--but believe him--oh, no!" + +"Let's follow them," said Copplestone. "Something's going to happen--if +that is the _Pike_." + +"Look there, then," exclaimed Audrey as they began to descend the cliff. +"Chatfield's already uneasy." + +She pointed to the beach below, where Chatfield, now fully overcoated and +shawled again, had mounted a ridge of rock, and while gazing intently at +the vessel, was exchanging remarks with Vickers, who had evidently said +something which had alarmed him. They caught Chatfield's excited +ejaculations as they hurried over the sand. + +"Don't say that, Mr. Vickers!" he was saying imploringly. "For God's +sake, Mr. Vickers, don't suggest them there sort of thoughts. You make me +feel right down poorly, Mr. Vickers, to say such! It's worse than a bad +dream, Mr. Vickers--no, sir, no, surely you're mistaken!" + +"Bet you a fiver to a halfpenny it's the _Pike_," retorted Vickers. "I +know her lines. Besides she's heading straight here. Copplestone!" he +cried, turning to the advancing couple. "Do you know, I believe that's +the _Pike!_" + +Copplestone gave Audrey's elbow a gentle squeeze. + +"Look at old Chatfield!" he whispered. "By gad!--look at him. Yes," he +called out loudly, "We know it's the _Pike_--we saw that from the top of +the cliffs. She's coming straight in." + +"Oh, yes, it's the _Pike_," exclaimed Audrey. "Aren't you delighted, Mr. +Chatfield." + +The agent suddenly turned his big fat face towards the three young +people, with such an expression of craven fear on it that the sardonic +jest which Copplestone was about to voice died away on his lips. +Chatfield's creased cheeks and heavy jowl had become white as chalk; +great beads of sweat rolled down them; his mouth opened and shut +silently, and suddenly, as he raised his hands and wrung them, his knees +began to quiver. It was evident that the man was badly, terribly +afraid--and as they watched him in amazed wonder his eyes began to +search the shore and the cliffs as if he were some hunted animal seeking +any hole or cranny in which to hide. A sudden swelling of the light wind +brought the steady throb of the oncoming engines to his ears and he +turned on Vickers with a look that made the onlookers start. + +"For goodness sake, Mr. Vickers!" he said in a queer, strained voice. +"For heaven's sake, let's get ourselves away! Mr. Vickers--it ain't safe +for none of us. We'd best to run, sir--let's get to the other side of the +island. There's caves there--places--let's hide till something comes from +the other islands, or till these folks goes away--I tell you it's +dangerous for us to stop here!" + +"We're not afraid, Chatfield," replied Vickers. "What ails you! Why man, +you couldn't be more afraid if you'd murdered somebody! What do you +suppose these people want? You, of course. And you can't escape--if they +want you, they'll search the island till they get you. You've been +deceiving us, Chatfield--there's something you've kept back. Now, what is +it? What have they come back for?" + +"Yes, Mr. Chatfield, what has the _Pike_ come back for?" repeated Audrey, +coming nearer. "Come now--hadn't you better tell?" + +"It is the _Pike_," remarked Copplestone. "Look there! And they're going +to send in a boat. Better be quick, Chatfield." + +The agent turned an ashen face towards the yacht. She had swung round and +come to a halt, and the rattle of a boat being let down came menacingly +to the frightened man's ears. He tittered a deep groan and his eyes again +sought the cliffs. + +"It's not a bit of good, Chatfield," said Vickers. "You can't get away. +Good heavens, man!--what are you so frightened for!" + +Chatfield moaned and drew haltingly nearer to the other three, as if he +found some comfort in their mere presence. + +"It's the money!" he whispered. "The money as was in the Norcaster +Bank--two lots of it. He--the Squire--gave me authority to get out his +lot what was standing in his name, you know--and the other--the estate +lot--that was standing in mine--some fifty thousand pounds in all, Mr. +Vickers. I had it all in gold, packed in sealed chests--and they--those +on board there--thought I took them chests aboard the _Pike_ with me. I +did take chests, d'ye see--but they'd lead in 'em. The real stuff is +hidden--buried--never mind where. And I know what they've come back +for!--they've opened the chests I took on board, and they've found +there's naught but lead. And they want me--me!--me! They'll torture me to +make me tell where the real chests, the money is--torture me! Oh, for +God's sake, keep 'em away from me--help me to hide--help me to get +away--and I'll tell Miss Greyle then where the money's hid, and--oh, +Lord, they're coming! Mr. Vickers--Mr. Vickers--" + +He cast himself bodily at Vickers, as if to clutch him, but Vickers +stepped agilely aside, and Chatfield fell on the sand, where he lay +groaning while the others looked from him to each other. + +"Ah!" said Vickers at last. "So that's it, is it, Chatfield? Trying to +cheat everybody all round, eh? I suppose you'd have told Miss Greyle +later that these people had collared all that gold--and then you'd have +helped yourself to it? And now I know what you were doing on that yacht +when we boarded it--you were one of the gang, and you meant to hook it +with them--" + +"I didn't--I didn't!" screamed Chatfield, beating the sand with his hands +and feet. "I meant to slip away from 'em at a Scotch port we was to call +at, and then--" + +"Then you'd have gone back to the hidden chests and helped +yourself," sneered Vickers. "Chatfield, you're a wicked old +scoundrel, and an unmitigated liar! Give me that paper that Miss +Greyle signed, this instant!" + +"No!" interjected Audrey. "Let him keep it. He'll have trouble enough +presently. It's very evident they mean to have him." + +Chatfield heard the last few words and looked round at the edge of the +surf. The boat had grounded on the shingle, and half a dozen men had +leapt from it and were coming rapidly up the beach. + +"Armed, by George!" exclaimed Copplestone. "No chance for you, +Chatfield!" + +The agent suddenly sprang to his feet with a howl of terror. He gave one +more glance at the men and then he ran, clumsily, but with a speed made +desperate by terror. He made straight for the rocks--and at that, two of +the men, at a word from their leader, raised their rifles and fired. And +with a shriek that set all the echoes ringing, the sea-birds screaming, +and made Audrey clap her hands to her ears, Chatfield threw up his arms +and dropped heavily on the sands. + +"That's sheer murder!" exclaimed Vickers, as the yachtsmen came +running up. "You'll answer for that, you know. Unless you mean to +murder all of us." + +The leader, a smiling-faced fellow, touched his cap respectfully, and +grinned from ear to ear. + +"Lor' bless you, sir, we shot twenty feet over his head!" he said. "He's +too precious to shoot: they want him badly on board there. Now then, men, +pick him up and get him into the boat--hell come round quick enough when +he finds he hasn't even a pellet in him. Handy, now! Captain's +compliments, sir," he went on, turning again to Vickers, and pointing to +certain things which were being unloaded from the boat, "and as he +understands that no vessel will pass here for two more days, sir, he's +sent you further provisions, some more wraps, and some books and papers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + + +Before Vickers and his companions had recovered from the surprise which +this extraordinary cool message had given them, the men had bundled +Chatfield across the beach and into the boat and were pulling quickly +back to the _Pike_. + +Audrey broke the silence with a ringing laugh. + +"Captain Andrius is certainly the perfection of polite pirates," she +exclaimed. "More food--more wraps--and books and papers! Was any marooned +mariner ever one-half so well treated?" + +"What's the fellow mean about no vessel passing here for two more days?" +growled Copplestone, who was glaring angrily at the yacht. "What's he so +meticulously correct for?" + +"I should say that he's referring to some weekly or bi-weekly steamer +which runs between Kirkwall and the mainland," replied Vickers. +"Well--it's good to know that, anyhow. But wait until the _Pike's_ +vamoosed again, and we'll make up such a column of smoke that it'll be +seen for many a mile. In fact, I'll go and gather a lot of dried stuff +now--you two can drag those boxes and things up the beach and see what +our gaolers have been good enough to send us." + +He went away up the cliffs, and Audrey and Copplestone, once more left +alone, looked at each other and laughed. + +"That's right," said Copplestone. "What I like about you is that you +take things that way." + +"Is it any use taking them any other way?" she asked. "Besides I've never +been at all frightened nor particularly concerned. I've always felt that +we were only put here so that we should be out of the way while our +captors got safely away with their booty, and as regards my mother, I +know her well enough to feel sure that she quickly sized things up, and +that she'll have taken measures of her own. Don't be surprised if we're +rescued through her means or if she has set somebody to work to catch the +predatory _Pike_." + +"Good!" said Copplestone. "But as regards the _Pike_, I wonder if you +observed something during the few minutes she was here. I'm sure Vickers +didn't--he was too busy, watching Chatfield." + +"So was I," replied Audrey. "What was it?" + +"I believe I'm unusually observant," answered Copplestone. "I seem to see +things--all at once, don't you know. I saw that since we made her +acquaintance--and were unceremoniously bundled off her--the _Pike_ has +got a new and quite different coat of paint. And I daresay she's changed +her name, too. From all of which I argue that when they got rid of us +here, the people who are working all this slipped quietly back to some +cove or creek on the Scotch coast, did a stiff turn at repainting, and +meant to be off to the other side of the world under new colours. And +while this was going on, Andrius, or his co-villain, found time to +examine those chests that Chatfield told us of, and when they found that +Chatfield had done them, they came back here quick. Now they're off to +make him reveal the whereabouts of the real chests." + +"Won't they be rather running their necks into a noose?" suggested +Audrey. "I'm dead certain that my mother will have raised a hue and cry +after them." + +"They're cute enough," said Copplestone. "Anyway, they'll run a good many +risks for the sake of fifty thousand pounds. What they may do is to run +into some very quiet inlet--there are hundreds on these northern +coasts--and take Chatfield to his hiding-place. Chatfield's like all +scoundrels of his type--a horrible coward if a pistol's held to his head. +Now they've got him, they'll force him to disgorge. Hang this compulsory +inactivity!--my nerves are all a-tingle to get going at things!" + +"Let's occupy ourselves with the things our generous gaolers have been +kind enough to send us, then," suggested Audrey. "We'd better carry them +up to our shelter." + +Copplestone went down to the things which the boat's crew had deposited +on the beach--a couple of small packing-cases, a bundle of wraps and +cushions, and some books, magazines and newspapers. He picked up a paper +with a cry which suggested a discovery of importance. + +"Look at that!" he exclaimed. "Do you see? A _Scotsman!_ Today's date! +And here--_Aberdeen Free Press_--same date!" + +"Well?" asked Audrey. "And what then?" + +"What then?" demanded Copplestone. "Where are your powers of deduction? +Why, that shows that the _Pike_ was somewhere this morning where she +could get the morning papers from Aberdeen and Edinburgh--therefore, +she's been, as I suggested, somewhere on the Scotch coast all night. It's +now noon--she's a fast sailer--I guess she's been within sixty miles of +us ever since she left us." + +"Isn't it more pertinent to speculate on where she'll be when we want to +find her?" asked Audrey. + +"More pertinent still to wonder when somebody will come to find us," +answered Copplestone as he shouldered one of the cases. "However, there's +a certain joy in uncertainty, so they say--we're tasting it." + +The joys of uncertainty, however, were not to endure. They had scarcely +completed the task of carrying up the newly-arrived stores to the shelter +which they had made in an angle of the rocks when Vickers hailed them +from a spur of the cliffs and waved his arms excitedly. + +"I say, you two!" he shouted. "There's a craft coming--from the +south-west. Come up! There!" he added, a few minutes later, when they +arrived, breathless, at his side. "Out yonder--a mere black blot--but +unmistakable! Do you know what that is, either of you? You don't? All +right, I do--ought to, because I'm a R.N.V.R. man myself. That's a +T.B.D., my friends!--torpedo-boat destroyer. What's more, far off as she +is, my experienced eye and sure knowledge tell me exactly what she is. +She's a class H. boat built last year--oil fuel--turbines--runs up to +thirty knots--and she's doing 'em, too, just now! Come on, +Copplestone--more stuff on this fire!" + +"I don't think we need be uneasy," said Copplestone. "Miss Greyle thinks +that her mother will have raised a hue and cry after the _Pike_. This +torpedo thing is probably looking round for us. She--what's that?" + +The sudden sharp crack of a gun came across the calm surface of the sea, +and the watchers turning from their fire towards the black object in the +distance saw a cloud of white smoke drifting away from it. + +"Hooray!" shouted Vickers. "She's seen our smoke-pillar! Shove more on, +just to let her know we understand. Saved!--this time, anyway." + +Half-an-hour later, a spick and span and eminently youthful-looking naval +lieutenant raised his cap to the three folk who stood eagerly awaiting +his approach at the edge of the surf. + +"Miss Greyle? Mr. Vickers? Mr. Copplestone?" he asked as he sprang from +his boat and came up. "Right!--we're searching for you--had wireless +messages this morning. Where's the pirate, or whatever he is?" + +"Somewhere away to the southward," answered Vickers, pointing into the +haze. "He was here two hours ago--but he's about as fast as they make +'em, and he's good reason to show a clean pair of heels. However, we've +ample grounds for believing him to have gone due south again. Where are +you from?" + +"Got the message off Dunnett Head, and we'll run you to Thurso," replied +the rescuer, motioning them to enter the boat. "Come on--our commander's +got some word or other for you. What's all this been?" he went on, gazing +at Audrey with youthful assurance as they moved away from the shore. "You +don't mean to say you've actually been kidnapped?" + +"Kidnapped and marooned," replied Vickers. "And I hope you'll catch our +kidnapper--he's got a tremendous amount of property on him which belongs +to this lady, and hell make tracks for the other side of the Atlantic as +soon as he gets hold of some more which he's gone to collect." + +The lieutenant regarded Audrey with still more interest. "Oh, all right," +he said confidently. "He'll not get away. I guess they've wirelessed all +over the place--our message was from the Admiralty!" + +"That's Sir Cresswell's doing," said Copplestone, turning to Audrey. +"Your mother must have wired to him. I wonder what the message is?" he +asked, facing the lieutenant. "Do you know?" + +"Something about if you're found to tell you to get south as fast as +possible," he answered. "And we've worked that out for you. You can get +on by train from Thurso to Inverness, and from Inverness, of course, +you'll get the southern express. Well put you off at Thurso by two +o'clock--just time to give you such lunch as our table affords--bit +rough, you know. So you've really been all night on that island?" he went +on with unaffected curiosity. "What a lark!" + +"You'd have had an opportunity of studying character if you'd been +with us," replied Vickers. "We lost a fine specimen of humanity two +hours ago." + +"Tell about it aboard," said the lieutenant. "We'll be thankful--we've +been round this end-of-everywhere coast for a month and we're tired. It's +quite a Godsend to have a little adventure." + +Copplestone had been right in surmising that Sir Cresswell Oliver had +bestirred himself to find him and his companions. They were presently +shown his message. They were to get to Norcaster as quickly as possible, +and to wire their whereabouts as soon as they were found. If, as seemed +likely, they were picked up on the north coast of Scotland, they were to +ask at Inverness railway station for telegrams. And to Inverness after +being landed at Thurso they betook themselves, while the torpedo-boat +destroyer set off to nose round for the _Pike_, in case she came that way +back from wherever she had gone to. + +Copplestone came out of the station-master's office at Inverness with a +couple of telegrams and read their contents over to his companions in the +dining-room to which they adjourned. + +"This is from Mrs. Greyle," he said. "'All right and much relieved by +wire from Thurso. Bring Audrey home as quick as possible.' That's good! +And this--Great Scott! This is from Gilling! Listen!--'Just heard from +Petherton of your rescue. Come straight and sharp Norcaster. Meet me at +the "Angel." Big things afoot. Spurge most anxious see you. Important +news. Gilling.' So things have been going on," he concluded, turning +the second telegram over to Vickers. "I suppose we'll have to travel +all night?" + +"Night express in an hour," replied Vickers. "We shall make Norcaster +about five-thirty tomorrow morning." + +"Then let us wire the time of our arrival to Gilling. I'm anxious to know +what has brought him up there," said Copplestone. "And well wire to Mrs. +Greyle, too," he added, turning to Audrey. "She'll know then that you're +absolutely on the way." + +"I wonder what we're on the way to?" remarked Vickers with a grim smile. +"It strikes me that our recent alarms and excursions will have been as +nothing to what awaits us at Norcaster." + +What did await them on a cold, dismal morning at Norcaster was Gilling, +stamping up and down a windswept platform. And Gilling seized on +Copplestone almost before he could alight from the train. + +"Come to the 'Angel' straight off!" he said. "Mrs. Greyle's there +awaiting her daughter. I've work for you and Vickers at once--that chap +Spurge is somewhere about the 'Angel,' too--been hanging round there +since yesterday, heavy with news that he'll give to nobody but you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE SQUIRE + + +Such of the folk of the "Angel" hotel--a night porter, a waiter, a +chamber-maid--as were up and about that grey morning, wondered why the +two old gentlemen who had arrived from London the day before should rise +from their beds to hold a secret and mysterious conference with the +three young ones who, with a charming if tired-looking young lady, drove +up before the city clocks had struck six. But Sir Cresswell Oliver and +Mr. Petherton knew that there was no time to be lost, and as soon as +Audrey had been restored to and carried off by her mother to Mrs. +Greyle's room, they summoned Vickers and Copplestone to a private +parlour and demanded their latest news. Sir Cresswell listened eagerly, +and in silence, until Copplestone described the return of the _Pike_; at +that he broke his silence. + +"That's precisely what I feared!" he exclaimed. "Of course, if she's been +hurriedly repainted and renamed, she stands a fair chance of getting +away. Our instructions to the patrol boats up there are to look for a +certain vessel, the _Pike_--naturally they won't look for anything else. +We must get the wireless to work at once." + +"But there's this," said Copplestone. "They certainly fetched old +Chatfield to make him hand over the gold! They won't go away without +that! And he said that he'd hidden the gold somewhere near Scarhaven. +Therefore, they'll have to come down this coast to get it." + +"Not necessarily," replied Sir Cresswell, with a knowing shake of the +head. "You may be sure they're alive to all the exigencies of the +situation. They could do several things once they'd got Chatfield on +board again. Some of them could land with him at some convenient port and +make him take them to where he's hidden the money; they could recapture +that and go off to some other port, to which the yacht had meanwhile been +brought round. If we only knew where Chatfield had planted that +money--" + +"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers. + +"Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's a +wide term--a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hills +and moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought! +Well, that's all I can think of--getting into communication with patrol +boats and coastguard stations all along the coast between here and Wick. +And that mayn't be the least good. Somebody may have escorted Chatfield +ashore after they left you yesterday, brought him hereabouts by rail or +motor-car, and the yacht may have made a wide detour round the Shetlands +and be now well on her way to the North Atlantic." + +"But in that case--the money?" asked Copplestone. + +"They would get hold of the money, take it clean away, and ship it from +Liverpool, or Glasgow, or--anywhere," replied Sir Cresswell. "You may be +sure they've plenty of resources at command, and that they'll work +secretly. Of course, we must keep a look out round about here for any +sign or reappearance of Chatfield, but, as I say, this country is so wild +that he and his companions can easily elude observation, especially as +they're sure to come by night. Still, we must do what we can, and at +once. But first, there are one or two things I want to ask you young +men--you said, Mr. Vickers, that Chatfield solemnly insisted to you that +he did not know that the man who had posed as Marston Greyle was not +Marston Greyle?" + +"He did," replied Vickers, "and though Chatfield is an unmitigated old +scoundrel, I believe him." + +"You do!" exclaimed Gilling, who was listening eagerly. "Oh, come!" + +"I do--as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with an +appealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell you +that we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield's +badness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whether +the man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He's +doubtful--he's puzzled--but he doesn't know." + +"Odd!" murmured Sir Cresswell, after a minute's silence. "Odd! Very, very +odd! That shows that there's still some extraordinary mystery about this +which we haven't even guessed at. Well, now, another question--you got +the idea that some one else was aboard the yacht?" + +"Some one other than Andrius--in authority--yes!" answered Vickers. "We +certainly thought that." + +"Did you think it was the man we know as the Squire?" asked Sir +Cresswell. + +"We had a notion that he might be there," replied Vickers, with a glance +at Copplestone. "Especially after what happened to Chatfield. Of course, +we never saw him, or heard his voice, or saw a sign of him. Still, we +fancied--" + +Sir Cresswell rose from his chair and motioned to Petherton. + +"Well," he said, "I think you and I, Petherton, had better complete our +toilets, and then give a look in at the authorities here and find out if +anything has been received by wireless or from the coastguard stations +about the yacht. In the meantime," he added, turning to Vickers and +Copplestone, "Gilling can tell you what's been going on in your +absence--you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, as +we call him, was on the _Pike_ with you." + +The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling. + +"What have you got?" he asked eagerly. "Live news!" + +"Might have been livelier and more satisfactory," answered Gilling, "if +it hadn't been for the factor which none of us can help--luck! We tracked +the Squire." + +"You did?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Where?" + +"When I said we I should have said Swallow," continued Gilling. "You +remember that afternoon of our return from Bristol, Copplestone? It seems +ages away now, though as a matter of time it's only four days ago!--Well, +that afternoon Swallow, who had had two or three more keeping a sharp +look out for the Squire, got a telephone message from one of 'em saying +that he'd tracked his man to the Fragonard Club. I'd gone home to my +chambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, so +Swallow had to act on his own initiative. He set off for the Fragonard +Club, and outside it met his man. This particular man had been keeping a +watch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street. That +afternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door. He +followed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himself +turned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow. The Squire was +still in the Fragonard when Swallow got there: from that time he kept a +watch. The Squire remained in the Club for an hour--" + +"Which proves," interrupted Copplestone, "that he's a member, and that I +ought to have followed up my attempt to get in there." + +"Well, anyway," continued Gilling, "there he was, and thence he +eventually emerged, with a kit-bag. He got into a taxi, and Swallow heard +him order its driver to go to King's Cross. Now Swallow was there +alone--and he had just before that met his man scooting round to see if +there was a rear exit from the Fragonard, and he hadn't returned. +Swallow, of course, couldn't wait--every minute was precious. He +followed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book for +Northborough." + +"Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah, +well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?" + +"Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," said +Gilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow. So did Swallow, who, now +that he'd got him, was going to follow him to the North Pole, if need be. +The train was just starting--Swallow had no time to communicate with me. +Also, the train didn't stop until it reached Grantham. There he sent me a +wire, saying he was on the track of his man. Well, they went on to +Northborough, where they arrived late in the evening. There--what is it, +Copplestone," he broke off, seeing signs of a desire to speak on +Copplestone's part. + +"You're talking of the very same afternoon and evening that I came +down--four evenings ago," said Copplestone. "My train was the four +o'clock--I got to Norcaster at ten--surely they didn't come on the +same train!" + +"I feel sure they did, but anyhow, these trains to the North are usually +very long ones, and you were probably in a different part," replied +Gilling. "Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallow +followed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard him +commission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven. When they'd +gone Swallow got hold of another taxi, and told its driver to take him +to Scarhaven, too. Off they went--in a pitch-black night, I'm told--" + +"We know that!" said Vickers with a glance at Copplestone. "We motored +from Norcaster--just about the same time." + +"Well," continued Gilling, "it was at any rate so dark that Swallow's +driver, who appears to have been a very nervous chap, made very poor +progress. Also he took one or two wrong turnings. Finally he ran his car +into a guide post which stood where two roads forked--and there Swallow +was landed, scarcely halfway to Scarhaven. They couldn't get the car to +move, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord at +the nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it was +near or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did get +there, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay." + +"The _Pike_, of course," muttered Copplestone. + +"Of course--and some men on the quay told him," continued Gilling. "Well, +that put Swallow in a fix. He was dead certain, of course, that his man +was on that yacht. However, he didn't want to rouse suspicion, so he +didn't ask any of those quayside men if they'd seen the Squire. Instead, +remembering what I'd told him about Mrs. Greyle he asked for her house +and was directed to it. He found Mrs. Greyle in a state of great anxiety. +Her daughter had gone with you two to the yacht and had never returned; +Mrs. Greyle, watching from her windows, had seen the yacht go out to +sea. Swallow found her, of course, seriously alarmed as to what had +happened. Of course, he told her what he had come down for and they +consulted. Next morning--" + +"Stop a bit," interrupted Vickers. "Didn't Mrs. Greyle get any message +from the yacht about her daughter--Andrius said he'd sent one, anyway." + +"A lie!" replied Gilling. "She got no message. The only consolation she +had was that you and Copplestone were with Miss Greyle. Well, first thing +next morning Swallow and Mrs. Greyle set every possible means to work. +They went to the police--they wired to places up the coast and down the +coast to keep a look out--and Swallow also wired full particulars to Sir +Cresswell Oliver, with the result that Sir Cresswell went to the naval +authorities and got them to set their craft up north to work. Having done +all this, and finding that he could be of no more service at Scarhaven, +Swallow returned to town to see me and to consult. Now, of course, we +were in a position by then to approach that Fragonard Club--" + +"Ah!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Just so!" + +"The man, whoever he is, had been there an hour on the day Swallow and +his man tracked him," continued Gilling. "Therefore, something must be +known of him. Swallow and I, armed with certain credentials, went there. +And--we could find out next to nothing. The hall porter there said he +dimly remembered such a gentleman coming in and going upstairs, but he +himself was new to his job, didn't know all the members--there are +hundreds of 'em--and he took this man for a regular habitue. A waiter +also had some sort of recollection of the man, and seeing him in +conversation with another man whom he, the waiter, knew better, though he +didn't know his name. Swallow is now moving everything to find that +man--to find anybody who knows our man--and something will come of it, in +the end--must do. In the meantime I came down here with Sir Cresswell and +Mr. Petherton, to be on the spot. And, from your information, things will +happen here! That hidden gold is the thing--they'll not leave that +without an effort to get it. If we could only find out where that is and +watch it--then our present object would be achieved." + +"What is the present object?" asked Copplestone. + +"Why," replied Gilling, "we've got warrants out against both Chatfield +and the Squire for the murder of Bassett Oliver!--the police here have +them in hand. Petherton's seen to that. And if they can only be laid +hands on--What is it?" he asked turning to a sleepy-eyed waiter who, +after a gentle tap at the door, put a shock head into the room. +"Somebody want me?" + +"That there man, sir--you know," said the waiter. "Here again, +sir--stable-yard, sir." + +Gilling jumped up and gave Copplestone a look. + +"That's Spurge!" he muttered. "He said he'd be back at day-break. Wait +here--I'll fetch him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE REAVER'S GLEN + + +Zachary Spurge, presently ushered in by Gilling, who carefully closed +the door behind himself and his companion, looked as if his recent +lodging had been of an even rougher nature than that in which +Copplestone had found him at their first meeting. The rough horseman's +cloak in which he was buttoned to the edge of a red neckerchief and a +stubbly chin was liberally ornamented with bits of straw, scraps of +furze and other odds and ends picked up in woods and hedge-rows. Spurge, +indeed, bore unmistakable evidence of having slept out in wild places +for some nights and his general atmosphere was little more respectable +than that of a scarecrow. But he grinned cheerfully at Copplestone--and +then frowned at Vickers. + +"I didn't count for to meet no lawyers, gentlemen," he said, pausing on +the outer boundaries of the parlour, "I ain't a-goin' to talk before +'em, neither!" + +"He's a grudge against me--I've had to appear against him once or twice," +whispered Vickers to Copplestone. "You'd better soothe him down--I want +to know what he's got to tell." + +"It's all right, Spurge," said Copplestone. "Come--Mr. Vickers is on our +side this time; he's one of us. You can say anything you like before +him--or Mr. Gilling either. We're all in it. Pull your chair up--here, +alongside of me, and tell us what you've been doing." + +"Well, of course, if you puts it that way, Mr. Copplestone," replied +Spurge, coming to the table a little doubtfully. "Though I hadn't meant +to tell nobody but you what I've got to tell. However, I can see that +things is in such a pretty pass that this here ain't no one-man job--it's +a job as'll want a lot o' men! And I daresay lawyers and such-like is as +useful men in that way as you can lay hands on--no offence to you, Mr. +Vickers, only you see I've had experience o' your sort before. But if you +are taking a hand in this here--well, all right. But now, gentlemen," he +continued dropping into a chair at the table and laying his fur cap on +its polished surface, "afore ever I says a word, d'ye think that I could +be provided with a cup o' hot coffee, or tea, with a stiff dose o' rum in +it? I'm that cold and starved--ah, if you'd been where I been this last +twelve hours or so, you'd be perished." + +The sleepy waiter was summoned to attend to Spurge's wants--until they +were satisfied the poacher sat staring fixedly at his cap and +occasionally shaking his head. But after a first hearty gulp of strongly +fortified coffee the colour came back into his face, he sighed with +relief, and signalled to the three watchful young men to draw their +chairs close to his. + +"Ah!" he said, setting down his cup. "And nobody never wanted aught more +badly than I wanted that! And now then--the door being shut on us quite +safe, ain't it, gentlemen?--no eavesdroppers?--well, this here it is. I +don't know what you've been a-doing of these last few days, nor what may +have happened to each and all--but I've news. Serious news--as I reckons +it to be. Of--Chatfield!" + +Copplestone kicked Vickers under the table and gave him a look. + +"Chatfield again!" he murmured. "Well, go on, Spurge." + +"There's a lot to go on with, too, guv'nor," said Spurge, after taking +another evidently welcome drink. "And I'll try to put it all in order, as +it were--same as if I was in a witness-box," he added, with a sly glance +at Vickers. "You remember that day of the inquest on the actor gentleman, +guv'nor? Well, of course, when I went to give evidence at Scarhaven, at +that there inquest, I never expected but what the police 'ud collar me at +the end of it. However, I didn't mean that they should, if I could help +it, so I watched things pretty close, intending to slip off when I saw a +chance. Well, now, you'll bear in mind that there was a bit of a dust-up +when the thing was over--some on 'em cheering the Squire and some on 'em +grousing about the verdict, and between one and t'other I popped out and +off, and you yourself saw me making for the moors. Of course, me, knowing +them moors back o' Scarhaven as I do, it was easy work to make myself +scarce on 'em in ten minutes--not all the police north o' the Tees could +ha' found me a quarter of an hour after I'd hooked it out o' that +schoolroom! Well, but the thing then was--where to go next? 'Twasn't no +good going to Hobkin's Hole again--now that them chaps knew I was in the +neighbourhood they'd soon ha' smoked me out o' there. Once I thought of +making for Norcaster here, and going into hiding down by the docks--I've +one or two harbours o' refuge there. But I had reasons for wishing to +stop in my own country--for a bit at any rate. And so, after reckoning +things up, I made for a spot as Mr. Vickers there'll know by name of the +Reaver's Glen." + +"Good place, too, for hiding," remarked Vickers with a nod. + +"Best place on this coast--seashore and inland," said Spurge. "And as you +two London gentlemen doesn't know it, I'll tell you about it. If you was +to go out o' Scarhaven harbour and turn north, you'd sail along our coast +line up here to the mouth of Norcaster Bay and you'd think there was +never an inlet between 'em. But there is. About half-way between +Scarhaven and Norcaster there's a very narrow opening in the cliffs that +you'd never notice unless you were close in shore, and inside that +opening there's a cove that's big enough to take a thousand-ton +vessel--aye, and half-a-dozen of 'em! It was a favourite place for +smugglers in the old days, and they call it Darkman's Dene to this day in +memory of a famous old smuggler that used it a good deal. Well, now, at +the land end of that cove there's a narrow valley that runs up to the +moorland and the hills, full o' rocks and crags and precipices and such +like--something o' the same sort as Hobkin's Hole but a deal wilder, and +that's known as the Reaver's Glen, because in other days the +cattle-lifters used to bring their stolen goods, cattle and sheep, down +there where they could pen 'em in, as it were. There's piles o' places in +that glen where a man can hide--I picked out one right at the top, at the +edge of the moors, where there's the ruins of an old peel tower. I could +get shelter in that old tower, and at the same time slip out of it if +need be into one of fifty likely hiding places amongst the rocks. I got +into touch with my cousin Jim Spurge--the one-eyed chap at the +'Admiral's Arms,' Mr. Copplestone, that night--and I got in a supply of +meat and drink, and there I was. And--as things turned out, Chatfield had +got his eye on the very same spot!" + +Spurge paused for a minute, and picking out a match from a stand which +stood on the table, began to trace imaginary lines on the mahogany. + +"This is how things is there," he said, inviting his companions' +attention. "Here, like, is where this peel tower stands--that's a thick +wood as comes close up to its walls--that there is a road as crosses the +moors and the wood about, maybe, a hundred yards or so behind the tower +on the land side. Now, there, one afternoon as I was in that there tower, +a-reading of a newspaper that Jim had brought me the night before, I +hears wheels on that moorland road, and I looked out through a convenient +loophole, and who should I see but Peter Chatfield in that old pony trap +of his. He was coming along from the direction of Scarhaven, and when he +got abreast of the tower he pulled up, got out, left his pony to crop the +grass and came strolling over in my direction. Of course, I wasn't +afraid of him--there's so many ways in and out of that old peel as there +is out of a rabbit-warren--besides, I felt certain he was there on some +job of his own. Well, he comes up to the edge of the glen, and he looks +into it and round it, and up and down at the tower, and he wanders about +the heaps of fallen masonry that there is there, and finally he puts +thumbs in his armhole and went slowly back to his trap. 'But you'll be +coming back, my old swindler!' says I to myself. 'You'll be back again I +doubt not at all!' And back he did come--that very night. Oh, yes!" + +"Alone?" asked Copplestone. + +"A-lone!" replied Spurge. "It had got to be dark, and I was thinking of +going to sleep, having nought else to do and not expecting cousin Jim +that night, when I heard the sound of horses' feet and of wheels. So I +cleared out of my hole to where I could see better. Of course, it was +Chatfield--same old trap and pony--but this time he came from Norcaster +way. Well, he gets out, just where he'd got out before, and he leads the +pony and trap across the moor to close by the tower. I could tell by the +way that trap went over the grass that there was some sort of a load in +it and it wouldn't have surprised me, gentlemen, if the old reptile had +brought a dead body out of it. After a bit, I hear him taking something +out, something which he bumped down on the ground with a thump--I counted +nine o' them thumps. And then after a bit I heard him begin a moving of +some of the loose masonry what lies in such heaps at the foot o' the peel +tower--dark though it was there was light enough in the sky for him to +see to do that. But after he'd been at it some time, puffing and groaning +and grunting, he evidently wanted to see better, and he suddenly flashed +a light on things from one o' them electric torches. And then I see--me +being not so many yards away from him--nine small white wood boxes, all +clamped with metal bands, lying in a row on the grass, and I see, too, +that Chatfield had been making a place for 'em amongst the stones. +Yes--that was it--nine small white wood boxes--so small, considering, +that I wondered what made 'em so heavy." + +Copplestone favoured Vickers with another quiet kick. They were, +without doubt, hearing the story of the hidden gold, and it was +becoming exciting. + +"Well," continued Spurge. "Into the place he'd cleared out them boxes +went, and once they were all in he heaped the stones over 'em as natural +as they were before, and he kicked a lot o' small loose stones round +about and over the place where he'd been standing. And then the old +sinner let out a great groan as if something troubled him, and he fetched +a bottle out of his pocket and took a good pull at whatever was in it, +after which, gentlemen, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and +groaned again. He'd had his bit of light on all that time, but he doused +it then, and after that he led the old pony away across the bit of moor +to the road, and presently in he gets and drives slowly away towards +Scarhaven. And so there was I, d'ye see, Mr. Copplestone, left, as it +were, sold guardian of--what?" + +The three young men exchanged glances with each other while Spurge +refreshed himself with his fortified coffee, and their eyes asked similar +questions. + +"Ah!" observed Copplestone at last. "You don't know what, Spurge? You +haven't examined one of those boxes?" + +Spurge set his cup down and gave his questioner a knowing look. + +"I'll tell you my line o' conduct, guv'nor," he said. "So certain sure +have I been that something 'ud come o' this business of hiding them boxes +and that something valuable is in 'em that I've taken partiklar care ever +since Chatfield planted 'em there that night never to set foot within a +dozen yards of 'em. Why? 'Cause I know he'll ha' left footprints of his +own there, and them footprints may be useful. No, sir!--them boxes has +been guarded careful ever since Chatfield placed 'em where he did. +For--Chatfield's never been back!" + +"Never back, eh?" said Copplestone, winking at the other two. + +"Never been back--self nor spirit, substance nor shadow!--since that +night," replied Spurge. "Unless, indeed, he's been back since four +o'clock this morning, when I left there. However, if he's been 'twixt +then and now, my cousin Jim Spurge, he was there. Jim's been helping me +to watch. When I first came in here to see if I could hear anything about +you--Jim having told me that some London gentlemen was up here again--I +left him in charge. And there he is now. And now you know all I can tell +you, gentlemen, and as I understand there's some mystery about Chatfield +and that he's disappeared, happen you'll know how to put two and two +together. And if I'm of any use--" + +"Spurge," said Gilling. "How far is it to this Reaver's Glen--or, rather +to that peel tower?" + +"Matter of eight or nine miles, guv'nor, over the moors," replied Spurge. + +"How did you come in then?" asked Gilling. + +"Cousin Jim Spurge's bike--down in the stable-yard, now," answered +Spurge. "Did it comfortable in under the hour." + +"I think we ought to go out there--some of us," said Gilling. "We +ought--" + +At that moment the door opened and Sir Cresswell Oliver came in, holding +a bit of flimsy paper in his hand. He glanced at Spurge and then beckoned +the three young men to join him. + +"I've had a wireless message from the North Sea--and it puzzles me," he +said. "One of our ships up there has had news of what is surely the +_Pike_ from a fishing vessel. She was seen late yesterday afternoon going +due east--due east, mind you! If that was she--and I'm sure of it!--our +quarry's escaping us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE PEEL TOWER + + +Gilling took the message from Sir Cresswell and thoughtfully read +it over. Then he handed it back and motioned the old seaman to look +at Spurge. + +"I think you ought to know what this man has just told us, sir," he said. +"We've got a story from him that exactly fits in with what Chatfield told +Mr. Vickers when the _Pike_ returned to carry him off yesterday. +Chatfield, you'll remember, said that the gold he'd withdrawn from the +bank is hidden somewhere--well, there's no doubt that this man Zachary +Spurge knows where it is hidden. It's there now--and the presumption is, +of course, that these people on the _Pike_ will certainly come in to this +coast--somehow!--to get it. So in that case--eh?" + +"Gad!--that's valuable!" said Sir Cresswell, glancing again at Spurge, +and with awakened interest. "Let me hear this story." + +Copplestone epitomized Spurge's account, while the poacher listened +admiringly, checking off the main points and adding a word or two where +he considered the epitome lacking. + +"Very smart of you, my man," remarked Sir Cresswell, nodding benevolently +at Spurge when the story was over. "You're in a fair way to find yourself +well rewarded. Now gentlemen!" he continued, sitting down at the table, +and engaging the attention of the others, "I think we had better have a +council of war. Petherton has just gone to speak to the police +authorities about those warrants which have been taken out against +Chatfield and the impostor, but we can go on in his absence. Now there +seems to be no doubt that those chests which Spurge tells us of contain +the gold which Chatfield procured from the bank, and concerning which he +seems to have played his associates more tricks than one. However, his +associates, whoever they are--and mind you, gentlemen, I believe there +are more men than Chatfield and the Squire in all this!--have now got a +tight grip on Chatfield, and they'll force him to show them where that +gold is--they'll certainly not give up the chances of fifty thousand +pounds without a stiff try to get it. So--I'm considering all the +possibilities and probabilities--we may conclude that sooner or +later--sooner, most likely--somebody will visit this old peel tower that +Spurge talks of. But--who? For we're faced with this wireless message. +I've no doubt the vessel here referred to is the _Pike_--no doubt at all. +Now she was seen making due east, near this side of the Dogger Bank, late +last night--so that it would look as if these men were making for +Denmark, or Germany, rather than for this coast. But since receiving this +message, I have thought that point out. The _Pike_ is, I believe, a very +fast vessel?" + +"Very," answered Vickers. "She can do twenty-seven or eight knots an +hour." + +"Exactly," said Sir Cresswell. "Then in that case they may have put in +at some Northern port, landed Chatfield and two or three men to keep an +eye on him and to accompany him to this old tower, while the _Pike_ +herself has gone off till a more fitting opportunity arises of dodging in +somewhere to pick up the chests which Chatfield and his party will in the +meantime have removed. From what I have seen of it this is such a wild +part of the coast that Chatfield and such a small gang as I am imagining, +could easily come back here, keep themselves hidden and recover the +chests without observation. So our plain duty is to now devise some plan +for going to the Reaver's Glen and keeping a watch there until somebody +comes. Eh?" + +"There's another thing that's possible, sir," said Vickers, who had +listened carefully to all that Sir Cresswell had said. "The _Pike_ is +fitted for wireless telegraphy." + +"Yes?" said Sir Cresswell expectantly. "And you think--?" + +"You suggested that there may be more people than Chatfield and the +Squire in at this business," continued Vickers. "Just so! We--Copplestone +and myself--know very well that the skipper of the _Pike_, Andrius, is in +it: that's undeniable. But there may be others--or one other, or two--on +shore here. And as the _Pike_ can communicate by wireless, those on board +her may have sent a message to their shore confederates to remove those +chests. So--" + +"Capital suggestion!" said Sir Cresswell, who saw this point at once. "So +we'd better lose no time in arranging our expedition out there. +Spurge--you're the man who knows the spot best--what ought we to do about +getting there--in force?" + +Spurge, obviously flattered at being called upon to advise a great man, +entered into the discussion with enthusiasm. + +"Your honour mustn't go in force at all!" he said. "What's wanted, +gentlemen, is--strategy! Now if you'll let me put it to you, me knowing +the lie of the land, this is what had ought to be done. A small party +ought to go--with me to lead. We'll follow the road that cuts across the +moorland to a certain point; then we'll take a by-track that gets you to +High Nick; there we'll take to a thick bit o' wood and coppice that runs +right up to the peel tower. Nobody'll track us, nor see us from any +point, going that way. Three or four of us--these here young gentlemen, +now, and me--'ll be enough for the job--if armed. A revolver apiece your +honour--that'll be plenty. And as for the rest--what you might call a +reserve force--your honour said something just now about some warrants. +Is the police to be in at it, then?" + +"The police hold warrants for the two men we've been chiefly talking +about," replied Sir Cresswell. + +"Well let your honour come on a bit later with not more than three police +plain-clothes fellows--as far as High Nick," said Spurge. "The police'll +know where that is. Let 'em wait there--don't let 'em come further until +I send back a message by my cousin Jim, You see, guv'nor," he added, +turning to Copplestone, whom he seemed to regard as his own special +associate, "we don't know how things may be. We might have to wait hours. +As I view it, me having listened careful to what his honour the Admiral +there says--best respects to your honour--them chaps'll never come a-nigh +that place till it's night again, or at any rate, dusk, which'll be about +seven o'clock this evening. But they may watch, during the day, and it +'ud be a foolish thing to have a lot of men about. A small force such as +I can hide in that wood, and another in reserve at High Nick, which, +guv'nor, is a deep hole in the hill-top--that's the ticket!" + +"Spurge is right," said Sir Cresswell. "You youngsters go with him--get a +motor-car--and I'll see about following you over to High Nick with the +detectives. Now, what about being armed?" + +"I've a supply of service revolvers at my office, down this very street," +replied Vickers. "I'll go and get them. Here! Let's apportion our duties. +I'll see to that. Gilling, you see about the car. Copplestone, you order +some breakfast for us--sharp." + +"And I'll go round to the police," said Sir Cresswell. "Now, be careful +to take care of yourselves--you don't know what you've got to deal with, +remember." + +The group separated, and Copplestone went off to find the hotel people +and order an immediate breakfast. And passing along a corridor on his way +downstairs he encountered Mrs. Greyle, who came out of a room near by and +started at sight of him. + +"Audrey is asleep," she whispered, pointing to the door she had just +left. "Thank you for taking care of her. Of course I was afraid--but +that's all over now. And now the thing is--how are things?" + +"Coming to a head, in my opinion," answered Copplestone. "But how or in +what way, I don't know. Anyway, we know where that gold is--and they'll +make an attempt on it--that's sure! So--we shall be there." + +"But what fools Peter Chatfield and his associates must be--from their +own villainous standpoint--to have encumbered themselves with all that +weight of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle. "The folly of it seems incredible +when they could have taken it in some more easily portable form!" + +"Ah!" laughed Copplestone. "But that just shows Chatfield's extraordinary +deepness and craft! He no doubt persuaded his associates that it was +better to have actual bullion where they were going, and tricked them +into believing that he'd actually put it aboard the _Pike_! If it hadn't +been that they examined the boxes which he put on the _Pike_ and found +they contained lead or bricks, the old scoundrel would have collared the +real stuff for himself." + +"Take care that he doesn't collar it yet," said Mrs. Greyle with a laugh +as she went into her own room. "Chatfield is resourceful enough +for--anything. And--take care of yourselves!" + +That was the second admonition to be careful, and Copplestone thought of +both, as, an hour later, he, Gilling, Vickers and Spurge sped along the +desolate, wind-swept moorland on their way to the Reaver's Glen. It was +a typically North Country autumnal morning, cold, raw, rainy; the tops of +the neighbouring hills were capped with dark clouds; sea-birds called +dismally across the heather; the sea, seen in glimpses through vistas of +fir and pine, looked angry and threatening. + +"A fit morning for a do of this sort!" exclaimed Gilling suddenly. "Is it +pretty bare and bleak at this tower of yours, Spurge?" + +"You'll be warm enough, guv'nor, where I shall put you," answered Spurge. +"One as has knocked about these woods and moors as much as I've had to +knows as many places to hide his nose in as a fox does! I'll put you by +that tower where you'll be snug enough, and warm enough, too--and where +nobody'll see you neither. And here's High Nick and out we get." + +Leaving the car in a deep cutting of the hills and instructing the driver +to await the return of one or other of them at a wayside farmstead a mile +back, the three adventurers followed Spurge into the wood which led to +the top of the Beaver's Glen. The poacher guided them onward by narrow +and winding tracks through the undergrowth for a good half-mile; then he +led them through thickets in which there was no paths at all; finally, +after a gradual and cautious advance behind a high hedge of dense +evergreen, he halted them at a corner of the wood and motioned them to +look out through a loosely-laced network of branches. + +"Here we are!" he whispered. "Tower--Reaver's Glen--sea in the distance. +Lone spot, ain't it, gentlemen?" + +Copplestone and Gilling, who had never seen this part of the coast +before, looked out on the scene with lively interest. It was certainly a +prospect of romance and of wild, almost savage beauty on which they +gazed. Immediately in front of them, at a distance of twenty to thirty +yards, stood the old peel tower, a solid square mass of grey stone, +intact as to its base and its middle stories, ruinous and crumbling from +thence to what was left of its battlements and the turret tower at one +angle. The fallen stone lay in irregular heaps on the ground at its foot; +all around it were clumps of furze and bramble. From the level plateau on +which it stood the Glen fell away in horseshoe formation gradually +narrowing and descending until it terminated in a thick covert of fir and +pine that ran down to the land end of the cove of which Spurge had told +them. And beyond that stretched the wide expanse of sea, with here and +there a red-sailed fishing boat tossing restlessly on the white-capped +waves, and over that and the land was a chill silence, broken only by the +occasional cry of the sea-birds and the bleating of the mountain sheep. + +"A lone spot indeed!" said Gilling in a whisper. "Spurge, where is that +stuff hidden?" + +"Other side of the tower--in an angle of the old courtyard," replied +Spurge, "Can't see the spot from here." + +"And where's that road you told us about?" asked Copplestone. "The +moor road?" + +"Top o' the bank yonder--beyond the tower," said Spurge. "Runs round +yonder corner o' this wood and goes right round it to High Nick, where +we've cut across from. Hush now, all of you, gentlemen--I'm going to +signal Jim." + +Screwing up his mobile face into a strange contortion, Spurge emitted +from his puckered lips a queer cry--a cry as of some trapped animal--so +shrill and realistic that his hearers started. + +"What on earth's that represent?" asked Gilling. "It's blood-curdling?" + +"Hare, with a stoat's teeth in its neck," answered Spurge. "H'sh--I'll +call him again." + +No answer came to the first nor to the second summons--after a third, +equally unproductive, Spurge looked at his companions with a scared face. + +"That's a queer thing, guv'nors!" he muttered. "Can't believe as how our +Jim 'ud ever desert a post. He promised me faithfully as how he'd stick +here like grim death until I came back. I hope he ain't had a fit, nor +aught o' that sort--he ain't a strong chap at the best o' times, and--" + +"You'd better take a careful look round, Spurge," said Vickers. +"Here--shall I come with you?" + +But Spurge waved a hand to them to stay where they were. He himself crept +along the back of the hedge until he came to a point opposite the nearest +angle of the tower. And suddenly he gave a great cry--human enough this +time!--and the three young men rushing forward found him standing by the +body of a roughly-clad man in whom Copplestone recognized the one-eyed +odd-job man of the "Admiral's Arms." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FOOTPRINTS + + +The man was lying face downwards in the grass and weeds which clustered +thickly at the foot of the hedgerow, and on the line of rough, +weatherbeaten neck which showed between his fur cap and his turned-up +collar there was a patch of dried blood. Very still and apparently +lifeless he looked, but Vickers suddenly bent down, laid strong hands on +him and turned him over. + +"He's not dead!" he exclaimed. "Only unconscious from a crack on his +skull. Gilling!--where's that brandy you brought?--hand me the flask." + +Zachary Spurge watched in silence as Vickers and Gilling busied +themselves in reviving the stricken man. Then he quickly pulled +Copplestone's sleeve and motioned him away from the group. + +"Guv'nor!" he muttered. "There's been foul play here--and all along of +them nine boxes--that I'll warrant. Look you here, guv'nor--Jim's been +dragged to where we found him--dragged through this here gap in the hedge +and flung where he's lying. See--there's the plain marks, all through the +grass and stuff. Come on, guv'nor--let's see where they lead." + +The marks of a heavy, inanimate body having been dragged through the wet +grass were evidence enough, and Copplestone and Spurge followed them to a +corner of the old tower where they ceased. Spurge glanced round that +corner and uttered a sharp exclamation. + +"Just what I expected!" he said. "Leastways, what I expected as soon as I +see Jim a-lying there. Guv'nor, the stuff's gone!" + +He drew Copplestone after him and pointed to a corner of the weed-grown +courtyard where a cavity had been made in the mass of fallen masonry and +the stones taken from it lay about just as they had been displaced and +thrown aside. + +"That's where the nine boxes were," he continued. "Well, there ain't one +of 'em there now! Naught but the hole where they was! Well--this must ha' +been during the early morning--after I left Jim to go into Norcaster. And +of course him as put the stuff there must be him as fetched it +away--Chatfield. Let's see if there's footmarks about, guv'nor." + +"Wait a bit," said Copplestone. "We must be careful about that. Move +warily. We 'd better do it systematically. There'd have to be some sort +of a trap, a vehicle, to carry away those chests. Where's the nearest +point of that road you spoke of?" + +"Up there," replied Spurge, pointing to a flanking bank of heather. "But +they--or him--wasn't forced to come that way, guv'nor. He--or them--could +come up from that cove down yonder. It wouldn't surprise me if that there +yacht--the _Pike_, you know--had turned on her tracks and come in here +during the night. It's not more than a mile from this tower down to the +shore, and--" + +At that moment Vickers called to them, and they went back to find Jim +Spurge slowly opening his eyes and looking round him with consciousness +of his company. His one eye lightened a little as he caught sight of +Zachary, and the poacher bent down to him. + +"Jim, old man!" he said soothingly. "How are yer, Jim? Yer been hit by +somebody. Who was it, Jim?" + +"Give him a drop more brandy and lift him up a bit," counselled Gilling. +"He's improving." + +But it needed more than a mere drop of brandy, more than cousinly words +of adjuration, to bring the wounded man back to a state of speech. And +when at last he managed to make a feeble response, it was only to mutter +some incoherent and disjointed sentences about and being struck down from +behind--after which he again relapsed into semi-unconsciousness. + +"That's it guv'nor," muttered Spurge, nudging Copplestone. "That's the +ticket! Struck down from behind--that's what happened to him. Unawares, +so to speak, I can reckon of it up--easy. They comes in the +darkness--after I'd left him here. He hears of 'em, as he says, +a-moving about. Then he no doubt Starts moving about--watching 'em, as +far as he can see. Then one of 'em gives him this crack on the +skull--life-preserver if you ask me--and down he goes! And then--they +drag him in here and leaves him. Don't care whether he's a goner or +not--not they! Well, an' what does it prove? That there's been more +than one of 'em, guv'nor. And in my opinion, where they've come from +is--down there!" + +He pointed down the glen in the direction of the sea, and the three +young men who were considerably exercised by this sudden turn of events +and the disappearance of the chests, looked after his out-stretched hand +and then at each other. + +"Well, we can't stand here doing nothing," said Gilling at last. "Look +here, we'd better divide forces. This chap'll have to be removed and got +to some hospital. Vickers!--I guess you're the quickest-footed of the +lot--will you run back to High Nick and tell that chauffeur to bring his +car round here? If Sir Cresswell and the police are there, tell them +what's happened. Spurge--you go down the glen there, and see if you can +see anything of any suspicious-looking craft in that bay you told us of. +Copplestone, we can't do any more for this man just now--let's look +round. This is a queer business," he went on when they had all departed, +and he and Copplestone were walking towards the tower. "The gold's gone, +of course?" + +"No sign of it here, anyway," answered Copplestone, leading him into the +ruinous courtyard and pointing to the cavity in the fallen masonry. +"That's where it was placed by Chatfield, according to Zachary Spurge." + +"And of course Chatfield's removed it during the night," remarked +Gilling. "That message which Sir Cresswell read us must have been all +wrong--the _Pike's_ come south and she's been somewhere about--maybe been +in that cove at the end of the glen--though she'll have cleared out of it +hours ago!" he concluded disappointedly. "We're too late!" + +"That theory's not necessarily correct," replied Copplestone. "Sir +Cresswell's message may have been quite right. For all we know the folks +on the Pike had confederates on shore. Go carefully, Gilling--let's see +if we can make out anything in the way of footprints." + +The ground in the courtyard was grassless, a flooring of grit and loose +stone, on which no impression could well be made by human foot. But +Copplestone, carefully prospecting around and going a little way up the +bank which lay between the tower and the moorland road, suddenly saw +something in the black, peat-like earth which attracted his attention and +he called to his companion. + +"I say!" he exclaimed. "Look at this! There!--that's unmistakable enough. +And fresh, too!" + +Gilling bent down, looked, and stared at Copplestone with a question +in his eyes. + +"By Gad!" he said. "A woman!" + +"And one who wears good and shapely footwear, too," remarked Copplestone. +"That's what you'd call a slender and elegant foot. Here it is +again--going up the bank. Come on!" + +There were more traces of this wearer of elegant foot-gear on the soft +earth of the bank which ran between the moorland and the stone-strewn +courtyard--more again on the edges of the road itself. There, too, were +plain signs that a motor-car of some sort had recently been pulled up +opposite the tower--Gilling pointed to the indentations made by the +studded wheels and to droppings of oil and petrol on the gravelly soil. + +"That's evident enough," he said. "Those chests have been fetched away +during the night, by motor, and a woman's been in at it! Confederates, of +course. Now then, the next thing is, which way did that motor go with its +contents?" + +They followed the tracks for a short distance along the road, until, +coming to a place where it widened at a gateway leading into the wood, +they saw that the car had there been backed and turned. Gilling carefully +examined the marks. + +"That car came from Norcaster and it's gone back to Norcaster," he +affirmed presently. "Look here!--they came up the hill at the side of the +wood--here they backed the car towards that gate, and then ran it +backwards till they were abreast of the tower--then, when they'd loaded +up with those chests they went straight off by the way they'd come. Look +at the tracks--plain enough." + +"Then we'd better get down towards Norcaster ourselves," said +Copplestone. "Call Spurge back--he'll find nothing in that cove. This job +has been done from land. And we ought to be on the track of these +people--they've had several hours start already." + +By this time Zachary Spurge had been recalled, Vickers had brought the +car round from High Nick, and the injured man was carefully lifted into +it and driven away. But at High Nick itself they met another car, +hurrying up from Norcaster, and bringing Sir Cresswell Oliver and three +other men who bore the unmistakable stamp of the police force. In one of +them Copplestone recognized the inspector from Scarhaven. + +The two cars met and stopped alongside each other, and Sir Cresswell, +with one sharp glance at the rough bandage which Vickers had fastened +round Jim Spurge's head, rapped out a question. + +"Gone!" replied Gilling, with equal brusqueness. "Came in a motor, during +the night, soon after Zachary Spurge left Jim. They hit him pretty hard +over his head and left him unconscious. Of course they've carried off the +boxes. Car appears to have gone to Norcaster. Hadn't you better turn?" + +Sir Cresswell pointed to the Scarhaven police inspector. + +"Here's news from Scarhaven," he said, bending forward to the other car, +"The inspector's just brought it. The Squire--whoever he was--is dead. +They found his body this morning, lying at the foot of a cliff near the +Keep. Foul play?--that's what you don't know, eh, inspector?" + +"Can't say at all, sir," answered the inspector. "He might have been +thrown down, he might have fallen down--it's a bad place. Anyway, what +the doctor said, just before I hurried in here to tell Mrs. Greyle, as +the next relative that we know of, is that he'd been dead some days--the +body, you see, was lying in a thicket at the foot of the cliff." + +"Some days!" exclaimed Copplestone, with a look at Gilling. "Days?" + +"Four or five days at least, sir," replied the inspector. "So the doctor +thinks. The place is a cliff between the high road from Northborough and +the house itself. There's a short cut across the park to the house from +that road. It looks as if--" + +"Ah!" interrupted Gilling. "It's clear how that happened, then. He took +that short cut, when he came from Northborough that night! But--if he's +dead, who's engineering all this? There's the fact, those chests of gold +have been removed from that old tower since Zachary Spurge left his +cousin in charge there early this morning. Everything looks as if they'd +been carried to Norcaster. Therefore--" + +"Turn this car round," commanded Sir Cresswell. "Of course, we must get +back to Norcaster. But what's to be done there?" + +The two cars went scurrying back to the old shipping town. When at +last they had 'deposited the injured man at a neighbouring hospital +and came to a stop near the "Angel," Zachary Spurge pulled +Copplestone's sleeve, and with a look full of significance, motioned +him aside to a quiet place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +SCARVELL'S CUT + + +The quiet place was a narrow alley, which opening out of the Market +Square in which the car had come to a halt, suddenly twisted away into a +labyrinth of ancient buildings that lay between the centre of the town +and the river. Not until Spurge had conducted Copplestone quite away from +their late companions did he turn and speak; when he spoke his words were +accompanied by a glance which suggested mystery as well as confidence. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "What's going to be done?" + +"Have you pulled me down here to ask that?" exclaimed Copplestone, a +little impatiently. "Good heavens, man, with all these complications +arising--the gold gone, the Squire dead--why, there'll have to be a +pretty deep consultation, of course. We'd better get back to it." + +But Spurge shook his head. + +"Not me, guv'nor!" he said resolutely. "I ain't no opinion o' +consultations with lawyers and policemen--plain clothes or otherwise. +They ain't no mortal good whatever, guv'nor, when it comes to horse +sense! 'Cause why? 'Tain't their fault--it's the system. They can't +do nothing, start nothing, suggest nothing!--they can only do things +in the official, cut-and-dried, red-tape way, Guv'nor--you and me +can do better." + +"Well?" asked Copplestone. + +"Listen!" continued Spurge. "There ain't no doubt that that gold was +carried off early this morning--must ha' been between the time I left Jim +and sun-up, 'cause they'd want to do the job in darkness. Ain't no +reasonable doubt, neither, that the motor-car what they used came here +into Norcaster. Now, guv'nor, I ask you--where is it possible they'd make +for? Not a railway station, 'cause them boxes 'ud be conspicuous and easy +traced when inquiry was made. And yet they'd want to get 'em away--as +soon as possible. Very well--what's the other way o' getting any stuff +out o' Norcaster? What? Why--that!" + +He jerked his thumb in the direction of a patch of grey water which shone +dully at the end of the alley and while his thumb jerked his eye winked. + +"The river!" he went on. "The river, guv'nor! Don't this here river, +running into the free and bounding ocean six miles away, offer the best +chance? What we want to do is to take a look round these here docks and +quays and wharves--keeping our eyes open--and our ears as well. Come on +with me, guv'nor--I know places all along this riverside where you could +hide the Bank of England till it was wanted--so to speak." + +"But the others?" suggested Copplestone. "Hadn't we better fetch them?" + +"No!" retorted Spurge, assertively. "Two on us is enough. You trust to +me, guv'nor--I'll find out something. I know these docks--and all that's +alongside 'em. I'd do the job myself, now--but it'll be better to have +somebody along of me, in case we want a message sending for help or +anything of that nature. Come on--and if I don't find out before noon if +there's any queer craft gone out o' this since morning--why, then, I +ain't what I believe myself to be." + +Copplestone, who had considerable faith in the poacher's shrewdness, +allowed himself to be led into the lowest part of the town--low in more +than one sense of the word. Norcaster itself, as regards its ancient +and time-hallowed portions, its church, its castle, its official +buildings and highly-respectable houses, stood on the top of a low +hill; its docks and wharves and the mean streets which intersected them +had been made on a stretch of marshland that lay between the foot of +that hill and the river. And down there was the smell of tar and of +merchandise, and narrow alleys full of sea-going men and raucous-voiced +women, and queer nooks and corners, and ships being laden and ships +being stripped of their cargoes and such noise and confusion and +inextricable mingling and elbowing that Copplestone thought it was as +likely to find a needle in a haystack as to make anything out relating +to the quest they were engaged in. + +But Zachary Spurge, leading him in and out of the throngs on the wharves, +now taking a look into a dock, now inspecting a quay, now stopping to +exchange a word or two with taciturn gentlemen who sucked their pipes at +the corners of narrow streets, now going into shady-looking public houses +by one door and coming out at another, seemed to be remarkably well +satisfied with his doings and kept remarking to his companion that they +would hear something yet. Nevertheless, by noon they had heard nothing, +and Copplestone, who considered casual search of this sort utterly +purposeless, announced that he was going to more savoury neighborhoods. + +"Give it another turn, guv'nor," urged Spurge. "Have a bit o' faith in +me, now! You see, guv'nor, I've an idea, a theory, as you might term it, +of my very own, only time's too short to go into details, like. Trust me +a bit longer, guv'nor--there's a spot or two down here that I'm fair +keen on taking a look at--come on, guv'nor, once more!--this is +Scarvell's Cut." + +He drew his unwilling companion round a corner of the wharf which they +were just then patrolling and showed him a narrow creek which, hemmed in +by ancient buildings, some of them half-ruinous, sail-lofts, and sheds +full of odds and ends of merchandise, cut into the land at an irregular +angle and was at that moment affording harbourage to a mass of small +vessels, just then lying high and dry on the banks from which the tide +had retreated. Along the side of this creek there was just as much +crowding and confusion as on the wider quays; men were going in and out +of the sheds and lofts; men were busy about the sides of the small craft. +And again the feeling of uselessness came over Copplestone. + +"What's the good of all this, Spurge!" he exclaimed testily. "You'll +never--" + +Spurge suddenly laid a grip on his companion's elbow and twisted him +aside into a narrow entry between the sheds. + +"That's the good!" he answered in an exulting voice. "Look there, +guv'nor! Look at that North Sea tug--that one, lying out there! Whose +face is, now a-peeping out o' that hatch? Come, now?" + +Copplestone looked in the direction which Spurge indicated. There, lying +moored to the wharf, at a point exactly opposite a tumble-down sail-loft, +was one of those strongly-built tugs which ply between the fishing fleets +and the ports. It was an eminently business-looking craft, rakish for its +class, and it bore marks of much recent sea usage. But Copplestone gave +no more than a passing glance at it--what attracted and fascinated his +eyes was the face of a man who had come up from her depths and was +looking out of a hatchway on the top deck--looking expectantly at the +sail-loft. There was grime and oil on that face, and the neck which +supported the unkempt head rose out of a rough jersey, but Copplestone +recognized his man smartly enough. In spite of the attempt to look like a +tug deck-hand there was no mistaking the skipper of the _Pike_. + +"Good heavens!" he muttered, as he stared across the crowded quay. +"Andrius!" + +"Right you are, guv'nor," whispered Spurge. "It's that very same, and no +mistake! And now you'll perhaps see how I put things together, like. No +doubt those folk as sent Sir Cresswell that message did see the _Pike_ +going east last evening--just so, but there wasn't no reason, considering +what that chap and his lot had at stake why they shouldn't put him and +one or two more, very likely, on one of the many tugs that's to be met +with out there off the fishing grounds. What I conclude they did, +guv'nor, was to charter one o' them tugs and run her in here. And I +expect they've got the stuff on board her, now, and when the tide comes +up, out they'll go, and be off into the free and open again, to pick the +_Pike_ up somewhere 'twixt here and the Dogger Bank. Ah!--smart 'uns they +are, no doubt. But--we've got 'em!" + +"Not yet," said Copplestone. "What are we to do. Better go back and get +help, eh?" + +He was keenly watching Andrius, and as the skipper of the _Pike_ suddenly +moved, he drew Spurge further into the alley. + +"He's coming out of that hatchway!" whispered Copplestone. "If he comes +ashore he'll see us, and then--" + +"No matter, guv'nor," said Spurge reassuringly. "They can't get out o' +Scarvell's Cut into the river till the tide serves. Yes, that's Cap'n +Andrius right enough--and he's coming ashore." + +Andrius had by that time drawn himself out of the hatchway and now +revealed himself in the jersey, the thick leg-wear, and short sea-boots +of an oceangoing man. Copplestone's recollection of him as he showed +himself on board the _Pike_ was of a very smartly attired, rather +dandified person--only some deep scheme, he knew, would have caused him +to assume this disguise, and he watched him with interest as he rolled +ashore and disappeared within the lower story of the sail-loft. Spurge, +too, watched with all his eyes, and he turned to Copplestone with a gleam +of excitement. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "We've trapped 'em beautiful! I know that place--I've +worked in there in my time. I know a way into it, from the back--we'll +get in that way and see what's being done. 'Tain't worked no longer, that +sail-loft--it's all falling to pieces. But first--help!" + +"How are we to get that?" asked Copplestone, eagerly. + +"I'll go it," replied Spurge. "I know a man just aback of here that'll +run up to the town with a message--chap that can be trusted, sure and +faithful. 'Bide here five minutes, sir--I'll send a message to Mr. +Vickers--this chap'll know him and'll find him. He can come down with the +rest--and the police, too, if he likes. Keep your eyes skinned, guv'nor." + +He twisted away like an eel into the crowd of workers and idlers, and +left Copplestone at the entrance to the alley, watching. And he had not +been so left more than a couple of minutes when a woman slipped past the +mouth of the alley, swiftly, quietly, looking neither to right nor left, +of whose veiled head and face he caught one glance. And in that glance he +recognized her--Addie Chatfield! + +But in the moment of that glance Copplestone also recognized something +vastly more important. Here was the explanation of the mystery of the +early-morning doings at the old tower. The footprints of a woman who wore +fashionable and elegant boots? Addie Chatfield, of course! Was she not +old Peter's daughter, a chip of the old block, even though a feminine +chip? And did not he and Gilling know that she had been mixed up with +Peter at the Bristol affair? Great Scott!--why, of course. Addie was an +accomplice in all these things! + +If Copplestone had the least shadow of doubt remaining in his mind as to +this conclusion, it was utterly dissipated when, peering cautiously round +the corner of his hiding-place, he saw Addie disappear within the old +sail-loft into which Andrius had betaken himself. Of course, she had gone +to join her fellow-conspirators. He began to fume and fret, cursing +himself for allowing Spurge to bring him down there alone--if only they +had had Gilling and Vickers with them, armed as they were-- + +"All right, guv'nor!" Spurge suddenly whispered at his shoulder. "They'll +be here in a quarter of an hour--I telephoned to 'em." + +"Do you know what?" exclaimed Copplestone, excitedly. "Old Chatfield's +daughter's gone in there, where Andrius went. Just now!" + +"What--the play-actress!" said Spurge. "You don't say, guv'nor? Ha!--that +explains everything--that's the missing link! Ha! But we'll soon know +what they're after, Mr. Copplestone. Follow me--quiet as a mouse." + +Once more submitting to be led, Copplestone followed his queer guide +along the alley. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE GREENGROCER'S CART + + +Spurge led Copplestone a little way up the narrow alley from the mouth of +which they had observed the recent proceedings, suddenly turned off into +a still narrower passage, and emerged at the rear of an ancient building +of wood and stones which looked as if a stout shove or a strong wind +would bring it down in dust and ruin. + +"Back o' that old sail-loft what looks out on this cut," he whispered, +glancing over his shoulder at Copplestone. "Now, guv'nor, we're going in +here. As I said before, I've worked in this place--did a spell here when +I was once lying low for a month or two. I know every inch of it, and if +that lot are under this roof I know where they'll be." + +"They'll show fight, you know," remarked Copplestone. + +"Well, but ain't we got something to show fight with, too?" answered +Spurge, with a knowing wink. "I've got my revolver handy, what Mr. +Vickers give me, and I reckon you can handle yours. However, it ain't +come to no revolver yet. What I want is to see and hear, +guv'nor--follow me." + +He had opened a ramshackle door in the rear of the premises as he spoke +and he now beckoned his companion to follow him down a passage which +evidently led to the front. There was no more than a dim light within, +but Copplestone could see that the whole place was falling to pieces. And +it was all wrapped in a dead silence. Away out on the quay was the rattle +of chains, the creaking of a windlass, the voices of men and shrill +laughter of women, but in there no sound existed. And Spurge suddenly +stopped his stealthy creeping forward and looked at Copplestone +suspiciously. + +"Queer, ain't it?" he whispered. "I don't hear a voice, nor yet the ghost +of one! You'd think that if they was in here they'd be talking. But we'll +soon see." + +Clambering up a pile of fallen timber which lay in the passage and +beckoning Copplestone to follow his example, Spurge looked through a +broken slat in the wooden partition into an open shed which fronted the +Cut. The shed was empty. Folk were passing to and fro in front of it; the +North Sea tug still lay at the wharf beyond; a man who was evidently its +skipper sat on a tub on its deck placidly smoking his short pipe--but of +Addie Chatfield or of Andrius there was no sign. And the silence in that +crumbling, rat-haunted house was deeper than ever. + +"Guv'nor!" muttered Spurge, "How long is it since you see--her?" + +"Almost as soon as you'd gone," answered Copplestone. + +"Ten minutes ago!" sighed Spurge. "Guv'nor--they've done us! They're off! +I see it--she must ha' caught sight o' me, nosing round, and she came +here and gave the others the office, and they bucked out at the back. +The back, Guv'nor! and Lord bless you, at the back o' this shanty there's +a perfect rabbit-warren o' places--more by token, they call it the +Warren. If they've got in there, why, all the police in Norcaster'll +never find 'em--leastways, I mean, to speak truthful, not without a deal +o' trouble." + +"What about upstairs?" asked Copplestone. + +"Upstairs, now?" said Spurge with a doubtful glance at the ramshackle +stairway. "Lord, mister!--I don't believe nobody could get up them +stairs! No--they've hooked it through the back here, into the Warren. And +once in there--" + +He ended with an eloquent gesture, and dismounting from his perch made +his way along the passage to a door which opened into the shed. Thence he +looked out on the quay, and along the crowded maze of Scarvell's Cut. + +"Here's some of 'em, anyway, guv'nor," he announced. "I see Mr. Vickers +and t'other London gentleman, and the old Admiral, at all events. There +they are--getting out of a motor at the end. But go to meet 'em, Mr. +Copplestone, while I keep my eye on this here tug and its skipper." + +Copplestone elbowed his way through the crowd until he met Sir Cresswell +and his two companions. All three were eager and excited: Copplestone +could only respond to their inquiries with a gloomy shake of the head. + +"We seem to have the devil's own luck!" he growled dismally. "Spurge and +I spotted Andrius by sheer accident. He was on a North Sea tug, or +trawler, along the quay here. Then Spurge ran off to summon you. While +he was away Miss Chatfield appeared--" + +"Addie Chatfield!" exclaimed Vickers. + +"Exactly. And that of course," continued Copplestone, glancing at +Gilling, "that without doubt--in my opinion, anyway--explains those +elegant footprints up at the tower. Addie Chatfield, I tell you! She +passed me as I was hiding at the entrance to an alley down the Cut here, +and she went into an old sail-loft, outside which the tug I spoke of is +moored, and into which Andrius had strolled a minute or two previously. +But--neither she nor Andrius are there now. They've gone! And Spurge says +that at the back of this quay there's a perfect rabbit-warren of courts +and alleys, and if--or, rather as they've escaped into that--eh?" + +The detectives who had accompanied Sir Cresswell on the interrupted +expedition to the old tower and who had now followed him and his +companions in a second car and arrived in time to hear Copplestone's +story, looked at each other. + +"That's right enough--comparatively speaking," said one. "But if they're +in the Warren we shall get 'em out. The first thing to do, gentlemen, is +to take a look at that tug." + +"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "Just what I was thinking. Let us +find out what its people have to say." + +The man who smoked his pipe in placid contentment on the deck of the tug +looked up in astonishment as the posse of eight crossed the plank which +connected him with the quay. Nevertheless he preserved an undaunted +front, kept his pipe in his tightly closed lips, and cocked a defiant eye +at everybody. + +"Skipper o' this craft?" asked the principal detective laconically. +"Right? Where are you from, then, and when did you come in here?" + +The skipper removed his pipe and spat over the rail. He put the pipe +back, folded his arms and glared. + +"And what the dickens may that be to do with you?" he inquired. "And who +may you be to walk aboard my vessel without leave?" + +"None of that, now!" said the detective. "Come on--we're police officers. +There's something wrong round here. We've got warrants for two men that +we believe to have been on your tug--one of 'em was seen here not so many +minutes ago. You'd far better tell us what you know. If you don't tell +now, you'll have to tell later. And--I expect you've been paid already. +Come on--out with it!" + +The skipper, whose gnarled countenance had undergone several changes +during this address, smote one red fist on top of the other. + +"Darned if I don't know as there was something on the crook in this here +affair!" he said, almost cheerily. "Well, well--but I ain't got nothing +to do with it. Warrants?--you say? Ah! And what might be the partiklar' +natur' o' them warrants?" + +"Murder!" answered the detective. "That's one charge, anyhow--for one of +'em, at any rate. There's others." + +"Murder's enough," responded the skipper. "Well, of course, nobody can +tell a man to be a murderer by merely looking at his mug. Not at +all!--nobody! However, this here is how it is. Last night it +were--evening, to be c'rect--dark. I was on the edge o' the fleet, out +there off the Dogger. A yacht comes up--smart 'un--very fast sailer--and +hails me. Was I going into Norcaster or anywheres about? Being a +Northborough tug, this, I wasn't. Would I go for a consideration--then +and there? Whereupon I asked what consideration? Then we bargains. +Eventual, we struck it at thirty pounds--cash down, which was paid, +prompt. I was to take two men straight and slick into Norcaster, to this +here very slip, Scarvell's Cut, to wait while they put a bit of a cargo +on board, and then to run 'em back to the same spot where I took 'em up. +Done! they come aboard--the yacht goes off east--I come careenin' west. +That's all! That part of it anyway." + +"And the men?" suggested the detective. "What sort were they, and where +are they?" + +"The men, now!" said the skipper. "Ah! Two on 'em--both done up in what +you might call deep-sea-style. But hadn't never done no deep-sea nor yet +any other sort o' sea work in their mortial days--hands as white and soft +as a lady's. One, an old chap with a dial like a full moon on him--sly +old chap, him! T'other a younger man, looked as if he'd something about +him--dangerous chap to cross. Where are they? Darned if I know. What I +knows, certain, is this--we gets in here about eight o'clock this +morning, and makes fast here, and ever since then them two's been as it +were on the fret and the fidge, allers lookin' out, so to speak, for +summun as ain't come yet. The old chap, he went across into that there +sail-maker's loft an hour ago, and t'other, he followed of him, recent. I +ain't seen 'em since. Try there. And I say?" + +"Well?" asked the detective. + +"Shall I be wanted?" asked the skipper. "'Cause if not, I'm off and away +as soon as the tide serves. Ain't no good me waitin' here for them chaps +if you're goin' to take and hang 'em!" + +"Got to catch 'em first," said the detective, with a glance at his two +professional companions. "And while we're not doubting your word at all, +we'll just take a look round your vessel--they might have slipped on +board again, you see, while your back was turned." + +But there was no sign of Peter Chatfield, nor of his daughter, nor of the +captain of the _Pike_ on that tug, nor anywhere in the sailmaker's loft +and its purlieus. And presently the detectives looked at one another and +their leader turned to Sir Cresswell. + +"If these people--as seems certain--have escaped into this quarter of the +town," he said, "there'll have to be a regular hunt for them! I've known +a man who was badly wanted stow himself away here for weeks. If Chatfield +has accomplices down here in the Warren, he can hide himself and +whoever's with him for a long time--successfully. We'll have to get a lot +of men to work." + +"But I say!" exclaimed Gilling. "You don't mean to tell me that three +people--one a woman--could get away through these courts and alleys, +packed as they are, without being seen? Come now!" + +The detectives smiled indulgently. + +"You don't know these folks," said one of them, inclining his head +towards a squalid street at the end of which they had all gathered. "But +they know _us_. It's a point of honour with them never to tell the truth +to a policeman or a detective. If they saw those three, they'd never +admit it to us--until it's made worth their while." + +"Get it made worth their while, then!" exclaimed Gilling, impatiently. + +"All in due course, sir," said the official voice. "Leave it to us." + +The amateur searchers after the iniquitous recognized the futility of +their own endeavours in that moment, and went away to discuss matters +amongst themselves, while the detectives proceeded leisurely, after their +fashion, into the Warren as if they were out for a quiet constitutional +in its salubrious byways. And Sir Cresswell Oliver remarked on the +difficulty of knowing exactly what to do once you had red-tape on one +side and unusual craftiness on the other. + +"You think there's no doubt that gold was removed this morning by +Chatfield's daughter?" he said to Copplestone as they went back to the +centre of the town together, Gilling and Vickers having turned aside +elsewhere and Spurge gone to the hospital to ask for news of his cousin. +"You think she was the woman whose footprints you saw up there at the +Beaver's Glen?" + +"Seeing that she's here in Norcaster and in touch with those two, what +else can I think?" replied Copplestone. "It seems to me that they got in +touch with her by wireless and that she removed the gold in readiness for +her father and Andrius coming in here by that North Sea tug. If we could +only find out where she's put those boxes, or where she got the car from +in which she brought it down from the tower--" + +"Vickers has already started some inquiries about cars," said Sir +Cresswell. "She must have hired a car somewhere in the town. Certainly, +if we could hear of that gold we should be in the way of getting on +their track." + +But they heard nothing of gold or of fugitives or of what the police and +detectives were doing until the middle of the afternoon. And then Mr. +Elkin, the manager of the bank from which Chatfield had withdrawn the +estate and the private balance, came hurrying to the "Angel" and to Mrs. +Greyle, his usually rubicund face pale with emotion, his hand waving a +scrap of crumpled paper. Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were at that moment in +consultation with Sir Cresswell Oliver and Copplestone--the bank manager +burst in on them without ceremony. + +"I say, I say!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Will you believe it!--the +gold's come back! It's all safe--every penny. Bless me!--I scarcely know +whether I'm dreaming or not. But--we've got it!" + +"What's all this?" demanded Sir Cresswell. "You've got--that gold?" + +"Less than an hour ago," replied the bank manager, dropping into a chair +and slapping his hand on his knees in his excitement, "a man who turned +out to be a greengrocer came with his cart to the bank and said he'd been +sent with nine boxes for delivery to us. Asked who had sent him he +replied that early this morning a lady whom he didn't know had asked him +to put the boxes in his shed until she called for them--she brought them +in a motor-car. This afternoon she called again at two o'clock, paid him +for the storage and for what he was to do, and instructed him to put the +boxes on his cart and bring them to us. Which," continued Mr. Elkin, +gleefully rubbing his hands together, "he did! With--this! And that, my +dear ladies and good gentlemen, is the most extraordinary document which, +in all my forty years' experience of banking matters, I have ever seen!" + +He laid a dirty, crumpled half-sheet of cheap note-paper on the table at +which they were all sitting, and Copplestone, bending over it, read aloud +what was there written. + +"MR. ELKIN--Please place the contents of the nine cases sent herewith to +the credit of the Greyle Estate. + +"PETER CHATFIELD, Agent." + +Amidst a chorus of exclamations Sir Cresswell asked a sharp question. + +"Is that really Chatfield's signature?" + +"Oh, undoubtedly!" replied Mr. Elkin. "Not a doubt of it. Of course, as +soon as I saw it, I closely questioned the greengrocer. But he knew +nothing. He said the lady was what he called wrapped up about her +face--veiled, of course--on both her visits, and that as soon as she'd +seen him set off with his load of boxes she disappeared. He lives, this +greengrocer, on the edge of the town--I've got his address. But I'm sure +he knows no more." + +"And the cases have been examined?" asked Copplestone. + +"Every one, my dear sir," answered the bank manager with a satisfied +smirk. "Every penny is there! Glorious!" + +"This is most extraordinary!" said Sir Cresswell. "What on earth does it +all mean? If we could only trace that woman from the greengrocer's +place--" + +But nothing came of an attempt to carry out this proposal, and no news +arrived from the police, and the evening had grown far advanced, and Mrs. +Greyle and Audrey, with Sir Cresswell, Mr. Petherton and Vickers, +Copplestone, and Gilling, were all in a private parlour together at a +late hour, when the door suddenly opened and a woman entered, who threw +back a heavy veil and revealed herself as Addie Chatfield. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + +If Copplestone had never seen Addie Chatfield before, if he had not known +that she was an actress of some acknowledged ability, her entrance into +that suddenly silent room would have convinced him that here was a woman +whom nature had undoubtedly gifted with the dramatic instinct. Addie's +presentation of herself to the small and select audience was eminently +dramatic, without being theatrical. She filled the stage. It was as if +the lights had suddenly gone down in the auditorium and up in the +proscenium, as if a hush fell, as if every ear opened wide to catch a +first accent. And Addie's first accents were soft and liquid--and +accompanied by a smile which was calculated to soften the seven hearts +which had begun to beat a little quicker at her coming. With the smile +and the soft accent came a highly successful attempt at a shy and modest +blush which mounted to her cheek as she moved towards the centre table +and bowed to the startled and inquisitive eyes. + +"I have come to ask--mercy!" + +There was a faint sigh of surprise from somebody. Sir Cresswell Oliver, +only realizing that a pretty woman, had entered the room, made haste to +place a chair for her. But before Addie could respond to his +old-fashioned bow, Mr. Petherton was on his legs. + +"Er!--I take it that this is the young wom--the Miss Chatfield of whom +we have had occasion to speak a good deal today," he said very stiffly. +"I think, Sir Cresswell--eh?" + +"Yes," said Sir Cresswell, glancing from the visitor to the old lawyer. +"You think, Petherton--yes?" + +"The situation is decidedly unpleasant," said Mr. Petherton, more icily +than ever. "Mr. Vickers will agree with me that it is most +unpleasant--and very unusual. The fact is--the police are now searching +for this--er, young lady." + +"But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraid +of the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask you +all to be merciful." + +"To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton. + +"Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with another +softening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so down +on an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There are +two of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old men +to be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?" + +Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked round +again, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a little +sheepishly at Mr. Petherton. + +"It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what Miss +Chatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own free +will--something. I should like to know what that something is. I think +Mrs. Greyle would like to know, too." + +"Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure +with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss +Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father." + +Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbed +by these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor. + +"Where is your father?" he demanded. + +"Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye that +lit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of +'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll do +no good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd come +to ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up. +The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tell +you all about it and then we can be friends?" + +Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were some +extraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, waved +them at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort. + +"I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what you +like--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!" + +Vickers gave Addie a sly look. + +"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no need +for you to tell anything against yourself, you know." + +"Me!" exclaimed Addie. "Why, I've been playing good angel all day +long--me incriminate myself, indeed! If Miss Greyle there only knew what +I'd done for her!--look here," she continued, suddenly turning to Sir +Cresswell. "I've come to tell all about it. And first of all--every penny +of that money that my father drew from the bank has been restored this +afternoon." + +"We know that," said Sir Cresswell. + +"Well, that was me!--I engineered that," continued Addie. "And +second--the _Pike_ will be back at Scarhaven during the night, to unload +everything that was being carried away. My doing, again! Because, I'm no +fool, and I know when a game's up." + +"So--there was a game?" suggested Vickers. + +Addie leaned forward from the chair which Sir Cresswell had given her at +the end of the table and planting her elbows on the table edge began to +check off her points on the tips of her slender fingers. She was well +aware that she had the stage to herself by that time and she showed her +consciousness of it. + +"You have it," she answered. "There was a game--and perhaps I know more +of it than anybody. I'll tell now. It began at Bristol. I was playing +there. One morning my father fetched me out from rehearsal to tell me +that he'd been down to Falmouth to meet the new Squire of Scarhaven, +Marston Greyle, and that he found him so ill that they'd had to go to a +doctor, who forbade Greyle to travel far at a time. They'd got to +Bristol--there, Greyle was so much worse that my father didn't know what +to do with him. He knew that I was in the town, so he came to me. I got +Greyle a quiet room at my lodgings. A doctor saw him--he said he was very +bad, but he didn't say that he was in immediate danger. However, he died +that very night." + +Addie paused for a moment, and Copplestone and Gilling exchanged glances. +So far, this was all known to them--but what was coming? + +"Now, I was alone with Greyle for awhile that evening," continued Addie. +"It was while my father was getting some food downstairs. Greyle said to +me that he knew he was dying, and he gave me a pocket-book in which he +said all his papers were: he said I could give it to my father. I believe +he became unconscious soon after that; anyway, he never mentioned that +pocket-book to my father. Neither did I. But after Greyle was dead I +examined its contents carefully. And when I was in London at the end of +the week, I showed them to--my husband." + +Addie again paused, and at least two of the men glanced at each other +with a look of surmise. Her--husband! "Who the--" + +"The fact is," she went on suddenly, "Captain Andrius is my husband. But +nobody knew that--not even my own father. We've been married three +years--I met him when I was crossing over to America once. We got +married--we kept the marriage secret for reasons of our own. Well, he met +me in London the Sunday after Greyle's death, and I showed him the +papers which were in Greyle's pocket-book. And--now this, of course, was +where it was very wicked in me--and him--though we've tried to make up +for it today, anyhow--we fixed up what I suppose you two gentlemen would +call a conspiracy. My husband had a brother, an actor--not up to much, +nor of much experience--who had been brought up in the States and who was +then in town, doing nothing. We took him into confidence, coached him up +in everything, furnished him with all the papers in the pocket-book, and +resolved to pass him off as the real Marston Greyle." + +Mr. Petherton stirred angrily in his chair and turned a protesting face +on Sir Cresswell. + +"Apart from being irregular," he exclaimed, "this is altogether +outrageous! This woman is openly boasting of conspiracy and--" + +"You're wrong!" said Addie. "I'm not boasting--I'm explaining. You ought +to be obliged to me. And--" + +"If Mrs. Andrius--to give the lady her real name--cares to unburden her +secrets to us, I really don't see why we shouldn't listen to them, Mr. +Petherton," observed Vickers. "It simplifies matters greatly." + +"That's what I say," agreed Addie. "I'm done with all this and I want to +clear things up, whatever comes of it. Well--I say we fixed that up with +my brother-in-law." + +"His name--his real name, if you please," inquired Vickers. + +"Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another name +for the stage," replied Addie. "We gave him the papers and arranged for +him to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all, +right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was an +imposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't know +for a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after the +real Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, he +produced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'd +buried. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be a +secretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had left +him in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to pass +himself off as the real man until he could get something substantial out +of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted +that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the +estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his +stewardship quick." + +"Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details +about which I am anxious to hear." + +"Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that. +Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth +certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody +accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till +that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And +now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about +your brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows it +better than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speak +privately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keep +during the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking many +minutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, which +one of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. And +we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met +Martin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knew +that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--we +both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave +each other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliver +went on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret tower +and went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there's +an end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak or +think, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round the +inside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!" + +Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes and +she kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readily +enough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almost +in her ear. + +"Is that the truth--the real truth?" + +"It's the absolute truth!" she answered, regarding him steadily. "I'm +not altogether a good sort, nor a very bad sort, but I'm telling you the +real truth in that. It was a sheer accident--he stepped off the parapet +and fell. Martin went into the base of the tower and came back saying he +was dead. We were both dazed--we separated. He went off to the house--I +went to my father by a roundabout way. We decided to let things take +their course. You all know a great deal of what happened. But--later--my +husband and Martin began to take certain things into their own hands. +They put me on one side. To this minute, I don't quite know how much my +father got into their secrets or how little, but I do know that they +determined to make what you might call a purse for themselves out of +Scarhaven. Martin left certain powers in his brother's hands and went +off to London. He was there, hidden, until Andrius got all ready for a +flight on the _Pike_. Then he set off to Scarhaven, to join her. But he +didn't join her, and none of us knew what had become of him until today, +when we heard of what had been found at Scarhaven. That explained it--he +had taken that short cut from the Northborough road through the woods +behind the Keep, and fallen over the cliff at the Hermit's steps. But +that very night, you, Mr. Vickers, and Mr. Copplestone and Miss Greyle, +nearly stopped everything, and if Andrius and Chatfield hadn't carried +you off, the scheme would have come to nothing. Well--you know what +happened after that--" + +"But," interjected Vickers, quickly, "not your share in the last +development." + +"My share's been to see that the thing was up, and that if I wanted to +save them all, I'd best put a stop to it," rejoined Addie, with a grim +smile. "I tell you, I didn't know what they'd been up to until today. I +was in England--never mind where--wondering what was going on. Yesterday +I got a code message from my husband. When he fetched my father away from +you, he forced him to tell where that gold was--then he wired to me--by +wireless--full instructions to recover it during last night. I did--never +you mind the exact means I took nor who it was that I got to help--I got +it--and I took good care to put it where I knew it would be safe. Then +this morning I went to meet the two of them at Scarvell's Cut. And I took +the upper hand then! I got them away from that sail-loft--safely. I made +my husband give me a code message for the man in charge of the _Pike_, +telling him to return at once to Scarhaven; I made my father write a note +to Elkin at the bank, telling him to place the gold which I sent with it +to the credit of the Greyle Estate. And when all that was done--I got +them away--they're gone!" + +Vickers, who had never taken his eyes off Addie during her lengthy +explanation, gave her a whimsical smile. + +"Safely?" he asked. + +"I'll defy the police to find 'em, anyway," replied Addie with a quick +response of lip and eye. "I don't do things by halves. I say--they're +gone! But--I'm here. Come, now--I've made a clean breast of it all. The +thing's over and done with. There's nothing to prevent Miss Greyle there +coming into her rights--I can prove 'em--my father can prove them. So--is +it any use doing what that old gentleman's just worrying to do? You can +all see what he wants--he's dying to hand me over to the police." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver rose, glanced at Audrey and her mother, received +some telepathic communication from them, and assumed his old +quarter-deck manner. + +"Not tonight, I think, Petherton," he said authoritatively. +"No--certainly not tonight!" + + * * * * * + +Some months later, when Audrey Greyle had come into possession of +Scarhaven, and had married Copplestone in the little church behind her +mother's cottage, she and her husband, to satisfy a mutual and +long-cherished desire, visited a certain romantic and retired part of the +country. And in the course of their wanderings they came across a very +pretty village, and in it a charmingly situated retreat, which looked so +attractive from the road along which they were walking that they halted +and peered at it through its trimly-kept boundary hedge. And there, +seated in the easiest of chairs on the smoothest of lawns, roses about +him, a cigar in his mouth, the newspaper in his hand, a glass at his +elbow, they saw Peter Chatfield. They looked at him for a long moment; +then they looked at each other and smiled delightedly, as children might +smile at a pleasure-giving picture, and they passed on in silence. But +when that village lay behind them, Copplestone gave his wife a sly +glance, and permitted himself to make an epigram. + +"Chatfield!" he said musingly. "Chatfield! sublimely ungrateful that he +isn't in Dartmoor." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarhaven Keep, by J. S. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Scarhaven Keep + +Author: J. S. Fletcher + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9807] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 19, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCARHAVEN KEEP *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + SCARHAVEN KEEP + + BY J.S. FLETCHER + + 1922 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + + I WANTED AT REHEARSAL + II GREY ROOK AND GREY SEA + III THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + IV THE ESTATE AGENT + V THE GREYLE HISTORY + VI THE LEADING LADY + VII LEFT ON GUARD + VIII RIGHT OF WAY + IX HOBKIN'S HOLE + X THE INVALID CURATE + XI BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + XII GOOD MEN AND TRUE + XIII MR. DENNIE + XIV BY PRIVATE TREATY + XV THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + XVI IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + XVII THE OLD PLAYBILL + XVIII THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + XIX THE STEAM YACHT + XX THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + XXI MAROONED + XXII THE OLD HAND + XXIII THE YACHT COMES BACK + XXIV THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + XXV THE SQUIRE + XXVI THE REAVER'S GLEN + XXVII THE PEEL TOWER +XXVIII THE FOOTPRINTS + XXIX SCARVELL'S CUT + XXX THE GREENGROCER'S CART + XXXI AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WANTED AT REHEARSAL + + +Jerramy, thirty years' stage-door keeper at the Theatre Royal, Norcaster, +had come to regard each successive Monday morning as a time for the +renewal of old acquaintance. For at any rate forty-six weeks of the +fifty-two, theatrical companies came and went at Norcaster with unfailing +regularity. The company which presented itself for patronage in the first +week of April in one year was almost certain to present itself again in +the corresponding week of the next year. Sometimes new faces came with +it, but as a rule the same old favourites showed themselves for a good +many years in succession. And every actor and actress who came to +Norcaster knew Jerramy. He was the first official person encountered on +entering upon the business of the week. He it was who handed out the +little bundles of letters and papers, who exchanged the first greetings, +of whom one could make useful inquiries, who always knew exactly what +advice to give about lodgings and landladies. From noon onwards of +Mondays, when the newcomers began to arrive at the theatre for the +customary one o'clock call for rehearsal, Jerramy was invariably employed +in hearing that he didn't look a day older, and was as blooming as ever, +and sure to last another thirty years, and his reception always +culminated in a hearty handshake and genial greeting from the great man +of the company, who, of course, after the fashion of magnates, always +turned up at the end of the irregular procession, and was not seldom late +for the fixture which he himself had made. + +At a quarter past one of a certain Monday afternoon in the course of a +sunny October, Jerramy leaned over the half-door of his sanctum in +conversation with an anxious-eyed man who for the past ten minutes had +hung about in the restless fashion peculiar to those who are waiting for +somebody. He had looked up the street and down the street a dozen times; +he had pulled out his watch and compared it with the clock of a +neighbouring church almost as often; he had several times gone up the +dark passage which led to the dressing-rooms, and had come back again +looking more perplexed than ever. The fact was that he was the business +manager of the great Mr. Bassett Oliver, who was opening for the week at +Norcaster in his latest success, and who, not quite satisfied with the +way in which a particular bit of it was being played called a special +rehearsal for a quarter to one. Everything and everybody was ready for +that rehearsal, but the great man himself had not arrived. Now Mr. +Bassett Oliver, as every man well knew who ever had dealings with him, +was not one of the irregular and unpunctual order; on the contrary, he +was a very martinet as regarded rule, precision and system; moreover, he +always did what he expected each member of his company to do. Therefore +his non-arrival, his half hour of irregularity, seemed all the more +extraordinary. + +"Never knew him to be late before--never!" exclaimed the business +manager, impatiently pulling out his watch for the twentieth time. "Not +in all my ten years' experience of him--not once." + +"I suppose you've seen him this morning, Mr. Stafford?" inquired Jerramy. +"He's in the town, of course?" + +"I suppose he's in the town," answered Mr. Stafford. "I suppose he's at +his old quarters--the 'Angel.' But I haven't seen him; neither had +Rothwell--we've both been too busy to call there. I expect he came on to +the 'Angel' from Northborough yesterday." + +Jerramy opened the half-door, and going out to the end of the passage, +looked up and down the street. + +"There's a taxi-cab coming round the corner now," he announced presently. +"Coming quick, too--I should think he's in it." + +The business manager bustled out to the pavement as the cab came to a +halt. But instead of the fine face and distinguished presence of Mr. +Bassett Oliver, he found himself confronting a young man who looked like +a well-set-up subaltern, or a cricket-and-football loving undergraduate; +a somewhat shy, rather nervous young man, scrupulously groomed, and +neatly attired in tweeds, who, at sight of the two men on the pavement, +immediately produced a card-case. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver?" he said inquiringly. "Is he here? I--I've got an +appointment with him for one o'clock, and I'm sorry I'm late--my train--" + +"Mr. Oliver is not here yet," broke in Stafford. "He's late, +too--unaccountably late, for him. An appointment, you say?" + +He was looking the stranger over as he spoke, taking him for some +stage-struck youth who had probably persuaded the good-natured actor to +give him an interview. His expression changed, however; as he glanced at +the card which the young man handed over, and he started a little and +held out his hand with a smile. + +"Oh!--Mr. Copplestone?" he exclaimed. "How do you do? My name's +Stafford--I'm Mr. Oliver's business manager. So he made an +appointment with you, did he--here, today? Wants to see you about +your play, of course." + +Again he looked at the newcomer with a smiling interest, thinking +secretly that he was a very youthful and ingenuous being to have written +a play which Bassett Oliver, a shrewd critic, and by no means easy to +please, had been eager to accept, and was about to produce. Mr. Richard +Copplestone, seen in the flesh, looked very young indeed, and very +unlike anything in the shape of a professional author. In fact he very +much reminded Stafford of the fine and healthy young man whom one sees +on the playing fields, and certainly does not associate with pen and +ink. That he was not much used to the world on whose edge he just then +stood Stafford gathered from a boyish trick of blushing through the tan +of his cheeks. + +"I got a wire from Mr. Oliver yesterday--Sunday," replied Mr. +Copplestone. "I ought to have had it in the morning, I suppose, but I'd +gone out for the day, you know--gone out early. So I didn't find it until +I got back to my rooms late at night. I got the next train I could from +King's Cross, and it was late getting in here." + +"Then you've practically been travelling all night?" remarked Stafford. +"Well, Mr. Oliver hasn't turned up--most unusual for him. I don't know +where--" Just then another man came hurrying down the passage from the +dressing-rooms, calling the business manager by name. + +"I say, Stafford!" he exclaimed, as he emerged on the street. "This is a +queer thing!--I'm sure there's something wrong. I've just rung up the +'Angel' hotel. Oliver hasn't turned up there! His rooms were all ready +for him as usual yesterday, but he never came. They've neither seen nor +heard of him. Did you see him yesterday?" + +"No!" replied Stafford. "I didn't. Never seen him since last thing +Saturday night at Northborough. He ordered this rehearsal for one--no, a +quarter to one, here, today. But somebody must have seen him yesterday. +Where's his dresser--where's Hackett?" + +"Hackett's inside," said the other man. "He hasn't seen him either, since +Saturday night. Hackett has friends living in these parts--he went off to +see them early yesterday morning, from Northborough, and he's only just +come. So he hasn't seen Oliver, and doesn't know anything about him; he +expected, of course, to find him here." + +Stafford turned with a wave of the hand towards Copplestone. + +"So did this gentleman," he said. "Mr. Copplestone, this is our +stage-manager, Mr. Rothwell. Rothwell, this is Mr. Richard Copplestone, +author of the new play that Mr. Oliver's going to produce next month. Mr. +Copplestone got a wire from him yesterday, asking him to come here today +at one o'clock, He's travelled all night to get here." + +"Where was the wire sent from?" asked Rothwell, a sharp-eyed, +keen-looking man, who, like Stafford, was obviously interested in the new +author's boyish appearance. "And when?" + +Copplestone drew some letters and papers from his pocket and selected +one. "That's it," he said. "There you are--sent off from Northborough at +nine-thirty, yesterday morning--Sunday." + +"Well, then he was at Northborough at that time," remarked Rothwell. +"Look here, Stafford, we'd better telephone to Northborough, to his +hotel. The 'Golden Apple,' wasn't it?" + +"No good," replied Stafford, shaking his head. "The 'Golden Apple' isn't +on the 'phone--old-fashioned place. We'd better wire." + +"Too slow," said Rothwell. "We'll telephone to the theatre there, and ask +them to step across and make inquiries. Come on!--let's do it at once." + +He hurried inside again, and Stafford turned to Copplestone. + +"Better send your cab away and come inside until we get some news," he +said. "Let Jerramy take your things into his sanctum--he'll keep an eye +on them till you want them--I suppose you'll stop at the 'Angel' with +Oliver. Look here!" he went on, turning to the cab driver, "just you wait +a bit--I might want you; wait ten minutes, anyway. Come in, Mr. +Copplestone." + +Copplestone followed the business manager up the passage to a +dressing-room, in which a little elderly man was engaged in unpacking +trunks and dress-baskets. He looked up expectantly at the sound of +footsteps; then looked down again at the work in hand and went silently +on with it. + +"This is Hackett, Mr. Oliver's dresser," said Stafford. "Been with +him--how long, Hackett?" + +"Twenty years next January, Mr. Stafford," answered the dresser quietly. + +"Ever known Mr. Oliver late like this?" inquired Stafford. + +"Never, sir! There's something wrong," replied Hackett. "I'm sure of it. +I feel it! You ought to go and look for him, some of you gentlemen." + +"Where?" asked Stafford. "We don't know anything about him. He's not come +to the 'Angel,' as he ought to have done, yesterday. I believe you're the +last person who saw him, Hackett. Aren't you, now?" + +"I saw him at the 'Golden Apple' at Northborough at twelve o'clock +Saturday night, sir," answered Hackett. "I took a bag of his to his rooms +there. He was all right then. He knew I was going off first thing next +morning to see an uncle of mine who's a farmer on the coast between here +and Northborough, and he told me he shouldn't want me until one o'clock +today. So of course, I came straight here to the theatre--I didn't call +in at the 'Angel' at all this morning." + +"Did he say anything about his own movements yesterday?" asked Stafford. +"Did he tell you that he was going anywhere?" + +"Not a word, Mr. Stafford," replied Hackett. "But you know his habits as +well as I do." + +"Just so," agreed Stafford. "Mr. Oliver," he continued, turning to +Copplestone, "is a great lover of outdoor life. On Sundays, when we're +travelling from one town to another, he likes to do the journey by +motor--alone. In a case like this, where the two towns are not very far +apart, it's his practice to find out if there's any particular beauty +spot or place of interest between them, and to spend his Sunday there. I +daresay that's what he did yesterday. You see, all last week we were at +Northborough. That, like Norcaster, is a coast town--there's fifty miles +between them. If he followed out his usual plan he'd probably hire a +motor-car and follow the coast-road, and if he came to any place that was +of special interest, he'd stop there. But--in the usual way of +things--he'd have turned up at his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel here last +night. He didn't--and he hasn't turned up here, either. So where is he?" + +"Have you made inquiries of the company, Mr. Stafford?" asked Hackett. +"Most of 'em wander about a bit of a Sunday--they might have seen him." + +"Good idea!" agreed Stafford. He beckoned Copplestone to follow him on +to the stage, where the members of the company sat or stood about in +groups, each conscious that something unusual had occurred. "It's really +a queer, and perhaps a serious thing," he whispered as he steered his +companion through a maze of scenery. "And if Oliver doesn't turn up, we +shall be in a fine mess. Of course, there's an understudy for his part, +but--I say!" he went on, as they stepped upon the stage, "Have any of you +seen Mr. Oliver, anywhere, since Saturday night? Can anybody tell +anything about him--anything at all? Because--it's useless to deny the +fact--he's not come here, and he's not come to town at all, so far as we +know. So--" + +Rothwell came hurrying on to the stage from the opposite wings. He +hastened across to Stafford and drew him and Copplestone a little aside. + +"I've heard from Northborough," he Said. "I 'phoned Waters, the manager +there, to run across to the 'Golden Apple' and make inquiries. The +'Golden Apple' people say that Oliver left there at eleven o'clock +yesterday morning. He was alone. He simply walked out of the hotel. And +they know nothing more." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GREY ROCK AND GREY SEA + + +The three men stood for a while silently looking at each other. +Copplestone, as a stranger, secretly wondered why the two managers seemed +so concerned; to him a delay of half an hour in keeping an appointment +did not appear to be quite as serious as they evidently considered it. +But he had never met Bassett Oliver, and knew nothing of his ways; he +only began to comprehend matters when Rothwell turned to Stafford with an +air of decision. + +"Look here!" he said. "You'd better go and make inquiry at Northborough. +See if you can track him. Something must be wrong--perhaps seriously +wrong. You don't quite understand, do you, Mr. Copplestone?" he went on, +giving the younger man a sharp glance. "You see, we know Mr. Oliver so +well--we've both been with him a good many years. He's a model of system, +regularity, punctuality, and all the rest of it. In the ordinary course +of events, wherever he spent yesterday, he'd have been sure to turn up at +his rooms at the 'Angel' hotel last night, and he'd have walked in here +this morning at half-past twelve. As he hasn't done either, why, then, +something unusual has happened. Stafford, you'd better get a move on." + +"Wait a minute," said Stafford. He turned again to the groups behind him, +repeating his question. + +"Has anybody anything to tell?" he asked anxiously. "We've just heard +that Mr. Oliver left his hotel at Northborough yesterday morning at +eleven o'clock, alone, walking. Has anybody any idea of any project, any +excursion, that he had in mind?" + +An elderly man who had been in conversation with the leading lady +stepped forward. + +"I was talking to Oliver about the coast scenery between here and +Northborough the other day--Friday," he remarked. "He'd never seen it--I +told him I used to know it pretty well once. He said he'd try and see +something of it on Sunday--yesterday, you know. And, I say--" here he +came closer to the two managers and lowered his voice--"that coast is +very wild, lonely, and a good bit dangerous--sharp and precipitous +cliffs. Eh?" + +Rothwell clapped a hand on Stafford's arm. + +"You'd really better be off to Northborough," he said with decision. +"You're sure to come across traces of him. Go to the 'Golden +Apple'--then the station. Wire or telephone me--here. Of course, this +rehearsal's off. About this evening--oh, well, a lot may happen before +then. But go at once--I believe you can get expresses from here to +North-borough pretty often." + +"I'll go with you--if I may," said Copplestone suddenly. "I might be of +use. There's that cab still at the door, you know--shall we run up to +the station?" + +"Good!" assented Stafford. "Yes, come by all means." He turned to +Rothwell for a moment. "If he should turn up here, 'phone to Waters at +the Northborough theatre, won't you?" he said. "We'll look in there as +soon as we arrive." + +He hurried out with Copplestone and together they drove up to the +station, where an express was just leaving for the south. Once on their +way to Northborough, Stafford turned to his companion with a grave shake +of the head. + +"I daresay you don't quite see the reason of our anxiety," he observed. +"You see, we know Oliver. He's a trick of wandering about by himself on +Sundays--when he gets the chance. Of course when there's a long journey +between two towns, he doesn't get the chance, and then he's all right. +But when, as in this case, the town of one week is fairly close to the +town of the next, he invariably spots some place of interest, an old +castle, or a ruined abbey, or some famous house, and goes looking round +it. And if he's been exploring some spot on this coast yesterday, and +it's as that chap Rutherford said, wild and dangerous, why, then--" + +"You think he may have had an accident--fallen over the cliffs or +something?" suggested Copplestone. + +"I don't like to think anything," replied Stafford. "But I shall be a +good deal relieved if we can get some definite news about him." + +The first half-hour at Northborough yielded nothing definite. A telephone +message from Rothwell had just come to the theatre when they drove up to +it--nothing had so far been heard of the missing man at Norcaster--either +at theatre or hotel. Stafford and Copplestone hurried across to the +"Golden Apple" and interviewed its proprietor; he, keenly interested in +the affair, could tell no more than that Mr. Bassett Oliver, having sent +his luggage forward to Norcaster, had left the house on foot at eleven +o'clock the previous morning, and had been seen to walk across the +market-place in the direction of the railway station. But an old +head-waiter, who had served the famous actor's breakfast, was able to +give some information; Mr. Oliver, he said, had talked a little to him +about the coast scenery between Northborough and Norcaster, and had asked +him which stretch of it was worth seeing. It was his impression that Mr. +Oliver meant to break his journey somewhere along the coast. + +"Of course, that's it," said Stafford, as he and Copplestone drove off +again. "He's gone to some place between the two towns. But where? Anyhow, +nobody's likely to forget Oliver if they've once seen him, and wherever +he went, he'd have to take a ticket. Therefore--the booking-office." + +Here at last, was light. One of the clerks in the booking-office came +forward at once with news. Mr. Bassett Oliver, whom he knew well enough, +having seen him on and off the stage regularly for the past five years, +had come there the previous morning, and had taken a first-class single +ticket for Scarhaven. He would travel to Scarhaven by the 11.35 train, +which arrived at Scarhaven at 12.10. Where was Scarhaven? On the coast, +twenty miles off, on the way to Norcaster; you changed for it at Tilmouth +Junction. Was there a train leaving soon for Scarhaven? There was--in +five minutes. + +Stafford and Copplestone presently found themselves travelling back along +the main line. A run of twenty minutes brought them to the junction, +where, at an adjacent siding they found a sort of train in miniature +which ran over a narrow-gauge railway towards the sea. Its course lay +through a romantic valley hidden between high heather-clad moorland; they +saw nothing of their destination nor of the coast until, coming to a stop +in a little station perched high on the side of a hill they emerged to +see shore and sea lying far beneath them. With a mutual consent they +passed outside the grey walls of the station-yard to take a comprehensive +view of the scene. + +"Just the place to attract Oliver!" muttered Stafford, as he gazed around +him. "He'd revel in it--fairly revel!" + +Copplestone gazed at the scene in silence. That was the first time he had +ever seen the Northern coast, and the strange glamour and romance of this +stretch of it appealed strongly to his artistic senses. He found himself +standing high above the landward extremity of a narrow bay or creek, much +resembling a Norwegian fiord in its general outlines; it ran in from the +sea between high shelving cliffs, the slopes of which were thickly wooded +with the hardier varieties of tree and shrub, through which at intervals +great, gaunt masses of grey rock cropped out. On the edge of the water at +either side of the bay were lines of ancient houses and cottages of grey +walls and red roofs, built and grouped with the irregularity of +individual liking; on the north side rose the square tower and low nave +of a venerable church; amidst a mass of wood on the opposite side stood a +great Norman keep, half ruinous, which looked down on a picturesque house +at its foot. Quays, primitive and quaint, ran along between the old +cottages and the water's edge; in the bay itself or nestling against the +worn timbers of the quays, were small craft whose red sails hung idly +against their tall masts and spars. And at the end of the quays and the +wooded promontories which terminated the land view, lay the North Sea, +cold, grey, and mysterious in the waning October light, and out of its +bosom rose, close to the shore, great masses of high grey rocks, strong +and fantastic of shape, and further away, almost indistinct in the +distance, an island, on the highest point of which the ruins of some old +religious house were silhouetted against the horizon. + +"Just the place!" repeated Stafford. "He'd have cheerfully travelled a +thousand miles to see this. And now--we know he came here--what we next +want to know is, what he did when he got here?" + +Copplestone, who had been taking in every detail of the scene before him, +pointed to a house of many gables and queer chimneys which stood a little +way beneath them at the point where the waters of a narrow stream ran +into the bay. + +"That looks like an inn," he said. "I think I can make out a sign on the +gable-end. Let's go down there and inquire. He would get here just about +time for lunch, wouldn't he, and he'd probably turn in there. Also--they +may have a telephone there, and you can call up the theatre at Norcaster +and find out if anything's been heard yet." + +Stafford smiled approvingly and started out in the direction of the +buildings towards which Copplestone had pointed. + +"Excellent notion!" he said. "You're quite a business man--an unusual +thing in authors, isn't it? Come on, then--and that is an inn, too--I can +make out the sign now--The 'Admiral's Arms'--Mary Wooler. Let's hope Mary +Wooler, who's presumably the landlady, can give us some useful news!" + +The "Admiral's Arms" proved to be an old-fashioned, capacious hostelry, +eminently promising and comfortable in appearance, which stood on the +edge of a broad shelf of headland, and commanded a fine view of the +little village and the bay. Stafford and Copplestone, turning in at the +front door, found themselves in a deep, stone-paved hall, on one side of +which, behind a bar window, a pleasant-faced, buxom woman, silk-aproned +and smartly-capped, was busily engaged in adding up columns of figures in +a big account-book. At sight of strangers she threw open a door and +smilingly invited them to walk into a snugly furnished bar-parlour where +a bright fire burned in an open hearth. Stafford gave his companion a +look--this again was just the sort of old-world place which would appeal +to Basset Oliver, supposing he had come across it. + +"I wonder if you can give me some information?" he asked presently, when +the good-looking landlady had attended to their requests for refreshment. +"I suppose you are the landlady--Mrs. Wooler? Well, now, Mrs. Wooler, did +you have a tall, handsome, slightly grey-haired gentleman in here to +lunch yesterday--say about one o'clock?" + +The landlady turned on her questioner with an intelligent smile. + +"You mean Mr. Oliver, the actor?" she said. + +"Good!" exclaimed Stafford, with a hearty sigh of relief. "I do! You know +him, then?" + +"I've often seen him, both at Northborough and at Norcaster," replied +Mrs. Wooler. "But I never saw him here before yesterday. Oh, yes! of +course I knew him as soon as he walked in, and I had a bit of chat with +him before he went out, and he remarked that though he'd been coming into +these parts for some years, he'd never been to Scarhaven before--usually, +he said, he'd gone inland of a Sunday, amongst the hills. Oh, yes, he was +here--he had lunch here." + +"We're seeking him," said Stafford, going directly to the question. "He +ought to have turned up at the 'Angel Hotel' at Norcaster last night, +and at the theatre today at noon--he did neither. I'm his business +manager, Mrs. Wooler. Now can you tell us anything--more than you've +already told, I mean?" + +The landlady, whose face expressed more and more concern as Stafford +spoke, shook her head. + +"I can't!" she answered. "I don't know any more. He was here perhaps an +hour or so. Then he went away, saying he was going to have a look round +the place. I expected he'd come in again on his way to the station, but +he never did. Dear, dear! I hope nothing's happened to him--such a fine, +pleasant man. And--" + +"And--what?" asked Stafford. + +"These cliffs and rocks are so dangerous," murmured Mrs. Wooler. "I +often say that no stranger ought to go alone here. They aren't safe, +these cliffs." + +Stafford set down his glass and rose. + +"I think you've got a telephone in your hall," he said. "I'll just call +up Norcaster and find out if they've heard anything. If they haven't--" + +He shook his head and went out, and Copplestone glanced at the landlady. + +"You say the cliffs are dangerous," he said. "Are they particularly so?" + +"To people who don't know them, yes," she replied. "They ought to be +protected, but then, of course, we don't get many tourists here, and the +Scarhaven people know the danger spots well enough. Then again at the end +of the south promontory there, beyond the Keep--" + +"Is the Keep that high square tower amongst the woods?" asked +Copplestone. + +"That's it--it's all that's left of the old castle," answered Mrs. +Wooler. "Well, off the point beneath that, there's a group of +rocks--you'd perhaps noticed them as you came down from the station? +They've various names--there's the King, the Queen, the Sugar-Loaf, and +so on. At low tide you can walk across to them. And of course, some +people like to climb them. Now, they're particularly dangerous! On the +Queen rock there's a great hole called the Devil's Spout, up which the +sea rushes. Everybody wants to look over it, you know, and if a man was +there alone, and his foot slipped, and he fell, why--" + +Stafford came back, looking more cast down than ever. + +"They've heard nothing there," he announced. "Come on--we'll go down and +see if we can hear anything from any of the people. We'll call in and see +you later, Mrs. Wooler, and if you can make any inquiries in the +meantime, do. Look here," he went on, when he and Copplestone had got +outside, "you take this south side of the bay, and I'll take the north. +Ask anybody you see--any likely person--fishermen and so on. Then come +back here. And if we've heard nothing--" + +He shook his head significantly, as he turned away, and Copplestone, +taking the other direction, felt that the manager's despondency was +influencing himself. A sudden disappearance of this sort was surely not +to be explained easily--nothing but exceptional happenings could have +kept Bassett Oliver from the scene of his week's labours. There must have +been an accident--it needed little imagination to conjure up its easy +occurrence. A too careless step, a too near approach, a loose stone, a +sudden giving way of crumbling soil, the shifting of an already detached +rock--any of these things might happen, and then--but the thought of what +might follow cast a greyer tint over the already cold and grey sea. + +He went on amongst the old cottages and fishing huts which lay at the +foot of the wooded heights on the tops of whose pines and firs the gaunt +ruins of the old Keep seemed to stand sentinel. He made inquiry at open +doors and of little groups of men gathered on the quay and by the +drawn-up boats--nobody knew anything. According to what they told him, +most of these people had been out and about all the previous afternoon; +it had been a particularly fine day, that Sunday, and they had all been +out of doors, on the quay and the shore, in the sunshine. But nobody had +any recollection of the man described, and Copplestone came to the +conclusion that Oliver had not chosen that side of the bay. There was, +however, one objection to that theory--so far as he could judge, that +side was certainly the more attractive. And he himself went on to the end +of it--on until he had left quay and village far behind, and had come to +a spit of sand which ran out into the sea exactly opposite the group of +rocks of which Mrs. Wooler had spoken. There they lay, rising out of the +surf like great monsters, a half-mile from where he stood. The tide was +out at that time, and between him and them stretched a shining expanse of +glittering wet sand. And, coming straight towards him across it, +Copplestone saw the slim and graceful figure of a girl. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAN WHO KNEW SOMETHING + + +It was not from any idle curiosity that Copplestone made up his mind to +await the girl's nearer approach. There was no other human being in view, +and he was anxious to get some information about the rocks whose grim +outlines were rapidly becoming faint and indistinct in the gathering +darkness. And so as the girl came towards him, picking her way across the +pools which lay amidst the brown ribs of sand, he went forward, throwing +away all formality and reserve in his eagerness. + +"Forgive me for speaking so unceremoniously," he said as they met. "I'm +looking for a friend who has disappeared--mysteriously. Can you tell me +if, any time yesterday, afternoon or evening, you saw anywhere about here +a tall, distinguished-looking man--the actor type. In fact, he is an +actor--perhaps you've heard of him? Mr. Bassett Oliver." + +He was looking narrowly at the girl as he spoke, and she, too, looked +narrowly at him out of a pair of grey eyes of more than ordinary +intelligence and perception. And at the famous actor's name she started a +little and a faint colour stole over her cheeks. + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver!" she exclaimed in a clear, cultured voice. "My +mother and I saw Mr. Oliver at the Northborough Theatre on Friday +evening. Do you mean that he--" + +"I mean--to put it bluntly--that Bassett Oliver is lost," answered +Copplestone. "He came to this place yesterday, Sunday, morning, to look +round; he lunched at the 'Admiral's Arms,' he went out, after a chat with +the landlady, and he's never been seen since. He should have turned up at +the 'Angel' at Norcaster last night, and at a rehearsal at the Theatre +Royal there today at noon--but he didn't. His manager and I have tracked +him here--and so far I can't hear of him. I've asked people all through +the village--this side, anyway--nobody knows anything." + +He and the girl still looked attentively at each other; Copplestone, +indeed, was quietly inspecting her while he talked. He judged her to be +twenty-one or two; she was a little above medium height, slim, graceful, +pretty, and he was quick to notice that her entire air and appearance +suggested their present surroundings. Her fair hair escaped from a +knitted cap such as fisher-folk wear; her slender figure was shown to +advantage by a rough blue jersey; her skirt of blue serge was short and +practical; she was shod in brogues which showed more acquaintance with +sand and salt water than with polish. And her face was tanned with the +strong northern winds, and the ungloved hands, small and shapely as they +were, were brown as the beach across which she had come. + +"I have not seen--nor heard--of Mr. Bassett Oliver--here," she answered. +"I was out and about all yesterday afternoon and evening, too--not on +this side of the bay, though. Have you been to the police-station?" + +"The manager may have been there," replied Copplestone. "He's gone along +the other shore. But--I don't think he'll get any help there. I'm afraid +Mr. Oliver must have met with an accident. I wanted to ask you a +question--I saw you coming from the direction of those rocks just now. +Could he have got out there across those sands, yesterday afternoon?" + +"Between three o'clock and evening--yes," said the girl. + +"And--is it dangerous out there?" + +"Very dangerous indeed--to any one who doesn't know them." + +"There's something there called the Devil's Spout?" + +"Yes--a deep fissure up which the sea boils. Oh! it seems dreadful to +think of--I hope he didn't fall in there. If he did--" + +"Well?" asked Copplestone bluntly, "what if he did?" + +"Nothing ever came out that once went in," she answered. "It's a sort of +whirlpool that's sucked right away into the sea. The people hereabouts +say it's bottomless." + +Copplestone turned his face towards the village. + +"Oh, well," he said, with an accent of hopelessness. "I can't do any more +down here, it's growing dusk. I must go back and meet the manager." + +The girl walked along at his side as he turned towards the village. + +"I suppose you are one of Mr. Oliver's company?" she observed presently. +"You must all be much concerned." + +"They're all greatly concerned," answered Copplestone. "But I don't +belong to the company. No--I came to Norcaster this morning to meet Mr. +Oliver--he's going--I hope I oughtn't to say was going!--to produce a +play of mine next month, and he wanted to talk about the rehearsals. +Everything, of course, was at a standstill when I reached Norcaster at +one o 'clock, so I came with Stafford, the business manager, to see +what we could do about tracking Mr. Oliver. And I'm afraid, I'm very +much afraid--" + +He paused, as a gate, set in the thick hedge of a garden at this point of +the village, suddenly opened to let out a man, who at sight of the girl +stopped, hesitated, and then waited for her approach. He was a tall, +well-built man of apparently thirty years, dressed in a rough tweed +knickerbocker suit, but the dusk had now so much increased that +Copplestone could only gather an impression of ordinary good-lookingness +from the face that was turned inquiringly on his companion. The girl +turned to him and spoke hurriedly. + +"This is my cousin, Mr. Greyle, of Scarhaven Keep," she murmured. "He may +be able to help. Marston!" she went on, raising her voice, "can you give +any help here? This gentleman--" she paused, looking at Copplestone. + +"My name is Richard Copplestone," he said. + +"Mr. Copplestone is looking for Mr. Bassett Oliver, the famous actor," +she continued, as the three met. "Mr. Oliver has mysteriously +disappeared. Mr. Copplestone has traced him here, to Scarhaven--he was +here yesterday, lunching at the inn--but he can't get any further news. +Did you see anything, or hear anything of him?" + +Marston Greyle, who had been inspecting the stranger narrowly in the +fading light, shook his head. + +"Bassett Oliver, the actor," he said. "Oh, yes, I saw his name on the +bills in Norcaster the other day. Came here, and has disappeared, you +say? Under what circumstances?" + +Copplestone had listened carefully to the newcomer's voice; more +particularly to his accent. He had already gathered sufficient knowledge +of Scarhaven to know that this man was the Squire, the master of the old +house and grey ruin in the wood above the cliff; he also happened to +know, being something of an archaeologist and well acquainted with family +histories, that there had been Greyles of Scarhaven for many hundred +years. And he wondered how it was that though this Greyle's voice was +pleasant and cultured enough, its accent was decidedly American. + +"Perhaps I'd better explain," said Copplestone. "I've already told most +of it to this lady, but you will both understand more fully if I tell you +more. It's this way--" and he went on to tell everything that had +happened and come to light since one o'clock that day. "So you see, it's +here," he concluded; "we're absolutely certain that Oliver went out of +the 'Admiral's Arms' up there about half-past two yesterday, but--where? +From that moment, no one seems to have seen him. Yet how he could come +along this village street, this quay, without being seen--" + +"He need not have come along the quayside," interrupted the girl. "There +is a cliff path just below the inn which leads up to the Keep." + +"Also, he mayn't have taken this side of the bay, either." remarked +Greyle. "He may have chosen the other. You didn't see or hear of him on +your side, Audrey?" + +"Nothing!" replied the girl. "Nothing!" + +Marston Greyle had fallen into line with the other two, and they were now +walking along the quay in the direction of the "Admiral's Arms." And +presently Stafford, accompanied by a policeman, came hurriedly round a +corner and quickened his steps at sight of Copplestone. The policeman, +evidently much puzzled and interested, saluted the Squire obsequiously as +the two groups met. + +"No news at all!" exclaimed Stafford, glancing at Copplestone's +companions. "You got any?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "Not a word. This is Mr. Greyle, of the +Keep--he has heard nothing. This lady--Miss Greyle?--was out a good deal +yesterday afternoon; she knows Oliver quite well by sight, but she did +not see him. So if you've no news--" + +Marston Greyle interrupted, turning to the policeman. + +"What ought to be done, Haskett?" he asked. "You've had cases of +disappearance to deal with before, eh?" + +"Can't say as I have, sir, in my time," answered the policeman. +"Leastways, not of this sort. Of course, we can get search parties +together, and one of 'em can go along the coast north'ards, and the other +can go south'ards, and we might have a look round the rocks out yonder, +tomorrow, as soon as it's light. But if the gentleman went out there, and +had the bad luck to fall into that Devil's Spout, why, then, sir, I'm +afraid all the searching in the world'll do no good. And the queer thing +is, gentlemen, if I may express an opinion, that nobody ever saw the +gentleman after he had left Mrs. Wooler's! That seems--" + +A fisherman came lounging across the quay from the shadow of one of the +neighbouring cottages. He touched his cap to Marston Greyle, and looked +inquiringly at the two strangers. + +"Are you the gentlemen as is asking after another gentleman?" he said. +"'Cause if so, I make no doubt as how I had a word or two with him +yesterday afternoon." + +Stafford and Copplestone turned sharply on the newcomer--an elderly +man of plain and homely aspect who responded frankly to their +questioning glances. He went on at once, before they could put their +questions into words. + +"It 'ud be about half-past two, or maybe a bit nearer three o'clock," he +said. "Up yonder it was, about a hundred yards this side of the +'Admiral's Arms.' I was sitting on a baulk o' timber there, doing +nothing, when he comes along--a tall, fine-looking man. He gives me a +pleasant sort o' nod, and said it was a grand day, and we got talking a +bit, about the scenery and such-like, and he said he'd never been here +before. Then he pointed up to the big house and the old Keep yonder, and +asked whose place that might be, and I said that was the Squire's. 'And +who may the Squire be?' says he. 'Mr. Marston Greyle,' says I, 'Recent +come into the property.' 'Marston Greyle!' he says, sharp-like. 'Why, I +used to know a young man of that very name in America!' he says. 'Very +like,' says I, 'I have heard as how the Squire had been in them parts +before he came here.' 'Bless me!' he says, 'I've a good mind to call on +him. How do you get up there?' he says. So I showed him that side path +that runs up through the plantation to near the top, and I told him that +if he followed that till he came to the Keep, he'd find another path +there as would take him to the door of the house. And he gave me a +shilling to drink his health, and off he went, the way as I'd pointed +out. D'ye think that'll be the same gentleman, now?" + +Nobody answered this question. Everybody there was looking at Marston +Greyle. The little group had drawn near to the light of one of the three +gas-lamps which feebly illuminated the quay; it seemed to Copplestone +that the Squire's face had paled when the fisherman arrived at the middle +of his story. But it flushed as his companion turned to him, and he +laughed, a little uneasily. + +"Said he knew me--in America?" he exclaimed. "I don't remember meeting +Mr. Bassett Oliver out there. But then I met so many Englishmen in one +place or another that I may have been introduced to him somewhere, at +some time, and--forgotten all about it." + +Stafford spoke--with unnecessary abruptness, in Copplestone's opinion. + +"I don't think it very likely that any one would forget Bassett Oliver," +he said. "He isn't--or wasn't--the sort of man anybody could forget, once +they'd met him. Anyhow--did he come to your house yesterday afternoon as +this man suggests?" + +Marston Greyle drew himself up. He looked Stafford up and down. Then he +made a slight gesture to the girl, whose face had already assumed a +troubled expression. + +"If I had seen Mr. Bassett Oliver yesterday, sir, we should not be +discussing his possible whereabouts now," said Greyle, icily. "Are you +coming, Audrey?" + +The girl hesitated, glanced at Copplestone, and then walked away with her +cousin. Stafford sniffed contemptuously. + +"Ass!" he muttered. "Couldn't he see that what I meant was that Oliver +must either have been mistaken, or have referred to some other Greyle +whom he met? Hang his pride! Well, now," he went on, turning to the +fisherman, "you're dead certain about what you've told us?" + +"As certain as mortal man can be of aught there is!" answered the +informant. "Sure certain, mister." + +"Make a note of it, constable," said Stafford. "Mr. Oliver was last seen +going up the path to the Keep, having said he meant to call on Mr. +Marston Greyle. I'll call on you again tomorrow morning. Copplestone!" he +went on, drawing his companion away, "I'm off to Norcaster--I shall see +the police there and get detectives. There's something seriously wrong +here--and by heaven, we've got to get to the bottom of it! Now, look +here--will you stay here for the night, so as to be on the spot? I'll +come back first thing in the morning and bring your luggage--I can't come +sooner, for there are heaps of business matters to deal with. You +will--good! Now I can just catch a train. Copplestone!--keep your eyes +and ears open. It's my firm belief--I don't know why--that there's been +foul play. Foul play!" + +Stafford hurried away up hill to the station, and Copplestone, after +waiting a minute or two, turned along the quay on the north of the +bay--following Audrey Greyle, who was in front, alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ESTATE AGENT + + +Copplestone had kept a sharp watch on Marston Greyle and his cousin when +they walked off, and he had seen that they had parted at a point a little +farther along the shore road--the man turning up into the wood, the girl +going forward along the quay which led to the other half of the village. +He quickened his pace and followed her, catching her up as she came to a +path which led towards the old church. At the sound of his hurrying steps +she turned and faced him, and he saw in the light of a cottage lamp that +she still looked troubled and perplexed. + +"Forgive me for running after you," said Copplestone as he went up to +her. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about--about that little scene +down there, you know. Your cousin misunderstood Mr. Stafford--what +Stafford meant was that--" + +"I saw what Mr. Stafford meant," she broke in quickly. "I'm sorry my +cousin didn't see it. It was--obvious." + +"All the same, Stafford put it rather--shall we say, brusquely," remarked +Copplestone. "Of course, he's terribly upset about Oliver's +disappearance, and he didn't consider the effect of his words. And it was +rather a surprise to hear that Oliver had known some man of your +cousin's name over there in America, wasn't it?" + +"And that Mr. Oliver should mysteriously disappear just after making such +an announcement," said Audrey. "That certainly seems very surprising." + +The two looked at each other, a question in the eyes of each, and +Copplestone knew that the trouble in the girl's eyes arose from inability +to understand what was already a suspicious circumstance. + +"But after all, that may have been a mere coincidence," he hastened to +say. "Let's hope things may be cleared. I only hope that Oliver hasn't +met with an accident and is lying somewhere without help. I'm going to +remain here for the night, however, and Stafford will come back early in +the morning and go more thoroughly into things--I suppose there'll have +to be a search of the neighbourhood." + +They had walked slowly up a path on the side of the cliff as they talked, +and now the girl stopped before a small cottage which stood at the end of +the churchyard, set in a tree-shaded garden, and looking out on the bay. +She laid her hand on the gate, glancing at Copplestone, and suddenly she +spoke, a little impulsively. + +"Will you come in and speak to my mother?" she said. "She was a great +admirer of Mr. Oliver's acting--and she knew him at one time. She will be +interested--and grieved." + +Copplestone followed her up the garden and into the house, where she led +the way into a small old-fashioned parlour in which a grey-haired woman, +who had once been strikingly handsome, and whose face seemed to the +visitor to bear traces of great trouble, sat writing at a bureau. She +turned in surprise as her daughter led Copplestone in, but her manner +became remarkably calm and collected as Audrey explained who he was and +why he was there. And Copplestone, watching her narrowly, fancied that he +saw interest flash into her eyes when she heard of Bassett Oliver's +remark to the fisherman. But she made no comment, and when Audrey had +finished the story, she turned to Copplestone as if she had already +summed up the situation. + +"We know this place so well--having lived here so long, you know," she +said, "that we can make a fairly accurate guess at what Mr. Oliver might +do. There seems no doubt that he went up the path to the Keep. According +to Mr. Marston Greyle's statement, he certainly did not go to the house. +Well, he might have done one of two other things. There is a path which +leads from the Keep down to the beach, immediately opposite the big rocks +which you have no doubt seen. There is another path which turns out of +the woods and follows the cliffs towards Lenwick, a village along the +coast, a mile away. But--at that time, on a Sunday afternoon, both paths +would be frequented. Speaking from knowledge, I should say that Mr. +Oliver cannot have left the woods--he must have been seen had he done so. +It's impossible that he could have gone down to the shore or along the +cliffs without being seen, too--impossible!" + +There was a certain amount of insistence in the last few words which +puzzled Copplestone--also they conveyed to him a queer suggestion which +repulsed him; it was almost as if the speaker was appealing to him to use +his own common-sense about a difficult question. And before he could make +any reply Mrs. Greyle put a direct inquiry to him. + +"What is going to be done?" + +"I don't know, exactly," answered Copplestone. "I'm going to stay here +for the night, anyway, on the chance of hearing something. Stafford is +coming back in the morning--he spoke of detectives." + +He looked a little doubtfully at his questioner as he uttered the last +word, and again he saw the sudden strange flash of unusual interest in +her eyes, and she nodded her head emphatically. + +"Precisely!--the proper thing to do," she said. "There must have been +foul play--must!" + +"Mother!" exclaimed Audrey, half doubtfully. "Do you really think--that?" + +"I don't think anything else," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I certainly don't +believe that Bassett Oliver would put himself into any position of danger +which would result in his breaking his neck. Bassett Oliver never left +Scarhaven Wood!" + +Copplestone made no comment on this direct assertion. + +Instead, after a brief silence, he asked Mrs. Greyle a question. + +"You knew Mr. Oliver--personally?" + +"Five and twenty years ago--yes," she answered. "I was on the stage +myself before my marriage. But I have never met him since then. I have +seen him, of course, at the local theatres." + +"He--you won't mind my asking?" said Copplestone, diffidently, "he didn't +know that you lived here?" + +Mrs. Greyle smiled, somewhat mysteriously. + +"Not at all--my name wouldn't have conveyed anything to him," she +answered. "He never knew whom I married. Otherwise, if he met some one +named Marston Greyle in America he would have connected him with me, and +have made inquiry about me, and had he known I lived here, he would have +called. It is odd, Audrey, that if your cousin met Mr. Oliver over there +he should have forgotten him. For one doesn't easily forget a man of +reputation--and Mr. Oliver was that of course!--and on the other hand, +Marston Greyle is not a common name. Did you ever hear the name before, +Mr. Copplestone?" + +"Only in connection with your own family--I have read of the Greyles of +Scarhaven," replied Copplestone. "But, after all, I suppose it is not +confined to your family. There may be Greyles in America. Well--it's all +very queer," he went on, as he rose to leave. "May I come in tomorrow and +tell you what's being done?--I'm sure Stafford means to leave no stone +unturned--he's tremendously keen about it." + +"Do!" said Mrs. Greyle, heartily. "But the probability is that you'll see +us out and about in the morning--we spend most of our time out of doors, +having little else to do." + +Copplestone went away feeling more puzzled than ever. + +Now that he was alone, for the first time since meeting Audrey Greyle on +the beach, he was able to reflect on certain events of the afternoon in +uninterrupted fashion. He thought over them as he walked back towards the +"Admiral's Arms." It was certainly a strange thing that Bassett Oliver, +after remarking to the fisherman that he had known a Mr. Marston Greyle +in America, and hearing that the Squire of Scarhaven had been in that +country, should have gone up to the house saying that he would call on +the Squire and should never have been seen again. It was certainly +strange that if this Marston Greyle, of Scarhaven, had met Bassett Oliver +in America he should have completely forgotten the fact. Bassett Oliver +had a considerable reputation in the United States--he was, in fact, more +popular in that country than in his own, and he had toured in the +principal towns and cities across there regularly for several years. To +meet him there was to meet a most popular celebrity--could any man forget +it? Therefore, were there two men of the name of Marston Greyle? + +That was one problem--closely affecting Oliver's disappearance. The other +had nothing to do with Oliver's disappearance--nevertheless, it +interested Richard Copplestone. He was a young man of quick perception +and accurate observation, and his alert eyes had seen that the Squire of +Scarhaven occupied a position suggestive of power and wealth. The house +which stood beneath the old Keep was one of size and importance, the sort +of place which could only be kept up by a rich man--Copplestone's glances +at its grounds, its gardens, its entrance lodge, its entire surroundings +had shown him that only a well-to-do man could live there. How came it, +then, that the Squire's relations--his cousin and her mother--lived in a +small and unpretentious cottage, and were obviously not well off as +regards material goods? Copplestone had the faculty of seeing things at a +glance, and refined and cultivated as the atmosphere of Mrs. Greyle's +parlour was, it had taken no more than a glance from his perceptive eyes +to see that he was there confronted with what folk call genteel poverty. +Mrs. Greyle's almost nun-like attire of black had done duty for a long +time; the carpet was threadbare; there was an absence of those little +touches of comfort with which refined women of even modest means love to +surround themselves; a sure instinct told him that here were two women +who had to carefully count their pence, and lay out their shillings with +caution. Genteel, quiet poverty, without doubt--and yet, on the other +side of the little bay, a near kinsman whose rent-roll must run to a few +thousands a year! + +And yet one more curious occasion of perplexity--to add to the other two. +Copplestone had felt instinctively attracted to Audrey Greyle when he met +her on the sands, and the attraction increased as he walked at her side +towards the village. In his quiet unobtrusive fashion he had watched her +closely when they encountered the man whom she introduced as her cousin; +and he had fancied that her manner underwent a curious change when +Marston Greyle came on the scene--she had seemed to become constrained, +chilled, distant, aloof--not with the stranger, himself, but with her +kinsman. This fancy had become assurance during the conversation which +had abruptly ended when Greyle took offence at Stafford's brusque remark. +Copplestone had seen a sudden look in the girl's eyes when the fisherman +repeated what Oliver had said about meeting a Mr. Marston Greyle in +America; it was a look of sharply awakened--what? Suspicion? +apprehension?--he could not decide. But it was the same look which had +come into her mother's eyes later on. Moreover, when the Squire turned +huffily away, taking his cousin with him, Copplestone had noticed that +there was evidently a smart passage of words between them after leaving +the little group on the quay, and they had parted unceremoniously, the +man turning on his heel up a side path into his own grounds and the girl +going forward with a sudden acceleration of pace. All this made +Copplestone draw a conclusion. + +"There's no great love lost between the gentleman at the big house and +his lady relatives in the little cottage," he mused. "Also, around the +gentleman there appears to be some cloud of mystery. What?--and has it +anything to do with the Oliver mystery?" + +He went back to the inn and made his arrangements with its landlady, who +by that time was full to overflowing with interest and amazement at the +strange affair which had brought her this guest. But Mrs. Wooler had eyes +as well as ears, and noticing that Copplestone was already looking weary +and harassed, she hastened to provide a hot dinner for him, and to +recommend a certain claret which in her opinion possessed remarkable +revivifying qualities. Copplestone, who had eaten nothing for several +hours, accepted her hospitable attentions with gratitude, and he was +enjoying himself greatly in a quaint old-world parlour, in close +proximity to a bright fire, when Mrs. Wooler entered with a countenance +which betokened mystery in every feature. + +"There's the estate agent, Mr. Chatfield, outside, very anxious to have a +word with you about this affair," she said. "Would you be for having him +in? He's the sort of man," she went on, sinking her tones to a whisper, +"who must know everything that's going on, and, of course, having the +position he has, he might be useful. Mr. Peter Chatfield, Mr. Greyle's +agent, and his uncle's before him--that's who he is--Peeping Peter, they +call him hereabouts, because he's fond of knowing everybody's business." + +"Bring him in," said Copplestone. He was by no means averse to having a +companion, and Mrs. Wooler's graphic characterization had awakened his +curiosity. "Tell him I shall be glad to see him." + +Mrs. Wooler presently ushered in a figure which Copplestone's dramatic +sense immediately seized on. He saw before him a tall, heavily-built +man, with a large, solemn, deeply-lined face, out of which looked a +pair of the smallest and slyest eyes ever seen in a human being--queer, +almost hidden eyes, set beneath thick bushy eyebrows above which rose +the dome of an unusually high forehead and a bald head. As for the rest +of him, Mr. Peter Chatfield had a snub nose, a wide slit of a mouth, and +a flabby hand; his garments were of a Quaker kind in cut and hue; he +wore old-fashioned stand-up collars and a voluminous black stock; in one +hand he carried a stout oaken staff, in the other a square-crowned +beaver hat; altogether, his mere outward appearance would have gained +notice for him anywhere, and Copplestone rejoiced in him as a character. +He rose, greeted his visitor cordially, and invited him to a seat by the +fire. The estate agent settled his heavy figure comfortably, and made a +careful inspection of the young stranger before he spoke. At last he +leaned forward. + +"Sir!" he whispered in a confidential tone. "Do you consider this here a +matter of murder?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GREYLE HISTORY + + +If Copplestone had followed his first natural impulse, he would have +laughed aloud at this solemnly propounded question: as it was, he found +it difficult to content himself with a smile. + +"Isn't it a little early to arrive at any conclusion, of any sort, Mr. +Chatfield?" he asked. "You haven't made up your own mind, surely?" +Chatfield pursed up his long thin lips and shook his head, continuing to +stare fixedly at Copplestone. + +"Now I may have, and I may not have, mister," he said at last, suddenly +relaxing. "What I was asking of was--what might you consider?" + +"I don't consider at all--yet," answered Copplestone. "It's too soon. Let +me offer you a glass of claret." + +"Many thanks to you, sir, but it's too cold for my stomach," responded +the visitor. "A drop of gin, now, is more in my line, since you're so +kind. Ah, well, in any case, sir, this here is a very unfortunate affair. +I'm a deal upset by it--I am indeed!" + +Copplestone rang the bell, gave orders for Mr. Chatfield's suitable +entertainment with gin and cigars, and making an end of his dinner, drew +up a chair to the fire opposite his visitor. + +"You are upset, Mr. Chatfield?" he remarked. "Now, why?" + +Chatfield sipped his gin and water, and flourished a cigar with a +comprehensive wave of his big fat hand. + +"Oh, in general, sir!" he said. "Things like this here are not pleasant +to have in a quiet, respectable community like ours. There's very wicked +people in this world, mister, and they will not control what's termed the +unruly member. They will talk. You'll excuse me, but I doubt not that I'm +a good deal more than twice your age, and I've learnt experience. My +experience, sir, is that a wise man holds his tongue until he's called +upon to use it. Now, in my opinion, it was a very unwise thing of yon +there sea-going man, Ewbank, to say that this unfortunate play-actor told +him that he'd met our Squire in America--very unfortunate!" + +Copplestone pricked his ears. Had the estate agent come there to tell him +that? And if so, why? + +"Oh!" he said. "You've heard that, have you? Now who told you that, Mr. +Chatfield? For I don't think that's generally known." + +"If you knew this here village, mister, as well as what I do," replied +Chatfield coolly, "you'd know that there is known all over the place by +this time. The constable told me, and of course yon there man, Ewbank, +he'll have told it all round since he had that bit of talk with you and +your friend. He'll have been in to every public there is in Scarhaven, +repeating of it. And a very, very serious complexion, of course, could be +put on them words, sir." + +"How?" asked Copplestone. + +"Put it to yourself, sir," replied Chatfield. "The unfortunate man comes +here, tells Ewbank he knew Mr. Greyle in that far-away land, says he'll +call on him, is seen going towards the big house--and is never seen no +more! Why, sir, what does human nature--which is wicked--say?" + +"What does your human nature--which I'm sure is not wicked, say?" +suggested Copplestone. "Come, now!" + +"What I say, sir, is neither here nor there," answered the agent. "It's +what evil-disposed tongues says." + +"But they haven't said anything yet," said Copplestone. + +"I should say they've said a deal, sir," responded Chatfield, +lugubriously. "I know Scarhaven tongues. They'll have thrown out a deal +of suspicious talk about the Squire." + +"Have you seen Mr. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. He was already sure that +the agent was there with a purpose, and he wanted to know its precise +nature. "Is he concerned about this?" + +"I have seen Mr. Greyle, mister, and he is concerned about what yon man, +Ewbank, related," replied Chatfield. "Mr. Greyle, sir, came straight to +me--I reside in a residence within the park. Mr. Greyle, mister, says +that he has no recollection whatever of meeting this play-actor person in +America--he may have done and he mayn't. But he doesn't remember him, and +it isn't likely he should--him, an English landlord and a gentleman +wouldn't be very like to remember a play-actor person that's here today +and gone tomorrow! I hope I give no offence, sir--maybe you're a +play-actor yourself." + +"I am not," answered Copplestone. He sat staring at his visitor for +awhile, and when he spoke again his voice had lost its cordial tone. +"Well," he said, "and what have you called on me about?" + +Chatfield looked up sharply, noticing the altered tone. + +"To tell you--and them as you no doubt represent--that Mr. Greyle will be +glad to help in any possible way towards finding out something in this +here affair," he answered. "He'll welcome any inquiry that's opened." + +"Oh!" said Copplestone. "I see! But you're making a mistake, Mr. +Chatfield. I don't represent anybody. I'm not even a relation of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. In fact, I never met Mr. Oliver in my life: never spoke +to him. So--I'm not here in any representative or official sense." + +Chatfield's small eyes grew smaller with suspicious curiosity. + +"Oh?" he said questioningly. "Then--what might you be here for, mister?" + +Copplestone stood up and rang the bell. + +"That's my business." he answered. "Sorry I can't give you any more +time," he went on as Mrs. Wooler opened the door. "I'm engaged now. If +you or Mr. Greyle want to see Mr. Oliver's friends I believe his brother, +Sir Cresswell Oliver, will be here tomorrow--he's been wired for anyhow." + +Chatfield's mouth opened as he picked up his hat. He stared at this +self-assured young man as if he were something quite new to him. + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver!" he exclaimed. "Did you say, sir?" + +"I said Sir Cresswell Oliver--quite plainly," answered Copplestone. + +Chatfield's mouth grew wider. + +"You don't mean to tell me that a play-actor's own brother to a titled +gentleman!" he said. + +"Good-night!" replied Copplestone, motioning his visitor towards the +door. "I can't give you any more time, really. However, as you seem +anxious, Mr. Bassett Oliver is the younger brother of Rear-Admiral Sir +Cresswell Oliver, Baronet, and I should imagine that Sir Cresswell will +want to know a lot about what's become of him. So you'd better--or Mr. +Greyle had better--speak to him. Now once more--good-night." + +When Chatfield had gone, Copplestone laughed and flung himself into an +easy chair before the fire. Of course, the stupid, ignorant, +self-sufficient old fool had come fishing for news--he and his master +wanted to know what was going to be done in the way of making inquiry. +But why?--why so much anxiety if they knew nothing whatever about Bassett +Oliver's strange disappearance? "Why this profession of eager willingness +to welcome any inquiry that might be made? Nobody had accused Marston +Greyle of having anything to do with Bassett Oliver's strange exit--if it +was an exit--why, then-- + +"But it's useless speculating," he mused. "I can't do anything--and here +I am, with nothing to do!" + +He had pleaded an engagement, but he had none, of course. There was a +shelf of old books in the room, but he did not care to read. And +presently, hands in pockets, he lounged out into the hall and saw Mrs. +Wooler standing at the door of the little parlour into which she had +shown him and Stafford earlier in the day. + +"There's nobody in here, sir," she said, invitingly; "if you'd like to +smoke your pipe here--" + +"Thank you--I will," answered Copplestone. "I got rid of that old +fellow," he observed confidentially when he had followed the landlady +within, and had dropped into a chair near her own. "I think he had +come--fishing." + +"That's his usual occupation," said Mrs. Wooler, with a meaning smile. "I +told you he was called Peeping Peter. He's the sort of man who will have +his nose in everybody's affairs. But," she added, with a shake of the +head which seemed to mean a good deal more than the smile, "he doesn't +often come here. This is almost the only house in Scarhaven that doesn't +belong to the Greyle estate. This house, and the land round it, have +belonged to the Wooler family as long as the rest of the place has +belonged to the Greyles. And many a Greyle has wanted to buy it, and +every Wooler has refused to sell it--and always will!" + +"That's very interesting," said Copplestone. "Does the present Greyle +want to buy?" + +The landlady picked up a piece of sewing and sat down in a chair which +seemed to be purposely placed so that she could keep an eye on the +adjacent bar-parlour on one side and the hall on the other. + +"I don't know much about what the present Squire would like," she said. +"Nobody does. He's a newcomer, and nobody knows anything about him. You +saw him this afternoon?" + +"I met a young lady on the sands who turned out to be his cousin, and he +came up while I was talking to her," replied Copplestone. "Yes, I saw +him. I'm afraid Mr. Stafford, who came in here with me, you know, +offended him," he continued, and gave Mrs. Wooler an account of what had +happened. "Is he rather--touchy?" he concluded. + +"I don't know that he is," she said. "No one sees much of him. You see +he's a stranger: although he's a Greyle, he's not a Scarhaven man. Of +course, I know all his family history--I'm Scarhaven born and bred. In my +time there have been three generations of Greyles. The first one I knew +was this Squire's grandfather, old Mr. Stephen Greyle: he died when I was +a girl in my 'teens. He had three sons and no daughters. The three sons +were all different in their tastes and ideas; the eldest, Stephen John, +who came into the estates on his father's death, was a real home bird--he +never left Scarhaven for more than a day or two at a time all his life. +And he never married--he was a real old bachelor, almost a woman-hater. +The next one, Marcus, went out to America and settled there--he was the +father of this present Squire, Mr. Marston Greyle. Then there was the +third son, Valentine--he went to live in London. And years after he came +back here, very poor, and settled down in a little house near Scarhaven +Church with his wife and daughter--that was the daughter you met this +afternoon, Miss Audrey. I don't know why, and nobody else knows, either, +but the last Squire, Stephen John, never had anything to do with +Valentine and his family; what's more, when Valentine died and left the +widow and daughter very poorly off, Stephen John did nothing for them. +But he himself died very soon after Valentine, and then of course, as +Marcus had already died in America, everything came to this Mr. Marston. +And, as I said, he's a stranger to Scarhaven folk and Scarhaven ways. +Indeed, you might say to England and English ways, for I understand he'd +never been in England until he came to take up the family property." + +"Is he more friendly with the mother and daughter than the last Squire +was?" asked Copplestone, who had been much interested in this chapter of +family history. + +Mrs. Wooler made several stitches in her sewing before she answered this +direct question, and when, she spoke it was in lower tones and with a +glance of caution. + +"He would be, if he could!" she said. "There are those in the village who +say that he wants to marry his cousin. But the truth is--so far as one +can see or learn it--that for some reason or other, neither Mrs. +Valentine Greyle nor Miss Audrey can bear him! They took some queer +dislike to the young man when he first came, and they've kept it up. Of +course, they're outwardly friendly, and he occasionally, I believe, goes +to the cottage, but they rarely go to the big house, and it's very seldom +they're ever seen together. I have heard--one does hear things in +villages--that he'd be very glad to do something handsome for them, but +they're both as proud as they're poor, and not the sort to accept aught +from anybody. I believe they've just enough to live on, but it can't be a +great deal, for everybody knows that Valentine Greyle made ducks and +drakes of his fortune long before he came back to Scarhaven, and old +Stephen John only left them a few hundreds of pounds. However--there it +is. However much the new Squire wants to marry his cousin, it's very flat +she'll not have anything to say to him. I've once or twice had an +opportunity of seeing those two together, and it's my private opinion +that Miss Audrey dislikes that young man just about as heartily as she +possibly could!" + +"What does Mr. Marston Greyle find to do with himself in this place?" +asked Copplestone, turning the conversation. "Can't be very lively for +him if he's a man of any activity." + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Mrs. Wooler. "I think he's a good deal like +his uncle, the last squire--he certainly never goes anywhere, except out +to sea in his yacht. He shoots a bit, and fishes a bit, and so on, and +spends a lot of time with Peeping Peterhe's a widower, is Chatfield, and +lives alone, except when his daughter runs down to see him. And that +daughter, bye-the-bye, Mr. Copplestone, is on the stage." + +"Dear me!" said Copplestone. "That is surprising! Her father made several +contemptuous references to play-actors when he was talking to me." + +"Oh, he hates them, and all connected with them!" replied Mrs. Wooler, +laughing. "All the same, his own daughter has been on the stage for a +good five years, and I fancy she's doing well. A fine, handsome girl she +is, too--she's been down here a good deal lately, and--" + +The landlady suddenly paused, hearing a light step in the hall. She +glanced through the window and then turned to Copplestone with an +arch smile. + +"Talk of the--you know," she exclaimed. "Here's Addie Chatfield herself!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LEADING LADY + + +Copplestone looked up with interest as the door of the private parlour +was thrown open, and a tall, handsome young woman burst in with a +briskness of movement which betokened unusual energy and vivacity. He +got an impression of the old estate agent's daughter in one glance, +and wondered how Chatfield came to have such a good-looking girl as +his progeny. The impression was of dark, sparkling eyes, a mass of +darker, highly-burnished hair, bright colour, a flashing vivacious +smile, a fine figure, a general air of sprightliness and glowing +health--this was certainly the sort of personality that would +recommend itself to a considerable mass of theatre-goers, and +Copplestone, as a budding dramatist, immediately began to cast Addie +Chatfield for an appropriate part. + +The newcomer stopped short on the threshold as she caught sight of a +stranger, and she glanced with sharp inquisitiveness at Copplestone as he +rose from his chair. + +"Oh!--I supposed you were alone, Mrs. Wooler," she exclaimed. "You +usually are, you know, so I came in anyhow--sorry!" + +"Come in," said the landlady. "Don't go, Mr. Copplestone. This is Miss +Adela Chatfield. Your father has just been to see this gentleman, +Addie--perhaps he told you?" + +Addie Chatfield dropped into a chair at Mrs. Wooler's side, and looked +the stranger over slowly and carefully." + +"No," she answered. "My father didn't tell me--he doesn't tell me +anything about his own affairs. All his talk is about mine--the iniquity +of them, and so on." + +She showed a fine set of even white teeth as she made this remark, and +her eyes sought Copplestone's again with a direct challenge. Copplestone +looked calmly at her, half-smiling; he was beginning, in his youthful +innocence, to think that he already understood this type of young woman. +And seeing him smile, Addie also smiled. + +"Now I wonder whatever my father wanted to see you about?" she said, with +a strong accent on the personal pronoun. "For you don't look his sort, +and he certainly isn't yours--unless you're deceptive." + +"Perhaps I am," responded Copplestone, still keeping his eyes on her. +"Your father wanted to see me about the strange disappearance of Mr. +Bassett Oliver. That was all." + +The girl's glance, bold and challenging, suddenly shifted before +Copplestone's steady look. She half turned to Mrs. Wooler, and her colour +rose a little. + +"I've heard of that," she said, with an affectation of indifference. "And +as I happen to know a bit of Bassett Oliver, I don't see what all this +fuss is about. I should say Bassett Oliver took it into his head to go +off somewhere yesterday on a little game of his own, and that he's turned +up at Norcaster by this time, and is safe in his dressing-room, or on the +stage. That's my notion." + +"I wish I could think it the correct one," replied Copplestone. "But we +can soon find out if it is--there's a telephone in the hall. Yet--I'm so +sure that you're wrong, that I'm not even going to ring Norcaster up. Mr. +Bassett Oliver has--disappeared here!" + +"Are you a member of his company?" asked Addie, again looking Copplestone +over with speculative glances. + +"Not at all! I'm a humble person whose play Mr. Oliver was about to +produce next month, in consequence of which I came down to see him, and +to find this state of affairs. And--having nothing else to do--I'm now +here to help to find him--alive or dead." + +"Oh!" said Addie. "So--you're a writer?" + +"I understand that you are an actress?" responded Copplestone. "I wonder +if I've ever seen you anywhere?" + +Addie bowed her head and gave him a sharp glance. + +"Evidently not!" she retorted. "Or you wouldn't wonder! As if anybody +could forget me, once they'd seen me! I believe you're pulling my leg, +though. Do you live in town?" + +"I live," replied Copplestone slowly and with affected solemnity, "in +chambers in Jermyn Street." + +"And do you mean to tell me that you didn't see me last year in _The +Clever Lady Hartletop?_" she exclaimed. + +Copplestone put the tips of his fingers together and his head on one side +and regarded her critically. + +"What part did you play?" he asked innocently. + +"Part? Why, _the_ part, of course!" she retorted. "Goodness! Why, I +created it! And played it to crowded houses for nearly two hundred +nights, too!" + +"Ah!" said Copplestone. "But I'll make a confession to you. I rarely +visit the theatre. I never saw _Lady Hartletop._ I haven't been in a +theatre of any sort for two years. So you must forgive me. I congratulate +you on your success." + +Addie received this tribute with a mollified smile, which changed to a +glance of surprised curiosity. + +"You never go to the theatre?--and yet you write plays!" she exclaimed. +"That's queer, isn't it? But I believe writing people are queer--they +look it, anyhow. All the same, you don't look like a writer--what does he +look like, Mrs. Wooler? Oh, I know--a sort of nice little officer boy, +just washed and tidied up!" + +The landlady, who had evidently enjoyed this passage at arms, laughed as +she gave Copplestone a significant glance. + +"And when did you come down home, Addie?" she asked quietly. "I didn't +know you were here again." + +"Came down Saturday night," said Addie. "I'm on my way to +Edinburgh--business there on Wednesday. So I broke the journey here--just +to pay my respects to my worshipful parent." + +"I think I heard you say that you knew Mr. Bassett Oliver?" asked +Copplestone. "You've met him?" + +"Met him in this country and in America," replied Addie, calmly. "He was +on tour over there when I was--three years ago. We were in two or three +towns together at the same time--different houses, of course. I never saw +much of him in London, though." + +"You didn't see anything of him yesterday, here?" suggested Copplestone. + +Addie stared and glanced at the landlady. + +"Here?" she exclaimed. "Goodness, no! When I'm here of a Sunday, I lie in +bed all day, or most of it. Otherwise, I'd have to walk with my parent to +the family pew. No--my Sundays are days of rest! You really think this +disappearance is serious?" + +"Oliver's managers--who know him best, of course--think it most serious," +replied Copplestone. "They say that nothing but an accident of a really +serious nature would have kept him from his engagements." + +"Then that settles it!" said Addie. "He's fallen down the Devil's Spout. +Plain as plain can be, that! He's made his way there, been a bit too +daring, and slipped over the edge. And whoever falls in there never comes +out again!--isn't that it, Mrs. Wooler?" + +"That's what they say," answered the landlady. + +"But I don't remember any accident at the Devil's Spout in my time." + +"Well, there's been one now, anyway--that's flat," remarked Addie. "Poor +old Bassett--I'm sorry for him! Well, I'm off. Good-night, Mr. +Copplestone--and perhaps you'll so far overcome your repugnance to the +theatre as to come and see me in one some day?" + +"Supposing I escort you homeward instead--now?" suggested Copplestone. +"That will at least show that I am ready to become your devoted--" + +"Admirer, I suppose," said Addie. "I'm afraid he's not quite as innocent +as he looks, Mrs. Wooler. Well--you can escort me as far as the gates of +the park, then--I daren't take you further, because it's so dark in there +that you'd surely lose your way, and then there'd be a second +disappearance and all sorts of complications." + +She went out of the inn, laughing and chattering, but once outside she +suddenly became serious, and she involuntarily laid her hand on +Copplestone's arm as they turned down the hillside towards the quay. + +"I say!" she said in a low voice. "I wasn't going to ask questions in +there, but--what's going to be done about this Oliver affair? Of course +you're stopping here to do something. What?" + +Copplestone hesitated before answering this direct question. He had not +seen anything which would lead him to suppose that Miss Adela Chatfield +was a disingenuous and designing young woman, but she was certainly +Peeping Peter's daughter, and the old man, having failed to get anything +out of Copplestone himself, might possibly have sent her to see what she +could accomplish. He replied noncommittally. + +"I'm not in a position to do anything," he said. "I'm not a relative--not +even a personal friend. I daresay you know that Bassett Oliver was--one's +already talking of him in the past tense!--the brother of Rear-Admiral +Sir Cresswell Oliver, the famous seaman?" + +"I knew he was a man of what they call family, but I didn't know that," +she answered. "What of it?" + +"Stafford's wired to Sir Cresswell," replied Copplestone. "Hell be down +here some time tomorrow, no doubt. And of course he'll take everything +into his own hands." + +"And he'll do--what?" she asked. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied Copplestone. "Set the police to work, I +should think. They'll want to find out where Bassett Oliver went, where +he got to, when he turned up to the Keep, saying he'd go and call on +the Squire, as he'd met some man of that name in America. By-the-bye, +you said you'd been in America. Did you meet anybody of the Squire's +name there?" + +They were passing along the quay by that time, and in the light of one of +its feeble gas-lamps he turned and looked narrowly at his companion. He +fancied that he saw her face change in expression at his question; if +there was any change, however, it was so quick that it was gone in a +second. She shook her head with emphatic decision. + +"I?" she exclaimed. "Never! It's a most uncommon name, that. I never +heard of anybody called Greyle except at Scarhaven." + +"The present Mr. Greyle came from America," said Copplestone. + +"I know, of course," she answered. "But I never met any Greyles out +there. Bassett Oliver may have done, though. I know he toured in a lot +of American towns--I only went to three--New York, Chicago, St. Louis. +I suppose," she continued, turning to Copplestone with a suggestion of +confidence in her manner, "I suppose you consider it a very damning +thing that Bassett Oliver should disappear, after saying what he did +to Ewbank." + +It was very evident to Copplestone that whether Miss Chatfield had spoken +the truth or not when she said that her father had not told her of his +visit to the "Admiral's Arms," she was thoroughly conversant with all the +facts relating to the Oliver mystery, and he was still doubtful as to +whether she was not seeking information. + +"Does it matter at all what I think," he answered evasively. "I've no +part in this affair--I'm a mere spectator. I don't know how what you +refer to might be considered by people who are accustomed to size things +up. They might say all that was a mere coincidence." + +"But what do you think?" she said with feminine persistence. "Come, now, +between ourselves?" + +Copplestone laughed. They had come to the edge of the wooded park in +which the estate agent's house stood, and at a gate which led into it, +he paused. + +"Between ourselves, then, I don't think at all--yet," he answered. "I +haven't sized anything up. All I should say at present is that if--or +as, for I'm sure the fisherman repeated accurately what he heard--as +Oliver said he met somebody called Marston Greyle in America, why--I +conclude he did. That's all. Now, won't you please let me see you +through these dark woods?" + +But Addie said her farewell, and left him somewhat abruptly, and he +watched her until she had passed out of the circle of light from the lamp +which swung over the gate. She passed on into the shadows--and +Copplestone, who had already memorized the chief geographical points of +his new surroundings, noticed what she probably thought no stranger would +notice--that instead of going towards her father's house, she turned up +the drive to the Squire's. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +LEFT ON GUARD + + +Stafford was back at Scarhaven before breakfast time next morning, +bringing with him a roll of copies of the _Norcaster Daily Chronicle_, +one of which he immediately displayed to Copplestone and Mrs. Wooler, who +met him at the inn door. He pointed with great pride to certain staring +headlines. + +"I engineered that!" he exclaimed. "Went round to the newspaper office +last night and put them up to everything. Nothing like publicity in these +cases. There you are! + +MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF FAMOUS ACTOR! BASSETT OLIVER MISSING! +INTERVIEW WITH MAN WHO SAW HIM LAST! + +That's the style, Copplestone!--every human being along this coast'll be +reading that by now!" + +"So there was no news of him last night?" asked Copplestone. + +"Neither last night nor this morning, my boy," replied Stafford. "Of +course not! No--he never left here, not he! Now then, let Mrs. Wooler +serve us that nice breakfast which I'm sure she has in readiness, and +then we're going to plunge into business, hot and strong. There's a +couple of detectives coming on by the nine o'clock train, and we're going +to do the whole thing thoroughly." + +"What about his brother?" inquired Copplestone. + +"I wired him last night to his London address, and got a reply first +thing this morning," said Stafford. "He's coming along by the 5:15 A.M. +from King's Cross--he'll be here before noon. I want to get things to +work before he arrives, though. And the first thing to do, of course, is +to make sympathetic inquiry, and to search the shore, and the cliffs, and +these woods--and that Keep. All that we'll attend to at once." + +But on going round to the village police-station they found that +Stafford's ideas had already been largely anticipated. The news of the +strange gentleman's mysterious disappearance had spread like wild-fire +through Scarhaven and the immediate district during the previous evening, +and at daybreak parties of fisher-folk had begun a systematic search. +These parties kept coming in to report progress all the morning: by noon +they had all returned. They had searched the famous rocks, the woods, the +park, the Keep, and its adjacent ruins, and the cliffs and shore for some +considerable distance north and south of the bay, and there was no +result. Not a trace, not a sign of the missing man was to be found +anywhere. And when, at one o'clock, Stafford and Copplestone walked up to +the little station to meet Sir Cresswell Oliver, it was with the +disappointing consciousness that they had no news to give him. + +Copplestone, who nourished a natural taste for celebrities of any sort, +born of his artistic leanings and tendencies, had looked forward with +interest to meeting Sir Cresswell Oliver, who, only a few months +previously, had made himself famous by a remarkable feat of seamanship in +which great personal bravery and courage had been displayed. He had a +vague expectation of seeing a bluff, stalwart, sea-dog type of man; +instead, he presently found himself shaking hands with a very +quiet-looking, elderly gentleman, who might have been a barrister or a +doctor, of pleasant and kindly manners. With him was another gentleman of +a similar type, and of about the same age, whom he introduced as the +family solicitor, Mr. Petherton. And to these two, in a private +sitting-room at the "Admiral's Arms," Stafford, as Bassett Oliver's +business representative, and Copplestone, as having remained on the spot +since the day before, told all and every detail of what had transpired +since it was definitely established that the famous actor was missing. +Both listened in silence and with deep attention; when all the facts had +been put before them, they went aside and talked together; then they +returned and Sir Cresswell besought Stafford and Copplestone's attention. + +"I want to tell you young gentlemen precisely what Mr. Petherton and I +think it best to do," he said in the mild and bland accents which had so +much astonished Copplestone. "We have listened, as you will admit, with +our best attention. Mr. Petherton, as you know, is a man of law; I +myself, when I have the good luck to be ashore, am a Chairman of +Quarter Sessions, so I'm accustomed to hearing and weighing evidence. We +don't think there's any doubt that my poor brother has met with some +curious mishap which has resulted in his death. It seems impossible, +going on what you tell us from the evidence you've collected, that he +could ever have approached that Devil's Spout place unseen; it also +seems impossible that he could have had a fatal fall over the cliffs, +since his body has not been found. No--we think something befell him in +the neighbourhood of Scarhaven Keep. But what? Foul play? Possibly! If +it was--why? And there are three people Mr. Petherton and I would like +to speak to, privately--the fisherman, Ewbank, Mr. Marston Greyle, and +Mrs. Valentine Greyle. We should like to hear Ewbank's story for +ourselves; we certainly want to see the Squire; and I, personally, wish +to see Mrs. Greyle because, from what Mr. Copplestone there has told us, +I am quite sure that I, too, knew her a good many years ago, when she +was acquainted with my brother Bassett. So we propose, Mr. Stafford, to +go and see these three people--and when we have seen them, I will tell +you and Mr. Copplestone exactly what I, as my brother's representative, +wish to be done." + +The two younger men waited impatiently in and about the hotel while their +elders went on their self-appointed mission. Stafford, essentially a man +of activity, speculated on their reasons for seeing the three people whom +Sir Cresswell Oliver had specifically mentioned: Copplestone was +meanwhile wondering if he could with propriety pay another visit to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage that night. It was drawing near to dusk when the two +quiet-looking, elderly gentlemen returned and summoned the younger ones +to another conference. Both looked as reserved and bland as when they had +set out, and the old seaman's voice was just as suave as ever when he +addressed them. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, "we have paid our visits, and I suppose I had +better tell you at once that we are no wiser as to actual facts than we +were when we left you earlier in the afternoon. The man Ewbank stands +emphatically by his story; Mr. Marston Greyle says that he cannot +remember any meeting with my brother in America, and that he certainly +did not call on him here on Sunday: Mrs. Valentine Greyle has not met +Bassett for a great many years. Now--there the matter stands. Of course, +it cannot rest there. Further inquiries will have to be made. Mr. +Petherton and I are going on to Norcaster this evening, and we shall have +a very substantial reward offered to any person who can give any +information about my brother. That may result in something--or in +nothing. As to my brother's business arrangements, I will go fully into +that matter with you, Mr. Stafford, at Norcaster, tomorrow. Now, Mr. +Copplestone, will you have a word or two with me in private?" + +Copplestone followed the old seaman into a quiet corner of the room, +where Sir Cresswell turned on him with a smile. + +"I take it," he said, "that you are a young gentleman of leisure, and +that you can abide wherever you like, eh?" + +"Yes, you may take that as granted," answered Copplestone, wondering what +was coming. + +"Doesn't much matter if you write your plays in Jermyn Street +or--anywhere else, eh?" questioned Sir Cresswell with a humorous smile. + +"Practically, no," replied Copplestone. + +Sir Cresswell tapped him on the shoulder. + +"I want you to do me a favour," he said. "I shall take it as a kindness +if you will. I don't want to talk about certain ideas which Petherton and +I have about this affair, yet, anyway--not even to you--but we _have_ +formed some ideas this afternoon. Now, do you think you could manage to +stay where you are for a week or two?" + +"Here?" exclaimed Copplestone. + +"This seems very comfortable," said Sir Cresswell, looking round. "The +landlady is a nice, motherly person; she gave me a very well-cooked +lunch; this is a quiet room in which to do your writing, eh?" + +"Of course I can stay here," answered Copplestone, who was a good deal +bewildered. "But--mayn't I know why--and in what capacity?" + +"Just to keep your eyes and your ears open," said Sir Cresswell. "Don't +seem to make inquiries--in fact, don't make any inquiry--do nothing. I +don't want you to do any private detective work--not I! Just stop here +a bit--amuse yourself--write--read--and watch things quietly. And--don't +be cross--I've an elderly man's privilege, you know--you'll send your +bills to me." + +"Oh, that's all right, thanks!" said Copplestone, hurriedly. "I'm pretty +well off as regards this world's goods." + +"So I guessed when I found that you lived in the expensive atmosphere of +Jermyn Street," said Sir Cresswell, with a sly laugh. "But all the same, +you'll let me be paymaster here, you know--that's only fair." + +"All right--certainly, if you wish it," agreed Copplestone. "But look +here--won't you trust me? I assure you I'm to be trusted. You suspect +somebody! Hadn't you better give me your confidence? I won't tell a +soul--and when I say that, I mean it literally. I won't tell one +single soul!" + +Sir Cresswell waited a moment or two, looking quietly at Copplestone. +Then he clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. + +"All right, my lad," he said. "Yes!--we do suspect somebody. Marston +Greyle! Now you know it." + +"I expected that," answered Copplestone. "All right, sir. And my orders +are--just what you said." + +"Just what I said," agreed Sir Cresswell. "Carry on at that--eyes and +ears open; no fuss; everything quiet, unobtrusive, silent. +Meanwhile--Petherton will be at work. And I say--if you want company, +you know--I think you'll find it across the bay there at Mrs. +Greyle's--eh?" + +"I was there last night," said Copplestone. "I liked both of them +very much. You knew Mrs. Greyle once upon a time, I think; you and +your brother?" + +"We did!" replied Sir Cresswell, with a sigh. "Um!--the fact is, both +Bassett and I were in love with her at that time. She married another man +instead. That's all!" + +He gave Copplestone a squeeze of the elbow, laughed, and went across to +the solicitor, who was chatting to Stafford in one of the bow windows. +Ten minutes later all three were off to Norcaster, and Copplestone was +alone, ruminating over this sudden and extraordinary change in the +hiterto even tenor of his life. Little more than twenty-four hours +previously, all he had been concerned about was the production of his +play by Bassett Oliver--here he was now, mixed up in a drama of real +life, with Bassett Oliver as its main figure, and the plot as yet +unrevealed. And he himself was already committed to play in it--but +what part? + +Now that the others had gone, Copplestone began to feel strangely alone. +He had accepted Sir Cresswell Oliver's commission readily, feeling +genuinely interested in the affair, and being secretly conscious that he +would be glad of the opportunity of further improving his acquaintance +with Audrey Greyle. But now that he considered things quietly, he began +to see that his position was a somewhat curious and possibly invidious +one. He was to watch--and to seem not to watch. He was to listen--and +appear not to listen. The task would be difficult--and perhaps +unpleasant. For he was very certain that Marston Greyle would resent his +presence in the village, and that Chatfield would be suspicious of it. +What reason could he, an utter stranger, have for taking up his quarters +at the "Admiral's Arms?" The tourist season was over: Autumn was well set +in; with Autumn, on that coast, came weather which would send most +southerners flying homewards. Of course, these people would say that he +was left there to peep and pry--and they would all know that the Squire +was the object of suspicion. It was all very well, his telling Mrs. +Wooler that being an idle man he had taken a fancy to Scarhaven, and +would stay in her inn for a few weeks, but Mrs. Wooler, like everybody +else, would see through that. However, the promise had been given, and he +would keep it--literally. He would do nothing in the way of active +detective work--he would just wait and see what, if anything, turned up. + +But upon one thing Copplestone had made up his mind determinedly before +that second evening came--he would make no pretence to Audrey Greyle and +her mother. And availing himself of their permission to call again, he +went round to the cottage, and before he had been in it five minutes told +them bluntly that he was going to stay at Scarhaven awhile, on the +chance of learning any further news of Bassett Oliver. + +"Which," he added, with a grim smile, "seems about as likely as that +I should hear that I am to be Lord Chancellor when the Woolsack is +next vacant!" + +"You don't know," remarked Mrs. Greyle. "A reward for information is to +be offered, isn't it?" + +"Do you think that will do much good?" asked Copplestone. + +"It depends upon the amount," replied Mrs. Greyle. "We know these people. +They are close and reserved--no people could keep secrets better. For all +one knows, somebody in this village may know something, and may at +present feel it wisest to keep the knowledge to himself. But if +money--what would seem a lot of money--comes into question--ah!" + +"Especially if the information could be given in secret," said Audrey. +"Scarhaven folk love secrecy--it's the salt of life to them: it's in +their very blood. Chatfield is an excellent specimen. He'll watch you as +a cat watches a mouse when he finds you're going to stay here." + +"I shall be quite open," said Copplestone. "I'm not going to indulge in +any secret investigations. But I mean to have a thorough look round the +place. That Keep, now?--may one look round that?" + +"There's a path which leads close by the Keep, from which you can get a +good outside view of it," replied Audrey. "But the Keep itself, and the +rest of the ruins round about it are in private ground." + +"But you have a key, Audrey, and you can take Mr. Copplestone in there," +said Mrs. Greyle. "And you would show him more than he would find out for +himself--Audrey," she continued, turning to Copplestone, "knows every +inch of the place and every stone of the walls." + +Copplestone made no attempt to conceal his delight at this suggestion. He +turned to the girl with almost boyish eagerness. + +"Will you?" he exclaimed. "Do! When?" + +"Tomorrow morning, if you like," replied Audrey. "Meet me on the south +quay, soon after ten." + +Copplestone was down on the quay by ten o'clock. He became aware as he +descended the road from the inn that the fisher-folk, who were always +lounging about the sea-front, were being keenly interested in something +that was going on there. Drawing nearer he found that an energetic +bill-poster was attaching his bills to various walls and doors. Sir +Cresswell and his solicitor had evidently lost no time, and had set a +Norcaster printer to work immediately on their arrival the previous +evening. And there the bill was, and it offered a thousand pounds reward +to any person who should give information which would lead to the finding +of Bassett Oliver, alive or dead. + +Copplestone purposely refrained from mingling with the groups of men and +lads who thronged about the bills, eagerly discussing the great affair of +the moment. He sauntered along the quay, waiting for Audrey. She came at +last with an enigmatic smile on her lips. + +"Our particular excursion is off, Mr. Copplestone," she said. +"Extraordinary events seem to be happening. Mr. Chatfield called on us an +hour ago, took my key away from me, and solemnly informed us that +Scarhaven Keep is strictly closed until further notice!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RIGHT OF WAY + + +The look of blank astonishment which spread over Copplestone's face on +hearing this announcement seemed to afford his companion great +amusement, and she laughed merrily as she signed to him to turn back +towards the woods. + +"All the same," she observed, "I know how to steal a countermarch on +Master Chatfield. Come along!--you shan't be disappointed." + +"Does your cousin know of that?" asked Copplestone. "Are those his +orders?" + +Audrey's lips curled a little, and she laughed again--but this time the +laughter was cynical. + +"I don't think it much matters whether my cousin knows or not," she said. +"He's the nominal Squire of Scarhaven, but everybody knows that the real +over-lord is Peter Chatfield. Peter Chatfield does--everything. And--he +hates me! He won't have had such a pleasant moment for a long time as he +had this morning when he took my key away from me and warned me off." + +"But why you?" asked Copplestone. + +"Oh--Peter is deep!" she said. "Peter, no doubt, knew that you came to +see us last night--Peter knows all that goes on in Scarhaven. And he put +things together, and decided that I might act as your cicerone over the +Keep and the ruins, and so--there you are!" + +"Why should he object to my visiting the Keep?" demanded Copplestone. + +"That's obvious! He considers you a spy," replied Audrey. "And--there may +be reasons why he doesn't desire your presence in those ancient regions. +But--we'll go there, all the same, if you don't mind breaking rules and +defying Peter." + +"Not I!" said Copplestone. "Hang Peter!" + +"There are people who firmly believe that Peter Chatfield should have +been hanged long since," she remarked quietly. "I'm one of them. +Chatfield is a bad old man--thoroughly bad! But I'll circumvent him in +this, anyhow. I know how to get into the Keep in spite of him and of his +locks and bolts. There's a big curtain wall, twenty feet high, all round +the Keep, but I know where there's a hole in it, behind some bushes, and +we'll get in there. Come along!" + +She led him up the same path through the woods along which Bassett Oliver +had gone, according to Ewbank's account. It wound through groves of fir +and pine until it came out on a plateau, in the midst of which, +surrounded by a high irregular wall, towered at the angles and buttressed +all along its length, stood Scarhaven Keep. And there, at the head of a +path which evidently led up from the big house, stood Chatfield, angry +and threatening. Beyond him, distributed at intervals about the other +paths which converged on the plateau were other men, obviously estate +labourers, who appeared to be mounting guard over the forbidden spot. + +"Now there's going to be a row!--between me and Chatfield," murmured +Audrey. "You play spectator--don't say a word. Leave it to me. We are on +our rights along this path--take no notice of Peter." + +But Chatfield was already bearing down on them, his solemn-featured face +dark with displeasure. He raised his voice while he was yet a dozen +yards away. + +"I thought I'd told you as you wasn't to come near these here ruins!" he +said, addressing Audrey in a fashion which made Copplestone's fingers +itch to snatch the oak staff from the agent and lay it freely about his +person. "My orders was to that there effect! And when I give orders I +mean 'em to be obeyed. You'll turn straight back where you came from, +miss, and in future do as I instruct--d'ye hear that, now?" + +"If you expect me to keep quiet or dumb under that sort of thing," +whispered Copplestone, bending towards Audrey, "you're very much mistaken +in me! I shall give this fellow a lesson in another minute if--" + +"Well, wait another minute, then," said Audrey, who had continued to walk +forward, steadily regarding the agent's threatening figure. "Let me talk +a little, first--I'm enjoying it. Are you addressing me, Mr. Chatfield?" +she went on in her sweetest accents. "I hear you speaking, but I don't +know if you are speaking to me. If so, you needn't shout." + +"You know very well who I'm a-speaking to," growled Chatfield. "I told +you you wasn't to come near these ruins--it's forbidden, by order. You'll +take yourself off, and that there young man with you--we want no paid +spies hereabouts!" + +"If you speak to me like that again I'll knock you down!" exclaimed +Copplestone, stepping forward before Audrey could stop him. "Or to this +lady, either. Stand aside, will you?" + +Chatfield twisted on his heel with a surprising agility--not to stand +aside, but to wave his arm to the men who stood here and there, +behind him. + +"Here, you!" he shouted. "Here, this way, all of you! This here fellow's +threatening me with assault. You lay a finger on me, you young snapper, +and I'll have you in the lock-up in ten minutes. Stand between us, you +men!--he's for knocking me down. Now then!" he went on, as the bodyguard +got between him and Copplestone, "off you go, out o' these grounds, both +of you--quick! I'll have no defiance of my orders from neither gel nor +boy, man nor woman. Out you go, now--or you'll be put out." + +But Audrey continued to advance, still watching the agent. "You're under +a mistake, Mr. Chatfield," she said calmly. "You will observe that Mr. +Copplestone and I are on this path. You know very well that this is a +public foot-path, with a proper and legal right-of-way from time +immemorial. You can't turn us off it, you know--without exposing yourself +to all sorts of pains and penalties. You men know that, too," she +continued, turning to the labourers and dropping her bantering tone. "You +all know this is a public footpath. So stand out of our way, or I'll +summon every one of you!" + +The last words were spoken with so much force and decision that the three +labourers involuntarily moved aside. But Chatfield hastened to oppose +Audrey's progress, planting himself in front of a wicket-gate which there +stood across the path, and he laughed sneeringly. + +"And where would you find money to take summonses out?" he said, with a +look of contempt, "I should think you and your mother's something better +to do with your bit o' money than that. Now then, no more words!--back +you turn!" + +Copplestone's temper had been gradually rising during the last few +minutes. Now, at the man's carefully measured taunts, he let it go. +Before Chatfield or the labourers saw what he was at, he sprang on the +agent's big form, grasped him by the neck with one hand, twisted his oak +staff away from him with the other, flung him headlong on the turf, and +raised the staff threateningly. + +"Now!" he said, "beg Miss Greyle's pardon, instantly, or I'll split your +wicked old head for you. Quick, man--I mean it!" + +Before Chatfield, moaning and groaning, could find his voice capable +of words, Marston Greyle, pale and excited, came round a corner of +the ruins. + +"What's this, what's all this?" he demanded. "Here, yon sir, what are +you doing with that stick! What--" + +"I'm about to chastise your agent for his scoundrelly insolence to your +cousin," retorted Copplestone with cheerful determination. "Now then, my +man, quick--I always keep my word!" + +"Hand the stick to Mr. Marston Greyle, Mr. Copplestone," said Audrey in +her demurest manner. "I'm sure he would beat Chatfield soundly if he had +heard what he said to me--his cousin." + +"Thank you, but I'm in possession," said Copplestone, grimly. "Mr. +Marston Greyle can kick him when I've thrashed him. Now, then--are you +going to beg Miss Greyle's pardon, you hoary sinner?" + +"What on earth is it all about?" exclaimed Greyle, obviously upset and +afraid. "Chatfield, what have you been saying? Go away, you men--go away, +all of you, at once. Mr. Copplestone, don't hit him. Audrey, what is it? +Hang it all!--I seem to have nothing but bother--it's most annoying. What +is it, I say?" + +"It is merely, Marston, that your agent there, after trying to turn Mr. +Copplestone and myself off this public foot-path, insulted me with +shameful taunts about my mother's poverty," replied Audrey. "That's all! +Whereupon--as you were not here to do it--Mr. Copplestone promptly and +very properly knocked him down. And now--is Mr. Copplestone to punish him +or--will you?" + +Copplestone, keeping a sharp eye on the groaning and sputtering agent, +contrived at the same time to turn a corner of it on Marston Greyle. That +momentary glance showed him much. The Squire was mortally afraid of his +man. That was certain--as certain as that they were there. He stood, a +picture of vexation and indecision, glancing furtively at Chatfield, then +at Audrey, and evidently hating to be asked to take a side. + +"Confound it all, Chatfield!" he suddenly burst out. "Why don't you mind +what you're saying? It's all very well, Audrey, but you shouldn't have +come along here--especially with strangers. The fact is, I'm so upset +about this Oliver affair that I'm going to have a thorough search and +examination of the Keep and the ruins, and, of course, we can't allow any +one inside the grounds while it's going on. You should have kept to +Chatfield's orders--" + +"And since when has a Greyle of Scarhaven kept to a servant's orders?" +interrupted Audrey, with a sneer that sent the blood rushing to the +Squire's face. "Never!--until this present régime, I should think. +Orders, indeed!--from an agent! I wonder what the last Squire of +Scarhaven would have said to a proposition like that? Mr. +Copplestone--you've punished that bad old man quite sufficiently. Will +you open the gate for me--and we'll go on our way." + +The girl spoke with so much decision that Copplestone moved away from +Chatfield, who struggled to his feet, muttering words that sounded very +much like smothered curses. + +"I'll have the law on you!" he growled, shaking his fist at Copplestone. +"Before this day's out, I'll have the law!" + +"Sooner the better," retorted Copplestone. "Nothing will please me so +much as to tell the local magistrates precisely what you said to your +master's kinswoman. You know where I'm to be found--and there," he +added, throwing a card at the agent's feet, "there you'll find my +permanent address." + +"Give me my walking-stick!" demanded Chatfield. + +"Not I!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That's mine, my good man, by right of +conquest. You can summon me, or arrest me, if you like, for stealing it." + +He opened the wicket-gate for Audrey, and together they passed through, +skirted the walls of the ruins, and went away into the higher portion of +the woods. Once there the girl laughed. + +"Now there'll be another row!" she said. "Between master and man +this time." + +"I think not!" observed Copplestone, with unusual emphasis. "For the +master is afraid of the man." + +"Ah!--but which is master and which is man?" asked Audrey in a low voice. + +Copplestone stopped and looked narrowly at her. + +"Oh?" he said quietly, "so you've seen that?" + +"Does it need much observation?" she replied. "My mother and I have known +for some time that Marston Greyle is entirely under Peter Chatfield's +thumb. He daren't do anything--save by Chatfield's permission." + +Copplestone walked on a few yards, ruminating. + +"Why!" he asked suddenly. + +"How do we know?" retorted Audrey. + +"Well, in cases like that," said Copplestone, "it generally means that +one man has a hold on the other. What hold can Chatfield have on your +cousin? I understand Mr. Marston Greyle came straight to his inheritance +from America. So what could Chatfield know of him--to have any hold?" + +"Oh, I don't know--and I don't care--much," replied Audrey, as they +passed out of the woods on to the headlands beyond. "Never mind all +that--here's the sea and the open sky--hang Chatfield, and Marston, too! +As we can't see the Keep, let's enjoy ourselves some other way. What +shall we do?" + +"You're the guide, conductress, general boss!" answered Copplestone. +"Shall I suggest something that sounds very material, though? Well, then, +can't we go along these cliffs to some village where we can find a nice +old fishing inn and get a simple lunch of some sort?" + +"That's certainly material and eminently practical," laughed Audrey. "We +can--that place, along there to the south--Lenwick. And so, come on--and +no more talk of Squire and agent. I've a remarkable facility in throwing +away unpleasant things." + +"It's a grand faculty--and I'll try to imitate you," said Copplestone. +"So--today's our own, eh? Is that it?" + +"Say until the middle of this afternoon," responded Audrey. "Don't forget +that I have a mother at home." + +It was, however, well past the middle of the afternoon when these two +returned to Scarhaven, very well satisfied with themselves. They had +found plenty to talk about without falling back on Marston Greyle, or +Peter Chatfield, or the event of the morning, and Copplestone suddenly +remembered, almost with compunction, that he had been so engrossed in +his companion that he had almost forgotten the Oliver mystery. But that +was sharply recalled to him as he entered the "Admiral's Arms." Mrs. +Wooler came forward from her parlour with a mysterious smile on her +good-looking face. + +"Here's a billet-doux for you, Mr. Copplestone," she said. "And I can't +tell you who left it. One of the girls found it lying on the hall table +an hour ago." With that she handed Copplestone a much thumbed, very +grimy, heavily-sealed envelope. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HOBKIN'S HOLE + + +Copplestone carried the queer-looking missive into his private +sitting-room and carefully examined it, back and front, before slitting +it open. The envelope was of the cheapest kind, the big splotch of red +wax at the flap had been pressed into flatness by the summary method of +forcing a coarse-grained thumb upon it; the address was inscribed in +ill-formed characters only too evidently made with difficulty by a bad +pen, which seemed to have been dipped into watery ink at every third or +fourth letter. And it read thus:-- + +"THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN STAYING AT 'THE ADMIRAL '--PRIVATE" + +The envelope contained nothing but a scrap of paper obviously torn from a +penny cash book. No ink had been used in transcribing the two or three +lines which were scrawled across this scrap--the vehicle this time was an +indelible pencil, which the writer appeared to have moistened with his +tongue every now and then, some letters being thicker and darker than +others. The message, if mysterious, was straightforward enough. "_Sir,"_ +it ran, "_if so be as you'd like to have a bit of news from one as has +it, take a walk through Hobkin's Hole tomorrow morning and look out for +Yours truly--Him as writes this_." + +Like most very young men Copplestone on arriving at what he called +manhood (by which he meant the age of twenty-one years), had drawn up for +himself a code of ethics, wherein he had mentally scheduled certain +things to be done and certain things not to be done. One of the things +which he had firmly resolved never to do was to take any notice of an +anonymous letter. Here was an anonymous letter, and with it a conflict +between his principles and his inclinations. In five minutes he learnt +that cut-and-dried codes are no good when the hard facts of every-day +life have to be faced and that expediency is a factor in human existence +which has its moral values. In plain English, he made up his mind to +visit Hobkin's Hole next morning and find out who the unknown +correspondent was. + +He was half tempted to go round to the cottage and show the queer scrawl +to Audrey Greyle, of whom, having passed six delightful hours in her +company--he was beginning to think much more than was good for him, +unless he intended to begin thinking of her always. But he was still +young enough to have a spice of bashfulness about him, and he did not +want to seem too pushing or forward. Again, it seemed to him that the +anonymous letter conveyed, in some subtle fashion, a hint that it was to +be regarded as sacred and secret, and Copplestone had a strong sense of +honour. He knew that Mrs. Wooler was femininely curious to hear all about +that letter, but he took care not to mention it to her. Instead he +quietly consulted an ordnance map of the district which hung framed and +glazed in the hall of the inn, and discovering that Hobkin's Hole was +marked on it as being something or other a mile or two out of Scarhaven +on the inland side, he set out in its direction next morning after +breakfast, without a word to anyone as to where he was going. And that he +might not be entirely defenceless he carried Peter Chatfield's oaken +staff with him--that would certainly serve to crack any ordinary skull, +if need arose for measure of defence. + +The road which Copplestone followed out of the village soon turned off +into the heart of the moorlands that lay, rising and falling in irregular +undulations, between the sea and the hills. He was quickly out of sight +of Scarhaven, and in the midst of a solitude. All round him stretched +wide expanses of heather and gorse, broken up by great masses of rock: +from a rise in the road he looked about him and saw no sign of a human +habitation and heard nothing but the rush of the wind across the moors +and the plaintive cry of the sea-birds flapping their way to the +cultivated land beyond the barrier of hills. And from that point he saw +no sign of any fall or depression in the landscape to suggest the place +which he sought. But at the next turn he found himself at the mouth of a +narrow ravine, which cut deep into the heart of the hill, and was dark +and sombre enough to seem a likely place for secret meetings, if for +nothing more serious and sinister. It wound away from a little bridge +which carried the road over a brawling stream; along the side of that +stream were faint indications of a path which might have been made by +human feet, but was more likely to have been trodden out by the mountain +sheep. This path was quickly obscured by dwarf oaks and alder bushes, +which completely roofed in the narrow valley, and about everything hung a +suggestion of solitude that would have caused any timid or suspicious +soul to have turned back. But Copplestone was neither timid nor +suspicious, and he was already intensely curious about this adventure; +wherefore, grasping Peter Chatfield's oaken cudgel firmly in his right +hand, he jumped over the bridge and followed the narrow path into the +gloom of the trees. + +He soon found that the valley resolved itself into a narrow and rocky +defile. The stream, level at first, soon came tumbling down amongst huge +boulders; the path disappeared; out of the oaks and alder high cliffs of +limestones began to lift themselves. The morning was unusually dark and +grey, even for October, and as leaves, brown and sere though they were, +still clustered thickly on the trees, Copplestone quickly found himself +in a gloom that would have made a nervous person frightened. He also +found that his forward progress became increasingly difficult. At the +foot of a tall cliff which suddenly rose up before him he was obliged to +pause; on that side of the stream it seemed impossible to go further. But +as he hesitated, peering here and there under the branches of the dwarf +oaks, he heard a voice, so suddenly, that he started in spite of himself. + +"Guv'nor!" + +Copplestone looked around and saw nothing. Then came a low laugh, as if +the unseen person was enjoying his perplexity. + +"Look overhead, guv'nor," said the voice. "Look aloft!" + +Copplestone glanced upward, and saw a man's head and face, framed in a +screen of bushes which grew on a shelf of the limestone cliff. The head +was crowned by a much worn fur cap; the face, very brown and seamed and +wrinkled, was ornamented by a short, well-blackened clay pipe, from the +bowl of which a wisp of blue smoke curled upward. And as he grew +accustomed to the gloom he was aware of a pair of shrewd, twinkling eyes, +and a set of very white teeth which gleamed like an animal's. + +"Hullo!" said Copplestone. "Come out of that!" + +The white teeth showed themselves still more; their owner laughed again. + +"You come up, guv'nor," he said. "There's a natural staircase round the +corner. Come up and make yourself at home. I've a nice little parlour +here, and a matter of refreshment in it, too." + +"Not till you show yourself," answered Copplestone. "I want to see what +I'm dealing with. Come out, now!" + +The unseen laughed again, moved away from his screen, and presently +showed himself on the edge of the shelf of rock. And Copplestone found +himself staring at a queer figure of a man--an under-sized, +quaint-looking fellow, clad in dirty velveteens, a once red waistcoat, +and leather breeches and gaiters, a sort of compound between a poacher, a +game-keeper, and an ostler. But quainter than figure or garments was the +man's face--a gnarled, weather-beaten, sea-and-wind stained face, which, +in Copplestone's opinion, was holiest enough and not without abundant +traces of a sense of humour. + +Copplestone at once trusted that face. He swung himself up by the nooks +and crannies of the rock, and joined the man on his ledge. + +"Well?" he said. "You're the chap who sent me that letter? Why?" + +"Come this way, guv'nor," replied the brown-faced one. "Well talk more +comfortable, like, in my parlour. Here you are!" + +He led Copplestone along the ridge behind the bushes, and presently +revealed a cave in the face of the overhanging limestone, mostly natural, +but partly due to artifice, wherein were rude seats, covered over with +old sacking, a box or two which evidently served for pantry and larder, +and a shelf on which stood a wicker-covered bottle in company with a row +of bottles of ale. + +The lord of this retreat waved a hospitable hand towards his cellar. + +"You'll not refuse a poor man's hospitality, guv'nor?" he said politely. +"I can give you a clean glass, and if you'll try a drop of rum, there's +fresh water from the stream to mix it with--good as you'll find in +England. Or, maybe, it being the forepart of the day, you'd prefer ale, +now? Say the word!" + +"A bottle of ale, then, thank you," responded Copplestone, who saw that +he had to deal with an original, and did not wish to appear +stand-offish. "And whom am I going to drink with, may I ask?" + +The man carefully drew the cork of a bottle, poured out its contents with +the discrimination of a bartender, handed the glass to his visitor with a +bow, helped himself to a measure of rum, and bowed again as he drank. + +"My best respects to you, guv'nor," he said. "Glad to see you in Hobkin's +Hole Castle--that's here. Queer place for gentlemen to meet in, ain't it? +Who are you talking to, says you? My name, guv'-nor--well-known +hereabouts--is Zachary Spurge!" + +"You sent me that note last night?" asked Copplestone, taking a seat and +filling his pipe. "How did you get it there--unseen?" + +"Got a cousin as is odd-job man at the 'Admiral's Arms,'" replied +Spurge. "He slipped it in for me. You may ha' seen him there, +guv'nor--chap with one eye, and queer-looking, but to be trusted. As I +am!--down to the ground." + +"And what do you want to see me about?" inquired Copplestone. "What's +this bit of news you've got to tell?" + +Zachary Spurge thrust a hand inside his velveteen jacket and drew out a +much folded and creased paper, which, on being unwrapped, proved to be +the bill which offered a reward for the finding of Bassett Oliver. He +held it up before his visitor. + +"This!" he said. "A thousand pound is a vast lot o' money, guv'nor! Now, +if I was to tell something as I knows of, what chances should I have of +getting that there money?" + +"That depends," replied Copplestone. "The reward is to be given to--but +you see the plain wording of it. Can you give information of that sort?" + +"I can give a certain piece of information, guv'nor," said Spurge. +"Whether it'll lead to the finding of that there gentleman or not I can't +say. But something I do know--certain sure!" + +Copplestone reflected awhile. + +"Ill tell you what, Spurge," he said. "I'll promise you this much. If you +can give any information I'll give you my word that--whether what you can +tell is worth much or little--you shall be well paid. That do?" + +"That'll do, guv'nor," responded Spurge. "I take your word as between +gentlemen! Well, now, it's this here--you see me as I am, here in a +cave, like one o' them old eremites that used to be in the ancient days. +Why am I here! 'Cause just now it ain't quite convenient for me to show +my face in Scarhaven. I'm wanted for poaching, guv'nor--that's the fact! +This here is a safe retreat. If I was tracked here, I could make my way +out at the back of this hole--there's a passage here--before anybody +could climb that rock. However, nobody suspects I'm here. They +think--that is, that old devil Chatfield and the police--they think I'm +off to sea. However, here I am--and last Sunday afternoon as ever was, I +was in Scarhaven! In the wood I was, guv'nor, at the back of the Keep. +Never mind what for--I was there. And at precisely ten minutes to three +o'clock I saw Bassett Oliver." + +"How did you know him?" demanded Copplestone. + +"Cause I've had many a sixpenn'orth of him at both Northborough and +Norcaster," answered Spurge. "Seen him a dozen times, I have, and knew +him well enough, even if I'd only viewed him from the the-ayter gallery. +Well, he come along up the path from the south quay. He passed within a +dozen yards of me, and went up to the door in the wall of the ruins, +right opposite where I was lying doggo amongst some bushes. He poked the +door with the point of his stick--it was ajar, that door, and it went +open. And so he walks in--and disappears. Guv'nor!--I reckon that'ud be +the last time as he was seen alive!--unless--unless--" + +"Unless--what?" asked Copplestone eagerly. + +"Unless one other man saw him," replied Spurge solemnly. "For there was +another man there, guv'nor. Squire Greyle!" + +Copplestone looked hard at Spurge; Spurge returned the stare, and nodded +two or three times. + +"Gospel truth!" he said. "I kept where I was--I'd reasons of my own. May +be eight minutes or so--certainly not ten--after Bassett Oliver walked in +there, Squire Greyle walked out. In a hurry, guv'nor. He come out quick. +He looked a bit queer. Dazed, like. You know how quick a man can think, +guv'nor, under certain circumstances? I thought quicker'n lightning. I +says to myself 'Squire's seen somebody or something he hadn't no taste +for!' Why, you could read it on his face! plain as print. It was there!" + +"Well?" said Copplestone. "And then?" + +"Then," continued Spurge. "Then he stood for just a second or two, +looking right and left, up and down. There wasn't a soul in +sight--nobody! But--he slunk off--sneaked off--same as a fox sneaks away +from a farm-yard. He went down the side of the curtain-wall that shuts in +the ruins, taking as much cover as ever he could find--at the end of the +wall, he popped into the wood that stands between the ruins and his +house. And then, of course, I lost all sight of him." + +"And--Mr. Oliver?" said Copplestone. "Did you see him again?" + +Spurge took a pull at his rum and water, and relighted his pipe. + +"I did not," he answered. "I was there until a quarter-past three--then I +went away. And no Oliver had come out o' that door when I left." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INVALID CURATE + + +Spurge and his visitor sat staring at each other in silence for a few +minutes; the silence was eventually broken by Copplestone. + +"Of course," he said reflectively, "if Mr. Oliver was looking round those +ruins he could easily spend half an hour there." + +"Just so," agreed Spurge. "He could spend an hour. If so be as he was one +of these here antiquarian-minded gents, as loves to potter about old +places like that, he could spend two hours, three hours, profitable-like. +But he'd have come out in the end, and the evidence is, guv'nor, that he +never did come out! Even if I am just now lying up, as it were, I'm fully +what they term o-fay with matters, and, by all accounts, after Bassett +Oliver went up that there path, subsequent to his bit of talk with +Ewbank, he was never seen no more 'cepting by me, and possibly by Squire +Greyle. Them as lives a good deal alone, like me guv'nor, develops what +you may call logical faculties--they thinks--and thinks deep. I've +thought. B.O.--that's Oliver--didn't go back by the way he'd come, or +he'd ha' been seen. B.O. didn't go forward or through the woods to the +headlands, or he'd ha' been seen, B.O. didn't go down to the shore, or +he'd ha' been seen. 'Twixt you and me, guv'nor, B.O.'s dead body is in +that there Keep!" + +"Are you suggesting anything?" asked Copplestone. + +"Nothing, guv'nor--no more than that," answered Spurge. "I'm making no +suggestion and no accusation against nobody. I've seen a bit too much of +life to do that. I've known more than one innocent man hanged there at +Norcaster Gaol in my time all through what they call circumstantial +evidence. Appearances is all very well--but appearances may be against a +man to the very last degree, and yet him be as innocent as a new born +baby! No--I make no suggestions. 'Cepting this here--which has no doubt +occurred to you, or to B.O.'s brother. If I were the missing gentleman's +friends I should want to know a lot! I should want to know precisely what +he meant when he said to Dan'l Ewbank as how he'd known a man called +Marston Greyle in America. 'Taint a common name, that, guv'nor." + +Copplestone made no answer to these observations. His own train of +thought was somewhat similar to his host's. And presently he turned to a +different track. + +"You saw no one else about there that afternoon?" he asked. + +"No one, guv'nor," replied Spurge. + +"And where did you go when you left the place?" inquired Copplestone. + +"To tell you the truth, guv'nor, I was waiting there for that cousin o' +mine--him as carried you the letter," answered Spurge. "It was a fixture +between us--he was to meet me there about three o'clock that day. If he +wasn't there, or in sight, by a quarter-past three I was to know he +wasn't able to get away. So as he didn't come, I slipped back into the +woods, and made my way back here, round by the moors." + +"Are you going to stay in this place?" asked Copplestone. + +"For a bit, guv'nor--till I see how things are," replied Spurge. "As I +say, I'm wanted for poaching, and Chatfield's been watching to get his +knife into me this long while. All the same, if more serious things drew +his attention off, he might let it slide. What do you ask for, guv'nor?" + +"I wanted to know where you could be found in case you were required to +give evidence about seeing Mr. Oliver," replied Copplestone. "That +evidence may be wanted." + +"I've thought of that," observed Spurge. "And you can always find that +much out from my cousin at the 'Admiral.' He keeps in touch with me--if +it got too hot for me here, I should clear out to Norcaster--there's a +spot there where I've laid low many a time. You can trust my cousin--Jim +Spurge, that's his name. One eye, no mistaking of him--he's always about +the yard there at Mrs. Wooler's." + +"All right," said Copplestone. "If I want you, I'll tell him. By-the-bye, +have you told this to anybody?" + +"Not to a soul, guv'nor," replied Spurge. "Not even to Jim. No--I kept it +dark till I could see you. Considering, of course, that you are left in +charge of things, like." + +Copplestone presently went away and returned slowly to Scarhaven, +meditating deeply on what he had heard. He saw no reason to doubt the +truth of Zachary Spurge's tale--it bore the marks of credibility. But +what did it amount to? That Spurge saw Bassett Oliver enter the ruins of +the Keep, by the one point of ingress; that a few moments later he saw +Marston Greyle come away from the same place, evidently considerably +upset, and sneak off in a manner which showed that he dreaded +observation. That was all very suspicious, to say the least of it, taken +in relation to Oliver's undoubted disappearance--but it was only +suspicion; it afforded no direct proof. However, it gave material for a +report to Sir Cresswell Oliver, and he determined to write out an account +of his dealings with Spurge that afternoon, and to send it off at once by +registered letter. + +He was busily engaged in this task when Mrs. Wooler came into his +sitting-room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that +she was full of news. + +"Never rains but it pours!" she said with a smile. "Though, to be sure, +it isn't a very heavy shower. I've got another visitor now, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Oh?" responded Copplestone, not particularly interested. "Indeed!" + +"A young clergyman from London--the Reverend Gilling," continued the +landlady. "Been ill for some time, and his doctor has recommended him to +try the north coast air. So he came down here, and he's going to stop +awhile to see how it suits him." + +"I should have thought the air of the north coast was a bit strong for +an invalid," remarked Copplestone. "I'm not delicate, but I find it quite +strong enough for me." + +"I daresay it's a case of kill or cure," replied Mrs. Wooler. "Chest +complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks +particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he's a very good +appetite and that his doctor says he's to live well and to eat as much as +ever he can." + +Copplestone got a view of his fellow-visitor that afternoon in the hall +of the inn, and agreed with the landlady that he showed no evident signs +of delicacy of health. He was a good type of the conventional curate, +with a rather pale, good-humoured face set between his round collar and +wide brimmed hat, and he glanced at Copplestone with friendly curiosity +and something of a question in his eyes. And Copplestone, out of good +neighbourliness, stopped and spoke to him. + +"Mrs. Wooler tells me you're come here to pick up," he remarked. "Pretty +strong air round this quarter of the globe!" + +"Oh, that's all right!" said the new arrival. "The air of Scarhaven +will do me good--it's full of just what I want." He gave Copplestone +another look and then glanced at the letters which he held in his hand. +"Are you going to the post-office?" he asked. "May I come?--I want to +go there, too." + +The two young men walked out of the inn, and Copplestone led the way +down the road towards the northern quay. And once they were well out +of earshot of the "Admiral's Arms," and the two or three men who +lounged near the wall in front of it, the curate turned to his +companion with a sly look. + +"Of course you're Mr. Copplestone?" he remarked. "You can't be anybody +else--besides, I heard the landlady call you so." + +"Yes," replied Copplestone, distinctly puzzled by the other's manner. +"What then?" + +The curate laughed quietly, and putting his fingers inside his heavy +overcoat, produced a card which he handed over. + +"My credentials!" he said. + +Copplestone glanced at the card and read "Sir Cresswell Oliver," He +turned wonderingly to his companion, who laughed again. + +"Sir Cresswell told me to give you that as soon as I conveniently could," +he said. "The fact is, I'm not a clergyman at all--not I! I'm a private +detective, sent down here by him and Petherton. See?" + +Copplestone stared for a moment at the wide-brimmed hat, the round +collar, the eminently clerical countenance. Then he burst into laughter. +"I congratulate you on your make-up, anyway!" he exclaimed. "Capital!" + +"Oh, I've been on the stage in my time," responded the private detective. +"I'm a good hand at fitting myself to various parts; besides I've played +the conventional curate a score of times. Yes, I don't think anybody +would see through me, and I'm very particular to avoid the clergy." + +"And you left the stage--for this?" asked Copplestone. "Why, now?" + +"Pays better--heaps better," replied the other calmly. "Also, it's more +exciting--there's much more variety in it. Well, now you know who I +am--my name, by-the-bye is Gilling, though I'm not the Reverend Gilling, +as Mrs. Wooler will call me. And so--as I've made things plain--how's +this matter going so far?" + +Copplestone shook his head. + +"My orders," he said, with a significant look, "are--to say nothing +to any one." + +"Except to me," responded Gilling. "Sir Cresswell Oliver's card is my +passport. You can tell me anything." + +"Tell me something first," replied Copplestone. "Precisely what are you +here for? If I'm to talk confidentially to you, you must talk in the same +fashion to me." + +He stopped at a deserted stretch of the quay, and leaning against the +wall which separated it from the sand, signed to Gilling to stop also. + +"If we're going to have a quiet talk," he went on, "we'd better have it +now--no one's about, and if any one sees us from a distance they'll +only think we're, what we look to be--casual acquaintances. Now--what +is your job?" + +Gilling looked about him and then perched himself on the wall. + +"To watch Marston Greyle," he replied. + +"They suspect him?" asked Copplestone. + +"Undoubtedly!" + +"Sir Cresswell Oliver said as much to me--but no more. Have they said +more to you?" + +"The suspicion seemed to have originated with Petherton. Petherton, in +spite of his meek old-fashioned manners, is as sharp an old bird as +you'll find in London! He fastened at once on what Bassett Oliver said +to that fisherman, Ewbank. A keen nose for a scent, Petherton's! And he +'s determined to find out who it was that Bassett Oliver met in the +United States under the name of Marston Greyle. He's already set the +machinery in motion. And in the meantime, I'm to keep my eye on this +Squire--as I shall!" + +"Why watch him particularly?" + +"To see that he doesn't depart for unknown regions--or, if he does, to +follow in his track. He's not to be lost sight of until this mystery is +cleared. Because--something is wrong." + +Copplestone considered matters in silence for a few moments, and decided +not to reveal the story of Zachary Spurge to Gilling--yet awhile at any +rate. However, he had news which there was no harm in communicating. + +"Marston Greyle," he said, presently, "or his agent, Peter Chatfield, or +both, in common agreement, are already doing something to solve the +mystery--so far as Greyle's property is concerned. They've closed the +Keep and its surrounding ruins to the people who used to be permitted to +go in, and they're conducting an exhaustive search--for Bassett Oliver, +of course." + +Gilling made a grimace. + +"Of course!" he said, cynically. "Just so! I expected something of that +sort. That's all part of a clever scheme." + +"I don't understand you," remarked Copplestone. "How--a clever scheme?" + +"Whitewash!" answered Gilling. "Sheer whitewash! You don't suppose that +either Greyle or Chatfield are fools?--I should say they're far from it, +from what little I've heard of 'em. Well--don't they know very well that +Marston Greyle is under suspicion? All right--they want to clear him. So +they close their ruins and make a search--a private search, mind you--and +at the end they announce that nothing's been found--and there you are! +And--supposing they did find something--supposing they found Bassett +Oliver's body--What is it?" he asked suddenly, seeing Copplestone staring +hard across the sands at the opposite quay. "Something happened?" + +"By Gad!--I believe something has happened!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Look +there--men running down the hillside from the Keep. And listen--they're +shouting to those fellows on the other quay. Come on across! Will it be +out of keeping with your invalid pose if you run?" + +Gilling answered that question by lightly vaulting the wall and dropping +to the sands beneath. + +"I'm not an invalid in my legs, anyhow," he answered, as they began to +splash across the pools left by the recently retreated tide. "By +George!--I believe something has happened, too! Look at those people, +running out of their cottages!" + +All along the south quay the fisher-folk, men, women, and children, were +crowding eagerly towards the gate of the path by which Bassett Oliver had +gone up towards the Keep. When Copplestone and his companion gained the +quay and climbed up its wall they were pouring in at this gate, and +swarming up to the woods, all talking at the top of their voices. +Copplestone suddenly recognized Ewbank on the fringe of the crowd and +called to him. + +"What is it?" he demanded. "What's happened?" + +Ewbank, a man of leisurely movement, paused and waited for the two young +men to come up. At their approach he took his pipe out of his mouth, and +inclined his head towards the Keep. + +"They're saying something's been found up there." he replied. "I don't +know what. But Chatfield, he's sent two men down here to the village. One +of 'em's gone for the police and the doctor, and t'other's gone to the +'Admiral,' looking for you. You're wanted up there--partiklar!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BENEATH THE BRAMBLES + + +By the time Copplestone and the pseudo-curate had reached the plateau of +open ground surrounding the ruins it seemed as if half the population of +Scarhaven had gathered there. Men, women and children were swarming about +the door in the curtain wall, all manifesting an eager desire to pass +through. But the door was strictly guarded. Chatfield, armed with a new +oak cudgel stood there, masterful and lowering; behind him were several +estate labourers, all keeping the people back. And within the door stood +Marston Greyle, evidently considerably restless and perturbed, and every +now and then looking out on the mob which the fast-spreading rumour had +called together. In one of these inspections he caught sight of +Copplestone, and spoke to Chatfield, who immediately sent one of his +body-guard through the throng. + +"Mr. Greyle says will you go forward, sir?" said the man. "Your friend +can go in too, if he likes." + +"That's your clerical garb," whispered Copplestone as he and Gilling made +their way to the door. "But why this sudden politeness?" + +"Oh, that's easy to reckon up," answered Gilling. "I see through it. They +want creditable and respectable witnesses to something or other. This +big, heavy-jowled man is Chatfield, of course?" + +"That's Chatfield," responded Copplestone. "What's he after?" + +For the agent, as the two young men approached, ostentiously turned away +from them, moving a few steps from the door. He muttered a word or two to +the men who guarded it and they stood aside and allowed Copplestone and +the curate to enter. Marston Greyle came forward, eyeing Gilling with a +sharp glance of inspection. He turned from him to Copplestone. + +"Will you come in?" he asked, not impolitely and with a certain anxiety +of manner. "I want you to--to be present, in fact. This gentleman is a +friend of yours?" + +"An acquaintance of an hour," interposed Gilling, with ready wit. "I have +just come to stay at the inn--for my health's sake." + +"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to accompany us?" said Greyle. "The fact +is, Mr. Copplestone, we've found Mr. Bassett Oliver's body." + +"I thought so," remarked Copplestone. + +"And as soon as the police come up," continued Greyle, "I want you all to +see exactly where it is. No one's touched it--no one's been near it. Of +course, he's dead!" + +He lifted his hand with a nervous gesture, and the two others, who were +watching him closely, saw that he was trembling a good deal, and that his +face was very pale. + +"Dead!--of course," he went on. "He--he must have been killed +instantaneously. And you'll see in a minute or two why the body wasn't +found before--when we made that first search. It's quite explainable. The +fact is--" + +A sudden bustle at the door in the wall heralded the entrance of two +policemen. The Squire went forward to meet them. The prospect of +immediate action seemed to pull him together and his manner changed to +one of assertive superintendence of things. + +"Now, Mr. Chatfield!" he called out. "Keep all these people away! Close +the door and let no one enter on any excuse. Stay there yourself and see +that we are not interrupted. Come this way now," he went on, addressing +the policemen and the two favoured spectators. + +"You've found him, then, sir?" asked the police-sergeant in a thick +whisper, as Greyle led his party across the grass to the foot of the +Keep. "I suppose it's all up with the poor gentleman; of course? The +doctor, he wasn't in, but they'll send him up as soon--" + +"Mr. Bassett Oliver is dead," interrupted Greyle, almost harshly. "No +doctors can do any good. Now, look here," he continued, pulling them to a +sudden halt, "I want all of you to take particular notice of this old +tower--the Keep. I believe you have not been in here before, Mr. +Copplestone--just pay particular attention to this place. Here you see is +the Keep, standing in the middle of what I suppose was the courtyard of +the old castle. It's a square tower, with a stair-turret at one angle. +The stair in that turret is in a very good state of preservation--in +fact, it is quite easy to climb to the top, and from the top there's a +fine view of land and sea: the Keep itself is nearly a hundred feet in +height. Now the inside of the Keep is completely gutted, as you'll +presently see--there isn't a floor left of the five or six which were +once there. And I'm sorry to say there's very little protection when +one's at the top--merely a narrow ledge with a very low parapet, which in +places is badly broken. Consequently, any one who climbs to the top must +be very careful, or there's the danger of slipping off that ledge and +falling to the bottom. Now in my opinion that's precisely what happened +on Sunday afternoon. Oliver evidently got in here, climbed the stairs in +the turret to enjoy the view and fell from the parapet. And why his body +hasn't been found before I'll now show you." + +He led the way to the extreme foot of the Keep, and to a very low-arched +door, at which stood a couple of the estate labourers, one of whom +carried a lighted lantern. To this man the Squire made a sign. + +"Show the way," he said, in a low voice. + +The man turned and descended several steps of worn and moss-covered stone +which led through the archway into a dark, cellar-like place smelling +strongly of damp and age. Greyle drew the attention of his companions to +a heap of earth and rubbish at the entrance. + +"We had to clear all that out before we could get in here," he said. +"This archway hadn't been opened for ages. This, of course, is the very +lowest story of the Keep, and half beneath the level of the ground +outside. Its roof has gone, like all the rest, but as you see, something +else has supplied its place. Hold up your lantern, Marris!" + +The other men looked up and saw what the Squire meant. Across the tower, +at a height of some fifteen or twenty feet from the floor, Nature, left +unchecked, had thrown a ceiling of green stuff. Bramble, ivy, and other +spreading and climbing plants had, in the course of years, made a +complete network from wall to wall. In places it was so thick that no +light could be seen through it from beneath; in other places it was thin +and glimpses of the sky could be seen from above the grey, tunnel-like +walls. And in one of those places, close to the walls, there was a +distinct gap, jagged and irregular, as if some heavy mass had recently +plunged through the screen of leaf and branch from the heights above, and +beneath this the startled searchers saw the body, lying beside a heap of +stones and earth in the unmistakable stillness of death. + +"You see how it must have happened," whispered Greyle, as they all bent +round the dead man. "He must have fallen from the very top of the +Keep--from the parapet, in fact--and plunged through this mass of green +stuff above us. If he had hit that where it's so thick--there!--it might +have broken his fall, but, you see, he struck it at the very thinnest +part, and being a big and heavyish man, of course, he'd crash right +through it. Now of course, when we examined the Keep on Monday morning, +it never struck us that there might be something down here--if you go up +the turret stairs to the top and look down on this mass of green stuff +from the very top, you'll see that it looks undisturbed; there's scarcely +anything to show that he fell through it, from up there. But--he did!" + +"Whose notion was it that he might be found here?" asked Copplestone. + +"Chatfield's," replied the Squire. "Chatfield's. He and I were up at the +top there, and he suddenly suggested that Oliver might have fallen from +the parapet and be lying embedded in that mass of green stuff beneath. We +didn't know then--even Chatfield didn't know--that there was this empty +space beneath the green stuff. But when we came to go into it, we found +there was, so we had that archway cleared of all the stone and rubbish +and of course we found him." + +"The body'll have to be removed, sir," whispered the police-sergeant. +"It'll have to be taken down to the inn, to wait the inquest." + +Marston Greyle started. + +"Inquest!" he said. "Oh!--will that have to be held? I suppose so--yes. +But we'd better wait until the doctor comes, hadn't we? I want him--" + +The doctor came into the gloomy vault at that moment, escorted by +Chatfield, who, however, immediately retired. He was an elderly, +old-fashioned somewhat fussy-mannered person, who evidently attached +much more importance to the living Squire than to the dead man, and he +listened to all Marston Greyle's explanations and theories with great +deference and accepted each without demur. "Ah yes, to be sure!" he said, +after a perfunctory examination of the body. "The affair is easily +understood. It is precisely as you suggest, Squire. The unfortunate man +evidently climbed to the top of the tower, missed his footing, and fell +headlong. That slight mass of branch and leaf would make little +difference--he was, you see, a heavy man--some fourteen or fifteen stone, +I should think. Oh, instantaneous death, without a doubt! Well, well, +these constables must see to the removal of the body, and we must let my +friend the coroner know--he will hold the inquest tomorrow, no doubt. +Quite a mere formality, my dear sir!--the whole thing is as plain as a +pikestaff. It will be a relief to know that the mystery is now +satisfactorily solved." + +Outside in the welcome freshness, Copplestone turned to the doctor. + +"You say the inquest will be held tomorrow?" he asked. The doctor looked +his questioner up and down with an inquiry which signified doubt as to +Copplestone's right to demand information. + +"In the usual course," he replied stiffly. + +"Then his brother, Sir Cresswell Oliver, and his solicitor, Mr. +Petherton, must be wired for from London," observed Copplestone, turning +to Greyle. "I'll communicate with them at once. I suppose we may go up +the tower?" he continued as Greyle nodded his assent. "I'd like to see +the stairs and the parapet." + +Greyle looked a little doubtful and uneasy. + +"Well, I had meant that no one should go up until all this was gone +into," he answered. "I don't want any more accidents. You'll be careful?" + +"We're both young and agile," responded Copplestone. + +"There's no need for alarm. Do you care to go up, Mr. Gilling?" + +The pseudo-curate accepted the invitation readily, and he and +Copplestone entered the turret. They had climbed half its height before +Copplestone spoke. + +"Well?" he whispered. "What do you think?" + +"It may be accident," muttered Gilling. "It--mayn't." + +"You think he might have been--what?--thrown down?" + +"Might have been caught unawares, and pushed over. Let's see what there +is up above, anyway." + +The stair in the turret, much worn, but comparatively safe, and lighted +by loopholes and arrow-slits, terminated in a low arched doorway, through +which egress was afforded to a parapet which ran completely round the +inner wall of the Keep. It was in no place more than a yard wide; the +balustrading which fenced it in was in some places completely gone, a +mere glance was sufficient to show that only a very cool-headed and +extremely sure-footed person ought to traverse it. Copplestone contented +himself with an inspection from the archway; he looked down and saw at +once that a fall from that height must mean sure and swift death: he saw, +too, that Greyle had been quite right in saying that the sudden plunge of +Oliver's body through the leafy screen far beneath had made little +difference to the appearance of that screen as seen from above. And now +that he saw everything it seemed to him that the real truth might well +lie in one word--accident. + +"Coming round this parapet?" asked Gilling, who was looking narrowly +about him. + +"No!" replied Copplestone. "I can't stand looking down from great +heights. It makes my head swim. Are you?" + +"Sure!" answered Gilling. He took off his heavy overcoat and handed it to +his companion. "Mind holding it?" he asked. "I want to have a good look +at the exact spot from which Oliver must have fallen. There's the +gap--such as it is, and it doesn't look much from here, does it?--in the +green stuff, down below, so he must have been here on the parapet exactly +above it. Gad! it's very narrow, and a bit risky, this, when all's said +and done!" + +Copplestone watched his companion make his way round to the place from +which it was only too evident Oliver must have fallen. Gilling went +slowly, carefully inspecting every yard of the moss and lichen-covered +stones. Once he paused some time and seemed to be examining a part of the +parapet with unusual attention. When he reached the precise spot at which +he had aimed, he instantly called across to Copplestone. + +"There's no doubt about his having fallen from here!" he said. "Some of +the masonry on the very edge of this parapet is loose. I could dislodge +it with a touch." + +"Then be careful," answered Copplestone. "Don't cross that bit!" + +But Gilling quietly continued his progress and returned to his companion +by the opposite side from which he had set out, having thus accomplished +the entire round. He quietly reassumed his overcoat. + +"No doubt about the fall," he said as they turned down the stair. "The +next thing is--was it accidental?" + +"And--as regards that--what's to be done next?" asked Copplestone. + +"That's easy. We must go at once and wire for Sir Cresswell and old +Petherton," replied Gilling. "It's now four-thirty. If they catch an +evening express at King's Cross they'll get here early in the morning. If +they like to motor from Norcaster they can get here in the small hours. +But--they must be here for that inquest." + +Greyle was talking to Chatfield at the foot of the Keep when they got +down. The agent turned surlily away, but the Squire looked at both with +an unmistakable eagerness. + +"There's no doubt whatever that Oliver fell from the parapet," said +Copplestone. "The marks of a fall are there--quite unmistakably." + +Greyle nodded, but made no remark, and the two made their way through +the still eager crowd and went down to the village post-office. Both were +wondering, as they went, about the same thing--the evident anxiety and +mental uneasiness of Marston Greyle. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GOOD MEN AND TRUE + + +Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in the +evening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he and +Petherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon after +midnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival. +Copplestone made all arrangements for their reception, and after +snatching a couple of hours' sleep was up to receive them. By two o'clock +in the morning Sir Cresswell and the old solicitor and Gilling--smuggled +into their sitting-room--had heard all he had to tell about Zachary +Spurge and his story. + +"We must have that fellow at the inquest," said Petherton. "At any cost +we must have him! That's flat!" + +"You think it wise?" asked Sir Cresswell. "Won't it be a bit previous? +Wouldn't it be better to wait until we know more?" + +"No--we must have his evidence," declared Petherton. "It will serve as an +opening. Besides, this inquest will have to be adjourned--I shall ask for +that. No--Spurge must be produced." + +"If Spurge comes into Scarhaven," observed Copplestone, "he'll be +promptly collared by the police. They want him for poaching." + +"Then they can get him when the proceedings are over," retorted the old +lawyer, dryly. "They daren't touch him while he's giving evidence and +that's all we want. Perhaps he won't come?--Oh he'll come all right if +we make it worth his while. A month in Norcaster gaol will mean nothing +to him if he knows there's a chance of that reward or something +substantial out of it at the end of his sentence. You must go out to +this retreat of his and bring him in--we must have him. Better go very +early in the morning. + +"I'll go now," said Copplestone. "It's as easy to go by night as by day." +He left the other three to seek their beds, and himself slipped quietly +out of the hotel by one of the ground-floor windows and set off in a +pitch-black night to seek Spurge in his lair. And after sundry barkings +of his shins against the rocks and scratchings of his hands and cheeks by +the undergrowth of Hobkin's Hole he rounded the poacher out and delivered +his message. + +Spurge, blinking at his visitor in the pale light of a guttering candle, +shook his head. + +"I'll come, guv'nor," he said. "Of course. I'll come--and I'll trust to +luck to get away, and it don't matter a deal if the luck's agen me--I've +done a month in Norcaster before today, and it ain't half a bad +rest-cure, if you only take it that way. But guv'nor--that old lawyer's +making a mistake! You didn't ought to have my bit of evidence at this +stage. It's too soon. You want to work up the case a bit. There's such a +thing, guv'nor, in this world as being a bit previous. This here's too +previous--you want to be surer of your facts. Because you know, guv'nor +nobody'll believe my word agen Squire Greyle's. Guv'nor--this here +inquest'll be naught but a blooming farce! Mark me! You ain't a native o' +this part--I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aught +agen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor--all a blooming +farce! Mark my words!" + +"All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly of +Spurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run." + +"Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothing +else. You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call my +name out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward." + +There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like him +in the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten-o'clock +that morning. It seemed to Copplestone that it would have been a physical +impossibility to crowd more people within the walls than had assembled +when the coroner, a local solicitor, who was obviously testy, irritable, +self-important and afflicted with deafness, took his seat and looked +sourly on the crowd of faces. Copplestone had already seen him in +conversation with the village doctor, the village police, Chatfield, and +Marston Greyle's solicitor, and he began to see the force of Spurge's +shrewd remarks. What, of course, was most desired was secrecy and +privacy--the Scarhaven powers had no wish that the attention of all the +world should be drawn to this quiet place. But outsiders were there in +plenty. Stafford and several members of Bassett Oliver's company had +motored over from Norcaster and had succeeded in getting good places: +there were half-a-dozen reporters from Norcaster and Northborough, and +plain-clothes police from both towns. And there, too, were all the +principal folk of the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, +and, a little distance from Audrey, alert and keenly interested, was +Addie Chatfield. + +It needed very little insight or observation on the part of an +intelligent spectator to see how things were going. The twelve good men +and true, required under the provisions of the old statute to form a +jury, were all of them either Scarhaven tradesmen or Scarhaven +householders or labourers on the estate. Their countenances, as they took +their seats under the foremanship of a man whom Copplestone already knew +as Chatfield's under-steward, showed plainly that they regarded the whole +thing as a necessary formality and that they were already prepared with a +verdict. This impression was strengthened by the coroner's opening +remarks. In his opinion, the whole affair--to which he did not even refer +as unfortunate--was easily and quickly explained and understood. The +deceased had come to the village to look round--on a Sunday be it +observed--had somehow obtained access to the Keep, where, the ruins being +strictly private and not open to the public on any consideration on +Sunday, he had no right to be; had indulged his curiosity by climbing to +the top of the ancient tower and had paid for it by falling down from +that terrible height and breaking his neck. All that was necessary was +for them to hear evidence bearing out these facts--after which they would +return a verdict in accordance with what they had heard. Very fortunately +the facts were plain, and it would not be necessary to call many +witnesses. + +Sir Cresswell Oliver turned to Copplestone who sat at one side of him, +while Petherton sat on the other. + +"I don't know if you notice that Greyle isn't here?" he whispered grimly. +"In my opinion, he doesn't intend to show! We'll see!" + +Certainly the Squire was not in the place. And there were soon signs that +those who conducted the proceedings evidently did not consider his +presence necessary. The witnesses were few; their examinations was +perfunctory; they were out of the extemporised witness-box as soon as +they were in it. Sir Cresswell Oliver--to give formal identification. +Mrs. Wooler--to prove that the deceased man came to her house. One of the +foremen of the estate--to prove the great care with which the Squire had +searched for traces of the missing man. One of the estate labourers--to +prove the actual finding of the body. The doctor--to prove, beyond all +doubt, that the deceased had broken his neck. + +The coroner, an elderly man, obviously well satisfied with the trend of +things, took off his spectacles and turned to the jury. + +"You have heard everything there is to be heard, gentlemen," said he. "As +I remarked at the opening of this inquest, the case is one of great +simplicity. You will have no difficulty in deciding that the deceased +came to his death by accident--as to the exact wording of your verdict, +you had better put it in this way:--that the deceased Bassett Oliver died +as the result--" + +Petherton, who, noticing the coroner's deafness, had contrived to seat +himself as close to his chair of office as possible, quietly rose. + +"Before the jury consider any verdict," he said in his loudest tones, +"they must hear certain evidence which I wish to call. And first of +all--is Mr. Marston Greyle present in this room?" + +The coroner frowned, and the Squire's solicitor turned to Petherton. + +"Mr. Greyle is not present," he said. "He is not at all well. There is no +need for his presence--he has no evidence to give." + +"If you don't have Mr. Greyle down here at once," said Petherton, +quietly, "this inquest will have to be adjourned for his attendance. +You had better send for him--or I'll get the authorities to do so. In +the meantime, we '11 call one or two witnesses,--Daniel Ewbank!--to +begin with." + +There was a brief and evidently anxious consultation between Greyle's +solicitor and the coroner; there were dark looks at Petherton and his +companions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly. + +"We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, us +as sits here. Our verdict is--" + +"You'll have to bear Ewbank and anybody I like to call, my good sir," +retorted Petherton quietly. "I am better acquainted with the law than you +are." He turned to the coroner's officer. "I warned you this morning to +produce Ewbank," he said. "Now, where is he?" + +Out of a deep silence a shrill voice came from the rear of the crowd. + +"Knows better than to be here, does Dan'l Ewbank, mister! He's off!" + +"Very good--or bad--for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly. +"Then--until Mr. Marston Greyle comes--we will call Zachary Spurge." + +The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurge +suddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and it +was at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say, +no one there would attach any importance to it. The laughter continued +and increased while Spurge was under examination. Petherton appealed to +the coroner; the coroner affected not to hear. And once more the foreman +of the jury interrupted. + +"We don't want to hear no more o' this stuff!" he said. "It's an insult +to us to put a fellow like that before us. We don't believe a word o' +what he says. We don't believe he was within a mile o' them ruins on +Sunday afternoon. It's all a put-up job!" + +Petherton leaned towards the reporters. + +"I hope you gentlemen of the press will make a full note of these +proceedings," he observed suavely. "You at any rate are not biassed or +prejudiced." + +The coroner heard that in spite of his deafness, and he grew purple. + +"Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is a most improper observation! It's a +reflection on my position, sir, and I've a great mind--" + +"Mr. Coroner," observed Petherton, leaning towards him, "I shall hand in +a full report concerning your conduct of these proceedings to the Home +Office tomorrow. If you attempt to interfere with my duty here, all the +worse for you. Now, Spurge, you can stand down. And as I see Mr. Greyle +there--call Marston Greyle!" + +The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and had +heard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, and +disturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and his +party were distinctly those of displeasure. + +"Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle--" + +But Greyle's own solicitor was on his legs, insisting on his right to put +a first question. In spite of Petherton, he put it. + +"You heard the evidence of the last witness?--Spurge. Is there a word of +truth in it?" + +Marston Greyle--who certainly looked very unwell--moistened his lips. + +"Not one word!" he answered. "It's a lie!" + +The solicitor glanced triumphantly at the Coroner and the jury, and the +crowd raised unchecked murmurs of approval. Again the foreman endeavoured +to stop the proceedings. + +"We regard all this here as very rude conduct to Mr. Greyle," he said +angrily. "We're not concerned--" + +"Mr. Foreman!" said Petherton. "You are a foolish man--you are +interfering with justice. Be warned!--I warn you, if the Coroner doesn't. +Mr. Greyle, I must ask you certain questions. Did you see the deceased +Bassett Oliver on Sunday last?" + +"No!" + +"I needn't remind you that you are on your oath. Have you ever met the +deceased man in your life?" + +"Never!" + +"You never met him in America?" + +"I may have met him--but not to my recollection. If I did, it was in such +a casual fashion that I have completely forgotten all about it." + +"Very well--you are on your oath, mind. Where did you live in America, +before you succeeded to this estate?" + +The Squire's solicitor intervened. + +"Don't answer that question!" he said sharply. "Don't answer any more. I +object altogether to your line," he went on, angrily, turning to +Petherton. "I claim the Coroner's protection for the witness." + +"I quite agree," said the Coroner. "All this is absolutely irrelevant. +You can stand down," he continued, turning to the Squire. "I will have no +more of this--and I will take the full responsibility!" + +"And the consequences, Mr. Coroner," replied Petherton calmly. "And the +first consequence is that I now formally demand an adjournment of this +inquest, _sine die_." + +"On what grounds, sir?" demanded the Coroner. + +"To permit me to bring evidence from America," replied Petherton, with a +side glance at Marston Greyle. "Evidence already being prepared." + +The Coroner hesitated, looked at Greyle's solicitor, and then turned +sharply to the jury. + +"I refuse that application!" he said. "You have heard all I have to say, +gentlemen," he went on, "and you can return your verdict." + +Petherton quietly gathered up his papers and motioned to his friends to +follow him out of the schoolroom. The foreman of the jury was returning a +verdict of accidental death as they passed through the door, and they +emerged into the street to an accompaniment of loud cheers for the Squire +and groans for themselves. + +"What a travesty of justice!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "That fellow +Spurge was right, you see, Copplestone. I wish we hadn't brought him +into danger." + +Copplestone suddenly laughed and touched Sir Cresswell's arm. He pointed +to the edge of the moorland just outside the school-yard. Spurge was +disappearing over that edge, and in a moment had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MR. DENNIE + + +Amongst the little group of actors and actresses who had come over from +Norcaster to hear all that was to be told concerning their late manager, +sat an old gentleman who, hands folded on the head of his walking cane, +and chin settled on his hands, watched the proceedings with silent and +concentrated attention. He was a striking figure of an old +gentleman--tall, distinguished-looking, handsome, with a face full of +character, the strong lines and features of which were further +accentuated by his silvery hair. He was a smart old gentleman, too, well +and scrupulously attired and groomed, and his blue bird's-eye necktie, +worn at a rakish angle, gave him the air of something of a sporting man +rather than of a follower of Thespis. His fellow members of the Oliver +company seemed to pay him great attention, and at various points of the +proceedings whispered questions to him as to an acknowledged authority. + +This old gentleman, when the inquest came to its extraordinary end and +the crowd went out murmuring and disputing, separated himself from his +companions and made his way towards Mrs. Greyle and her daughter, who +were quietly setting out homewards. To Audrey's surprise the two elders +shook hands in silence, and inspected each other with a palpable +wistfulness of look. + +"And yet it's twenty-five years since we met, isn't it?" said the old +gentleman, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But I knew you at +once--I was wondering if you remembered me?" + +"Why, of course," responded Mrs. Greyle. "Besides, I've had an +advantage over you. I've seen you, you know, several times--at +Norcaster. We go to the theatre now and then. Audrey--this is Mr. +Dennie--you've seen him, too." + +"On the stage--on the stage!" murmured the old actor, as he shook hands +with the girl. "Um!--I wonder if any of us are ever really off it! This +affair, for instance--there's a drama for you! By the-bye--this young +Squire--he's your relation, of course?" + +"My nephew-in-law, and Audrey's cousin," replied Mrs. Greyle. Mr. Dennie, +who had walked along with them towards their cottage, stopped in a quiet +stretch of the quay, and looked meditatively at Audrey. + +"Then this young lady," he said, "is next heir to the Greyle estates, eh? +For I understand this present Squire isn't married. Therefore--" + +"Oh, that's something that isn't worth thinking about," replied Mrs. +Greyle hastily. "Don't put such notions into the girl's head, Mr. Dennie. +Besides, the Greyle estates are not entailed, you know. The present owner +can do what he pleases with them--besides that, he's sure to marry." + +"All the same," observed Mr. Dennie, imperturbably, "if this young man +had not been in existence, this child would have succeeded, eh?" + +"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Greyle a little impatiently. "But what's +the use of talking about that, my old friend! The young man is in +possession--and there you are!" + +"Do you like the young man?" asked Mr. Dennie. "I take an old fellow's +privilege in asking direct questions, you know. And--though we haven't +seen each other for all these years--you can say anything tome." + +"No, we don't," replied Mrs. Greyle. "And we don't know why we don't--so +there's a woman's answer for you. Kinsfolk though we are, we see little +of each other." + +Mr. Dennie made no remark on this. He walked along at Audrey's side, +apparently in deep thought, and suddenly he looked across at her mother. + +"What do you think about this extraordinary story of Bassett Oliver's +having met a Marston Greyle over there in America?" he asked abruptly. +"What do people here think about it?" + +"We're not in a position to hear much of what other people think," +answered Mrs. Greyle. "What I think is that if this Marston Greyle ever +did meet such a very notable and noticeable man as Bassett Oliver it's a +very, very strange thing that he's forgotten all about it!" + +Mr. Dennie laughed quietly. + +"Aye, aye!" he said. "But--don't you think we folk of the profession are +a little bit apt to magnify our own importance? You say 'Bless me, how +could anybody ever forget an introduction to Bassett Oliver!' But we must +remember that to some people even a famous actor is of no more importance +than--shall we say a respectable grocer? Marston Greyle may be one of +those people--it's quite possible he may have been introduced, quite +casually, to Oliver at some club, or gathering, something-or-other, over +there and have quite forgotten all about it. Quite possible, I think." + +"I agree with you as to the possibility, but certainly not as to the +probability," said Mrs. Greyle, dryly. "Bassett Oliver was the sort of +man whom nobody would forget. But here we are at our cottage--you'll come +in, Mr. Dennie?" + +"It will only have to be for a little time, my dear lady," said the old +actor, pulling out his watch. "Our people are going back very soon, and I +must join them at the station." + +"I'll give you a glass of good old wine," said Mrs. Greyle as they went +into the cottage. "I have some that belonged to my father-in-law, the old +Squire. You must taste it--for old times' sake." + +Mr. Dennie followed Audrey into the little parlour as Mrs. Greyle +disappeared to another part of the house. And the instant they were +alone, he tapped the girl's arm and gave her a curiously warning look. + +"Hush, my dear!" he whispered. "Not a word--don't want your mother to +know! Listen--have you a specimen--letter--anything--of your cousin, the +Squire's handwriting? Anything so long as it's his. You have? Give it to +me--say nothing to your mother. Wait until tomorrow morning. I'll run +over to see you again--about noon. It's important--but silence!" + +Audrey, scarcely understanding the old man's meaning, opened a desk and +drew out one or two letters. She selected one and handed it to Mr. +Dennie, who made haste to put it away before Mrs. Greyle returned. He +gave Audrey another warning look. + +"That was what I wanted!" he said mysteriously. "I thought of it during +the inquest. Never mind why, just now--you shall know tomorrow." + +He lingered a few minutes, chatting to his hostess about old times as he +sipped the old Squire's famous port; then he went off to the little +station, joined Stafford and his fellow actors and actresses, and +returned with them to Norcaster. And at Norcaster Mr. Dennie separated +himself from the rest and repaired to his quiet lodgings--rooms which he +had occupied for many years in succession whenever he went that way on +tour--and once safely bestowed in them he pulled out a certain +old-fashioned trunk, which he had owned since boyhood and lugged about +wherever he went in two continents, and from it, after much methodical +unpacking, he disinterred a brown paper parcel, neatly tied up with green +ribbon. From this parcel he drew a thin packet of typed matter and a +couple of letters--the type script he laid aside, the letters he opened +out on his table. Then he took from his pocket the letter which Audrey +Greyle had given him and put it side by side with those taken from the +parcel. And after one brief glance at all three Mr. Dennie made +typescript and letters up again into a neat packet, restored them to his +trunk, locked them up, and turned to the two hours' rest which he always +took before going to the theatre for his evening's work. + +He was back at Scarhaven by eleven o'clock the next morning, with his +neat packet under his arm and he held it up significantly to Audrey who +opened the door of the cottage to him. + +"Something to show you," he said with a quiet smile as he walked in. +"To show you and your mother." He stopped short on the threshold of the +little parlour, where Copplestone was just then talking to Mrs. Greyle. +"Oh!" he said, a little disappointedly, "I hoped to find you +alone--I'll wait." + +Mrs. Greyle explained who Copplestone was, and Mr. Dennie immediately +brightened. "Of course--of course!" he explained. "I know! Glad to meet +you, Mr. Copplestone--you don't know me, but I know you--or your +work--well enough. It was I who read and recommended your play to our +poor dear friend. It's a little secret, you know," continued Mr. Dennie, +laying his packet on the table, "but I have acted for a great many years +as Bassett Oliver's literary adviser--taster, you might say. You know, he +had a great number of plays sent to him, of course, and he was a very +busy man, and he used to hand them over to me in the first place, to take +a look at, a taste of, you know, and if I liked the taste, why, then he +took a mouthful himself, eh? And that brings me to the very point, my +dear ladies and my dear young gentleman, that I have come specially to +Scarhaven this morning to discuss. It's a very, very serious matter +indeed," he went on as he untied his packet of papers, "and I fear that +it's only the beginning of something more serious. Come round me here at +this table, all of you, if you please." + +The other three drew up chairs, each wondering what was coming, and +the old actor resumed his eyeglasses and gave obvious signs of +making a speech. + +"Now I want you all to attend to me, very closely," he said. "I shall +have to go into a detailed explanation, and you will very soon see what +I am after. As you may be aware, I have been a personal friend of +Bassett Oliver for some years, and a member of his company without break +for the last eight years. I accompanied Oliver Bassett on his two trips +to the United States--therefore, I was with him when he was last there, +years ago. + +"Now, while we were at Chicago that time, Bassett came to me one day with +the typescript of a one-act play and told me that it had been sent to him +by a correspondent signing himself Marston Greyle; who in a covering +letter, said that he sprang from an old English family, and that the play +dealt with a historic, romantic episode in its history. The principal +part, he believed, was one which would suit Bassett--therefore he begged +him to consider the matter. Bassett asked me to read the play, and I took +it away, with the writer's letter, for that purpose. But we were just +then very busy, and I had no opportunity of reading anything for a time. +Later on, we went to St. Louis, and there, of course, Bassett, as usual, +was much fêted and went out a great deal, lunching with people and so on. +One day he came to me, 'By-the-bye, Dennie!' he said, 'I met that Mr. +Marston Greyle today who sent me that romantic one-act thing. He wanted +to know if I'd read it, and I had to confess that it was in your hands. +Have you looked at it?' I, too, had to confess--I hadn't. 'Well,' said +he, 'read it and let me know what you think--will it suit me?' I made +time to read the little play during the following week, and I told +Bassett that I didn't think it would suit him, but I felt sure it might +suit Montagu Gaines, who plays just such parts. Bassett thereupon wrote +to the author and said what I, his reader, thought, and kindly offered, +as he knew Gaines intimately, to show the little work to him on his +return to England. And this Mr. Marston Greyle wrote back, thanking +Bassett warmly and accepting his kind offer. Accordingly, I brought the +play with me to England. Montagu Gaines, however, had just set off on a +two years' tour to Australia--consequently, the play and the author's two +letters have remained in my possession ever since. And--here they are!" + +Mr. Dennie laid his hand dramatically on his packet, looked significantly +at his audience, and went on. + +"Now, when I heard all that I did hear at that inquest yesterday," he +said, "I naturally remembered that I had in my possession two letters +which were undoubtedly written to Bassett Oliver by a young man named +Marston Greyle, whom Oliver--just as undoubtedly!--had personally met in +St. Louis. And so when the inquest was over, Mr. Copplestone, I recalled +myself to Mrs. Greyle here, whom I had known many years ago, and I walked +back to this house with her and her charming daughter, and--don't be +angry, Mrs. Greyle--while the mother's back was turned--on hospitable +thoughts intent--I got the daughter to lend me--secretly--a letter +written by the present Squire of Scarhaven. Armed with that, I went home +to my lodgings in Norcaster, found the letter written by the American +Marston Greyle, and compared it with them. And--here is the result!" + +The old actor selected the two American letters from his papers, laid +them out on the table, and placed the letter which Audrey had given him +beside them. + +"Now!" he said, as his three companions bent eagerly over these exhibits, +"Look at those three letters. All bear the same signature, Marston +Greyle--but the hand-writing of those two is as different from that of +this one as chalk is from cheese!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY PRIVATE TREATY + + +There was little need for the three deeply interested listeners to look +long at the letters--one glance was sufficient to show even a careless +eye that the hand which had written one of them had certainly not written +the other two. The letter which Audrey had handed to Mr. Dennie was +penned in the style commonly known as commercial--plain, commonplace, +utterly lacking in the characteristics which are supposed to denote +imagination and a sense of artistry. It was the sort of caligraphy which +one comes across every day in shops and offices and banks--there was +nothing in any upstroke, downstroke or letter which lifted it from the +very ordinary. But the other two letters were evidently written by a man +of literary and artistic sense, possessing imagination and a liking for +effect. It needed no expert in handwriting to declare that two totally +different individuals had written those letters. + +"And now," observed Mr. Dennie, breaking the silence and putting into +words what each of the others was vaguely feeling, "the question is--what +does all this mean? To start with, Marston Greyle is a most uncommon +name. Is it possible there can be two persons of that name? That, at any +rate, is the first thing that strikes me." + +"It is not the first thing that strikes me," said Mrs. Greyle. She took +up the typescript which the old actor had brought in his packet, and held +its title-page significantly before him. "That is the first thing that +strikes me!" she exclaimed. "The Marston Greyle who sent this to Bassett +Oliver said according to your story--that he sprang from a very old +family in England, and that this is a dramatization of a romantic episode +in its annals. Now there is no other old family in England named Greyle, +and this episode is of course, the famous legend of how Prince Rupert +once sought refuge in the Keep yonder and had a love-passage with a lady +of the house. Am I right, Mr. Dennie?" + +"Quite right, ma'am, quite correct," replied the old actor. "It is +so--you have guessed correctly!" + +"Very well, then--the Marston Greyle who wrote this, and those letters, +and who met Bassett Oliver was without doubt the son of Marcus Greyle, +who went to America many years ago. He was the same Marston Greyle, who, +his father being dead, of course succeeded his uncle, Stephen John +Greyle--that seems an absolute certainty. And in that case," continued +Mrs. Greyle, looking earnestly from one to the other, "in that case--who +is the man now at Scarhaven Keep?" + +A dead silence fell on the little room. Audrey started and flushed at her +mother's eager, pregnant question; Mr. Dennie sat up very erect and took +a pinch of snuff from his old-fashioned box. Copplestone pushed his chair +away from the table and began to walk about. And Mrs. Greyle continued to +look from one face to the other as if demanding a reply to her question. + +"Mother!" said Audrey in a low voice. "You aren't suggesting--" + +"Ahem!" interrupted Mr. Dennie. "A moment, my dear. There is nothing, I +believe," he continued, waxing a little oracular, "nothing like plain +speech. We are all friends--we have a common cause--justice! It may be +that justice demands our best endeavours not only as regards our deceased +friend, Bassett Oliver, but in the interests of--this young lady. So--" + +"I wish you wouldn't, Mr. Dennie!" exclaimed Audrey. "I don't like this +at all. Please don't!" + +She turned, almost instinctively, to seek Copplestone's aid in repressing +the old man. But Copplestone was standing by the window, staring moodily +at the wind-swept quay beyond the garden, and Mr. Dennie waved his +snuff-box and went on. + +"An old man's privilege!" he said. "In your interests, my dear. Allow +me." He turned again to Mrs. Greyle. "In plain words, ma'am, you are +wondering if the present holder of the estates is really what he claims +to be. Plain English, eh?" + +"I am!" answered Mrs. Greyle with a distinct ring of challenge and +defiance. "And now that it comes to the truth, I have wondered that ever +since he came here. There!" + +"Why, mother?" asked Audrey, wonderingly. + +"Because he doesn't possess a single Greyle characteristic," replied Mrs. +Greyle, readily enough, "I ought to know--I married Valentine Greyle, +and I knew Stephen John, and I saw plenty of both, and something of their +father, too, and a little of Marcus before he emigrated. This man does +not possess one Single scrap of the Greyle temperament!" + +Mr. Dennie put away his snuff-box and drumming on the table with his +fingers looked out of his eye corners at Copplestone who still stood with +his back to the rest, staring out of the window. + +"And what," said Mr. Dennie, softly, "what--er, does our good friend Mr. +Copplestone say?" + +Copplestone turned swiftly, and gave Audrey a quick glance. + +"I say," he answered in a sharp, business-like fashion, "that Gilling, +who's stopping at the inn, you know, is walking up and down outside here, +evidently looking out for me, and very anxious to see me, and with your +permission, Mrs. Greyle, I'd like to have him in. Now that things have +got to this pitch, I'd better tell you something--I don't see any good in +concealing it longer. Gilling isn't an invalid curate at all!--he's a +private detective. Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton, the solicitor, +sent him down here to watch Greyle--the Squire, you know--that's +Gilling's job. They suspect Greyle--have suspected him from the very +first--but of what I don't know. Not--not of this, I think. Anyway, they +do suspect him, and Gilling's had his eye on him ever since he came here. +And I'd like to fetch Gilling in here, and I'd like him to know all that +Mr. Dennie's told us. Because, don't you see, Sir Cresswell and +Petherton ought to know all that, immediately, and Gilling's their man." + +Audrey's brows had been gathering in lines of dismay and perplexity +all the time Copplestone was talking, but her mother showed no +signs of anything but complete composure, crowned by something very +like satisfaction, and she nodded a ready acquiescence in +Copplestone's proposal. + +"By all means!" she responded. "Bring Mr. Gilling in at once." + +Copplestone hurried out into the garden and signalled to the +pseudo-curate, who came hurrying across from the quay. One glance at him +showed Copplestone that something had happened. + +"Gad!--I thought I should never attract your attention!" said Gilling +hastily. "Been making eyes at you for ten minutes. I say--Greyle's off!" + +"Off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "How do you mean--off?" + +"Left Scarhaven, anyhow--for London," replied Gilling. "An hour ago I +happened to be at the station, buying a paper, when he drove up--luggage +and man with him, so I knew he was off for some time. And I took good +care to dodge round by the booking-office when the man took the tickets. +King's Cross. So that's all right, for the time being." + +"How do you mean--all right?" asked Copplestone. "I thought you were to +keep him in sight?" + +"All right," repeated Gilling. "I have more eyes than these, my boy! I've +a particularly smart partner in London--name of Swallow--and he and I +have a cypher code. So soon as the gentleman had left, I repaired to the +nearest post office and wired a code message to Swallow. Swallow will +meet that train when it strikes King's Cross. And it doesn't matter if +Greyle hides himself in one of the spikes on top of the Monument or +inside the lion house at the Zoo--Swallow will be there! No man ever got +away from Swallow--once Swallow had set eyes on him." + +Copplestone looked, listened, and laughed. + +"Professional pride!" he said. "All right. I want you to come in here +with me--to Mrs. Greyle's. Something's happened here, too. And of such a +serious nature that I've taken the liberty of telling them who and what +you really are. You'll forgive me when you hear what it is that we've +learnt here this morning." + +Gilling had looked rather doubtful at Copplestone's announcement, but he +immediately turned towards the cottage. + +"Oh, well!" he said good-naturedly. "I'm sure you wouldn't have told if +you hadn't felt there was good reason. What is this fresh news?--something +about--him?" + +"Very much about him," answered Copplestone. "Come in." + +He himself, at Mrs. Greyle's request, gave Gilling a brief account of +Mr. Dennie's revelations, the old actor supplementing it with a shrewd +remark or two. And then all four turned to Gilling as to an expert in +these matters. + +"Queer!" observed Gilling. "Decidedly queer! There may be some +explanation, you know: I've known stranger things than that turn out to +be perfectly straight and plain when they were gone into. But--putting +all the facts together--I don't think there's much doubt that there's +something considerably wrong in this case. I should like to repeat it to +my principals--I must go up to town in any event this afternoon. Better +let me have all those documents, Mr. Dennie--I'll give you a proper +receipt for them. There's something very valuable in them, anyhow." + +"What?" asked Copplestone. + +"The address in St. Louis from which that Marston Greyle wrote to Bassett +Oliver." replied Gilling. "We can communicate with that address--at once. +We may learn something there. But," he went on, turning to Mrs. Greyle, +"I want to learn something here--and now. I want to know where and under +what circumstances the Squire came to Scarhaven. You were here then, of +course, Mrs. Greyle? You can tell me?" + +"He came very quietly," replied Mrs. Greyle. "Nobody in Scarhaven--unless +it was Peter Chatfield--knew of his coming. In fact, nobody in these +parts, at any rate--knew he was in England. The family solicitors in +London may have known. But nothing was ever said or written to me, though +my daughter, failing this man, is the next in succession." + +"I do wish you'd leave all that out, mother!" exclaimed Audrey. "I +don't like it." + +"Whether you like it or not, it's the fact," said Mrs. Greyle +imperturbably, "and it can't be left out. Well, as I say, no one knew the +Squire had come to England, until one day Chatfield calmly walked down +the quay with him, introducing him right and left. He brought him here." + +"Ah!" said Gilling. "That's interesting. Now I wonder if you found out if +he was well up in the family history?" + +"Not then, but afterwards," answered Mrs. Greyle. "He is particularly +well up in the Greyle records--suspiciously well up." + +"Why suspiciously?" asked Cobblestone. + +"He knows more--in a sort of antiquarian and historian fashion--than +you'd suppose a young man of his age would," said Mrs. Greyle. "He gives +you the impression of having read it up--studied it deeply. And--his +usual tastes don't lie in that direction." + +"Ah!" observed Mr. Dennie, musingly. "Bad sign, ma'am,--bad sign! Looks +as if he had been--shall we say put up to overstudying his part. That's +possible! I have known men who were so anxious to be what one calls +letter-perfect, Mr. Copplestone, that though they knew their parts, they +didn't know how to play them. Fact, sir!" + +While the old actor was chuckling over this reminiscence, Gilling turned +quietly to Mrs. Greyle. + +"I think you suspect this man?" he said. + +"Frankly--yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I always have done, though I have +said so little--" + +"Mother!" interrupted Audrey. "Is it really worth while saying so much +now! After all, we know nothing, and if this is all mere +supposition--however," she broke off, rising and going away from the +group, "perhaps I had better say nothing." + +Copplestone too rose and followed her into the window recess. + +"I say!" he said entreatingly. "I hope you don't think me interfering? I +assure you--" + +"You!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no!--of course. I think you're anxious to +clear things up about Mr. Oliver. But I don't want my mother dragged into +it--for a simple reason. We've got to live here--and Chatfield is a +vindictive man." + +"You're frightened of him?" said Copplestone incredulously. "You!" + +"Not for myself," she answered, giving him a warning look and glancing +apprehensively at Mrs. Greyle, who was talking eagerly to Mr. Dennie and +Gilling. "But my mother is not as strong as she looks and it would be a +blow to her to leave this place and we are the Squire's tenants, and +therefore at Chatfield's mercy. And you know that Chatfield does as he +likes! Now do you understand?" + +"It maddens me to think that you should be at Chatfield's mercy!" +muttered Copplestone. "But do you really mean to say that if--if +Chatfield thought you--that is, your mother--were mixed up in anything +relating to the clearing up of this affair he would--" + +"Drive us out without mercy," replied Audrey. "That's dead certain." + +"And that your cousin would let him?" exclaimed Copplestone. +"Surely not!" + +"I don't think the Squire has any control over Chatfield," she answered. +"You have seen them together." + +"If that's so," said Copplestone, "I shall begin to think there is +something queer about the Squire in the way your mother suggests. It +looks as if Chatfield had a hold on him. And in that case--" + +He suddenly broke off as a smart automobile drove up to the cottage door +and set down a tall, distinguished-looking man who after a glance at the +little house walked quickly up the garden. Audrey's face showed surprise. + +"Mother!" she said, turning to Mrs. Greyle. "There's Lord Altmore here! +He must want you. Or shall I go?" + +Mrs. Greyle quitted the room hastily. The others heard her welcome the +visitor, lead him up the tiny hall; they heard a door shut. Audrey looked +at Copplestone. + +"You've heard of Lord Altmore, haven't you?" she said. "He's our +biggest man in these parts--he owns all the country at the back, +mountains, valleys, everything. The Greyle land shuts him off from the +sea. In the old days, Greyles and Altmores used to fight over their +boundaries, and--" + +Mrs. Greyle suddenly showed herself again and looked at her daughter. + +"Will you come here, Audrey?" she said. "You gentlemen will excuse both +of us for a few minutes?" + +Mother and daughter went away, and the two young men drew up their +chairs to the table at which Mr. Dennie sat and exchanged views with him +on the curious situation. Half-an-hour went by; then steps and voices +were heard in the hall and the garden; Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were seeing +their visitor out to his car. In a few minutes the car sped away, and +they came back to the parlour. One glance at their faces showed Gilling +that some new development had cropped up and he nudged Copplestone. + +"Here is remarkable news!" said Mrs. Greyle as she went back to her +chair. "Lord Altmore called to tell me of something that he thought I +ought to know. It is almost unbelievable, yet it is a fact. Marston +Greyle--if he is Marston Greyle!--has offered to sell Lord Altmore the +entire Scarhaven estate, by private treaty. Imagine it!--the estate which +has belonged to the Greyles for five hundred years!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CABLEGRAM FROM NEW YORK + + +The two younger men received this announcement with no more than looks +of astonished inquiry, but the elder one coughed significantly, had +further recourse to his snuff-box and turned to Mrs. Greyle with a +knowing glance. + +"My dear lady!" he said impressively. "Now this is a matter in which I +believe I can be of service--real service! You may have forgotten the +fact--it is all so long ago--and perhaps I never mentioned it in the old +days--but the truth is that before I went on the stage, I was in the law. +The fact is, I am a duly and fully qualified solicitor--though," he +added, with a dry chuckle, "it is a good five and twenty years since I +paid the six pounds for the necessary annual certificate. But I have not +forgotten my law--or some of it--and no doubt I can furbish up a little +more, if necessary. You say that Mr. Marston Greyle, the present owner of +Scarhaven, has offered to sell his estate to Lord Altmore? But--is not +the estate entailed?" + +"No!" replied Mrs. Greyle. "It is not." + +Mr. Dennie's face fell--unmistakably. He took another pinch of snuff and +shook his head. + +"Then in that case," he said dryly, "all the lawyers in the world can't +help. It's his--absolutely--and he can do what he pleases with it. Five +hundred years, you say? Remarkable!--that a man should want to sell land +his forefathers have walked over for half a thousand years! +Extraordinary!" + +"Did Lord Altmore say if any reason had been given him as to why Mr. +Greyle wished to sell?" asked Gilling. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle, who was obviously greatly upset by the recent +news. "He did. Mr. Greyle gave as his reason that the north does not suit +him, and that he wishes to buy an estate in the south of England. He +approached Lord Altmore first because it is well-known that the Altmores +have always been anxious to extend their own borders to the coast." + +"Does Lord Altmore want to buy?" asked Gilling. + +"It is very evident that he would be quite willing to buy," said +Mrs. Greyle. + +"What made him come to you," continued Gilling. "He must have had +some reason?" + +"He had a reason," Mrs. Greyle answered, with a glance at Audrey. "He +knows the family history, of course--he is very well aware that my +daughter is at present the heir apparent. He therefore thought we ought +to know of this offer. But that is not quite all. Lord Altmore has, of +course, read the accounts of the inquest in this morning's paper. Also +his steward was present at the inquest. And from what he has read, and +from what his steward told him, Lord Altmore thinks there is something +wrong--he thinks, for instance, that Marston Greyle should explain this +mystery about the meeting with Bassett Oliver in America. At any rate, +he will go no further in any negotiations until that mystery is +properly cleared up. Shall I tell you what Lord Altmore said on that +point? He said--" + +"Is it worth while, mother?" interrupted Audrey. "It was only his +opinion." + +"It is worth while--amongst ourselves--" insisted Mrs. Greyle. "Why not? +Lord Altmore said--in so many words--'I have a sort of uneasy feeling, +after reading the evidence at that inquest, and hearing what my +steward's impressions were, that this man calling himself Marston Greyle +may not be Marston Greyle at all and I shall want good proof that he is +before I even consider the proposal he has made to me.' There! +So--what's to be done?" + +"The law, ma'am," observed Mr. Dennie, solemnly, "the law must step in. +You must get an injunction, ma'am, to prevent Mr. Marston Greyle from +dealing with the property until his own title to it has been established. +That, at any rate, is my opinion." + +"May I ask a question?" said Copplestone who had been listening +and thinking intently. "Did Lord Altmore say when this offer was +made to him?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "A week ago." + +"A week ago!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That is, before last Sunday--before +the Bassett Oliver episode. Then--the offer to sell is quite independent +of that affair!" + +"Strange--and significant!" muttered Gilling. + +He rose from his chair and looked at his watch. + +"Well," he went on, "I am going off to London. Will you give me leave, +Mrs. Greyle, to report all this to Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. +Petherton? They ought to know." + +"I'm going, too," declared Copplestone, also rising. "Mrs. Greyle, I'm +sure will entrust the whole matter to us. And Mr. Dennie will trust us +with those papers." + +"Oh, certainly, certainly!" asserted Mr. Dennie, pushing his packet +across the table. "Take care of 'em, my boy!--ye don't know how important +they may turn out to be." + +"And--Mrs. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. + +"Tell whatever you think it best to tell," replied Mrs. Greyle. "My own +opinion is that a lot will have to be told--and to come out, yet." + +"We can catch a train in three-quarters of an hour, Copplestone," said +Gilling. "Let's get back and settle up with Mrs. Wooler and be off." + +Copplestone contrived to draw Audrey aside. + +"This isn't good-bye," he whispered, with a meaning look. "You'll +see me back here before many days are over. But listen--if anything +happens here, if you want anybody's help--in any way--you know what +I mean--promise you'll wire to me at this address. Promise!--or I +won't go." + +"Very well," said Audrey, "I promise. But--why shall you come back?" + +"Tell you when I come," replied Copplestone with another look. +"But--I shall come--and soon. I'm only going because I want to be of +use--to you." + +An hour later he and Gilling were on their way to London, and from +opposite corners of a compartment which they had contrived to get to +themselves, they exchanged looks. + +"This is a queer business, Copplestone!" said Gilling. "It strikes me +it's going to be a big one, too. And--it's coming to a point round +Squire Greyle." + +"Do you think your man will have tracked him?" asked Copplestone. + +"It will be the first time Swallow's ever lost sight of anybody if he +hasn't," answered Gilling. "He's a human ferret! However, I wired to him +just before we left, telling him to meet me at King's Cross, so we'll +get his report. Oh, he'll have followed him all right--I don't imagine +for a moment that Greyle is trying to evade anybody, at this juncture, +at any rate." + +But when--four hours later--the train drew into King's Cross--and +Gilling's partner, a young and sharp-looking man, presented himself, it +was with a long and downcast face and a lugubrious shake of the head. + +"Done!--for the first time in my life!" he growled in answer to +Gilling's eager inquiry. "Lost him! Never failed before--as you know. +Well, it had to come, I suppose--can't go on without an occasional +defeat. But--I'm a bit licked as to the whole thing--unless your man is +dodging somebody. Is he?" + +"Tell your tale," commanded Gilling, motioning Copplestone to follow him +and Swallow aside. + +"I was up here in good time this afternoon to meet his train," reported +Swallow. "I spotted him and his man at once; no difficulty, as your +description of both was so full. They were together while the luggage +was got out; then he, Greyle, gave some instructions to the man and left +him. He himself got into a taxi-cab; I got into another close behind and +gave its driver certain orders. Greyle drove straight to the Fragonard +Club--you know." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Gilling. "Did he, now? That's worth knowing." + +"What's the Fragonard Club?" asked Copplestone. "Never heard of it." + +"Club of folk connected with the stage and the music-halls," answered +Gilling, testily. "In a side street, off Shaftesbury Avenue--tell you +more of it, later. Go on, Swallow." + +"He paid off his driver there, and went in," continued Swallow. "I paid +mine and hung about--there's only one entrance and exit to that spot, as +you know. He came out again within five minutes, stuffing some letters +into his pocket. He walked away across Shaftesbury Avenue into Wardour +Street--there he went into a tobacconist's shop. Of course, I hung about +again. But this time he didn't come. So at last I walked in--to buy +something. He wasn't there!" + +"Pooh!--he'd slipped out--walked out--when you weren't looking!" said +Gilling. "Why didn't you keep your eye on the ball, man?--you!" + +"You be hanged!" retorted Swallow. "Never had an eyelash off that shop +door from the time he entered until I, too, entered." + +"Then there's a side-door to that shop--into some alley or passage," +said Gilling. + +"Not that I could find," answered Swallow. "Might be at the rear of the +premises perhaps, but I couldn't ascertain, of course. Remember!--there's +another thing. He may have stopped on the premises. There's that in it. +However, I know the shop and the name." + +"Why didn't you bring somebody else with you, to follow the man and the +luggage?" demanded Gilling, half-petulantly. + +Swallow shook his head. + +"There I made a mess of it, I confess," he admitted. "But it never struck +me they'd separate. I thought, of course, they'd drive straight to some +hotel, and--" + +"And the long and the short of it is, Greyle's slipped you," said +Gilling. "Well--there's no more to be done tonight. The only thing of +value is that Greyle called at the Fragonard. What's a country +squire--only recently come to England, too!--to do with the Fragonard? +That is worth something. Well--Copplestone, we'd better meet in the +morning at Petherton's. You be there at ten o'clock, and I'll get Sir +Cresswell Oliver to be there, too." + +Copplestone betook himself to his rooms in Jermyn Street; it seemed an +age--several ages--since he had last seen the familiar things in them. +During the few days which had elapsed since his hurried setting-off to +meet Bassett Oliver so many things had happened that he felt as if he +had lived a week in a totally different world. He had met death, and +mystery, and what appeared to be sure evidence of deceit and cunning and +perhaps worse--fraud and crime blacker than fraud. But he had also met +Audrey Greyle. And it was only natural that he thought more about her +than of the strange atmosphere of mystery which wrapped itself around +Scarhaven. She, at any rate, was good to think upon, and he thought much +as he looked over the letters that had accumulated, changed his clothes, +and made ready to go and dine at his club, Already he was counting the +hours which must elapse before he would go back to her. + +Nevertheless, Copplestone's mind was not entirely absorbed by this +pleasant subject; the events of the day and of the arrival in London +kept presenting themselves. And coming across a fellow club-member +whom he knew for a thorough man about town, he suddenly plumped him +with a question. + +"I say!" he said. "Do you know the Fragonard Club?" + +"Of course!" replied the other man. "Don't you?" + +"Never even heard of it till this evening," said Copplestone. +"What is it?" + +"Mixed lot!" answered his companion. "Theatrical and music-hall folk--men +and women--both. Lively spot--sometimes. Like to have a look in when they +have one of their nights?" + +"Very much," assented Copplestone. "Are you a member?" + +"No, but I know several men who are members," said the other. "I'll fix +it all right. Worth going to when they've what they call a +house-dinner--Sunday night, of course." + +"Thanks," said Copplestone. "I suppose membership of that's confined to +the profession, eh?" + +"Strictly," replied his friend. "But they ain't at all particular about +their guests--you'll meet all sorts of people there, from judges to +jockeys, and millionairesses to milliners." + +Copplestone was still wondering what the Squire of Scarhaven could have +to do with the Fragonard Club when he went to Mr. Petherton's office the +next morning. He was late for the appointment which Gilling had made, and +when he arrived Gilling had already reported all that had taken place the +day before to the solicitor and to Sir Cresswell Oliver. And on that +Copplestone produced the papers entrusted to him by Mr. Dennie and they +all compared the handwritings afresh. + +"There is certainly something wrong, somewhere," remarked Petherton, +after a time. "However, we are in a position to begin a systematic +inquiry. Here," he went on, drawing a paper from his desk, "is a +cablegram which arrived first thing this morning from New York--from an +agent who has been making a search for me in the shipping lists. This is +what he says: 'Marston Greyle, St. Louis, Missouri, booked first-class +passenger from New York to Falmouth, England, by S.S. _Araconda_, +September 28th, 1912.' There--that's something definite. And the next +thing," concluded the old lawyer, with a shrewd glance at Sir Cresswell, +"is to find out if the Marston Greyle who landed at Falmouth is the same +man whom we have recently seen!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN TOUCH WITH THE MISSING + + +Sir Cresswell Oliver took the cablegram from Petherton and read it over +slowly, muttering the precise and plain wording to himself. + +"Don't you think, Petherton, that we had better get a clear notion of our +exact bearings?" he said as he laid it back on the solicitor's desk. +"Seems to me that the time's come when we ought to know exactly where we +are. As I understand it, the case is this--rightly or wrongly we suspect +the present holder of the Scarhaven estates. We suspect that he is not +the rightful owner--that, in short, he is no more the real Marston Greyle +than you are. We think that he's an impostor--posing as Marston Greyle. +Other people--Mrs. Valentine Greyle, for example--evidently think so, +too. Am I right?" + +"Quite!" responded Petherton. "That's our position--exactly." + +"Then--in that case, what I want to get at is this," continued Sir +Cresswell. "How does this relate to my brother's death? What's the +connection? That--to me at any rate--is the first thing of importance. Of +course I have a theory. This, that the impostor did see my brother last +Sunday afternoon. That he knew that my brother would at once know that +he, the impostor, was not the real Marston Greyle, and that the +discovery would lead to detection. And therefore he put him out of the +way. He might accompany him to the top of the tower and fling him down. +It's possible. Do you follow me?" + +"Precisely," replied Petherton. "I, too, incline to that notion, though +I've worked it out in a different fashion. My reconstruction of what took +place at Scarhaven Keep is as follows--I think that Bassett Oliver met +the Squire--we'll call this man that for the sake of clearness--when he +entered the ruins. He probably introduced himself and mentioned that he +had met a Marston Greyle in America. Then the Squire saw the +probabilities of detection--and what subsequently took place was most +likely what you suggest. It may have been that the Squire recognized +Bassett Oliver, and knew that he'd met Marston Greyle; it may have been +that he didn't know him and didn't know anything until Bassett Oliver +enlightened him. But--either way--I firmly believe that Bassett Oliver +came to his death by violence--that he was murdered. So--there's the case +in a nutshell! Murdered!--to keep his tongue still." + +"What's to be done, then?" asked Sir Cresswell as Petherton tapped the +cablegram. + +"The first thing," he answered, "is to make use of this. We now know that +the real Marston Greyle--who certainly did live in St. Louis, where his +father had settled--left New York for England to take up his inheritance, +on September 28th, 1912, and booked a passage to Falmouth. He would land +at Falmouth from the _Araconda_ about October 5th. Probably there is +some trace of him at Falmouth. He no doubt stayed a night there. Anyway, +somebody must go to Falmouth and make inquiries. You'd better go, +Gilling, and at once. While you're away your partner had better resume +his search for the man we know as the Squire. You've two good clues--the +fact that he visited the Fragonard Club and that particular tobacconist's +shop. Urge Swallow to do his best--the man must be kept in sight. See to +both these things immediately." + +"Swallow is at work already," replied Gilling. "He's got good help, too, +and his failure yesterday has put him on his mettle. As for me, I'll go +to Falmouth by the next express. Let me have that cablegram." + +"I'll go with you," said Copplestone. "I may be of some use--and I'm +interested. But," he paused and looked questioningly at the old +solicitor. "What about the other news we brought you?" he asked. "About +this sale of the estate, you know? If this man is an impostor--" + +"Leave that to me," replied Petherton, with a shrewd glance at Sir +Cresswell. "I know the Greyle family solicitors--highly respectable +people--only a few doors away, in fact--and I'm going round to have a +quiet little chat with them in a few minutes. There will be no sale! +Leave me to deal with that matter--and if you young men are going to +Falmouth, off you go!" + +It was late that night when Copplestone and Gilling arrived at this +far-off Cornish seaport, and nothing could be done until the following +morning. To Copplestone it seemed as if they were in for a difficult +task. Over twelve months had elapsed since the real Marston Greyle left +America for England; he might not have stayed in Falmouth, might not have +held any conversation with anybody there who would recollect him! how +were they going to trace him? But Gilling--now free of his clerical +attire and presenting himself as a smart young man of the professional +classes type--was quick to explain that system, accurate and definite +system, would expedite matters. + +"We know the approximate date on which the _Araconda_ would touch here," +he said as they breakfasted together. "As things go, it would be from +October 4th to 6th, according to the quickness of her run across the +Atlantic. Very well--if Marston Greyle stayed here, he'd have to stay at +some hotel. Accordingly, we visit all the Falmouth hotels and examine +their registers of that date--first week of October, 1912. If we find his +name--good! We can then go on to make inquiries. If we don't find any +trace of him, then we know it's all up--he probably went straight away by +train after landing. We'll begin with this hotel first." + +There was no record of any Marston Greyle at that hotel, nor at the next +half-dozen at which they called. A visit to the shipping office of the +line to which the _Araconda_ belonged revealed the fact that she reached +Falmouth on October 5th at half-past ten in the evening, and that the +name of Marston Greyle was on the list of first-class passengers. +Gilling left the office in cheery mood. + +"That simplifies matters," he said. "As the _Araconda_ reached here late +in the evening, the passengers who landed from her would be almost +certain to stay the night in Falmouth. So we've only to resume our round +of these hotels in order to hit something pertinent. This is plain and +easy work, Copplestone--no corners in it. We'll strike oil before noon." + +They struck oil at the very next hotel they called at--an old-fashioned +house in close proximity to the harbour. There was a communicative +landlord there who evidently possessed and was proud of a retentive +memory, and he no sooner heard the reason of Gilling's call upon him than +he bustled into activity, and produced the register of the previous year. + +"But I remember the young gentleman you're asking about," he remarked, as +he took the book from a safe and laid it open on the table in his private +room. "Not a common name, is it? He came here about eleven o'clock of the +night you've mentioned--there you are!--there's the entry. And +there--higher up--is the name of the man who came to meet him. He came +the day before--to be here when the _Araconda_ got in." + +The two visitors, bending over the book, mutually nudged each other as +their eyes encountered the signatures on the open page. There, in the +handwriting of the letters which Mr. Dennie had so fortunately preserved, +was the name Marston Greyle. But it was not the sight of that which +surprised them; they had expected to see it. What made them both thrill +with the joy of an unexpected discovery was the sight of the signature +inserted some lines above it, under date October 4th. Lest they should +exhibit that joy before the landlord, they mutually stuck their elbows +into each other and immediately affected the unconcern of indifference. + +But there the signature was--_Peter Chatfield_. Peter Chatfield!--they +both knew that they were entering on a new stage of their quest; that the +fact that Chatfield had travelled to Falmouth to meet the new owner of +Scarhaven meant much--possibly meant everything. + +"Oh!" said Gilling, as steadily as possible. "That gentleman came to meet +the other, did he? Just so. Now what sort of man was he?" + +"Big, fleshy man--elderly--very solemn in manner and appearance," +answered the landlord. "I remember him well. Came in about five o 'clock +in the afternoon of the 4th just after the London train arrived--and +booked a room. He told me he expected to meet a gentleman from New York, +and was very fidgety about fixing it up to go off in the tender to the +_Araconda_ when she came into the Bay. However, I found out for him that +she wouldn't be in until next evening, so of course he settled down to +wait. Very quiet, reserved old fellow--never said much." + +"Did he go off on the tender next night?" asked Gilling. + +"He did--and came back with this other gentleman and his baggage--this +Mr. Greyle," answered the landlord. "Mr. Chatfield had booked a room for +Mr. Greyle." + +"And what sort of man was Mr. Greyle?" inquired Gilling. "That's really +the important thing. You've an exceptionally good memory--I can see that. +Tell us all you can recollect about him." + +"I can recollect plenty," replied the landlord, shaking his head. "As for +his looks--a tallish, slightly-built young fellow, between, I should say, +twenty-five and twenty-eight. Stooped a good bit. Very dark hair and +eyes--eyes a good deal sunken in his face. Very pale--good-looking--good +features. But ill--my sakes! he was ill!" + +"Ill!" exclaimed Gilling, with a glance at Copplestone. "Really ill!" + +"He was that ill," said the landlord, "that me and my wife never expected +to see him get up that next morning. We wanted them to have a doctor but +Mr. Greyle himself said that it was nothing, but that he had some heart +trouble and that the voyage had made it worse. He said that if he took +some medicine which he had with him, and a drop of hot brandy-and-water, +and got a good night's sleep he'd be all right. And next morning he +seemed better, and he got up to breakfast--but my wife said to me that if +she'd seen death on a man's face it was on his! She's a bit of a +persuasive tongue, has my wife, and when she heard that these two +gentlemen were thinking of going a long journey--right away to the far +north, it was, I believe--she got 'em to go and see the doctor first, for +she felt that Mr. Greyle wasn't fit for the exertion." + +"Did they go?" asked Gilling. + +"They did! I talked, myself, to the old gentleman," replied the landlord. +"And I showed them the way to our own doctor--Dr. Tretheway. And as a +result of what he said to them, I heard them decide to break up their +journey into stages, as you might term it. They left here for Bristol +that afternoon--to stay the night there." + +"You're sure of that?--Bristol?" asked Gilling. + +"Ought to be," replied the landlord, with laconic assurance. "I +went to the station with them and saw them off. They booked to +Bristol--anyway--first class." + +Gilling looked at his companion. + +"I think we'd better see this Dr. Tretheway," he remarked. + +Dr. Tretheway, an elderly man of grave manners and benevolent aspect, +remembered the visit of Mr. Marston Greyle well enough when he had turned +up its date in his case book. He also remembered the visitor's companion, +Mr. Chatfield, who seemed unusually anxious and concerned about Mr. +Greyle's health. + +"And as to that," continued Dr. Tretheway, "I learnt from Mr. Greyle that +he had been seriously indisposed for some months before setting out for +England. The voyage had been rather a rough one; he had suffered much +from sea-sickness, and, in his state of health, that was unfortunate for +him. I made a careful examination of him, and I came to the conclusion +that he was suffering from a form of myocarditis which was rapidly +assuming a very serious complexion. I earnestly advised him to take as +much rest as possible, to avoid all unnecessary fatigue and all +excitement, and I strongly deprecated his travelling in one journey to +the north, whither I learnt he was bound. On my advice, he and Mr. +Chatfield decided to break that journey at Bristol, at Birmingham, and at +Leeds. By so doing, you see, they would only have a short journey each +day, and Mr. Greyle would be able to rest for a long time at a stretch. +But--I formed my own conclusions." + +"And they were--what?" asked Gilling. + +"That he would not live long," said the doctor. "Finding that he was +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster, where there is a most excellent +school of medicine, I advised him to get the best specialist he could +from there, and to put himself under his treatment. But my impression was +that he had already reached a very, very serious stage." + +"You think he was then likely to die suddenly?" suggested Gilling. + +"It was quite possible. I should not have been surprised to hear of his +death," answered Dr. Tretheway. "He was, in short, very ill indeed." + +"You never heard anything?" inquired Gilling. + +"Nothing at all--though I often wondered. Of course," said the doctor +with a smile, "they were only chance visitors--I often have +trans-atlantic passengers drop in--and they forget that a physician would +sometimes like to know how a case submitted to him in that way has +turned out. No, I never heard any more." + +"Did they give you any address, either of them?" asked Copplestone, +seeing that Gilling had no more to ask. + +"No," replied the doctor, "they did not. I knew of course, from what +they told me that Mr. Greyle had come off the _Araconda_ the night +before, and that he was passing on. No--I only gathered that they were +going to the neighbourhood of Norcaster from the fact that Mr. Greyle +asked if a journey to that place would be too much for him--he said +with a laugh, that over there in the United States a journey of five +hundred miles would be considered a mere jaunt! He was very plucky, +poor fellow, but--" + +Dr. Tretheway ended with a significant shake of the head, and his two +visitors left him and went out into the autumn sunlight. + +"Copplestone!" said Gilling as they walked away. "That chap--the real +Marston Greyle--is dead! That's as certain as that we're alive! And now +the next thing is to find out where he died and when. And by George, +that's going to be a big job!" + +"How are you going to set about it?" asked Copplestone. "It seems as if +we were up against a blank wall, now." + +"Not at all, my son!" retorted Gilling, cheerfully. "One step at a +time--that's the sure thing to go on, in my calling. We've found out a +lot here, and quickly, too. And--we know where our next step lies. +Bristol! Like looking for needles in a bundle of hay? Not a bit of it. +If those two broke their journey at Bristol, they'd have to stop at an +hotel. Well, now we'll adjourn to Bristol--bearing in mind that we're on +the track of Peter Chatfield!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE OLD PLAYBILL + + +Gilling's cheerful optimism was the sort of desirable quality that is a +good thing to have, but all the optimism in the world is valueless in +face of impregnable difficulty. And the difficulty of tracing Chatfield +and his sick companion in a city the size of Bristol did indeed seem +impregnable when Gilling and Copplestone had been attacking it for +twenty-four hours. They had spent a whole day in endeavouring to get +news; they had gone in and out of hotels until they were sick of the +sight of one; they had made exhaustive inquiries at the railway station +and of the cabmen who congregated there; nobody remembered anything at +all about a big, heavy-faced man and a man in his company who seemed to +be very ill. And on the second night Copplestone intimated plainly that +in his opinion they were wasting their time. + +"How do we even know that they ever came to Bristol?" he asked, as he and +Gilling refreshed themselves with a much needed dinner. "The Falmouth +landlord saw Chatfield take tickets for Bristol! That's nothing to go on! +Put it to yourself in this way. Greyle may have found even that journey +too much for him. They may, in that case, have left the train at +Plymouth--or at Exeter--or at Taunton: it would stop at each place. Seems +to me we're wasting time here--far better get nearer more tangible +things. Chatfield, for instance. Or, go back to town and find out what +your friend Swallow has done." + +"Swallow," replied Gilling, "has done nothing so far, or I should have +heard. Swallow knows exactly where I am, and where I shall be until I +give him further notice. Don't be discouraged, my friend--one is often +on the very edge of a discovery when one seems to be miles away from it. +Give me another day--and if we haven't found out something by tomorrow +evening I'll consult with you as to our next step. But I've a plan for +tomorrow morning which ought to yield some result." + +"What?" demanded Copplestone, doubtfully. + +"This! There is in every centre of population an official who registers +births, marriages, and deaths. Now we believe the real Marston Greyle to +be dead. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that he did die here, in +Bristol, whither he and Chatfield certainly set off when they left +Falmouth. What would happen? Notice of his death would have to be given +to the Registrar--by the nearest relative or by the person in attendance +on the deceased. That person would, in this case, be Chatfield. If the +death occurred suddenly, and without medical attendance, an inquest would +have to be held. If a doctor had been in attendance he would give a +signed certificate of the cause of death, which he would hand to the +relatives or friends in attendance, who, in their turn, would have to +hand it to the Registrar. Do you see the value of these points? What we +must do tomorrow morning is to see the Registrar--or, as there will be +more than one in a place this size--each of them in turn, in the +endeavour to find out if, early in October, 1912, Peter Chatfield +registered the death of Marston Greyle here. But remember--he may not +have registered it under that name. He may, indeed, not have used his own +name--he's deep enough for anything. That however, is our next best +chance--search of the registers. Let's try it, anyway, first thing in the +morning. And as we've had a stiff day, I propose we dismiss all thought +of this affair for the rest of the evening and betake ourselves to some +place of amusement--theatre, eh?" + +Copplestone made no objection to that, and when dinner was over, they +walked round to the principal theatre in time for the first act of a play +which having been highly successful in London had just started on a round +of the leading provincial theatres. Between the second and third acts of +this production there was a long interval, and the two companions +repaired to the foyer to recuperate their energies with a drink and a +cigarette. While thus engaged, Copplestone encountered an old school +friend with whom he exchanged a few words: Gilling, meanwhile strolled +about, inspecting the pictures, photographs and old playbills on the +walls of the saloon and its adjacent apartments. And suddenly, he turned +back, waited until Copplestone's acquaintance had gone away, and then +hurried up and smacked his co-searcher on the shoulder. + +"Didn't I tell you that one's often close to a thing when one seems +furthest off it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Come here, my son, and look +at what I've just found." + +He drew Copplestone away to a quiet corner and pointed out an old +playbill, framed and hung on the wall. Copplestone stared at it and saw +nothing but the title of a well-known comedy, the names of one or two +fairly celebrated actors and actresses and the usual particulars which +appear on all similar announcements. + +"Well?" he asked. "What of this?" + +"That!" replied Gilling, flicking the tip of his finger on a line in the +bill. "That my boy!" + +Copplestone looked again. He started at what he read. + +_Margaret Sayers_.......MISS ADELA CHATFIELD. + +"And now look at that!" continued Gilling, with an accentuation of his +triumphal note. "See! These people were here for a fortnight--from +October 3rd to 17th--1912. Therefore--if Peter Chatfield brought Marston +Greyle to Bristol on October 6th, Peter Chatfield's daughter would also +be in the town!" + +Copplestone looked over the bill again, rapidly realizing possibilities. + +"Would Chatfield know that?" he asked reflectively. + +"It's only likely that he would," replied Gilling. "Even if father and +daughter don't quite hit things off in their tastes, it's only reasonable +to suppose that Peter would usually know his daughter's whereabouts. And +if he brought Greyle here, ill, and they had to stop, it's only likely +that Peter would turn to his daughter for help. Anyway, Copplestone, here +are two undoubted facts:--Chatfield and Greyle booked from Falmouth for +Bristol on October 6th, 1912, and may therefore be supposed to have come +here. That's one fact. The other is--Addie Chatfield was certainly in +Bristol on that date and for eleven days after it." + +"Well--what next?" asked Copplestone. + +"I've been thinking that over while you stared at the bill," answered +Gilling. "I think the best thing will be to find out where Addie +Chatfield put herself up during her stay. I daresay you know that in most +of these towns there are lodgings which are almost exclusively devoted to +the theatrical profession. Actors and actresses go to them year after +year; their owners lay themselves out for their patrons--what's more, +your theatrical landlady always remembers names and faces, and has her +favourites. Now, in my stage experience, I never struck Bristol, so I +don't know much about it, but I know where we can get information--the +stage door-keeper. He'll tell us where the recognized lodgings are--and +then we must begin a round of inquiry. When? Just now, my boy!--and a +good time, too, as you'll see." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone. + +"Best hour of the evening," replied Gilling with glib assurance. +"Landladies enjoying an hour of ease before beginning to cook supper +for their lodgers, now busy on the stage. Always ready to talk, +theatrical landladies, when they've nothing to do. Trust me for +knowing the ropes!--come round to the stage door and let's ask the +keeper a question or two." + +But before they had quitted the foyer an interruption came in the shape +of a shrewd-looking gentleman in evening dress, who wore his opera hat at +a rakish angle and seemed to be very much at home as he strolled about, +hands in pockets, looking around him at all and sundry. He suddenly +caught sight of Gilling, smiled surprisedly and expansively, and came +forward with outstretched hand. + +"Bless our hearts, is it really yourself, dear boy!" exclaimed this +apparition. "Really, now? And what brings you here--God bless my soul and +eyes--why I haven't seen you this--how long is it, dear boy!" + +"Three years," answered Gilling, promptly clasping the outstretched hand. +"But what are you doing here--boss, eh?" + +"Lessee's manager, dear boy--nice job, too," whispered the other. "Been +here two years--good berth." He deftly steered Gilling towards the +refreshment bar, and glanced out of his eye corner at Copplestone. +"Friend of yours?" he suggested hospitably. "Introduce us, dear boy--my +name is the same as before, you know!" + +"Mr. Copplestone, Mr. Montmorency," said Gilling. "Mr. Montmorency, Mr. +Copplestone." + +"Servant, sir," said Mr. Montmorency. "Pleased to meet any friend of my +friend! And what will you take, dear boys, and how are things with +you, Gilling, old man--now who on earth would have thought of seeing +you here?" + +Copplestone held his peace while Gilling and Mr. Montmorency held +interesting converse. He was sure that his companion would turn this +unexpected meeting to account, and he therefore felt no surprise when +Gilling, after giving him a private nudge, plumped the manager with a +direct question. + +"Did you see Addie Chatfield when she was here about a year ago?" he +asked. "You remember--she was here in _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_--here a +fortnight." + +"I remember very well, dear boy," responded Mr. Montmorency, with a +judicial sip at the contents of his tumbler. "I saw the lady several +times. More by token, I accidentally witnessed a curious little scene +between Miss Addie and a gentleman whom Nature appeared to have specially +manufactured for the part of heavy parent--you know the type. One morning +when that company was here, I happened to be standing in the vestibule, +talking to the box-office man, when a large, solemn-faced individual, +Quakerish in attire, and evidently not accustomed to the theatre walked +in and peered about him at our rich carpets and expensive +fittings--pretty much as if he was appraising their value. At the same +time, I observed that he was in what one calls a state--a little, perhaps +a good deal, upset about something. Wherefore I addressed myself to him +in my politest manner and inquired if I could serve him. Thereupon he +asked if he could see Miss Adela Chatfield on very important business. +Now, I wasn't going to let him see Miss Addie, for I took him to be a man +who might have a writ about him, or something nasty of that sort. But at +that very moment, Miss Addie, who had been rehearsing, and had come out +by the house instead of going through the stage door, came tripping into +the vestibule and let off a sharp note of exclamation. After which she +and old wooden-face stepped into the street together, and immediately +exchanged a few words. And that the old man told her something very +serious was abundantly evident from the expression of their respective +countenances. But, of course, I never knew what it was, nor who he was, +dear boy--not my business, don't you know." + +"They went away together, those two?" asked Gilling, favouring +Copplestone with another nudge. + +"Up the street together, certainly, talking most earnestly," replied Mr. +Montmorency. + +"Ever see that old chap again?" asked Gilling. + +"I never did, dear boy,--once was sufficient," said Mr. Montmorency, +lightly. "But," he continued, dropping his bantering tone, "are these +questions pertinent?--has this to do with this new profession of yours, +dear boy? If so--mum's the word, you know." + +"I'll tell you what, Monty," answered Gilling. "I wish you'd find out for +me where Addie Chatfield lodged when she was here that time. Can it be +done? Between you and me, I do want to know about that, old chap. Never +mind why, now--I will tell you later. But it's serious." + +Mr. Montmorency tapped the side of his handsome nose. + +"All right, my boy!" he said. "I understand--wicked, wicked world! Done? +Dear boy, it shall be done! Come down to the stage door--our man knows +every landlady in the town!" + +By various winding ways and devious passages he led the two young men +down to the stage door. Its keeper, not being particularly busy at that +time, was reading the evening newspaper in his glass-walled box, and +glanced inquiringly at the strangers as Mr. Montmorency pulled them up +before him. + +"Prickett," said Mr. Montmorency, leaning into the sanctum over its +half-door and speaking confidentially. "You keep a sort of register of +lodgings don't you, Prickett? Now I wonder if you could tell me where +Miss Adela Chatfield, of the _Mrs. Swayne's Necklace_ Company stopped +when she was last here?--that's a year ago or about it. Prickett," he +went on, turning to Gilling, "puts all this sort of thing down, +methodically, so that he can send callers on, or send up urgent letters +or parcels during the day--isn't that it, Prickett?" + +"That's about it, sir," answered the door-keeper. He had taken down a +sort of ledger as the manager spoke, and was now turning over its leaves. +He suddenly ran his finger down a page and stopped its course at a +particular line. + +"Mrs. Salmon, 5, Montargis Crescent--second to the right outside," he +announced briefly. "Very good lodgings, too, are those." + +Gilling promised Mr. Montmorency that he would look him up later on, +and went away with Copplestone to Montargis Crescent. Within five +minutes they were standing in a comfortably furnished, old-fashioned +sitting-room, liberally ornamented with the photographs of actors and +actresses and confronting a stout, sharp-eyed little woman who +listened intently to all that Gilling said and sniffed loudly when he +had finished. + +"Remember Miss Chatfield being here!" she exclaimed. "I should think I do +remember! I ought to! Bringing mortal sickness into my house--and then +death--and then a funeral--and her and her father going away never giving +me an extra penny for the trouble!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LIE ON THE TOMBSTONE + + +Gilling's glance at his companion was quiet enough, but it spoke volumes. +Here, by sheer chance, was such a revelation as they had never dreamed of +hearing!--here was the probable explanation of at least half the mystery. +He turned composedly to the landlady. + +"I've already told you who and what I am," he said, pointing to the card +which he had handed to her. "There are certain mysterious circumstances +about this affair which I want to get at. What you've said just now is +abundant evidence that you can help. If you do and will help, you'll be +well paid for your trouble. Now, you speak of sickness--death--a funeral. +Will you tell us all about it?" + +"I never knew there was any mystery about it," answered the landlady, as +she motioned her visitors to seat themselves. "It was all above-board as +far as I knew. Of course, I've always been sore about it--I'd a great +deal of trouble, and as I say, I never got anything for it--that is, +anything extra. And me doing it really to oblige her and her father!" + +"They brought a sick man here?" suggested Gilling. + +"I'll tell you how it was," said Mrs. Salmon, seating herself and showing +signs of a disposition to confidence. "Miss Chatfield, she'd been here, I +think, three days that time--I'd had her once before a year or two +previous. One morning--I'm sure it was about the third day that the +_Swayne Necklace_ Company was here--she came in from rehearsal in a +regular take-on. She said that her father had just called on her at the +theatre. She said he'd been to Falmouth to meet a relation of theirs +who'd come from America and had found him to be very ill on landing--so +ill that a Falmouth doctor had given strict orders that he mustn't travel +any further than Bristol, on his way wherever he wanted to go. They'd got +to Bristol and the young man was so done up that Mr. Chatfield had had to +drive him to another doctor--one close by here--Dr. Valdey--as soon as +they arrived. Dr. Valdey said he must go to bed at once and have at least +two days' complete rest in bed, and he advised Mr. Chatfield to get quiet +rooms instead of going to a hotel. So Mr. Chatfield, knowing that his +daughter was here, do you see, sought her out and told her all about it. +She came to me and asked me if I knew where they could get rooms. Well +now, I had my drawing-room floor empty that week, and as it was only for +two or three days that they wanted rooms I offered to take Mr. Chatfield +and the young man in. Of course, if I'd known how ill he was, I +shouldn't. What I understood--and mind you, I don't say they wilfully +deceived me, for I don't think they did--what I understood was that the +young man simply wanted a real good rest. But he was evidently a deal +worse than what even Dr. Valdey thought. He'd stopped at Dr. Valdey's +surgery while Mr. Chatfield went to see about rooms, and they moved him +from there straight in here. And as I say, he was a deal worse than they +thought, much worse, and the doctor had to be fetched to him more than +once during the afternoon. Still Dr. Valdey himself never said to me that +there was any immediate danger. But that's neither here nor there--the +young fellow died that night." + +"That night!" exclaimed Gilling, "the night he came here?" + +"Very same night," assented Mrs. Salmon. "Brought in here about two in +the afternoon and died just before midnight--soon after Miss Chatfield +came in from the theatre. Went very suddenly at the end." + +"Were you present?" asked Copplestone. + +"I wasn't. Nobody was with him but Mr. Chatfield--Miss Chatfield was +getting her supper down here," replied Mrs. Salmon. "And I was busy +elsewhere." + +"Was there an inquest then, inquired Gilling?" + +"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Salmon, shaking her head. "Oh, no!--there was no need +for that--the doctor, ye see, had been seeing him all day. Oh, no--the +cause of death was evident enough, in a way of speaking. Heart." + +"Did they bury him here, then?" asked Gilling. + +"Two days after," replied Mrs. Salmon. "Kept everything very quiet, they +did. I don't believe Miss Chatfield told any of the theatre people--she +went to her work just the same, of course. The old gentleman saw to +everything--funeral and all. I'll say this for them.--they gave me no +unnecessary trouble, but still, there's trouble that is necessary when +you've death in a house and a funeral at the door, and they ought to have +given me something for what I did. But they didn't, so I considered it +very mean. Mr. Chatfield, he stayed two days after the funeral, and when +he left he just said that his daughter would settle up with me. But when +she came to pay she added nothing to my bill, and she walked out +remarking that if her father hadn't given me anything extra she was sure +she shouldn't. Shabby!" + +"Very shabby!" agreed Gilling. "Well, you won't find my clients quite so +mean, ma'am. But just a word--don't mention this matter to anybody until +you hear from me. And as I like to give some earnest of payment here's a +bank-note which you can slip into your purse--on account, you understand. +Now, just a question or two:--Did you hear the young man's name?" + +The landlady, whose spirits rose visibly on receipt of the bank-note, +appeared to reflect on hearing this question, and she shook her head as +if surprised at her own inability to answer it satisfactorily. + +"Well, now," she said, "it may seem a queer thing to say, but I don't +recollect that I ever did! You see, I didn't see much of him after he +once got here. I was never in his room with them, and they didn't mention +his name--that I can remember--when they spoke about him before me. I +understood he was a relative--cousin or something of that sort." + +"Didn't you see any name on the coffin?" asked Gilling. + +"I didn't," replied Mrs. Salmon. "You see, the undertaker fetched him +away when him and his men brought the coffin--the next day. He took +charge of the coffin for the second night, and the funeral took place +from there. But I'll tell you what--the undertaker'll know the name, and +of course the doctor does. They're both close by." + +Gilling took names and addresses and once more pledging the landlady to +secrecy, led Copplestone away. + +"That's the end of another chapter," he said when they were clear of that +place. "We know now that Marston Greyle died there--in that very house, +Copplestone!--and that Peter Chatfield was with him. That's fact!" + +"And it's fact, too, that the daughter knows," observed Copplestone in a +low voice. + +"Fact, too, that Addie Chatfield was in it," agreed Gilling. "Well--but +what happened next? However, before we go on to that, there are three +things to do in the morning. We must see this Dr. Valdey, and the +undertaker--and Marston Greyle's grave." + +"And then?" asked Copplestone. + +"Stiff, big question," sighed Gilling. "Go back to town and report, I +think--and find out if Swallow has discovered anything. And egad! there's +a lot to discover! For you see we're already certain that at the stage at +which we've arrived a conspiracy began--conspiracy between Chatfield, his +daughter, and the man who's been passing himself off as Marston Greyle. +Now, who is the man? Where did they get hold of him? Is he some relation +of theirs? All that's got to be found out. Of course, their object is +very clear, Marston Greyle, the real Simon Pure, was dead on their hands. +His legal successor was his cousin, Miss Audrey. Chatfield knew that when +Miss Audrey came into power his own reign as steward of Scarhaven would +be brief. And so--but the thing is so plain that one needn't waste breath +on it. And I tell you what's plain too, Copplestone--Miss Audrey Greyle +is the lady of Scarhaven! Good luck to her! You'll no doubt be glad to +communicate the glad tidings!" + +Copplestone made no answer. He was utterly confounded by the recent +revelations and was wondering what the mother and daughter in the little +cottage so far away in the grey north would say when all these things +were told them. + +"Let's make dead certain of everything," he said after a long pause. +"Don't let's leave any loophole." + +"Oh, we'll leave nothing--here at any rate," replied Gilling, +confidently. "But you'll find in the morning that we already know almost +everything." + +In this he was right. The doctor's story was a plain one. The young man +was very ill indeed when brought to him, and though he did not anticipate +so early or sudden an end, he was not surprised when death came, and had +of course, no difficulty about giving the necessary certificate. Just as +plain was the undertaker's account of his connection with the affair--a +very ordinary transaction in his eyes. And having heard both stories, +there was nothing to do but to visit one of the adjacent cemeteries and +find a certain grave the number of which they had ascertained from the +undertaker's books. It was easily found--and Copplestone and Gilling +found themselves standing at a new tombstone, whereon the monumental +mason had carved four lines:-- + +MARK GREY + +BORN APRIL 12TH, 1884 + +DIED OCTOBER 6TH, 1912 + +AGED 28 TEARS. + +"Short, simple, eminently suited to the purpose," murmured Gilling as the +two turned away. "Somebody thought things out quickly and well, +Copplestone, when this poor fellow died. Do you know I've been thinking +as we walked up here that if Bassett Oliver had never taken it into his +head to visit Scarhaven that Sunday this fraud would never have been +found out! The chances were all against its ever being found out. +Consider them! A young man who is an absolute stranger in England comes +to take up an inheritance, having on him no doubt, the necessary proofs +of identification. He's met by one person only--his agent. He dies next +day. The agent buries him, under a false name, takes his effects and +papers, gets some accomplice to personate him, introduces that accomplice +to everybody as the real man--and there you are! Oh, Chatfield knew what +he was doing! Who on earth, wandering in this cemetery, would ever +connect Mark Grey with Marston Greyle?" + +"Just so--but there was one danger-spot which must have given Chatfield +and his accomplices a good many uneasy hours," answered Copplestone. "You +know that Marston Greyle actually registered in his own name at Falmouth +and was known to the land lord and the doctor there." + +"Yes--and Falmouth is three hundred miles from London and five hundred +from Scarhaven," replied Gilling dryly. "And do you suppose that whoever +saw Marston Greyle at Falmouth cared two pins--comparatively--what became +of him after he left there? No--Chatfield was almost safe from detection +as soon as he'd got that unfortunate young fellow laid away in that +grave. However we know now--what we do know. And the next thing, now that +we know Marston Greyle lies behind us there, is to get back to town and +catch the chap who took his place. We'll wire to Swallow and to +Petherton and get the next express." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver and Petherton were in conference with Swallow at the +solicitor's office when Gilling and Copplestone arrived there in the +early afternoon. Gilling interrupted their conversation to tell the +result of his investigations. Copplestone, watching the effect, saw that +neither Sir Cresswell nor Petherton showed surprise. Petherton indeed, +smiled as if he had anticipated all that Gilling had to say. + +"I told you that I knew the Greyle family solicitors," he observed. "I +find that they have only once seen the man whom we will call the Squire. +Chatfield brought him there. He produced proofs of identification--papers +which Chatfield no doubt took from the dead man. Of course, the +solicitors never doubted for a moment that he was the real Marston +Greyle!--never dreamed of fraud: Well--the next step. We must concentrate +on finding this man. And Swallow has nothing to tell--yet. He has never +seen anything more of him. You'd better turn all your attention to that, +Gilling--you and Swallow. As for Chatfield and his daughter, I suppose we +shall have to approach the police." + +Copplestone presently went home to his rooms in Jermyn Street, puzzled +and wondering; And there, lying on top of a pile of letters, he found a +telegram--from Audrey Greyle. It had been dispatched from Scarhaven at an +early hour of the previous day, and it contained but three words--_Can +yon come?_ + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE STEAM YACHT + + +Copplestone had seen and learned enough of Audrey Greyle during his brief +stay at Scarhaven to make him assured that she would not have sent for +him save for very good and grave reasons. It had been with manifest +reluctance that she had given him her promise to do so: her entire +behaviour during the conference with Mr. Dennie and Gilling had convinced +him that she had an inherent distaste for publicity and an instinctive +repugnance to calling in the aid of strangers. He had never expected that +she would send for him--he himself knew that he should go back to her, +but the return would be on his own initiative. There, however, was her +summons, definite as it was brief. He was wanted--and by her. And without +opening one of his letters, he snatched up the whole pile, thrust it into +his pocket, hurriedly made some preparation for his journey and raced off +to King's Cross. + +He fumed and fretted with impatience during the six hours' journey down +to Norcaster. It was ten o'clock when he arrived there, and as he knew +that the last train to Scarhaven left at half-past-nine he hurried to get +a fast motor-car that would take him over the last twenty miles of his +journey. He had wired to Audrey from Peterborough, telling her that he +was on his way and should motor out from Norcaster, and when he had +found a car to his liking he ordered its driver to go straight to Mrs. +Greyle's cottage, close by Scarhaven church. And just then he heard a +voice calling his name, and turning saw, running out of the station, a +young, athletic-looking man, much wrapped and cloaked, who waved a hand +at him and whose face he had some dim notion of having seen before. + +"Mr. Copplestone?" panted the new arrival, coming up hurriedly. "I almost +missed you--I got on the wrong platform to meet your train. You don't +know me, though you may have seen me at the inquest on Mr. Bassett Oliver +the other day--my name's Vickers--Guy Vickers." + +"Yes?" said Copplestone. "And--" + +"I'm a solicitor, here in Norcaster," answered Vickers. "I--at least, my +firm, you know--we sometimes act for Mrs. Greyle at Scarhaven. I got a +wire from Miss Greyle late this evening, asking me to meet you here when +the London train got in and to go on to Scarhaven with you at once. She +added the words _urgent business_ so--" + +"Then in heaven's name, let's be off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "It'll take +us a good hour and a quarter as it is. Of course," he went on, as they +moved away through the Norcaster streets, "of course, you haven't any +notion of what this urgent business is?" + +"None whatever!" replied Vickers. "But I'm quite sure that it is urgent, +or Miss Greyle wouldn't have said so. No--I don't know what her exact +meaning was, but of course, I know there's something wrong about the +whole thing at Scarhaven--seriously wrong!" + +"You do, eh?" exclaimed Copplestone. "What now?" + +"Ah, that I don't know!" replied Vickers, with a dry laugh. "I wish I +did. But--you know how people talk in these provincial places--ever since +that inquest there have been all sorts of rumours. Every club and public +place in Norcaster has been full of talk--gossip, surmise, speculation. +Naturally!" + +"But--about what?" asked Copplestone. + +"Squire Greyle, of course," said the young solicitor; "that inquest was +enough to set the whole country talking. Everybody thinks--they couldn't +think otherwise--that something is being hushed up. Everybody's agog to +know if Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. Petherton are applying for a +re-opening of the inquest. You've just come from town, I believe! Did you +hear anything?" + +Copplestone was wondering whether he ought to tell his companion of his +own recent discoveries. Like all laymen, he had an idea that you can tell +anything to a lawyer, and he was half-minded to pour out the whole story +to Vickers, especially as he was Mrs. Greyle's solicitor. But on second +thoughts he decided to wait until he had ascertained the state of affairs +at Scarhaven. + +"I didn't hear anything about that," he replied. "Of course, that inquest +was a mere travesty of what such an inquiry should have been." + +"Oh, an utter farce!" agreed Vickers. "However, it produced just the +opposite effect to that which the wire-pullers wanted. Of course, +Chatfield had squared that jury! But he forgot the press--and the local +reporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that all +the Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody's +talking of it, as I said--people are asking what this evidence from +America is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on. +And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven." + +"Have you seen Mrs. or Miss Greyle since the inquest?" asked Copplestone, +who was anxious to keep off subjects on which he might be supposed to +possess information. "Have you been over there?" + +"No--not since that day," replied Vickers. "And I don't care how soon we +do see them, for I'm a bit anxious about this telegram. Something must +have happened." + +Copplestone looked out of the window on his side of the car. Already they +were clear of the Norcaster streets and on the road which led to +Scarhaven. That road ran all along the coast, often at the very edge of +the high, precipitous cliffs, with no more between it and the rocks far +beneath than a low wall. It was a road of dangerous curves and corners +which needed careful negotiation even in broad daylight, and this was a +black, moonless and starless night. But Copplestone had impressed upon +his driver that he must get to Scarhaven as quickly as possible, and he +and his companion were both so full of their purpose that they paid no +heed to the perpetual danger which they ran as the car tore round +propections and down deep cuts at a speed which at other times they would +have considered suicidal. And at just under the hour they ran on the +level stretch by the "Admiral's Arms" and looking down at the harbour saw +the lighted port-holes of some ship which lay against the south quay, and +on the quay itself men moving about in the glare of lamps. + +"What's going on there?" said Vickers. "Late for a vessel to be loading +at a place like this where time's of no great importance." + +Copplestone offered no suggestion. He was hotly impatient to reach the +cottage, and as soon as the car drew up at its gate he burst out, bade +the driver wait, and ran eagerly up to the path to Audrey, who opened the +door as he advanced. In another second he had both her hands in his +own--and kept them there. + +"You're all right?" he demanded in tones which made clear to the girl how +anxious he had been. "There's nothing wrong--with you or your +mother--personally, I mean? You see, I didn't get your wire until this +afternoon, and then I raced off as quick--" + +"I know," she said, responding a little to the pressure of his hands. "I +understand. You may be sure I shouldn't have wired if I hadn't felt it +absolutely necessary. Somebody was wanted--and you'd made me promise, and +so--Yes," she continued, drawing back as Vickers came up, "we are all +right, personally, but--there's something very wrong indeed somewhere. +Will you both come in and see mother?" + +Mrs. Greyle, looking worn and ill, appeared just then in the hall, and +called to them to come in. She preceded them into the parlour and turned +to the young men as soon as Audrey closed the door. + +"I'm more thankful to see you gentlemen than I've ever been in my +life--for anything!" she said. "Something is happening here which needs +the attention of men--we women can't do anything. Let me tell you what it +is. Yesterday morning, very early the Squire's steam-yacht, the _Pike_, +was brought into the inner harbour and moored against the quay just +opposite the park gates. We, of course, could see it, and as we knew he +had gone away we wondered why it was brought in there. After it had been +moored, we saw that preparations of some sort were being made. Then +men--estate labourers--began coming down from the house, carrying +packing-cases, which were taken on board. And while this was going on, +Mrs. Peller, the housekeeper, came hurrying here, in a state of great +consternation. She said that a number of men, sailors and estate men, +were packing up and removing all the most valuable things in the +house--the finest pictures, the old silver, the famous collection of +china which Stephen John Greyle made--and spent thousands upon thousands +of pounds in making!--the rarest and most valuable books out of the +library--all sorts of things of real and great value. Everything was +being taken down to the _Pike_--and the estate carpenter, who was in +charge of all this, said it was by the Squire's orders, and produced to +Mrs. Peller his written authority. Of course, Mrs. Peller could do +nothing against that, but she came hurrying to tell us, because she, like +everybody else, is much exercised by these recent events. And so Audrey +and I pocketed our pride, and went to see Peter Chatfield. But Peter +Chatfield, like his master, had gone! He had left home the previous +evening, and his house was locked up." + +Copplestone and Vickers exchanged glances, and the young solicitor signed +Mrs. Greyle to proceed. + +"Then," she added, "to add to that, as we came away from Chatfield's +house, we met Mr. Elkin, the bank-manager from Norcaster. He had come +over in a motor-car, to see me--privately. He wanted to tell me--in +relation to all these things--that within the last few days, the Squire +and Peter Chatfield had withdrawn from the bank the very large balances +of two separate accounts. One was the Squire's own account, in his +name--the other was an estate account, on which Chatfield could draw. In +both cases the balances withdrawn were of very large amount. Of course, +as Mr. Elkin pointed out, it was all in order, and no objection could be +raised. But it was unusual, for a large balance had always existed on +both these accounts. And, Mr. Elkin added, so many strange rumours are +going about Norcaster and the district, that he felt seriously uneasy, +and thought it his duty to see me at once. And now--what is to be done? +The house is being stripped of the best part of its valuables, and in my +opinion when that yacht sails it will be for some foreign port. What +other object can there be in taking these things away? Of course, as +nothing is entailed, and there are no heirlooms, everything is absolutely +the Squire's property, so--" + +Copplestone, who had been realizing the serious significance of these +statements, saw that it was time to speak, if energetic methods were to +be taken at once. + +"I'd better tell you the truth," he said interrupting Mrs. Greyle. "I +might have told you, Vickers, as we came along, but I decided to wait, +until we got here and found out how things were. Mrs. Greyle, the man you +speak of as the Squire, is no more the owner of Scarhaven than I am! He +is not Marston Greyle at all. The real Marston Greyle who came over from +America, died the day after he landed, in lodgings at Bristol to which +Peter Chatfield and his daughter had taken him, and he is buried in a +Bristol cemetery under the name of Mark Grey; Gilling and I found that +out during these last few days. It's an absolute fact. So the man who has +been posing here as the rightful owner is--an impostor!" + +A dead silence followed this declaration. The mother and daughter after +one long look at Copplestone turned and looked at each other. But +Vickers, quick to realize the situation, started from his seat, with +evident intention of doing something. + +"That's--the truth?" he exclaimed, turning to Copplestone. "No possible +flaw in it?" + +"None," replied Copplestone. "It's sheer fact." + +"Then in that case," said Vickers, "Miss Greyle is the owner of +Scarhaven, of everything in the house, of every stick, stone and pebble, +about the place! And we must act at once. Miss Greyle, you will have to +assert yourself. You must do what I tell you to do. You must get ready at +once--this minute!--and come down with me and Mrs. Greyle to that yacht +and stop all these proceedings. In our presence you must lay claim to +everything that's been taken from the house--yes, and to the yacht +itself. Come, let's hurry!" + +Audrey hesitated and looked at Mrs. Greyle. + +"Very well," she said quietly. "But--not my mother." + +"No need!" said Vickers. "You will have us with you." + +Audrey hurried from the room, and Mrs. Greyle turned anxiously to +Vickers. + +"What shall you do?" she asked. + +"Warn all concerned," answered Vickers, with a snap of the jaw which +showed Copplestone that he was a man of determination. "Warn them, if +necessary, that the man they have known as Marston Greyle is an impostor, +and that everything they are handling belongs to Miss Greyle. The +Scarhaven people know me, of course--there ought not to be any great +difficulty with them--and as regards the yacht people--" + +"You know," interrupted Mrs. Greyle, "that this man--the impostor--has +made himself very popular with the people here? You saw how they cheered +him after the inquest? You don't think there is danger in Audrey going +down there?" + +"Wouldn't it be enough if you and I went?" suggested Copplestone. "It's +very late to drag Miss Greyle out." + +"I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary," said Vickers. "If your +story is true--I mean, of course, since it is true--Miss Greyle is +owner and mistress, and she must be on the spot. It's all we can do, +anyway," he continued, as Audrey, wrapped in a big ulster, came back to +the parlour. "Even now we may be too late. And if that yacht once sails +away from here--" + +There were signs that the yacht's departure was imminent when they went +down to the south quay and came abreast of her. The lights on the shore +were being extinguished; the estate labourers were gone; only two or +three sailors were busy with ropes and gear. And Vickers hurried his +little party up a gangway and on to the deck. A hard-faced, keen-eyed, +man, evidently in authority, came forward. + +"Are you the captain of this vessel?" demanded Vickers in tones of +authority. "You are? I am Mr. Vickers, solicitor, of Norcaster. I give +you formal warning that the man you have known as Marston Greyle is +not Marston Greyle at all, but an impostor. All the property which you +have removed from the house, and now have on this vessel, belongs to +this lady, Miss Audrey Greyle, Lady of the Manor of Scarhaven. It is +at your peril that you move it, or that you cause this vessel to +leave this harbour. I claim the vessel and all that is on it on behalf +of Miss Greyle." + +The man addressed listened in silent attention, and showed no sign of any +surprise. As soon as Vickers had finished he turned, hurried down a +stairway, remained below for a few minutes, and came up again. + +"Will you kindly step this way, Miss Greyle and gentlemen?" he said +politely. "You must remember that I am only a servant. If you will come +down--" + +He led them down the stairs, along a thickly-carpeted passage, and opened +the door of a lighted saloon. All unthinking, the three stepped in--to +hear the door closed and locked behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE COURTEOUS CAPTAIN + + +Vickers sprang back at that door as the sharp click of the turning key +caught his ear, and Copplestone, preceding him and following Audrey, who +had advanced fearlessly into the cabin, pulled himself up with a sudden, +sickening sense of treachery. The two young men looked at each other, and +a dead silence fell on them and the girl. Then Vickers laid his hand on +the door and shook it. + +"Locked in!" he muttered with a queer glance at his companions. "What +does that mean?" + +"Nothing good!" growled Copplestone who was secretly cursing his own +folly in allowing Audrey to leave the quay. "We're trapped!--that's what +it means. Why we're trapped isn't a question that matters very much under +the circumstances--the serious thing is that we certainly are trapped." + +Vickers turned to Audrey. + +"My fault!" he said contritely. "All my fault! But I meant it for the +best--it was the thing to do--and who on earth could have foreseen this. +Look here!--we've got to think pretty quick, Copplestone, that captain, +now? Has he done this on his own hook, or--is there somebody on board +who's at the top of things?" + +"I don't see any good in thinking quick, or asking one's self +questions," replied Copplestone. "We're locked in here. We've got Miss +Greyle into this mess--and her mother will be anxious and alarmed. I wish +we'd let this confounded yacht go where it liked before ever we'd--" + +"Don't!" broke in Audrey. "That's no good. Mr. Vickers certainly did what +he felt to be best--and who could foresee this? And I'm not afraid--and +as for my mother, if we don't return very soon, why, she knows where we +are and there are police in Scarhaven, and--" + +"How long are we going to be where we are?" asked Copplestone, grimly. +"The thing's moving!" + +There was no doubt of that very pertinent fact. Somewhere beneath them, +machinery began to work; above them there was hurry and scurry as ropes +and stays were thrown off. But so beautifully built was that yacht, and +so almost sound-proof the luxurious cabin in which they were prisoners, +that little of the noise of departure came to them. However, there was no +mistaking the increasing throb of the engines nor the fact that the +vessel was moving, and Vickers suddenly sprang on a lounge seat and moved +away a silken screen which curtained a port-hole window. + +"There's no doubt of that!" he exclaimed. + +"We're going through the outer harbour--we've passed the light at the end +of the quay. What do these people mean by carrying us out to sea? +Copplestone!--with all submission to you--whether it's relevant or not, I +wish we knew more of that captain chap!" + +"I know him," remarked Audrey. "I have been on this yacht before. His +name is Andrius. He's an American--or American-Norwegian, or something +like that." + +"And the crew?" asked Vickers. "Are they Scarhaven men?" + +"No," replied Audrey. "There isn't a Scarhaven man amongst them. My +cousin--I mean--you know whom I mean--bought this yacht just as it stood, +from an American millionaire early this spring, and he took over the +captain, crew, and everything." + +"So--we're in the hands of strangers!" exclaimed Vickers, while +Copplestone dug his hands into his pockets and began to stamp about. "I +wish I'd known all that before we came on board." + +"But what harm can they do us?" said Audrey, incredulous of danger. "You +don't suppose they'll want to murder us, surely! My own belief is that we +never should have been locked up here if you hadn't let them know how +much we know, Mr. Vickers." + +"Let them--I don't understand," said Vickers, turning a puzzled +glance on her. + +"Why," replied Audrey with a laugh which convinced both men of her +fearlessness, "you let the captain see that we know a great deal and he +thereupon ran downstairs--presumably to tell somebody of what you said. +And--here's the result!" + +"You think, then--" suggested Vickers. "You think that--" + +"I think the somebody--whoever he is--wants to know exactly how much we +do know," answered Audrey with another laugh. "And so we're being carried +off to be cross-examined--at somebody's leisure. Let's hope they won't +use thumb-screws and that sort of thing. And anyway," she continued, +looking from one to the other, "hadn't we better make the best of it? +We're going out to sea, that's certain--here's the bar!" + +A sudden lifting of the thickly-carpeted floor, a dip to the left, +another to the right, a plunge forward, a drop back, then a settling down +to a steady persistent roll, showed her companions that Audrey was +right--the yacht was crossing the bar which lay at the mouth of +Scarhaven Bay. Outside that lay the North Sea, and Copplestone suddenly +wondered which course the vessel was going to take, north, east, or +south. But before he could put his thoughts into words, the door was +suddenly unlocked, and Captain Andrius, suave, polite, deprecating, +walked into the cabin. + +"A thousands pardons--and two words of explanation!" he exclaimed, as he +executed a deep bow to his lady prisoner. "First--Miss Greyle, I have +sent a message to your mother that you are quite safe and will join her +in due course. Second--this is merely a temporary detention--you shall +all be landed--all in good time." + +Vickers as a legal man, assumed his most professional air. + +"Do you know what you are rendering yourself liable to, sir, by detaining +us at all?" he demanded. "An action--" + +Captain Andrius bowed again; again assumed his deprecating smile. He +waved the two men to seats and himself took a chair with his back to the +door by which he entered. + +"My dear sir!" he said courteously. "You forget that I am but a servant. +I am under orders. However, I give my word that no harm shall come to +you, that you shall be treated with every polite attention, and that you +shall be landed." + +"When--and where?" asked Vickers. + +"Tomorrow, certainly," replied Andrius. "As to where, I cannot exactly +say. But--where you will be in touch with--shall we say civilization?" + +He showed a set of fine white teeth in such a curious fashion as he spoke +the last word that Copplestone and Vickers instinctively glanced at each +other, with a mutual instinct of distrust. + +"Won't do!" said Vickers. "I insist that you put about and go into +Scarhaven again." + +Andrius spread out his open palms and shook his head "Impossible!" he +answered. "We are already _en voyage_. Time presses. Be +placable--tomorrow you shall be released." + +Vickers was about to answer this appeal with an angry refusal to be +either placable or tractable, but he suddenly stopped the words which +rose to his tongue. There was something in all this--some mystery, some +queer game, and it might be worth while to find it out. + +"Where are you taking this yacht?" he demanded brusquely. "Come, now!" + +"I am under--orders," said Andrius, with another smile. + +"Whose orders?" persisted Vickers. "Look here--it's no use trying to +burke facts. Who's on board this vessel? You know what I mean. Is the man +who calls himself Squire of Scarhaven here?" + +Andrius shook his head quietly and gave his questioner a shrewd glance. + +"Mr. Vickers," he said meaningly, "I know you! You are a lawyer--though a +young one. Lawyers are guarded in their speech. Now--we are alone--we +four. No one can hear anything we say. Tell me--is that right what you +said to me on deck, that the man who has called himself Marston Greyle is +not so at all?" + +"Absolutely right," replied Vickers. + +"An impostor?" demanded Andrius. + +"He is!" + +"And never had any right to--anything?" + +"No right whatever!" + +"Then," said Andrius, with a polite inclination of his head and shoulders +to Audrey, "the truth is that everything of the Scarhaven property +belongs to this lady?" + +"Everything!" exclaimed Vickers. "Land, houses, furniture, +valuables--everything. All the property which you have on this +yacht--pictures, china, silver, books, objects of art, as I am +instructed, removed from the house--are Miss Greyle's sole property. Once +more I warn you of what you are doing, and I demand that you immediately +return to Scarhaven. This very yacht belongs to Miss Greyle!" + +Andrius nodded, looked fixedly at the young solicitor for a moment, and +then rose. + +"I am obliged to you," he said. "That, of course, is your claim. But--the +other one, eh? It seems to me there might be something to be said for +that, you know? So, all I can do is to renew my assurance of polite +attention, offer you our best accommodation--which is luxurious--and +promise to land you--somewhere--tomorrow. Miss Greyle, we have two women +servants on board--I shall send them to you at once and they will attend +to you--please consider them your own. You, gentlemen, will perhaps join +me in my quarters?--I have two spare cabins close to my own which are at +your service." + +Copplestone and Vickers looked at each other and at Audrey--undecided and +vaguely suspicious. But Audrey was evidently neither alarmed nor +uneasy--she nodded a ready assent to the Captain's proposal. + +"Thank you, Captain Andrius," she said coolly. "I know the two women. You +may send one of them. Do what he suggests," she murmured, turning to +Copplestone, who had moved close to her, "I'm not one scrap afraid of +anything--and it's only until tomorrow. He'll land us--I'm sure of it." + +There was nothing for it, then, but to follow Andrius to his own +comfortable quarters. There, utterly ignoring the strange circumstances +under which they met, he played the part of host with genuine desire to +make his guests feel at ease, and when he showed them to their berths, +a little later, he emphasized his assurance of their absolute safety +and liberty. + +"You see, gentlemen, your movements are untrammelled," he said. "You can +go in and out of your quarters as you like. You can go where you like on +the yacht tomorrow morning. There is no restriction on you. Sleep +well--and tomorrow you are all free again, eh?" + +Copplestone got a word or two with Vickers--alone. + +"What do you think?" he muttered. "Shall you sleep?" + +"My impression--for I know what you're thinking about," said Vickers, "is +that Miss Greyle's as safe as if she were in her mother's house! She's no +fear, herself, anyway. There's some mystery, somewhere, and I can't make +this Andrius man out at all, but I believe all's right as regards +personal safety. There's Miss Greyle's cabin, anyhow, right opposite +ours--and I can keep an eye and an ear open even when I'm asleep!" + +But in spite of these assurances, Copplestone slept little. He was up, +dressed, and on deck by sunrise, staring around him in a fresh autumn +morning to get some notion of the yacht's whereabouts, and he had just +managed to make out a mere filmy line of land far to the westward when +Audrey appeared at his elbow. There was no one of any importance near +them and Copplestone impulsively seized her hands. + +"I've scarcely slept!" he blurted out, gazing intently at her. +"Couldn't! Blaming myself for letting you get into this confounded mess! +You're all right?" + +Audrey responded a little to the pressure of his hands before she +disengaged her own. + +"It wasn't your fault," she said. "It's nobody's fault. Don't blame Mr. +Vickers--he couldn't foresee this. Yes, I'm all right--and I slept like a +top. What's the use of worrying? Do you know," she went on, lowering her +voice and drawing nearer to him, "I believe something's going to come of +all this--something that'll clear matters up once and for all." + +"Why?" asked Copplestone, wonderingly. "What makes you think that?" + +"Don't know--instinct, intuitiveness, perhaps," she answered. +"Besides--I'm dead certain we're not the only people--I don't mean crew +and Captain--aboard the _Pike_. I believe there's somebody else. There's +some mystery, anyway. Keep that to yourself," she said as Andrius and +Vickers appeared from below. "Don't show any sign--wait to see how things +turn out." + +She turned away from him to greet the other two as unconcernedly as if +there were nothing unusual in the situation, and Copplestone marvelled at +her coolness. He himself, not so well equipped with patience, was +feverishly anxious to know how things would turn out, and when. But the +day went by and nothing happened, except that Captain Andrius was very +polite to his guests and that the yacht, a particularly fast sailer, +continued to make headway through the grey seas, sometimes in bare sight +of land and sometimes out of it. To one or two inquiries as to the +fulfilment of his promise Andrius made no more answer than a reassuring +nod; once when Vickers pressed him, he replied curtly that the day was +not yet over. Vickers drew Copplestone aside on hearing that. + +"Look here!" he said. "I've been reckoning things up as near as I can. I +make out that we've been running due north, or north-east ever since we +left Scarhaven last night. I reckon, too, that this vessel makes quite +twenty-two or three, knots an hour. We must be off the extreme north-east +coast of Scotland. And night's coming on!" + +"There are ports there that he can put into," said Copplestone. "The +thing is--will he keep his promise? Remember!--he must know very well +that if we once land anywhere within reach of a telegraph office, we can +wire particulars about him to every port in the world if we like--and +he's got to go somewhere, eventually, you know." + +Vickers shook his head as if this were a problem he would give up. It was +beyond him, he said, to even guess at what Andrius was after, or what was +going to happen. And nothing did happen until, as the three prisoners sat +at dinner with their polite gaoler, the _Pike_ came to a sudden stop and +hung gently on a quiet sea. Andrius looked up and smiled. + +"A pleasant night for your landing," he remarked. "Don't hurry--but there +will be a boat ready for you as soon as dinner is over." + +"And where are we?" asked Vickers. + +"That, my dear sir, you will see when you land." replied Andrius. +"You will, at any rate, be quite comfortable for the night, and in +the morning, I think, you will be able to journey--wherever you wish +to go to." + +There was something in the smile which accompanied the last words which +made Copplestone uneasy. But the prospect of regaining their liberty was +too good--he kept his own counsel. And half-an-hour later, he, Audrey and +Vickers, stood on deck, looking down on a boat alongside, in which were +two or three of the crew and a man holding a lanthorn. In front was the +dark sea, and ahead a darker mass which they took to be land. + +"You won't tell us what this place is?" said Vickers as he was about to +follow the others into the boat. "It's on the mainland, of course?" + +"The morning light, my good sir, will show you everything," replied +Andrius. "Be content that I have kept my promise--you have come off +luckily," he added with a significant look. + +Vickers felt a strange sense of alarm as the boat left the yacht. He +noticed two or three suspicious circumstances. As soon as they got away, +he saw that all the yacht's lights had been or were being darkened or +entirely obscured; at a dozen boat lengths they could see her no more. +Then a boat, swiftly pulled, passed them in the darkness, evidently +coming from the shore to which they were being taken: it, too, carried no +light. Nor were there any lights on the shore itself; all there was in +utter blackness. They were on the shingle within a quarter of an hour; +within a minute or two the yachtsmen had helped all three on to the +beach, had carried up certain boxes and packages which had been placed in +the boat, had set down the lighted lanthorn, jumped into the boat again +and vanished in the darkness. And in the silence, broken only by the drip +of water from the retreating oars, and by the scarcely-noticed ripple of +the waves, Audrey voiced exactly what her two companions felt. + +"Andrius has kept his word--and cheated us! We're stranded!" + +Prom somewhere out of the darkness came a groan--deep and heartfelt, as +if in entire agreement with Audrey's declaration. That it proceeded from +a human being was evident enough, and Vickers hastily snatched up the +lanthorn and strode in the direction from which it came. And there, +seated on the shingle, his whole attitude one of utter dejection and +misery, the three castaways found a sharer of their sorrows--Peter +Chatfield! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MAROONED + + +To each of these three young people this was the most surprising moment +which life had yet afforded. It was an astonishing thing to find a fellow +mortal there at all, but to find that mortal was the Scarhaven estate +agent was literally short of marvellous. What was also astounding was to +see Chatfield's only too evident distress. Swathed in a heavy, +old-fashioned ulster, with a plaid shawl round his shoulders and a +deerstalker hat tied over head and ears with a bandanna handkerchief he +sat on the beach nursing his knees, slightly rocking his fleshy figure to +and fro and moaning softly with the regularity of a minute bell. His eyes +were fixed on the dark expanse of waters at his feet; his lips, when he +was not moaning, worked incessantly; as he rocked his body he beat his +toes on the shingle. Clearly, Chatfield was in a bad way, mentally. That +he was not so badly off materially was made evident by the presence of a +half-open kit bag which obviously contained food and a bottle of spirits. + +For any notice that he took of them, Audrey, Vickers, and Copplestone +might have been no more than the pebbles on which they stood. In spite of +the fact that Vickers shone the light on his fat face, and that three +inquisitive pairs of eyes were trained on it, Chatfield continued to +stare moodily and disgustedly out to sea and to take no notice of his +gratuitous company. And so utterly extraordinary was his behaviour and +attitude that Audrey suddenly and almost involuntarily stepped forward +and laid a hand on his shoulder. + +"Mr. Chatfield!" she exclaimed. "What 's the matter? Are you ill?" + +The emphasis which she gave to the last word roused some quality of +Chatfield's subtle intellect. He flashed a swift look at his +questioner--a look of mingled contempt and derision, spiced with a dash +of sneering humour. And he found his tongue. + +"I'll!" he snorted. "I'll! She asks if I'm ill--me, a respectable man +what's maltreated and robbed before his own eyes by them as ought to fall +in humble gratitude at his feet! I'll!--aye, ill with something that's +worse nor any bodily aches and pains--let me tell you that! But not done +for, neither!" + +"He's all right," said Copplestone. "That's a flash of his old spirit. +You're all right, Chatfield, aren't you? And who's robbed and maltreated +you--and how and when--especially when--did you come here?" + +Chatfield looked up at his old assailant with a glare of dislike. + +"You keep your tongue to yourself, young feller!" he growled. "I +shouldn't never ha' been here at all if it hadn't been for the likes of +you--a pokin' your nose where it isn't wanted. It's 'cause o' you three +comin' aboard o' that there yacht last night as I am here--a castaway!" + +"Well, we're castaways, too, Mr. Chatfield," said Audrey. "And we can't +help believing that it's all your naughty conduct that's made us so. Why +don't you tell the truth?" + +Chatfield uttered a few grumpy and inarticulate sounds. + +"It'll be a bad day for more than one when I do that--as I will," he +muttered presently. "Oh aye, I '11 tell the truth--when it suits me! But +I'll be out o' this first." + +"You'll never get out of this first or last, until you tell us how you +got in," said Vickers, assuming a threatening tone. "You'd better tell us +all about it, you know. Come now!--you know me and my firm." + +Chatfield laughed grimly and shook his much-swathed head. + +"I ought to," he said. "I've given 'em more than one nice job and said +naught about their bills o' costs, neither, my lad. You keep a civil +tongue in your mouth--I ain't done for yet, noways! You let me get off +this here place, wherever it is, and within touch of a telegraph office, +and I'll make somebody suffer!" + +"Andrius, of course," said Copplestone. "Come now, he put you ashore +before he sent us off, didn't he? Why don't you own up?" + +"Never you mind, young feller," retorted Chat-field. "I was feeling very +cast down, but I'm better. I've something that'll keep me going--revenge! +I'll show 'em, once I'm off this place--I will so!" + +"Look here, Chatfield," said Vickers. "Do you know where this place is? +What is it? Is it on the mainland, or is it an island, or where are we? +It's all very well talking about getting off, but when and how are we to +get off? Why don't you be sensible and tell us what you know?" + +The estate agent arose slowly and ponderously, drawing his shawl about +him. He looked out seawards. In that black waste the steady beat of the +yacht's propellers could be clearly heard, but not a gleam of light came +from her, and it was impossible to decide in which direction she was +going. And Chatfield suddenly shook his fist at the throbbing sound which +came in regular pulsations through the night. + +"Never mind!" he said sneeringly. "We aren't at the North Pole +neither--I ain't a seafaring man, but I've a good idea of where we are! +And perhaps there won't be naught to take me off when it's daylight, and +perhaps there won't be no telegraphs near at hand, nor within a hundred +miles, and perhaps there ain't such a blessed person as that there +Marconi and his wireless in the world--oh, no! Just you wait, my fine +fellers--that's all!" + +"He's not addressing us, Vickers," said Copplestone. "You're decidedly +better, Chatfield--you're quite better. The notion of revenge and of +circumvention has come to you like balm. But you'd a lot better tell us +who you're referring to, and why you were put ashore. Listen, +Chatfield!--there's property of your own on that yacht, eh? That it? +Come, now?" + +Chatfield gave his questioner a look of indignant scorn. He stooped for +the kit-bag, picked it up, and turned away. + +"I don't want to have naught to do with you," he remarked over his +shoulder. "You keep yourselves to yourselves, and I'll keep myself to +myself. If it hadn't been for what you blabbed out last night, them +ungrateful devils 'ud never have had such ideas put into their heads!" + +As if he knew his way, Chatfield plodded heavily up the beach and was +lost in the darkness, and the three left behind stood helplessly staring +at each other. For a long time there was silence, broken only by the +agent's heavy tread on the shingle--at last Vickers spoke. + +"I think I can see through all this," he said. "Chatfield's cryptic +utterances were somewhat suggestive. 'Robbed'--'maltreated'--'them as +ought to have fallen in humble gratitude at his feet'--'vengeance'-- +'revenge'--'Marconi telegrams'--'ungrateful devils'--ah, I see it! +Chatfield had associates on the _Pike_--probably the impostor himself +and Andrius--probably, too, he had property of his own, as you suggested +to him, Copplestone. The whole gang was doubtless off with their loot to +far quarters of the globe. Very good--the other members have shelved +Chatfield. They've done with him. But--not if he knows it! That man will +hunt the _Pike_ and her people--whoever they are--relentlessly when he +gets off this." + +"I wish we knew what it is that we're on!" said Copplestone. + +"Impossible till daybreak," replied Vickers. "But I've an idea--this is +probably one of the seventy-odd islands of the Orkneys: I've sailed round +here before. If I'm right, it's most likely one of the outlying and +uninhabited ones. Andrius--or his controlling power--has dropped us--and +Chatfield--here, knowing that we may have to spend a few days on this +island before we succeed in getting off. Those few days will mean a great +deal to the _Pike_. She can be run into some safe harbourage on this +coast, given a new coat of paint and a new name, and be off before we can +do anything to stop her. I allow Chatfield to be right in this--that my +perhaps too hasty declaration to Andrius revealed to that gentleman how +he could make off with other people's property." + +"Nothing will make me believe that Andrius is the solely responsible +person for this last development," said Copplestone, moodily. "There were +other people on board--cleverly concealed. And what are we going to do?" + +Audrey had stepped away from the circle of light made by the lanthorn and +was gazing steadily in the direction which Chatfield had taken. + +"Those are cliffs, surely," she said presently. "Hadn't we better go up +the beach and see if we can't find some shelter until morning? +Fortunately we're all warmly clad, and Andrius was considerate enough to +throw rugs and things into the boat, as well as provisions. Come +along!--after all, we're not so badly off. And we have the satisfaction +of knowing that we can keep Chatfield under observation. Remember that!" + +But in the morning, when the first gleam of light came across the sea, +and Vickers, leaving his companions to prepare some breakfast from the +store of provisions which had been sent ashore with them, set out to make +a first examination of their surroundings, the agent was not to be seen. +What was to be seen was a breach of rock, sand, shingle, not a mile in +length, lying at the foot of high cliffs, and on the grey sea in front +not a sign of a sail, nor a wisp of smoke from a passing steamer. The +apparent solitude and isolation of the place was as profound as the +silence which overhung everything. + +Vickers made his way up the cliffs to their highest point and from its +summit took a leisurely view of his surroundings. He saw at once that +they were on an island, and that it was but one of many which lay spread +out over the sea towards the north and the west. It was a wedge-shaped +island this, and the cliffs on which he stood and the beach beneath +formed the widest side of it; from thence its lines drew away to a point +in the distance which he judged to be two miles off. Between him and that +point lay a sloping expanse of rough land, never cultivated since +creation, whereon there were vast masses of rock and boulder but no sign +of human life. No curling column of smoke went up from hut or cottage; +his ears caught neither the bleating of sheep nor the cry of +shepherd--all was still as only such places can be still. Nor could he +perceive any signs of life on the adjacent islands--which, to be sure, +were not very near. From the sea mists which wrapped one of them he saw +projecting the cap of a mountainous hill--that hill he recognized as +being on one of the principal islands of the group, and he then knew that +he and his companions had been set down on one of the outlying islands +which, from its position, was not in the immediate way of passing vessels +nor likely to be visited by fishermen. + +He was turning away from the top of the cliff after a long and careful +inspection, when he caught sight of a man's figure crossing the rocky +slope between him and this far-off point. That, he said to himself, was +Chatfield. Did Chatfield know of any place at that point visited by +fishing craft from the other islands? Had Chatfield ever been in the +Orkneys before? Was there any method in his wanderings? Or was he, too, +merely examining his surroundings--considering which was the likeliest +part of the island from which to attract attention? In the midst of these +speculation a sudden resolution came to him--one or other of the three +must keep an eye on Chatfield. Night or day, Chatfield must be watched. +And having already seen that Copplestone and Audrey had an unmistakable +liking for each other's society and would certainly not object to being +left together, he determined to watch Chatfield himself. Hurrying down +the cliffs, he hastily explained the situation to his companions, took +some food in his hands, and set out to follow the agent wherever he went. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE OLD HAND + + +Half-an-hour later, when Vickers regained the top of the cliff and once +more looked across the island towards the far-off point, the figure which +he had previously seen making for it had turned back, and was plodding +steadily across the coarse grass and rock-strewn moorland in his own +direction. Chatfield had evidently taken a bird's eye view of the +situation from the vantage point of the slope and had come to the +conclusion that the higher part of the island was the most likely point +from which to attract attention. He came steadily forward, a big, +lumbering figure in the light mist, and Vickers as he went on to meet him +eyed him with a lively curiosity, wondering what secrets lay carefully +locked up in the man's heart and what happened on the _Pike_ that made +its captain or its owner bundle Chatfield out of it like a box of bad +goods for which there was no more use. And as he speculated, they met, +and Vickers saw at once that the old fellow's mood had changed during the +night. An atmosphere of smug oiliness sat upon Chatfield in the freshness +of the morning, and he greeted the young solicitor in tones which were +suggestive of a chastened spirit. + +"Morning, Mr. Vickers," he said. "A sweetly pretty spot it is that we +find ourselves in, sir--nevertheless, one's affairs sometimes makes us +long to quit the side of beauty, however much we would tarry by it! In +plain words, Mr. Vickers, I want to get out o' this. And I've been +looking round, and my opinion is that the best thing we can do is to +start as big a fire as we can find stuff for on yon bluff and keep +a-feeding on it. In the meantime, while you're considering of that, I'll +burn something of my own--I'm weary." + +He dropped down on a convenient boulder of limestone, settled his big +frame comfortably, and producing a pipe and a tobacco pouch, proceeded to +smoke. Vickers himself took another boulder and looked inquisitively at +his strange companion. He felt sure that Chatfield was up to something. + +"You say 'we' now," he remarked suddenly. "Last night you said you didn't +want to have anything to do with us. We were to keep to ourselves, and--" + +"Well, well, Mr. Vickers," broke in Chatfield. "One says things at one +time that one wouldn't say at another, you know. Facts is facts, sir, and +Providence has made us companions in distress. I've naught against +you--nor against the girl--as for t'other young man, he's of a +interfering nature--but I forgive him--he's young. I don't bear no ill +will--things being as they are. I've had time to reflect since last +night--and I don't see no reason why Miss Greyle and me shouldn't come to +terms--through you." + +Vickers lighted his own pipe, and took some time over it. + +"What are you after, Chatfield?" he asked at length. "Something, of +course. You say you want to come to terms with Miss Greyle. That, of +course, is because you know very well that Miss Greyle is the legal owner +of Scarhaven, and that--" + +Chatfield waved his pipe. + +"I don't!" he answered, with what seemed genuine eagerness. "I don't know +naught of the sort. I tell you, Mr. Vickers, I do _not_ know that the man +what we've known as the Squire of Scarhaven for a year gone by is _not_ +the rightful Squire--I do not! Fact, sir! But"--he lowered his voice, and +his sly eyes became slyer and craftier--"but I won't deny that during +this last week or two I may have had my suspicions aroused, that there +was something wrong--I don't deny that, Mr. Vickers." + +Vickers heard this with amazement. Young as he was, he had had various +dealings with Peter Chatfield, and he had an idea that he knew something +of him, subtle old fellow though he was, and he believed that Chatfield +was now speaking the truth. But, in that case, what of Copplestone's +revelation about the Falmouth and Bristol affair and the dead man? He +thought rapidly, and then determined to take a strong line. + +"Chatfield!" he said. "You're trying to bluff me. It won't do. Things +are known. I know 'em! I'll be candid with you--the time's come for +that. I'll tell you what I know--it'll all have to come out. You know +very well that the real Marston Greyle's dead. You were with him when he +died. What's more, you buried him at Bristol under the name of Mark +Grey. Hang it all, man, what's the use of lying about it?--you know +that's all true!" + +He was watching Chatfield's big face keenly, and he was astonished to see +that his dramatic impeachment produced no more effect than a slightly +superior smile. Instead of being floored, Chatfield was distinctly +unimpressed. + +"Aye!" he said, reflectively. "Aye, I expected to hear that. That's +Copplestone's work, of course--I knew he was some sort of detective as +soon as I got speech with him. His work and that there Sir Cresswell +Oliver's as is making a mountain out of a molehill about his brother, +who, of course, broke his neck quite accidental, poor man, and of that +London lawyer--Petherton. Aye--aye--but all the same, Mr. Vickers, it +don't alter matters--no-how!" + +"Good heavens, man, what do you mean?" exclaimed Vickers, who was +becoming more and more mystified. "Do you mean to tell me--come, come, +Chatfield, I'm not a fool! Why--Copplestone has found it all out--there's +no need to keep it secret, now. You were with Marston Greyle when he +died--you registered his death as Marston Greyle--and--" + +Chatfield laughed softly and gave his companion a swift glance out of one +corner of his right eye. + +"And put another name on a bit of a tombstone--six months afterwards, +what?" he said quietly. "Mr. Vickers, when you're as old as I am, +you'll know that this here world is as full o' puzzles as yon sea's +full o'fish!" + +Vickers could only stare at his companion in speechless silence after +that. He felt that there was some mystery about which Chatfield +evidently knew a great deal while he knew nothing. The old fellow's +coolness, his ready acceptance of the Bristol facts, his almost +contemptuous brushing aside of them, reduced Vickers to a feeling of +helplessness. And Chatfield saw it, and laughed, and drawing a +pocket-flask out of his garments, helped himself to a tot of +spirits--after which he good-naturedly offered like refreshment to +Vickers. But Vickers shook his head. + +"No, thanks," he said. He continued to stare at Chatfield much as he +might have, stared at the Sphinx if she had been present--and in the end +he could only think of one word. "Well?" he asked lamely. "Well?" + +"As to what, now?" inquired Chatfield with a sly smile. + +"About what you said," replied Vickers. "Miss Greyle, you know. I'm +about thoroughly tied up with all this. You evidently know a lot. Of +course you won't tell! You're devilish deep, Chatfield. But, between you +and me--what do you mean when you say that you don't see why you and Miss +Greyle shouldn't come to terms?" + +"Didn't I say that during this last week or two I'd had my suspicions +about the Squire?" answered Chatfield. "I did. I have had them +suspicions--got 'em stronger than ever since last night. So--what I say +is this. If things should turn out that Miss Greyle's the rightful owner +of Scarhaven, and if I help her to establish her claim, and if I help, +too, to recover them valuables that are on the _Pike_--there's a good +sixty to eighty thousand pounds worth of stuff, silver, china, paintings, +books, tapestry, on that there craft, Mr. Vickers!--if, I say, I do all +that, what will Miss Greyle give me? That's it--in a plain way of +speaking." + +"I thought it was," said Vickers dryly. "Of course! Very well--you'd +better come and talk to Miss Greyle. Come on--now!" + +Copplestone and Audrey, having made a breakfast from the box of +provisions which Andrius had been good enough to send ashore with them, +had climbed to the head of the cliff after Vickers, and they were +presently astonished beyond measure to see him returning with Chatfield +under outward signs which suggested amity if not friendship. They paused +by a convenient nook in the rocks and silently awaited the approach of +these two strangely assorted companions. Vickers, coming near, gave them +a queer and a knowing look. + +"Mr. Chatfield," he said gravely, "has had the night in which to reflect. +Mr. Chatfield desires peaceable relations. Mr. Chatfield doesn't +see--now, having reflected--why he and Miss Greyle shouldn't be on good' +terms. Mr. Chatfield desires to discuss these terms. Is that right, +Chatfield?" + +"Quite right, sir," assented the agent. He had been regarding the couple +who faced him benevolently and indulgently, and he now raised his hat to +them. "Servant, ma'am," he said with a bow to Audrey. "Servant, sir," he +continued, with another bow to Copplestone. "Ah--it's far better to be at +peace one with another than to let misunderstandings exist for ever. Mr. +Copplestone, sir, you and me's had words in times past--I brush 'em away, +sir, like that there--the memory's departed! I desire naught but better +feelings. Happen Mr. Vickers'll repeat what's passed between him and me." + +Copplestone stood rooted to the spot with amazement while Vickers hastily +epitomized the recent conversation; his mouth opened and his speech +failed him. But Audrey laughed and looked at Vickers as if Chatfield were +a new sort of entertainment. + +"What do you say to this, Mr. Vickers?" she asked. + +"Well, if you want to know," replied Vickers, "I believe Chatfield when +he says that he does _not_ know that the Squire is _not_ the Squire. May +seem strange, but I do! As a solicitor, I do." + +"Great Scott!" exclaimed Copplestone, finding his tongue. +"You--believe that!" + +"I've said so," retorted Vickers. + +"Thank you, sir," said Chatfield. "I'm obliged to you. Mr. Copplestone, +sir, doesn't yet understand that there's a deal of conundrum in life. +He'll know better--some day. He'll know, too, that the poet spoke +truthful when he said that things isn't what they seem." + +Copplestone turned angrily on Vickers. + +"Is this a farce?" he demanded. "Good heavens, man! you know what I +told you!" + +"Mr. Chatfield has a version," answered Vickers. "Why not hear it?" + +"On terms, Mr. Vickers," remarked Chatfield. "On terms, sir." + +"What terms?" asked Audrey. "To Mr. Chatfield's personal advantage, +of course." + +Chatfield, who was still the most unconcerned of the group, seated +himself on the rocks and looked at his audience. + +"I've said to Mr. Vickers here that if I help Miss Greyle to the estate, +I ought to be rewarded--handsome," he said. "Mind you, I don't know that +I can, for as I say, I do not know, as a matter of strict fact, that this +man as we've called the Squire, isn't the Squire. But recent events--very +recent events!--has made me suspicious that he isn't, and happen I can do +a good bit--a very good bit--to turning him out. Now, if I help in that +there work, will Miss Greyle continue me in my post of estate agent at +Scarhaven?" + +"Not for any longer than it will take to turn you out of it, Mr. +Chatfield," replied Audrey with an energy and promptitude which +surprised her companions. "So we need not discuss that. You will never +be my agent!" + +"Very good, ma'am--that's quite according to my expectations," said +Chatfield, meekly. "I was always a misunderstood man. However, this here +proposition will perhaps be more welcome. It's always been understood +that I was to have a retiring pension of five hundred pounds per annum. +The family has always promised it--I've letters to prove it. Will Miss +Greyle stand to that if she comes in? I've been a faithful servant for +nigh on to fifty years, Mr. Vickers, as all the neighbourhood is aware." + +"If I come in, as you call it, you shall have your pension," said Audrey. +Chatfield slowly felt in a capacious inner pocket and produced a large +notebook and a fountain pen. He passed them to Vickers. + +"We'll have that there in writing, signed and witnessed," he said. "Put, +if you please, Mr. Vickers, 'I agree that if I come into the Scarhaven +estate, Peter Chatfield shall at once be pensioned off with five hundred +pounds a year, to be paid quarterly. Same to be properly assured to him +for his life.' And then if Miss Greyle'll sign that document, and you +gentlemen'll witness it, I shall consider that henceforth I'm in Miss +Greyle's service. And," he added, with a significant glance all round, "I +shall be a deal more use as a friend nor what I should be as what you +might term an enemy--Mr. Vickers knows that." + +Vickers held a short consultation with Audrey, the result of which was +that the paper was duly signed, Witnessed, and deposited in Chatfield's +pocket. And Chatfield nodded his satisfaction. + +"All right," he said. "Now then, ma'am, and gentlemen, the next thing is +to get away out o' this, and get on the track of them as put us here. +We'd better start a big fire out o' this dry stuff--" + +"But what about these revelations you were going to make?" said Vickers. +"I understood you were to tell us--" + +"Sir," replied Chatfield, "I'll tell and I'll reveal in due course, and +in good order. Events, sir, is the thing! Let me get to the nearest +telegraph office, and we'll have some events, right smart. Let me +attract attention. I've sailed in these seas before. There's steamers +goes out of Kirkwall yonder frequent--we must get hold of one. A +telegraph office!--that's what I want. I'm a-going to set up a +blaze--and I'll set up a blaze elsewhere as soon as I can lay hands on a +bundle o' telegraph forms!" + +He leisurely took off his shawl and overcoat, laid them on a shelf of +rock, and moved away to collect the dry stuff which lay to hand. The +three young people exchanged glances. + +"What's this new mystery?" asked Audrey. + +"All bluff!--some deep game of his own," growled Copplestone. "He's the +most consummate old liar I ever--" + +"You're wrong this time, old chap!" interrupted Vickers. "He's a bad +'un--but he's on our side now--I'm convinced. It is a game he's playing, +and a deep one, and I don't know what it is, but it's for our +benefit--Chatfield's simply transferred his interest and influence to +us--that's all. For his own purposes, of course. And"--he suddenly +paused, gazed seaward, and then jumped to his feet. "Chatfield!" he +called quietly. "You needn't light any fire. Here's a steamer!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE YACHT COMES BACK + + +Chatfield, his arms filled with masses of dried bracken and coarse grass, +turned sharply on hearing Vickers's call and stared hard and long in the +direction which the young solicitor pointed out. His small, crafty eyes +became dilated to their full extent--suddenly they contracted again with +a look of cunning satisfaction, and throwing away his burdens he drew out +a big many-coloured handkerchief and mopped his high forehead as if the +perspiration which burst out were the result of intense mental relief. + +"Didn't I know we should be rescued from this here imprisonment!" he +cried with unctuous joy. "Thought they'd pinned me here for best part of +a week, no doubt, while they could get theirselves quietly away--far +away! But it's my experience 'ut them as has served the Lord's never +deserted, Mr. Vickers, and if you live as long as--" + +"Don't be blasphemous, Chatfield!" said Vickers, curtly. "None of that! +What we'd better think about is the chance of that steamer sighting us. +We'll light that fire, anyway!" + +"She's coming straight on for the island," remarked Copplestone, who had +been narrowly watching the approaching vessel. "So straight that you'd +think she was actually making for it." + +"She'll be some craft bound for Kirkwall," said Vickers, pointing +northward to the main group of islands. "And in that case she'll probably +take this channel on our west; that fire, now! Come on all of you, and +let's make as big a smoke as we can get out of this stuff." + +The weather being calm and the grass and bracken which they heaped +together as dry as tinder, there was little difficulty about raising a +thick column of smoke which presently rose high in the sky. But Audrey, +turning away from the successful result of their labours, suddenly +glanced at Copplestone with a look that challenged an answer to her own +thoughts. They were standing a little apart from the others and she +lowered her voice. + +"I say!" she murmured. "I don't think we need have bothered ourselves to +light that fire. That vessel, whatever it is, is making for us. Look!" + +Copplestone shaded his eyes and stared out across the sea. The steamer +was by that time no more than two or three miles away. But she was coming +towards them in a dead straight line, and as she was accordingly bow on, +and as her top deck and lamps were obscured by clouds of black smoke, +pouring furiously from her funnels, they could make little out of her +appearance. Copplestone's first notion was that she was a naval patrol +boat, or a torpedo destroyer. Whatever she was it seemed certain that she +was heading direct for the island, at that very point on which the +fugitives had been landed the previous night. And it was very evident +that she was in a great hurry to make her objective. + +"I think you're right," he said, turning to Audrey. "But it's strange +that any vessel should be making for an uninhabited island like this. +What--but you've got some notion in your mind?" he broke off suddenly, +seeing her glance at him again. "What is it?" + +Audrey shook her head, with a cautious look at Chatfield. + +"I was wondering if that's the _Pike_?--come back!" she whispered. "And +if it is--why?" + +Copplestone started, and took a longer and keener look at the +vessel. Before he could speak again, Vickers called out cheerily +across the rocks. + +"Come on, you two!" he cried. "She's seen us--she's coming in. They'll +have to send off a boat. Let's get down to the beach, so that they'll +know where there's a safe landing." + +He sprang over the edge of the cliff and hurried down the rough path; +Chatfield, picking up his coat and shawl, prepared to follow him; Audrey +and Copplestone lingered until he, too, had begun to lumber downward. + +"If that is the _Pike_," said Audrey, "there is something--wrong. Whoever +it is that is on the _Pike_ wouldn't come back to take us!" + +"You think there is somebody on the _Pike_--somebody other than Andrius?" +suggested Copplestone. + +"I believe the man who calls himself Marston Greyle was on the _Pike_," +announced Audrey. "I've always thought so. Whether Chatfield knew that +or not, I don't know. My own belief is that Chatfield did know. I believe +Chatfield was in with them, as the saying is. I think they were all +running away with as much of the Scarhaven property as they could lay +hands on and that having got it, they bundled Chatfield out and dumped +him down here, having no further use for him. And, if that's the _Pike_, +and they're returning here, it's because they want Chatfield!" + +Copplestone suddenly recognized that feminine instinct had solved a +problem which masculine reason had so far left unsolved. + +"By gad!" he exclaimed softly. "Then, if that is so, this is merely +another of Chatfield's games. You don't believe him?" + +"I would think myself within approachable distance of lunacy if I +believed a word that Peter Chatfield said," she answered calmly. "Of +course, he is playing a game of his own all through. He shall have his +pension--if I have the power to give it--but believe him--oh, no!" + +"Let's follow them," said Copplestone. "Something's going to happen--if +that is the _Pike_." + +"Look there, then," exclaimed Audrey as they began to descend the cliff. +"Chatfield's already uneasy." + +She pointed to the beach below, where Chatfield, now fully overcoated and +shawled again, had mounted a ridge of rock, and while gazing intently at +the vessel, was exchanging remarks with Vickers, who had evidently said +something which had alarmed him. They caught Chatfield's excited +ejaculations as they hurried over the sand. + +"Don't say that, Mr. Vickers!" he was saying imploringly. "For God's +sake, Mr. Vickers, don't suggest them there sort of thoughts. You make me +feel right down poorly, Mr. Vickers, to say such! It's worse than a bad +dream, Mr. Vickers--no, sir, no, surely you're mistaken!" + +"Bet you a fiver to a halfpenny it's the _Pike_," retorted Vickers. "I +know her lines. Besides she's heading straight here. Copplestone!" he +cried, turning to the advancing couple. "Do you know, I believe that's +the _Pike!_" + +Copplestone gave Audrey's elbow a gentle squeeze. + +"Look at old Chatfield!" he whispered. "By gad!--look at him. Yes," he +called out loudly, "We know it's the _Pike_--we saw that from the top of +the cliffs. She's coming straight in." + +"Oh, yes, it's the _Pike_," exclaimed Audrey. "Aren't you delighted, Mr. +Chatfield." + +The agent suddenly turned his big fat face towards the three young +people, with such an expression of craven fear on it that the sardonic +jest which Copplestone was about to voice died away on his lips. +Chatfield's creased cheeks and heavy jowl had become white as chalk; +great beads of sweat rolled down them; his mouth opened and shut +silently, and suddenly, as he raised his hands and wrung them, his knees +began to quiver. It was evident that the man was badly, terribly +afraid--and as they watched him in amazed wonder his eyes began to +search the shore and the cliffs as if he were some hunted animal seeking +any hole or cranny in which to hide. A sudden swelling of the light wind +brought the steady throb of the oncoming engines to his ears and he +turned on Vickers with a look that made the onlookers start. + +"For goodness sake, Mr. Vickers!" he said in a queer, strained voice. +"For heaven's sake, let's get ourselves away! Mr. Vickers--it ain't safe +for none of us. We'd best to run, sir--let's get to the other side of the +island. There's caves there--places--let's hide till something comes from +the other islands, or till these folks goes away--I tell you it's +dangerous for us to stop here!" + +"We're not afraid, Chatfield," replied Vickers. "What ails you! Why man, +you couldn't be more afraid if you'd murdered somebody! What do you +suppose these people want? You, of course. And you can't escape--if they +want you, they'll search the island till they get you. You've been +deceiving us, Chatfield--there's something you've kept back. Now, what is +it? What have they come back for?" + +"Yes, Mr. Chatfield, what has the _Pike_ come back for?" repeated Audrey, +coming nearer. "Come now--hadn't you better tell?" + +"It is the _Pike_," remarked Copplestone. "Look there! And they're going +to send in a boat. Better be quick, Chatfield." + +The agent turned an ashen face towards the yacht. She had swung round and +come to a halt, and the rattle of a boat being let down came menacingly +to the frightened man's ears. He tittered a deep groan and his eyes again +sought the cliffs. + +"It's not a bit of good, Chatfield," said Vickers. "You can't get away. +Good heavens, man!--what are you so frightened for!" + +Chatfield moaned and drew haltingly nearer to the other three, as if he +found some comfort in their mere presence. + +"It's the money!" he whispered. "The money as was in the Norcaster +Bank--two lots of it. He--the Squire--gave me authority to get out his +lot what was standing in his name, you know--and the other--the estate +lot--that was standing in mine--some fifty thousand pounds in all, Mr. +Vickers. I had it all in gold, packed in sealed chests--and they--those +on board there--thought I took them chests aboard the _Pike_ with me. I +did take chests, d'ye see--but they'd lead in 'em. The real stuff is +hidden--buried--never mind where. And I know what they've come back +for!--they've opened the chests I took on board, and they've found +there's naught but lead. And they want me--me!--me! They'll torture me to +make me tell where the real chests, the money is--torture me! Oh, for +God's sake, keep 'em away from me--help me to hide--help me to get +away--and I'll tell Miss Greyle then where the money's hid, and--oh, +Lord, they're coming! Mr. Vickers--Mr. Vickers--" + +He cast himself bodily at Vickers, as if to clutch him, but Vickers +stepped agilely aside, and Chatfield fell on the sand, where he lay +groaning while the others looked from him to each other. + +"Ah!" said Vickers at last. "So that's it, is it, Chatfield? Trying to +cheat everybody all round, eh? I suppose you'd have told Miss Greyle +later that these people had collared all that gold--and then you'd have +helped yourself to it? And now I know what you were doing on that yacht +when we boarded it--you were one of the gang, and you meant to hook it +with them--" + +"I didn't--I didn't!" screamed Chatfield, beating the sand with his hands +and feet. "I meant to slip away from 'em at a Scotch port we was to call +at, and then--" + +"Then you'd have gone back to the hidden chests and helped +yourself," sneered Vickers. "Chatfield, you're a wicked old +scoundrel, and an unmitigated liar! Give me that paper that Miss +Greyle signed, this instant!" + +"No!" interjected Audrey. "Let him keep it. He'll have trouble enough +presently. It's very evident they mean to have him." + +Chatfield heard the last few words and looked round at the edge of the +surf. The boat had grounded on the shingle, and half a dozen men had +leapt from it and were coming rapidly up the beach. + +"Armed, by George!" exclaimed Copplestone. "No chance for you, +Chatfield!" + +The agent suddenly sprang to his feet with a howl of terror. He gave one +more glance at the men and then he ran, clumsily, but with a speed made +desperate by terror. He made straight for the rocks--and at that, two of +the men, at a word from their leader, raised their rifles and fired. And +with a shriek that set all the echoes ringing, the sea-birds screaming, +and made Audrey clap her hands to her ears, Chatfield threw up his arms +and dropped heavily on the sands. + +"That's sheer murder!" exclaimed Vickers, as the yachtsmen came +running up. "You'll answer for that, you know. Unless you mean to +murder all of us." + +The leader, a smiling-faced fellow, touched his cap respectfully, and +grinned from ear to ear. + +"Lor' bless you, sir, we shot twenty feet over his head!" he said. "He's +too precious to shoot: they want him badly on board there. Now then, men, +pick him up and get him into the boat--hell come round quick enough when +he finds he hasn't even a pellet in him. Handy, now! Captain's +compliments, sir," he went on, turning again to Vickers, and pointing to +certain things which were being unloaded from the boat, "and as he +understands that no vessel will pass here for two more days, sir, he's +sent you further provisions, some more wraps, and some books and papers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE TORPEDO-BOAT DESTROYER + + +Before Vickers and his companions had recovered from the surprise which +this extraordinary cool message had given them, the men had bundled +Chatfield across the beach and into the boat and were pulling quickly +back to the _Pike_. + +Audrey broke the silence with a ringing laugh. + +"Captain Andrius is certainly the perfection of polite pirates," she +exclaimed. "More food--more wraps--and books and papers! Was any marooned +mariner ever one-half so well treated?" + +"What's the fellow mean about no vessel passing here for two more days?" +growled Copplestone, who was glaring angrily at the yacht. "What's he so +meticulously correct for?" + +"I should say that he's referring to some weekly or bi-weekly steamer +which runs between Kirkwall and the mainland," replied Vickers. +"Well--it's good to know that, anyhow. But wait until the _Pike's_ +vamoosed again, and we'll make up such a column of smoke that it'll be +seen for many a mile. In fact, I'll go and gather a lot of dried stuff +now--you two can drag those boxes and things up the beach and see what +our gaolers have been good enough to send us." + +He went away up the cliffs, and Audrey and Copplestone, once more left +alone, looked at each other and laughed. + +"That's right," said Copplestone. "What I like about you is that you +take things that way." + +"Is it any use taking them any other way?" she asked. "Besides I've never +been at all frightened nor particularly concerned. I've always felt that +we were only put here so that we should be out of the way while our +captors got safely away with their booty, and as regards my mother, I +know her well enough to feel sure that she quickly sized things up, and +that she'll have taken measures of her own. Don't be surprised if we're +rescued through her means or if she has set somebody to work to catch the +predatory _Pike_." + +"Good!" said Copplestone. "But as regards the _Pike_, I wonder if you +observed something during the few minutes she was here. I'm sure Vickers +didn't--he was too busy, watching Chatfield." + +"So was I," replied Audrey. "What was it?" + +"I believe I'm unusually observant," answered Copplestone. "I seem to see +things--all at once, don't you know. I saw that since we made her +acquaintance--and were unceremoniously bundled off her--the _Pike_ has +got a new and quite different coat of paint. And I daresay she's changed +her name, too. From all of which I argue that when they got rid of us +here, the people who are working all this slipped quietly back to some +cove or creek on the Scotch coast, did a stiff turn at repainting, and +meant to be off to the other side of the world under new colours. And +while this was going on, Andrius, or his co-villain, found time to +examine those chests that Chatfield told us of, and when they found that +Chatfield had done them, they came back here quick. Now they're off to +make him reveal the whereabouts of the real chests." + +"Won't they be rather running their necks into a noose?" suggested +Audrey. "I'm dead certain that my mother will have raised a hue and cry +after them." + +"They're cute enough," said Copplestone. "Anyway, they'll run a good many +risks for the sake of fifty thousand pounds. What they may do is to run +into some very quiet inlet--there are hundreds on these northern +coasts--and take Chatfield to his hiding-place. Chatfield's like all +scoundrels of his type--a horrible coward if a pistol's held to his head. +Now they've got him, they'll force him to disgorge. Hang this compulsory +inactivity!--my nerves are all a-tingle to get going at things!" + +"Let's occupy ourselves with the things our generous gaolers have been +kind enough to send us, then," suggested Audrey. "We'd better carry them +up to our shelter." + +Copplestone went down to the things which the boat's crew had deposited +on the beach--a couple of small packing-cases, a bundle of wraps and +cushions, and some books, magazines and newspapers. He picked up a paper +with a cry which suggested a discovery of importance. + +"Look at that!" he exclaimed. "Do you see? A _Scotsman!_ Today's date! +And here--_Aberdeen Free Press_--same date!" + +"Well?" asked Audrey. "And what then?" + +"What then?" demanded Copplestone. "Where are your powers of deduction? +Why, that shows that the _Pike_ was somewhere this morning where she +could get the morning papers from Aberdeen and Edinburgh--therefore, +she's been, as I suggested, somewhere on the Scotch coast all night. It's +now noon--she's a fast sailer--I guess she's been within sixty miles of +us ever since she left us." + +"Isn't it more pertinent to speculate on where she'll be when we want to +find her?" asked Audrey. + +"More pertinent still to wonder when somebody will come to find us," +answered Copplestone as he shouldered one of the cases. "However, there's +a certain joy in uncertainty, so they say--we're tasting it." + +The joys of uncertainty, however, were not to endure. They had scarcely +completed the task of carrying up the newly-arrived stores to the shelter +which they had made in an angle of the rocks when Vickers hailed them +from a spur of the cliffs and waved his arms excitedly. + +"I say, you two!" he shouted. "There's a craft coming--from the +south-west. Come up! There!" he added, a few minutes later, when they +arrived, breathless, at his side. "Out yonder--a mere black blot--but +unmistakable! Do you know what that is, either of you? You don't? All +right, I do--ought to, because I'm a R.N.V.R. man myself. That's a +T.B.D., my friends!--torpedo-boat destroyer. What's more, far off as she +is, my experienced eye and sure knowledge tell me exactly what she is. +She's a class H. boat built last year--oil fuel--turbines--runs up to +thirty knots--and she's doing 'em, too, just now! Come on, +Copplestone--more stuff on this fire!" + +"I don't think we need be uneasy," said Copplestone. "Miss Greyle thinks +that her mother will have raised a hue and cry after the _Pike_. This +torpedo thing is probably looking round for us. She--what's that?" + +The sudden sharp crack of a gun came across the calm surface of the sea, +and the watchers turning from their fire towards the black object in the +distance saw a cloud of white smoke drifting away from it. + +"Hooray!" shouted Vickers. "She's seen our smoke-pillar! Shove more on, +just to let her know we understand. Saved!--this time, anyway." + +Half-an-hour later, a spick and span and eminently youthful-looking naval +lieutenant raised his cap to the three folk who stood eagerly awaiting +his approach at the edge of the surf. + +"Miss Greyle? Mr. Vickers? Mr. Copplestone?" he asked as he sprang from +his boat and came up. "Right!--we're searching for you--had wireless +messages this morning. Where's the pirate, or whatever he is?" + +"Somewhere away to the southward," answered Vickers, pointing into the +haze. "He was here two hours ago--but he's about as fast as they make +'em, and he's good reason to show a clean pair of heels. However, we've +ample grounds for believing him to have gone due south again. Where are +you from?" + +"Got the message off Dunnett Head, and we'll run you to Thurso," replied +the rescuer, motioning them to enter the boat. "Come on--our commander's +got some word or other for you. What's all this been?" he went on, gazing +at Audrey with youthful assurance as they moved away from the shore. "You +don't mean to say you've actually been kidnapped?" + +"Kidnapped and marooned," replied Vickers. "And I hope you'll catch our +kidnapper--he's got a tremendous amount of property on him which belongs +to this lady, and hell make tracks for the other side of the Atlantic as +soon as he gets hold of some more which he's gone to collect." + +The lieutenant regarded Audrey with still more interest. "Oh, all right," +he said confidently. "He'll not get away. I guess they've wirelessed all +over the place--our message was from the Admiralty!" + +"That's Sir Cresswell's doing," said Copplestone, turning to Audrey. +"Your mother must have wired to him. I wonder what the message is?" he +asked, facing the lieutenant. "Do you know?" + +"Something about if you're found to tell you to get south as fast as +possible," he answered. "And we've worked that out for you. You can get +on by train from Thurso to Inverness, and from Inverness, of course, +you'll get the southern express. Well put you off at Thurso by two +o'clock--just time to give you such lunch as our table affords--bit +rough, you know. So you've really been all night on that island?" he went +on with unaffected curiosity. "What a lark!" + +"You'd have had an opportunity of studying character if you'd been +with us," replied Vickers. "We lost a fine specimen of humanity two +hours ago." + +"Tell about it aboard," said the lieutenant. "We'll be thankful--we've +been round this end-of-everywhere coast for a month and we're tired. It's +quite a Godsend to have a little adventure." + +Copplestone had been right in surmising that Sir Cresswell Oliver had +bestirred himself to find him and his companions. They were presently +shown his message. They were to get to Norcaster as quickly as possible, +and to wire their whereabouts as soon as they were found. If, as seemed +likely, they were picked up on the north coast of Scotland, they were to +ask at Inverness railway station for telegrams. And to Inverness after +being landed at Thurso they betook themselves, while the torpedo-boat +destroyer set off to nose round for the _Pike_, in case she came that way +back from wherever she had gone to. + +Copplestone came out of the station-master's office at Inverness with a +couple of telegrams and read their contents over to his companions in the +dining-room to which they adjourned. + +"This is from Mrs. Greyle," he said. "'All right and much relieved by +wire from Thurso. Bring Audrey home as quick as possible.' That's good! +And this--Great Scott! This is from Gilling! Listen!--'Just heard from +Petherton of your rescue. Come straight and sharp Norcaster. Meet me at +the "Angel." Big things afoot. Spurge most anxious see you. Important +news. Gilling.' So things have been going on," he concluded, turning +the second telegram over to Vickers. "I suppose we'll have to travel +all night?" + +"Night express in an hour," replied Vickers. "We shall make Norcaster +about five-thirty tomorrow morning." + +"Then let us wire the time of our arrival to Gilling. I'm anxious to know +what has brought him up there," said Copplestone. "And well wire to Mrs. +Greyle, too," he added, turning to Audrey. "She'll know then that you're +absolutely on the way." + +"I wonder what we're on the way to?" remarked Vickers with a grim smile. +"It strikes me that our recent alarms and excursions will have been as +nothing to what awaits us at Norcaster." + +What did await them on a cold, dismal morning at Norcaster was Gilling, +stamping up and down a windswept platform. And Gilling seized on +Copplestone almost before he could alight from the train. + +"Come to the 'Angel' straight off!" he said. "Mrs. Greyle's there +awaiting her daughter. I've work for you and Vickers at once--that chap +Spurge is somewhere about the 'Angel,' too--been hanging round there +since yesterday, heavy with news that he'll give to nobody but you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE SQUIRE + + +Such of the folk of the "Angel" hotel--a night porter, a waiter, a +chamber-maid--as were up and about that grey morning, wondered why the +two old gentlemen who had arrived from London the day before should rise +from their beds to hold a secret and mysterious conference with the +three young ones who, with a charming if tired-looking young lady, drove +up before the city clocks had struck six. But Sir Cresswell Oliver and +Mr. Petherton knew that there was no time to be lost, and as soon as +Audrey had been restored to and carried off by her mother to Mrs. +Greyle's room, they summoned Vickers and Copplestone to a private +parlour and demanded their latest news. Sir Cresswell listened eagerly, +and in silence, until Copplestone described the return of the _Pike_; at +that he broke his silence. + +"That's precisely what I feared!" he exclaimed. "Of course, if she's been +hurriedly repainted and renamed, she stands a fair chance of getting +away. Our instructions to the patrol boats up there are to look for a +certain vessel, the _Pike_--naturally they won't look for anything else. +We must get the wireless to work at once." + +"But there's this," said Copplestone. "They certainly fetched old +Chatfield to make him hand over the gold! They won't go away without +that! And he said that he'd hidden the gold somewhere near Scarhaven. +Therefore, they'll have to come down this coast to get it." + +"Not necessarily," replied Sir Cresswell, with a knowing shake of the +head. "You may be sure they're alive to all the exigencies of the +situation. They could do several things once they'd got Chatfield on +board again. Some of them could land with him at some convenient port and +make him take them to where he's hidden the money; they could recapture +that and go off to some other port, to which the yacht had meanwhile been +brought round. If we only knew where Chatfield had planted that +money--" + +"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers. + +"Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's a +wide term--a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hills +and moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought! +Well, that's all I can think of--getting into communication with patrol +boats and coastguard stations all along the coast between here and Wick. +And that mayn't be the least good. Somebody may have escorted Chatfield +ashore after they left you yesterday, brought him hereabouts by rail or +motor-car, and the yacht may have made a wide detour round the Shetlands +and be now well on her way to the North Atlantic." + +"But in that case--the money?" asked Copplestone. + +"They would get hold of the money, take it clean away, and ship it from +Liverpool, or Glasgow, or--anywhere," replied Sir Cresswell. "You may be +sure they've plenty of resources at command, and that they'll work +secretly. Of course, we must keep a look out round about here for any +sign or reappearance of Chatfield, but, as I say, this country is so wild +that he and his companions can easily elude observation, especially as +they're sure to come by night. Still, we must do what we can, and at +once. But first, there are one or two things I want to ask you young +men--you said, Mr. Vickers, that Chatfield solemnly insisted to you that +he did not know that the man who had posed as Marston Greyle was not +Marston Greyle?" + +"He did," replied Vickers, "and though Chatfield is an unmitigated old +scoundrel, I believe him." + +"You do!" exclaimed Gilling, who was listening eagerly. "Oh, come!" + +"I do--as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with an +appealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell you +that we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield's +badness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whether +the man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He's +doubtful--he's puzzled--but he doesn't know." + +"Odd!" murmured Sir Cresswell, after a minute's silence. "Odd! Very, very +odd! That shows that there's still some extraordinary mystery about this +which we haven't even guessed at. Well, now, another question--you got +the idea that some one else was aboard the yacht?" + +"Some one other than Andrius--in authority--yes!" answered Vickers. "We +certainly thought that." + +"Did you think it was the man we know as the Squire?" asked Sir +Cresswell. + +"We had a notion that he might be there," replied Vickers, with a glance +at Copplestone. "Especially after what happened to Chatfield. Of course, +we never saw him, or heard his voice, or saw a sign of him. Still, we +fancied--" + +Sir Cresswell rose from his chair and motioned to Petherton. + +"Well," he said, "I think you and I, Petherton, had better complete our +toilets, and then give a look in at the authorities here and find out if +anything has been received by wireless or from the coastguard stations +about the yacht. In the meantime," he added, turning to Vickers and +Copplestone, "Gilling can tell you what's been going on in your +absence--you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, as +we call him, was on the _Pike_ with you." + +The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling. + +"What have you got?" he asked eagerly. "Live news!" + +"Might have been livelier and more satisfactory," answered Gilling, "if +it hadn't been for the factor which none of us can help--luck! We tracked +the Squire." + +"You did?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Where?" + +"When I said we I should have said Swallow," continued Gilling. "You +remember that afternoon of our return from Bristol, Copplestone? It seems +ages away now, though as a matter of time it's only four days ago!--Well, +that afternoon Swallow, who had had two or three more keeping a sharp +look out for the Squire, got a telephone message from one of 'em saying +that he'd tracked his man to the Fragonard Club. I'd gone home to my +chambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, so +Swallow had to act on his own initiative. He set off for the Fragonard +Club, and outside it met his man. This particular man had been keeping a +watch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street. That +afternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door. He +followed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himself +turned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow. The Squire was +still in the Fragonard when Swallow got there: from that time he kept a +watch. The Squire remained in the Club for an hour--" + +"Which proves," interrupted Copplestone, "that he's a member, and that I +ought to have followed up my attempt to get in there." + +"Well, anyway," continued Gilling, "there he was, and thence he +eventually emerged, with a kit-bag. He got into a taxi, and Swallow heard +him order its driver to go to King's Cross. Now Swallow was there +alone--and he had just before that met his man scooting round to see if +there was a rear exit from the Fragonard, and he hadn't returned. +Swallow, of course, couldn't wait--every minute was precious. He +followed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book for +Northborough." + +"Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah, +well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?" + +"Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," said +Gilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow. So did Swallow, who, now +that he'd got him, was going to follow him to the North Pole, if need be. +The train was just starting--Swallow had no time to communicate with me. +Also, the train didn't stop until it reached Grantham. There he sent me a +wire, saying he was on the track of his man. Well, they went on to +Northborough, where they arrived late in the evening. There--what is it, +Copplestone," he broke off, seeing signs of a desire to speak on +Copplestone's part. + +"You're talking of the very same afternoon and evening that I came +down--four evenings ago," said Copplestone. "My train was the four +o'clock--I got to Norcaster at ten--surely they didn't come on the +same train!" + +"I feel sure they did, but anyhow, these trains to the North are usually +very long ones, and you were probably in a different part," replied +Gilling. "Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallow +followed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard him +commission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven. When they'd +gone Swallow got hold of another taxi, and told its driver to take him +to Scarhaven, too. Off they went--in a pitch-black night, I'm told--" + +"We know that!" said Vickers with a glance at Copplestone. "We motored +from Norcaster--just about the same time." + +"Well," continued Gilling, "it was at any rate so dark that Swallow's +driver, who appears to have been a very nervous chap, made very poor +progress. Also he took one or two wrong turnings. Finally he ran his car +into a guide post which stood where two roads forked--and there Swallow +was landed, scarcely halfway to Scarhaven. They couldn't get the car to +move, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord at +the nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it was +near or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did get +there, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay." + +"The _Pike_, of course," muttered Copplestone. + +"Of course--and some men on the quay told him," continued Gilling. "Well, +that put Swallow in a fix. He was dead certain, of course, that his man +was on that yacht. However, he didn't want to rouse suspicion, so he +didn't ask any of those quayside men if they'd seen the Squire. Instead, +remembering what I'd told him about Mrs. Greyle he asked for her house +and was directed to it. He found Mrs. Greyle in a state of great anxiety. +Her daughter had gone with you two to the yacht and had never returned; +Mrs. Greyle, watching from her windows, had seen the yacht go out to +sea. Swallow found her, of course, seriously alarmed as to what had +happened. Of course, he told her what he had come down for and they +consulted. Next morning--" + +"Stop a bit," interrupted Vickers. "Didn't Mrs. Greyle get any message +from the yacht about her daughter--Andrius said he'd sent one, anyway." + +"A lie!" replied Gilling. "She got no message. The only consolation she +had was that you and Copplestone were with Miss Greyle. Well, first thing +next morning Swallow and Mrs. Greyle set every possible means to work. +They went to the police--they wired to places up the coast and down the +coast to keep a look out--and Swallow also wired full particulars to Sir +Cresswell Oliver, with the result that Sir Cresswell went to the naval +authorities and got them to set their craft up north to work. Having done +all this, and finding that he could be of no more service at Scarhaven, +Swallow returned to town to see me and to consult. Now, of course, we +were in a position by then to approach that Fragonard Club--" + +"Ah!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Just so!" + +"The man, whoever he is, had been there an hour on the day Swallow and +his man tracked him," continued Gilling. "Therefore, something must be +known of him. Swallow and I, armed with certain credentials, went there. +And--we could find out next to nothing. The hall porter there said he +dimly remembered such a gentleman coming in and going upstairs, but he +himself was new to his job, didn't know all the members--there are +hundreds of 'em--and he took this man for a regular habitue. A waiter +also had some sort of recollection of the man, and seeing him in +conversation with another man whom he, the waiter, knew better, though he +didn't know his name. Swallow is now moving everything to find that +man--to find anybody who knows our man--and something will come of it, in +the end--must do. In the meantime I came down here with Sir Cresswell and +Mr. Petherton, to be on the spot. And, from your information, things will +happen here! That hidden gold is the thing--they'll not leave that +without an effort to get it. If we could only find out where that is and +watch it--then our present object would be achieved." + +"What is the present object?" asked Copplestone. + +"Why," replied Gilling, "we've got warrants out against both Chatfield +and the Squire for the murder of Bassett Oliver!--the police here have +them in hand. Petherton's seen to that. And if they can only be laid +hands on--What is it?" he asked turning to a sleepy-eyed waiter who, +after a gentle tap at the door, put a shock head into the room. +"Somebody want me?" + +"That there man, sir--you know," said the waiter. "Here again, +sir--stable-yard, sir." + +Gilling jumped up and gave Copplestone a look. + +"That's Spurge!" he muttered. "He said he'd be back at day-break. Wait +here--I'll fetch him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE REAVER'S GLEN + + +Zachary Spurge, presently ushered in by Gilling, who carefully closed +the door behind himself and his companion, looked as if his recent +lodging had been of an even rougher nature than that in which +Copplestone had found him at their first meeting. The rough horseman's +cloak in which he was buttoned to the edge of a red neckerchief and a +stubbly chin was liberally ornamented with bits of straw, scraps of +furze and other odds and ends picked up in woods and hedge-rows. Spurge, +indeed, bore unmistakable evidence of having slept out in wild places +for some nights and his general atmosphere was little more respectable +than that of a scarecrow. But he grinned cheerfully at Copplestone--and +then frowned at Vickers. + +"I didn't count for to meet no lawyers, gentlemen," he said, pausing on +the outer boundaries of the parlour, "I ain't a-goin' to talk before +'em, neither!" + +"He's a grudge against me--I've had to appear against him once or twice," +whispered Vickers to Copplestone. "You'd better soothe him down--I want +to know what he's got to tell." + +"It's all right, Spurge," said Copplestone. "Come--Mr. Vickers is on our +side this time; he's one of us. You can say anything you like before +him--or Mr. Gilling either. We're all in it. Pull your chair up--here, +alongside of me, and tell us what you've been doing." + +"Well, of course, if you puts it that way, Mr. Copplestone," replied +Spurge, coming to the table a little doubtfully. "Though I hadn't meant +to tell nobody but you what I've got to tell. However, I can see that +things is in such a pretty pass that this here ain't no one-man job--it's +a job as'll want a lot o' men! And I daresay lawyers and such-like is as +useful men in that way as you can lay hands on--no offence to you, Mr. +Vickers, only you see I've had experience o' your sort before. But if you +are taking a hand in this here--well, all right. But now, gentlemen," he +continued dropping into a chair at the table and laying his fur cap on +its polished surface, "afore ever I says a word, d'ye think that I could +be provided with a cup o' hot coffee, or tea, with a stiff dose o' rum in +it? I'm that cold and starved--ah, if you'd been where I been this last +twelve hours or so, you'd be perished." + +The sleepy waiter was summoned to attend to Spurge's wants--until they +were satisfied the poacher sat staring fixedly at his cap and +occasionally shaking his head. But after a first hearty gulp of strongly +fortified coffee the colour came back into his face, he sighed with +relief, and signalled to the three watchful young men to draw their +chairs close to his. + +"Ah!" he said, setting down his cup. "And nobody never wanted aught more +badly than I wanted that! And now then--the door being shut on us quite +safe, ain't it, gentlemen?--no eavesdroppers?--well, this here it is. I +don't know what you've been a-doing of these last few days, nor what may +have happened to each and all--but I've news. Serious news--as I reckons +it to be. Of--Chatfield!" + +Copplestone kicked Vickers under the table and gave him a look. + +"Chatfield again!" he murmured. "Well, go on, Spurge." + +"There's a lot to go on with, too, guv'nor," said Spurge, after taking +another evidently welcome drink. "And I'll try to put it all in order, as +it were--same as if I was in a witness-box," he added, with a sly glance +at Vickers. "You remember that day of the inquest on the actor gentleman, +guv'nor? Well, of course, when I went to give evidence at Scarhaven, at +that there inquest, I never expected but what the police 'ud collar me at +the end of it. However, I didn't mean that they should, if I could help +it, so I watched things pretty close, intending to slip off when I saw a +chance. Well, now, you'll bear in mind that there was a bit of a dust-up +when the thing was over--some on 'em cheering the Squire and some on 'em +grousing about the verdict, and between one and t'other I popped out and +off, and you yourself saw me making for the moors. Of course, me, knowing +them moors back o' Scarhaven as I do, it was easy work to make myself +scarce on 'em in ten minutes--not all the police north o' the Tees could +ha' found me a quarter of an hour after I'd hooked it out o' that +schoolroom! Well, but the thing then was--where to go next? 'Twasn't no +good going to Hobkin's Hole again--now that them chaps knew I was in the +neighbourhood they'd soon ha' smoked me out o' there. Once I thought of +making for Norcaster here, and going into hiding down by the docks--I've +one or two harbours o' refuge there. But I had reasons for wishing to +stop in my own country--for a bit at any rate. And so, after reckoning +things up, I made for a spot as Mr. Vickers there'll know by name of the +Reaver's Glen." + +"Good place, too, for hiding," remarked Vickers with a nod. + +"Best place on this coast--seashore and inland," said Spurge. "And as you +two London gentlemen doesn't know it, I'll tell you about it. If you was +to go out o' Scarhaven harbour and turn north, you'd sail along our coast +line up here to the mouth of Norcaster Bay and you'd think there was +never an inlet between 'em. But there is. About half-way between +Scarhaven and Norcaster there's a very narrow opening in the cliffs that +you'd never notice unless you were close in shore, and inside that +opening there's a cove that's big enough to take a thousand-ton +vessel--aye, and half-a-dozen of 'em! It was a favourite place for +smugglers in the old days, and they call it Darkman's Dene to this day in +memory of a famous old smuggler that used it a good deal. Well, now, at +the land end of that cove there's a narrow valley that runs up to the +moorland and the hills, full o' rocks and crags and precipices and such +like--something o' the same sort as Hobkin's Hole but a deal wilder, and +that's known as the Reaver's Glen, because in other days the +cattle-lifters used to bring their stolen goods, cattle and sheep, down +there where they could pen 'em in, as it were. There's piles o' places in +that glen where a man can hide--I picked out one right at the top, at the +edge of the moors, where there's the ruins of an old peel tower. I could +get shelter in that old tower, and at the same time slip out of it if +need be into one of fifty likely hiding places amongst the rocks. I got +into touch with my cousin Jim Spurge--the one-eyed chap at the +'Admiral's Arms,' Mr. Copplestone, that night--and I got in a supply of +meat and drink, and there I was. And--as things turned out, Chatfield had +got his eye on the very same spot!" + +Spurge paused for a minute, and picking out a match from a stand which +stood on the table, began to trace imaginary lines on the mahogany. + +"This is how things is there," he said, inviting his companions' +attention. "Here, like, is where this peel tower stands--that's a thick +wood as comes close up to its walls--that there is a road as crosses the +moors and the wood about, maybe, a hundred yards or so behind the tower +on the land side. Now, there, one afternoon as I was in that there tower, +a-reading of a newspaper that Jim had brought me the night before, I +hears wheels on that moorland road, and I looked out through a convenient +loophole, and who should I see but Peter Chatfield in that old pony trap +of his. He was coming along from the direction of Scarhaven, and when he +got abreast of the tower he pulled up, got out, left his pony to crop the +grass and came strolling over in my direction. Of course, I wasn't +afraid of him--there's so many ways in and out of that old peel as there +is out of a rabbit-warren--besides, I felt certain he was there on some +job of his own. Well, he comes up to the edge of the glen, and he looks +into it and round it, and up and down at the tower, and he wanders about +the heaps of fallen masonry that there is there, and finally he puts +thumbs in his armhole and went slowly back to his trap. 'But you'll be +coming back, my old swindler!' says I to myself. 'You'll be back again I +doubt not at all!' And back he did come--that very night. Oh, yes!" + +"Alone?" asked Copplestone. + +"A-lone!" replied Spurge. "It had got to be dark, and I was thinking of +going to sleep, having nought else to do and not expecting cousin Jim +that night, when I heard the sound of horses' feet and of wheels. So I +cleared out of my hole to where I could see better. Of course, it was +Chatfield--same old trap and pony--but this time he came from Norcaster +way. Well, he gets out, just where he'd got out before, and he leads the +pony and trap across the moor to close by the tower. I could tell by the +way that trap went over the grass that there was some sort of a load in +it and it wouldn't have surprised me, gentlemen, if the old reptile had +brought a dead body out of it. After a bit, I hear him taking something +out, something which he bumped down on the ground with a thump--I counted +nine o' them thumps. And then after a bit I heard him begin a moving of +some of the loose masonry what lies in such heaps at the foot o' the peel +tower--dark though it was there was light enough in the sky for him to +see to do that. But after he'd been at it some time, puffing and groaning +and grunting, he evidently wanted to see better, and he suddenly flashed +a light on things from one o' them electric torches. And then I see--me +being not so many yards away from him--nine small white wood boxes, all +clamped with metal bands, lying in a row on the grass, and I see, too, +that Chatfield had been making a place for 'em amongst the stones. +Yes--that was it--nine small white wood boxes--so small, considering, +that I wondered what made 'em so heavy." + +Copplestone favoured Vickers with another quiet kick. They were, +without doubt, hearing the story of the hidden gold, and it was +becoming exciting. + +"Well," continued Spurge. "Into the place he'd cleared out them boxes +went, and once they were all in he heaped the stones over 'em as natural +as they were before, and he kicked a lot o' small loose stones round +about and over the place where he'd been standing. And then the old +sinner let out a great groan as if something troubled him, and he fetched +a bottle out of his pocket and took a good pull at whatever was in it, +after which, gentlemen, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and +groaned again. He'd had his bit of light on all that time, but he doused +it then, and after that he led the old pony away across the bit of moor +to the road, and presently in he gets and drives slowly away towards +Scarhaven. And so there was I, d'ye see, Mr. Copplestone, left, as it +were, sold guardian of--what?" + +The three young men exchanged glances with each other while Spurge +refreshed himself with his fortified coffee, and their eyes asked similar +questions. + +"Ah!" observed Copplestone at last. "You don't know what, Spurge? You +haven't examined one of those boxes?" + +Spurge set his cup down and gave his questioner a knowing look. + +"I'll tell you my line o' conduct, guv'nor," he said. "So certain sure +have I been that something 'ud come o' this business of hiding them boxes +and that something valuable is in 'em that I've taken partiklar care ever +since Chatfield planted 'em there that night never to set foot within a +dozen yards of 'em. Why? 'Cause I know he'll ha' left footprints of his +own there, and them footprints may be useful. No, sir!--them boxes has +been guarded careful ever since Chatfield placed 'em where he did. +For--Chatfield's never been back!" + +"Never back, eh?" said Copplestone, winking at the other two. + +"Never been back--self nor spirit, substance nor shadow!--since that +night," replied Spurge. "Unless, indeed, he's been back since four +o'clock this morning, when I left there. However, if he's been 'twixt +then and now, my cousin Jim Spurge, he was there. Jim's been helping me +to watch. When I first came in here to see if I could hear anything about +you--Jim having told me that some London gentlemen was up here again--I +left him in charge. And there he is now. And now you know all I can tell +you, gentlemen, and as I understand there's some mystery about Chatfield +and that he's disappeared, happen you'll know how to put two and two +together. And if I'm of any use--" + +"Spurge," said Gilling. "How far is it to this Reaver's Glen--or, rather +to that peel tower?" + +"Matter of eight or nine miles, guv'nor, over the moors," replied Spurge. + +"How did you come in then?" asked Gilling. + +"Cousin Jim Spurge's bike--down in the stable-yard, now," answered +Spurge. "Did it comfortable in under the hour." + +"I think we ought to go out there--some of us," said Gilling. "We +ought--" + +At that moment the door opened and Sir Cresswell Oliver came in, holding +a bit of flimsy paper in his hand. He glanced at Spurge and then beckoned +the three young men to join him. + +"I've had a wireless message from the North Sea--and it puzzles me," he +said. "One of our ships up there has had news of what is surely the +_Pike_ from a fishing vessel. She was seen late yesterday afternoon going +due east--due east, mind you! If that was she--and I'm sure of it!--our +quarry's escaping us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE PEEL TOWER + + +Gilling took the message from Sir Cresswell and thoughtfully read +it over. Then he handed it back and motioned the old seaman to look +at Spurge. + +"I think you ought to know what this man has just told us, sir," he said. +"We've got a story from him that exactly fits in with what Chatfield told +Mr. Vickers when the _Pike_ returned to carry him off yesterday. +Chatfield, you'll remember, said that the gold he'd withdrawn from the +bank is hidden somewhere--well, there's no doubt that this man Zachary +Spurge knows where it is hidden. It's there now--and the presumption is, +of course, that these people on the _Pike_ will certainly come in to this +coast--somehow!--to get it. So in that case--eh?" + +"Gad!--that's valuable!" said Sir Cresswell, glancing again at Spurge, +and with awakened interest. "Let me hear this story." + +Copplestone epitomized Spurge's account, while the poacher listened +admiringly, checking off the main points and adding a word or two where +he considered the epitome lacking. + +"Very smart of you, my man," remarked Sir Cresswell, nodding benevolently +at Spurge when the story was over. "You're in a fair way to find yourself +well rewarded. Now gentlemen!" he continued, sitting down at the table, +and engaging the attention of the others, "I think we had better have a +council of war. Petherton has just gone to speak to the police +authorities about those warrants which have been taken out against +Chatfield and the impostor, but we can go on in his absence. Now there +seems to be no doubt that those chests which Spurge tells us of contain +the gold which Chatfield procured from the bank, and concerning which he +seems to have played his associates more tricks than one. However, his +associates, whoever they are--and mind you, gentlemen, I believe there +are more men than Chatfield and the Squire in all this!--have now got a +tight grip on Chatfield, and they'll force him to show them where that +gold is--they'll certainly not give up the chances of fifty thousand +pounds without a stiff try to get it. So--I'm considering all the +possibilities and probabilities--we may conclude that sooner or +later--sooner, most likely--somebody will visit this old peel tower that +Spurge talks of. But--who? For we're faced with this wireless message. +I've no doubt the vessel here referred to is the _Pike_--no doubt at all. +Now she was seen making due east, near this side of the Dogger Bank, late +last night--so that it would look as if these men were making for +Denmark, or Germany, rather than for this coast. But since receiving this +message, I have thought that point out. The _Pike_ is, I believe, a very +fast vessel?" + +"Very," answered Vickers. "She can do twenty-seven or eight knots an +hour." + +"Exactly," said Sir Cresswell. "Then in that case they may have put in +at some Northern port, landed Chatfield and two or three men to keep an +eye on him and to accompany him to this old tower, while the _Pike_ +herself has gone off till a more fitting opportunity arises of dodging in +somewhere to pick up the chests which Chatfield and his party will in the +meantime have removed. From what I have seen of it this is such a wild +part of the coast that Chatfield and such a small gang as I am imagining, +could easily come back here, keep themselves hidden and recover the +chests without observation. So our plain duty is to now devise some plan +for going to the Reaver's Glen and keeping a watch there until somebody +comes. Eh?" + +"There's another thing that's possible, sir," said Vickers, who had +listened carefully to all that Sir Cresswell had said. "The _Pike_ is +fitted for wireless telegraphy." + +"Yes?" said Sir Cresswell expectantly. "And you think--?" + +"You suggested that there may be more people than Chatfield and the +Squire in at this business," continued Vickers. "Just so! We--Copplestone +and myself--know very well that the skipper of the _Pike_, Andrius, is in +it: that's undeniable. But there may be others--or one other, or two--on +shore here. And as the _Pike_ can communicate by wireless, those on board +her may have sent a message to their shore confederates to remove those +chests. So--" + +"Capital suggestion!" said Sir Cresswell, who saw this point at once. "So +we'd better lose no time in arranging our expedition out there. +Spurge--you're the man who knows the spot best--what ought we to do about +getting there--in force?" + +Spurge, obviously flattered at being called upon to advise a great man, +entered into the discussion with enthusiasm. + +"Your honour mustn't go in force at all!" he said. "What's wanted, +gentlemen, is--strategy! Now if you'll let me put it to you, me knowing +the lie of the land, this is what had ought to be done. A small party +ought to go--with me to lead. We'll follow the road that cuts across the +moorland to a certain point; then we'll take a by-track that gets you to +High Nick; there we'll take to a thick bit o' wood and coppice that runs +right up to the peel tower. Nobody'll track us, nor see us from any +point, going that way. Three or four of us--these here young gentlemen, +now, and me--'ll be enough for the job--if armed. A revolver apiece your +honour--that'll be plenty. And as for the rest--what you might call a +reserve force--your honour said something just now about some warrants. +Is the police to be in at it, then?" + +"The police hold warrants for the two men we've been chiefly talking +about," replied Sir Cresswell. + +"Well let your honour come on a bit later with not more than three police +plain-clothes fellows--as far as High Nick," said Spurge. "The police'll +know where that is. Let 'em wait there--don't let 'em come further until +I send back a message by my cousin Jim, You see, guv'nor," he added, +turning to Copplestone, whom he seemed to regard as his own special +associate, "we don't know how things may be. We might have to wait hours. +As I view it, me having listened careful to what his honour the Admiral +there says--best respects to your honour--them chaps'll never come a-nigh +that place till it's night again, or at any rate, dusk, which'll be about +seven o'clock this evening. But they may watch, during the day, and it +'ud be a foolish thing to have a lot of men about. A small force such as +I can hide in that wood, and another in reserve at High Nick, which, +guv'nor, is a deep hole in the hill-top--that's the ticket!" + +"Spurge is right," said Sir Cresswell. "You youngsters go with him--get a +motor-car--and I'll see about following you over to High Nick with the +detectives. Now, what about being armed?" + +"I've a supply of service revolvers at my office, down this very street," +replied Vickers. "I'll go and get them. Here! Let's apportion our duties. +I'll see to that. Gilling, you see about the car. Copplestone, you order +some breakfast for us--sharp." + +"And I'll go round to the police," said Sir Cresswell. "Now, be careful +to take care of yourselves--you don't know what you've got to deal with, +remember." + +The group separated, and Copplestone went off to find the hotel people +and order an immediate breakfast. And passing along a corridor on his way +downstairs he encountered Mrs. Greyle, who came out of a room near by and +started at sight of him. + +"Audrey is asleep," she whispered, pointing to the door she had just +left. "Thank you for taking care of her. Of course I was afraid--but +that's all over now. And now the thing is--how are things?" + +"Coming to a head, in my opinion," answered Copplestone. "But how or in +what way, I don't know. Anyway, we know where that gold is--and they'll +make an attempt on it--that's sure! So--we shall be there." + +"But what fools Peter Chatfield and his associates must be--from their +own villainous standpoint--to have encumbered themselves with all that +weight of gold!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle. "The folly of it seems incredible +when they could have taken it in some more easily portable form!" + +"Ah!" laughed Copplestone. "But that just shows Chatfield's extraordinary +deepness and craft! He no doubt persuaded his associates that it was +better to have actual bullion where they were going, and tricked them +into believing that he'd actually put it aboard the _Pike_! If it hadn't +been that they examined the boxes which he put on the _Pike_ and found +they contained lead or bricks, the old scoundrel would have collared the +real stuff for himself." + +"Take care that he doesn't collar it yet," said Mrs. Greyle with a laugh +as she went into her own room. "Chatfield is resourceful enough +for--anything. And--take care of yourselves!" + +That was the second admonition to be careful, and Copplestone thought of +both, as, an hour later, he, Gilling, Vickers and Spurge sped along the +desolate, wind-swept moorland on their way to the Reaver's Glen. It was +a typically North Country autumnal morning, cold, raw, rainy; the tops of +the neighbouring hills were capped with dark clouds; sea-birds called +dismally across the heather; the sea, seen in glimpses through vistas of +fir and pine, looked angry and threatening. + +"A fit morning for a do of this sort!" exclaimed Gilling suddenly. "Is it +pretty bare and bleak at this tower of yours, Spurge?" + +"You'll be warm enough, guv'nor, where I shall put you," answered Spurge. +"One as has knocked about these woods and moors as much as I've had to +knows as many places to hide his nose in as a fox does! I'll put you by +that tower where you'll be snug enough, and warm enough, too--and where +nobody'll see you neither. And here's High Nick and out we get." + +Leaving the car in a deep cutting of the hills and instructing the driver +to await the return of one or other of them at a wayside farmstead a mile +back, the three adventurers followed Spurge into the wood which led to +the top of the Beaver's Glen. The poacher guided them onward by narrow +and winding tracks through the undergrowth for a good half-mile; then he +led them through thickets in which there was no paths at all; finally, +after a gradual and cautious advance behind a high hedge of dense +evergreen, he halted them at a corner of the wood and motioned them to +look out through a loosely-laced network of branches. + +"Here we are!" he whispered. "Tower--Reaver's Glen--sea in the distance. +Lone spot, ain't it, gentlemen?" + +Copplestone and Gilling, who had never seen this part of the coast +before, looked out on the scene with lively interest. It was certainly a +prospect of romance and of wild, almost savage beauty on which they +gazed. Immediately in front of them, at a distance of twenty to thirty +yards, stood the old peel tower, a solid square mass of grey stone, +intact as to its base and its middle stories, ruinous and crumbling from +thence to what was left of its battlements and the turret tower at one +angle. The fallen stone lay in irregular heaps on the ground at its foot; +all around it were clumps of furze and bramble. From the level plateau on +which it stood the Glen fell away in horseshoe formation gradually +narrowing and descending until it terminated in a thick covert of fir and +pine that ran down to the land end of the cove of which Spurge had told +them. And beyond that stretched the wide expanse of sea, with here and +there a red-sailed fishing boat tossing restlessly on the white-capped +waves, and over that and the land was a chill silence, broken only by the +occasional cry of the sea-birds and the bleating of the mountain sheep. + +"A lone spot indeed!" said Gilling in a whisper. "Spurge, where is that +stuff hidden?" + +"Other side of the tower--in an angle of the old courtyard," replied +Spurge, "Can't see the spot from here." + +"And where's that road you told us about?" asked Copplestone. "The +moor road?" + +"Top o' the bank yonder--beyond the tower," said Spurge. "Runs round +yonder corner o' this wood and goes right round it to High Nick, where +we've cut across from. Hush now, all of you, gentlemen--I'm going to +signal Jim." + +Screwing up his mobile face into a strange contortion, Spurge emitted +from his puckered lips a queer cry--a cry as of some trapped animal--so +shrill and realistic that his hearers started. + +"What on earth's that represent?" asked Gilling. "It's blood-curdling?" + +"Hare, with a stoat's teeth in its neck," answered Spurge. "H'sh--I'll +call him again." + +No answer came to the first nor to the second summons--after a third, +equally unproductive, Spurge looked at his companions with a scared face. + +"That's a queer thing, guv'nors!" he muttered. "Can't believe as how our +Jim 'ud ever desert a post. He promised me faithfully as how he'd stick +here like grim death until I came back. I hope he ain't had a fit, nor +aught o' that sort--he ain't a strong chap at the best o' times, and--" + +"You'd better take a careful look round, Spurge," said Vickers. +"Here--shall I come with you?" + +But Spurge waved a hand to them to stay where they were. He himself crept +along the back of the hedge until he came to a point opposite the nearest +angle of the tower. And suddenly he gave a great cry--human enough this +time!--and the three young men rushing forward found him standing by the +body of a roughly-clad man in whom Copplestone recognized the one-eyed +odd-job man of the "Admiral's Arms." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FOOTPRINTS + + +The man was lying face downwards in the grass and weeds which clustered +thickly at the foot of the hedgerow, and on the line of rough, +weatherbeaten neck which showed between his fur cap and his turned-up +collar there was a patch of dried blood. Very still and apparently +lifeless he looked, but Vickers suddenly bent down, laid strong hands on +him and turned him over. + +"He's not dead!" he exclaimed. "Only unconscious from a crack on his +skull. Gilling!--where's that brandy you brought?--hand me the flask." + +Zachary Spurge watched in silence as Vickers and Gilling busied +themselves in reviving the stricken man. Then he quickly pulled +Copplestone's sleeve and motioned him away from the group. + +"Guv'nor!" he muttered. "There's been foul play here--and all along of +them nine boxes--that I'll warrant. Look you here, guv'nor--Jim's been +dragged to where we found him--dragged through this here gap in the hedge +and flung where he's lying. See--there's the plain marks, all through the +grass and stuff. Come on, guv'nor--let's see where they lead." + +The marks of a heavy, inanimate body having been dragged through the wet +grass were evidence enough, and Copplestone and Spurge followed them to a +corner of the old tower where they ceased. Spurge glanced round that +corner and uttered a sharp exclamation. + +"Just what I expected!" he said. "Leastways, what I expected as soon as I +see Jim a-lying there. Guv'nor, the stuff's gone!" + +He drew Copplestone after him and pointed to a corner of the weed-grown +courtyard where a cavity had been made in the mass of fallen masonry and +the stones taken from it lay about just as they had been displaced and +thrown aside. + +"That's where the nine boxes were," he continued. "Well, there ain't one +of 'em there now! Naught but the hole where they was! Well--this must ha' +been during the early morning--after I left Jim to go into Norcaster. And +of course him as put the stuff there must be him as fetched it +away--Chatfield. Let's see if there's footmarks about, guv'nor." + +"Wait a bit," said Copplestone. "We must be careful about that. Move +warily. We 'd better do it systematically. There'd have to be some sort +of a trap, a vehicle, to carry away those chests. Where's the nearest +point of that road you spoke of?" + +"Up there," replied Spurge, pointing to a flanking bank of heather. "But +they--or him--wasn't forced to come that way, guv'nor. He--or them--could +come up from that cove down yonder. It wouldn't surprise me if that there +yacht--the _Pike_, you know--had turned on her tracks and come in here +during the night. It's not more than a mile from this tower down to the +shore, and--" + +At that moment Vickers called to them, and they went back to find Jim +Spurge slowly opening his eyes and looking round him with consciousness +of his company. His one eye lightened a little as he caught sight of +Zachary, and the poacher bent down to him. + +"Jim, old man!" he said soothingly. "How are yer, Jim? Yer been hit by +somebody. Who was it, Jim?" + +"Give him a drop more brandy and lift him up a bit," counselled Gilling. +"He's improving." + +But it needed more than a mere drop of brandy, more than cousinly words +of adjuration, to bring the wounded man back to a state of speech. And +when at last he managed to make a feeble response, it was only to mutter +some incoherent and disjointed sentences about and being struck down from +behind--after which he again relapsed into semi-unconsciousness. + +"That's it guv'nor," muttered Spurge, nudging Copplestone. "That's the +ticket! Struck down from behind--that's what happened to him. Unawares, +so to speak, I can reckon of it up--easy. They comes in the +darkness--after I'd left him here. He hears of 'em, as he says, +a-moving about. Then he no doubt Starts moving about--watching 'em, as +far as he can see. Then one of 'em gives him this crack on the +skull--life-preserver if you ask me--and down he goes! And then--they +drag him in here and leaves him. Don't care whether he's a goner or +not--not they! Well, an' what does it prove? That there's been more +than one of 'em, guv'nor. And in my opinion, where they've come from +is--down there!" + +He pointed down the glen in the direction of the sea, and the three +young men who were considerably exercised by this sudden turn of events +and the disappearance of the chests, looked after his out-stretched hand +and then at each other. + +"Well, we can't stand here doing nothing," said Gilling at last. "Look +here, we'd better divide forces. This chap'll have to be removed and got +to some hospital. Vickers!--I guess you're the quickest-footed of the +lot--will you run back to High Nick and tell that chauffeur to bring his +car round here? If Sir Cresswell and the police are there, tell them +what's happened. Spurge--you go down the glen there, and see if you can +see anything of any suspicious-looking craft in that bay you told us of. +Copplestone, we can't do any more for this man just now--let's look +round. This is a queer business," he went on when they had all departed, +and he and Copplestone were walking towards the tower. "The gold's gone, +of course?" + +"No sign of it here, anyway," answered Copplestone, leading him into the +ruinous courtyard and pointing to the cavity in the fallen masonry. +"That's where it was placed by Chatfield, according to Zachary Spurge." + +"And of course Chatfield's removed it during the night," remarked +Gilling. "That message which Sir Cresswell read us must have been all +wrong--the _Pike's_ come south and she's been somewhere about--maybe been +in that cove at the end of the glen--though she'll have cleared out of it +hours ago!" he concluded disappointedly. "We're too late!" + +"That theory's not necessarily correct," replied Copplestone. "Sir +Cresswell's message may have been quite right. For all we know the folks +on the Pike had confederates on shore. Go carefully, Gilling--let's see +if we can make out anything in the way of footprints." + +The ground in the courtyard was grassless, a flooring of grit and loose +stone, on which no impression could well be made by human foot. But +Copplestone, carefully prospecting around and going a little way up the +bank which lay between the tower and the moorland road, suddenly saw +something in the black, peat-like earth which attracted his attention and +he called to his companion. + +"I say!" he exclaimed. "Look at this! There!--that's unmistakable enough. +And fresh, too!" + +Gilling bent down, looked, and stared at Copplestone with a question +in his eyes. + +"By Gad!" he said. "A woman!" + +"And one who wears good and shapely footwear, too," remarked Copplestone. +"That's what you'd call a slender and elegant foot. Here it is +again--going up the bank. Come on!" + +There were more traces of this wearer of elegant foot-gear on the soft +earth of the bank which ran between the moorland and the stone-strewn +courtyard--more again on the edges of the road itself. There, too, were +plain signs that a motor-car of some sort had recently been pulled up +opposite the tower--Gilling pointed to the indentations made by the +studded wheels and to droppings of oil and petrol on the gravelly soil. + +"That's evident enough," he said. "Those chests have been fetched away +during the night, by motor, and a woman's been in at it! Confederates, of +course. Now then, the next thing is, which way did that motor go with its +contents?" + +They followed the tracks for a short distance along the road, until, +coming to a place where it widened at a gateway leading into the wood, +they saw that the car had there been backed and turned. Gilling carefully +examined the marks. + +"That car came from Norcaster and it's gone back to Norcaster," he +affirmed presently. "Look here!--they came up the hill at the side of the +wood--here they backed the car towards that gate, and then ran it +backwards till they were abreast of the tower--then, when they'd loaded +up with those chests they went straight off by the way they'd come. Look +at the tracks--plain enough." + +"Then we'd better get down towards Norcaster ourselves," said +Copplestone. "Call Spurge back--he'll find nothing in that cove. This job +has been done from land. And we ought to be on the track of these +people--they've had several hours start already." + +By this time Zachary Spurge had been recalled, Vickers had brought the +car round from High Nick, and the injured man was carefully lifted into +it and driven away. But at High Nick itself they met another car, +hurrying up from Norcaster, and bringing Sir Cresswell Oliver and three +other men who bore the unmistakable stamp of the police force. In one of +them Copplestone recognized the inspector from Scarhaven. + +The two cars met and stopped alongside each other, and Sir Cresswell, +with one sharp glance at the rough bandage which Vickers had fastened +round Jim Spurge's head, rapped out a question. + +"Gone!" replied Gilling, with equal brusqueness. "Came in a motor, during +the night, soon after Zachary Spurge left Jim. They hit him pretty hard +over his head and left him unconscious. Of course they've carried off the +boxes. Car appears to have gone to Norcaster. Hadn't you better turn?" + +Sir Cresswell pointed to the Scarhaven police inspector. + +"Here's news from Scarhaven," he said, bending forward to the other car, +"The inspector's just brought it. The Squire--whoever he was--is dead. +They found his body this morning, lying at the foot of a cliff near the +Keep. Foul play?--that's what you don't know, eh, inspector?" + +"Can't say at all, sir," answered the inspector. "He might have been +thrown down, he might have fallen down--it's a bad place. Anyway, what +the doctor said, just before I hurried in here to tell Mrs. Greyle, as +the next relative that we know of, is that he'd been dead some days--the +body, you see, was lying in a thicket at the foot of the cliff." + +"Some days!" exclaimed Copplestone, with a look at Gilling. "Days?" + +"Four or five days at least, sir," replied the inspector. "So the doctor +thinks. The place is a cliff between the high road from Northborough and +the house itself. There's a short cut across the park to the house from +that road. It looks as if--" + +"Ah!" interrupted Gilling. "It's clear how that happened, then. He took +that short cut, when he came from Northborough that night! But--if he's +dead, who's engineering all this? There's the fact, those chests of gold +have been removed from that old tower since Zachary Spurge left his +cousin in charge there early this morning. Everything looks as if they'd +been carried to Norcaster. Therefore--" + +"Turn this car round," commanded Sir Cresswell. "Of course, we must get +back to Norcaster. But what's to be done there?" + +The two cars went scurrying back to the old shipping town. When at +last they had 'deposited the injured man at a neighbouring hospital +and came to a stop near the "Angel," Zachary Spurge pulled +Copplestone's sleeve, and with a look full of significance, motioned +him aside to a quiet place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +SCARVELL'S CUT + + +The quiet place was a narrow alley, which opening out of the Market +Square in which the car had come to a halt, suddenly twisted away into a +labyrinth of ancient buildings that lay between the centre of the town +and the river. Not until Spurge had conducted Copplestone quite away from +their late companions did he turn and speak; when he spoke his words were +accompanied by a glance which suggested mystery as well as confidence. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "What's going to be done?" + +"Have you pulled me down here to ask that?" exclaimed Copplestone, a +little impatiently. "Good heavens, man, with all these complications +arising--the gold gone, the Squire dead--why, there'll have to be a +pretty deep consultation, of course. We'd better get back to it." + +But Spurge shook his head. + +"Not me, guv'nor!" he said resolutely. "I ain't no opinion o' +consultations with lawyers and policemen--plain clothes or otherwise. +They ain't no mortal good whatever, guv'nor, when it comes to horse +sense! 'Cause why? 'Tain't their fault--it's the system. They can't +do nothing, start nothing, suggest nothing!--they can only do things +in the official, cut-and-dried, red-tape way, Guv'nor--you and me +can do better." + +"Well?" asked Copplestone. + +"Listen!" continued Spurge. "There ain't no doubt that that gold was +carried off early this morning--must ha' been between the time I left Jim +and sun-up, 'cause they'd want to do the job in darkness. Ain't no +reasonable doubt, neither, that the motor-car what they used came here +into Norcaster. Now, guv'nor, I ask you--where is it possible they'd make +for? Not a railway station, 'cause them boxes 'ud be conspicuous and easy +traced when inquiry was made. And yet they'd want to get 'em away--as +soon as possible. Very well--what's the other way o' getting any stuff +out o' Norcaster? What? Why--that!" + +He jerked his thumb in the direction of a patch of grey water which shone +dully at the end of the alley and while his thumb jerked his eye winked. + +"The river!" he went on. "The river, guv'nor! Don't this here river, +running into the free and bounding ocean six miles away, offer the best +chance? What we want to do is to take a look round these here docks and +quays and wharves--keeping our eyes open--and our ears as well. Come on +with me, guv'nor--I know places all along this riverside where you could +hide the Bank of England till it was wanted--so to speak." + +"But the others?" suggested Copplestone. "Hadn't we better fetch them?" + +"No!" retorted Spurge, assertively. "Two on us is enough. You trust to +me, guv'nor--I'll find out something. I know these docks--and all that's +alongside 'em. I'd do the job myself, now--but it'll be better to have +somebody along of me, in case we want a message sending for help or +anything of that nature. Come on--and if I don't find out before noon if +there's any queer craft gone out o' this since morning--why, then, I +ain't what I believe myself to be." + +Copplestone, who had considerable faith in the poacher's shrewdness, +allowed himself to be led into the lowest part of the town--low in more +than one sense of the word. Norcaster itself, as regards its ancient +and time-hallowed portions, its church, its castle, its official +buildings and highly-respectable houses, stood on the top of a low +hill; its docks and wharves and the mean streets which intersected them +had been made on a stretch of marshland that lay between the foot of +that hill and the river. And down there was the smell of tar and of +merchandise, and narrow alleys full of sea-going men and raucous-voiced +women, and queer nooks and corners, and ships being laden and ships +being stripped of their cargoes and such noise and confusion and +inextricable mingling and elbowing that Copplestone thought it was as +likely to find a needle in a haystack as to make anything out relating +to the quest they were engaged in. + +But Zachary Spurge, leading him in and out of the throngs on the wharves, +now taking a look into a dock, now inspecting a quay, now stopping to +exchange a word or two with taciturn gentlemen who sucked their pipes at +the corners of narrow streets, now going into shady-looking public houses +by one door and coming out at another, seemed to be remarkably well +satisfied with his doings and kept remarking to his companion that they +would hear something yet. Nevertheless, by noon they had heard nothing, +and Copplestone, who considered casual search of this sort utterly +purposeless, announced that he was going to more savoury neighborhoods. + +"Give it another turn, guv'nor," urged Spurge. "Have a bit o' faith in +me, now! You see, guv'nor, I've an idea, a theory, as you might term it, +of my very own, only time's too short to go into details, like. Trust me +a bit longer, guv'nor--there's a spot or two down here that I'm fair +keen on taking a look at--come on, guv'nor, once more!--this is +Scarvell's Cut." + +He drew his unwilling companion round a corner of the wharf which they +were just then patrolling and showed him a narrow creek which, hemmed in +by ancient buildings, some of them half-ruinous, sail-lofts, and sheds +full of odds and ends of merchandise, cut into the land at an irregular +angle and was at that moment affording harbourage to a mass of small +vessels, just then lying high and dry on the banks from which the tide +had retreated. Along the side of this creek there was just as much +crowding and confusion as on the wider quays; men were going in and out +of the sheds and lofts; men were busy about the sides of the small craft. +And again the feeling of uselessness came over Copplestone. + +"What's the good of all this, Spurge!" he exclaimed testily. "You'll +never--" + +Spurge suddenly laid a grip on his companion's elbow and twisted him +aside into a narrow entry between the sheds. + +"That's the good!" he answered in an exulting voice. "Look there, +guv'nor! Look at that North Sea tug--that one, lying out there! Whose +face is, now a-peeping out o' that hatch? Come, now?" + +Copplestone looked in the direction which Spurge indicated. There, lying +moored to the wharf, at a point exactly opposite a tumble-down sail-loft, +was one of those strongly-built tugs which ply between the fishing fleets +and the ports. It was an eminently business-looking craft, rakish for its +class, and it bore marks of much recent sea usage. But Copplestone gave +no more than a passing glance at it--what attracted and fascinated his +eyes was the face of a man who had come up from her depths and was +looking out of a hatchway on the top deck--looking expectantly at the +sail-loft. There was grime and oil on that face, and the neck which +supported the unkempt head rose out of a rough jersey, but Copplestone +recognized his man smartly enough. In spite of the attempt to look like a +tug deck-hand there was no mistaking the skipper of the _Pike_. + +"Good heavens!" he muttered, as he stared across the crowded quay. +"Andrius!" + +"Right you are, guv'nor," whispered Spurge. "It's that very same, and no +mistake! And now you'll perhaps see how I put things together, like. No +doubt those folk as sent Sir Cresswell that message did see the _Pike_ +going east last evening--just so, but there wasn't no reason, considering +what that chap and his lot had at stake why they shouldn't put him and +one or two more, very likely, on one of the many tugs that's to be met +with out there off the fishing grounds. What I conclude they did, +guv'nor, was to charter one o' them tugs and run her in here. And I +expect they've got the stuff on board her, now, and when the tide comes +up, out they'll go, and be off into the free and open again, to pick the +_Pike_ up somewhere 'twixt here and the Dogger Bank. Ah!--smart 'uns they +are, no doubt. But--we've got 'em!" + +"Not yet," said Copplestone. "What are we to do. Better go back and get +help, eh?" + +He was keenly watching Andrius, and as the skipper of the _Pike_ suddenly +moved, he drew Spurge further into the alley. + +"He's coming out of that hatchway!" whispered Copplestone. "If he comes +ashore he'll see us, and then--" + +"No matter, guv'nor," said Spurge reassuringly. "They can't get out o' +Scarvell's Cut into the river till the tide serves. Yes, that's Cap'n +Andrius right enough--and he's coming ashore." + +Andrius had by that time drawn himself out of the hatchway and now +revealed himself in the jersey, the thick leg-wear, and short sea-boots +of an oceangoing man. Copplestone's recollection of him as he showed +himself on board the _Pike_ was of a very smartly attired, rather +dandified person--only some deep scheme, he knew, would have caused him +to assume this disguise, and he watched him with interest as he rolled +ashore and disappeared within the lower story of the sail-loft. Spurge, +too, watched with all his eyes, and he turned to Copplestone with a gleam +of excitement. + +"Guv'nor!" he said. "We've trapped 'em beautiful! I know that place--I've +worked in there in my time. I know a way into it, from the back--we'll +get in that way and see what's being done. 'Tain't worked no longer, that +sail-loft--it's all falling to pieces. But first--help!" + +"How are we to get that?" asked Copplestone, eagerly. + +"I'll go it," replied Spurge. "I know a man just aback of here that'll +run up to the town with a message--chap that can be trusted, sure and +faithful. 'Bide here five minutes, sir--I'll send a message to Mr. +Vickers--this chap'll know him and'll find him. He can come down with the +rest--and the police, too, if he likes. Keep your eyes skinned, guv'nor." + +He twisted away like an eel into the crowd of workers and idlers, and +left Copplestone at the entrance to the alley, watching. And he had not +been so left more than a couple of minutes when a woman slipped past the +mouth of the alley, swiftly, quietly, looking neither to right nor left, +of whose veiled head and face he caught one glance. And in that glance he +recognized her--Addie Chatfield! + +But in the moment of that glance Copplestone also recognized something +vastly more important. Here was the explanation of the mystery of the +early-morning doings at the old tower. The footprints of a woman who wore +fashionable and elegant boots? Addie Chatfield, of course! Was she not +old Peter's daughter, a chip of the old block, even though a feminine +chip? And did not he and Gilling know that she had been mixed up with +Peter at the Bristol affair? Great Scott!--why, of course. Addie was an +accomplice in all these things! + +If Copplestone had the least shadow of doubt remaining in his mind as to +this conclusion, it was utterly dissipated when, peering cautiously round +the corner of his hiding-place, he saw Addie disappear within the old +sail-loft into which Andrius had betaken himself. Of course, she had gone +to join her fellow-conspirators. He began to fume and fret, cursing +himself for allowing Spurge to bring him down there alone--if only they +had had Gilling and Vickers with them, armed as they were-- + +"All right, guv'nor!" Spurge suddenly whispered at his shoulder. "They'll +be here in a quarter of an hour--I telephoned to 'em." + +"Do you know what?" exclaimed Copplestone, excitedly. "Old Chatfield's +daughter's gone in there, where Andrius went. Just now!" + +"What--the play-actress!" said Spurge. "You don't say, guv'nor? Ha!--that +explains everything--that's the missing link! Ha! But we'll soon know +what they're after, Mr. Copplestone. Follow me--quiet as a mouse." + +Once more submitting to be led, Copplestone followed his queer guide +along the alley. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE GREENGROCER'S CART + + +Spurge led Copplestone a little way up the narrow alley from the mouth of +which they had observed the recent proceedings, suddenly turned off into +a still narrower passage, and emerged at the rear of an ancient building +of wood and stones which looked as if a stout shove or a strong wind +would bring it down in dust and ruin. + +"Back o' that old sail-loft what looks out on this cut," he whispered, +glancing over his shoulder at Copplestone. "Now, guv'nor, we're going in +here. As I said before, I've worked in this place--did a spell here when +I was once lying low for a month or two. I know every inch of it, and if +that lot are under this roof I know where they'll be." + +"They'll show fight, you know," remarked Copplestone. + +"Well, but ain't we got something to show fight with, too?" answered +Spurge, with a knowing wink. "I've got my revolver handy, what Mr. +Vickers give me, and I reckon you can handle yours. However, it ain't +come to no revolver yet. What I want is to see and hear, +guv'nor--follow me." + +He had opened a ramshackle door in the rear of the premises as he spoke +and he now beckoned his companion to follow him down a passage which +evidently led to the front. There was no more than a dim light within, +but Copplestone could see that the whole place was falling to pieces. And +it was all wrapped in a dead silence. Away out on the quay was the rattle +of chains, the creaking of a windlass, the voices of men and shrill +laughter of women, but in there no sound existed. And Spurge suddenly +stopped his stealthy creeping forward and looked at Copplestone +suspiciously. + +"Queer, ain't it?" he whispered. "I don't hear a voice, nor yet the ghost +of one! You'd think that if they was in here they'd be talking. But we'll +soon see." + +Clambering up a pile of fallen timber which lay in the passage and +beckoning Copplestone to follow his example, Spurge looked through a +broken slat in the wooden partition into an open shed which fronted the +Cut. The shed was empty. Folk were passing to and fro in front of it; the +North Sea tug still lay at the wharf beyond; a man who was evidently its +skipper sat on a tub on its deck placidly smoking his short pipe--but of +Addie Chatfield or of Andrius there was no sign. And the silence in that +crumbling, rat-haunted house was deeper than ever. + +"Guv'nor!" muttered Spurge, "How long is it since you see--her?" + +"Almost as soon as you'd gone," answered Copplestone. + +"Ten minutes ago!" sighed Spurge. "Guv'nor--they've done us! They're off! +I see it--she must ha' caught sight o' me, nosing round, and she came +here and gave the others the office, and they bucked out at the back. +The back, Guv'nor! and Lord bless you, at the back o' this shanty there's +a perfect rabbit-warren o' places--more by token, they call it the +Warren. If they've got in there, why, all the police in Norcaster'll +never find 'em--leastways, I mean, to speak truthful, not without a deal +o' trouble." + +"What about upstairs?" asked Copplestone. + +"Upstairs, now?" said Spurge with a doubtful glance at the ramshackle +stairway. "Lord, mister!--I don't believe nobody could get up them +stairs! No--they've hooked it through the back here, into the Warren. And +once in there--" + +He ended with an eloquent gesture, and dismounting from his perch made +his way along the passage to a door which opened into the shed. Thence he +looked out on the quay, and along the crowded maze of Scarvell's Cut. + +"Here's some of 'em, anyway, guv'nor," he announced. "I see Mr. Vickers +and t'other London gentleman, and the old Admiral, at all events. There +they are--getting out of a motor at the end. But go to meet 'em, Mr. +Copplestone, while I keep my eye on this here tug and its skipper." + +Copplestone elbowed his way through the crowd until he met Sir Cresswell +and his two companions. All three were eager and excited: Copplestone +could only respond to their inquiries with a gloomy shake of the head. + +"We seem to have the devil's own luck!" he growled dismally. "Spurge and +I spotted Andrius by sheer accident. He was on a North Sea tug, or +trawler, along the quay here. Then Spurge ran off to summon you. While +he was away Miss Chatfield appeared--" + +"Addie Chatfield!" exclaimed Vickers. + +"Exactly. And that of course," continued Copplestone, glancing at +Gilling, "that without doubt--in my opinion, anyway--explains those +elegant footprints up at the tower. Addie Chatfield, I tell you! She +passed me as I was hiding at the entrance to an alley down the Cut here, +and she went into an old sail-loft, outside which the tug I spoke of is +moored, and into which Andrius had strolled a minute or two previously. +But--neither she nor Andrius are there now. They've gone! And Spurge says +that at the back of this quay there's a perfect rabbit-warren of courts +and alleys, and if--or, rather as they've escaped into that--eh?" + +The detectives who had accompanied Sir Cresswell on the interrupted +expedition to the old tower and who had now followed him and his +companions in a second car and arrived in time to hear Copplestone's +story, looked at each other. + +"That's right enough--comparatively speaking," said one. "But if they're +in the Warren we shall get 'em out. The first thing to do, gentlemen, is +to take a look at that tug." + +"Exactly!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "Just what I was thinking. Let us +find out what its people have to say." + +The man who smoked his pipe in placid contentment on the deck of the tug +looked up in astonishment as the posse of eight crossed the plank which +connected him with the quay. Nevertheless he preserved an undaunted +front, kept his pipe in his tightly closed lips, and cocked a defiant eye +at everybody. + +"Skipper o' this craft?" asked the principal detective laconically. +"Right? Where are you from, then, and when did you come in here?" + +The skipper removed his pipe and spat over the rail. He put the pipe +back, folded his arms and glared. + +"And what the dickens may that be to do with you?" he inquired. "And who +may you be to walk aboard my vessel without leave?" + +"None of that, now!" said the detective. "Come on--we're police officers. +There's something wrong round here. We've got warrants for two men that +we believe to have been on your tug--one of 'em was seen here not so many +minutes ago. You'd far better tell us what you know. If you don't tell +now, you'll have to tell later. And--I expect you've been paid already. +Come on--out with it!" + +The skipper, whose gnarled countenance had undergone several changes +during this address, smote one red fist on top of the other. + +"Darned if I don't know as there was something on the crook in this here +affair!" he said, almost cheerily. "Well, well--but I ain't got nothing +to do with it. Warrants?--you say? Ah! And what might be the partiklar' +natur' o' them warrants?" + +"Murder!" answered the detective. "That's one charge, anyhow--for one of +'em, at any rate. There's others." + +"Murder's enough," responded the skipper. "Well, of course, nobody can +tell a man to be a murderer by merely looking at his mug. Not at +all!--nobody! However, this here is how it is. Last night it +were--evening, to be c'rect--dark. I was on the edge o' the fleet, out +there off the Dogger. A yacht comes up--smart 'un--very fast sailer--and +hails me. Was I going into Norcaster or anywheres about? Being a +Northborough tug, this, I wasn't. Would I go for a consideration--then +and there? Whereupon I asked what consideration? Then we bargains. +Eventual, we struck it at thirty pounds--cash down, which was paid, +prompt. I was to take two men straight and slick into Norcaster, to this +here very slip, Scarvell's Cut, to wait while they put a bit of a cargo +on board, and then to run 'em back to the same spot where I took 'em up. +Done! they come aboard--the yacht goes off east--I come careenin' west. +That's all! That part of it anyway." + +"And the men?" suggested the detective. "What sort were they, and where +are they?" + +"The men, now!" said the skipper. "Ah! Two on 'em--both done up in what +you might call deep-sea-style. But hadn't never done no deep-sea nor yet +any other sort o' sea work in their mortial days--hands as white and soft +as a lady's. One, an old chap with a dial like a full moon on him--sly +old chap, him! T'other a younger man, looked as if he'd something about +him--dangerous chap to cross. Where are they? Darned if I know. What I +knows, certain, is this--we gets in here about eight o'clock this +morning, and makes fast here, and ever since then them two's been as it +were on the fret and the fidge, allers lookin' out, so to speak, for +summun as ain't come yet. The old chap, he went across into that there +sail-maker's loft an hour ago, and t'other, he followed of him, recent. I +ain't seen 'em since. Try there. And I say?" + +"Well?" asked the detective. + +"Shall I be wanted?" asked the skipper. "'Cause if not, I'm off and away +as soon as the tide serves. Ain't no good me waitin' here for them chaps +if you're goin' to take and hang 'em!" + +"Got to catch 'em first," said the detective, with a glance at his two +professional companions. "And while we're not doubting your word at all, +we'll just take a look round your vessel--they might have slipped on +board again, you see, while your back was turned." + +But there was no sign of Peter Chatfield, nor of his daughter, nor of the +captain of the _Pike_ on that tug, nor anywhere in the sailmaker's loft +and its purlieus. And presently the detectives looked at one another and +their leader turned to Sir Cresswell. + +"If these people--as seems certain--have escaped into this quarter of the +town," he said, "there'll have to be a regular hunt for them! I've known +a man who was badly wanted stow himself away here for weeks. If Chatfield +has accomplices down here in the Warren, he can hide himself and +whoever's with him for a long time--successfully. We'll have to get a lot +of men to work." + +"But I say!" exclaimed Gilling. "You don't mean to tell me that three +people--one a woman--could get away through these courts and alleys, +packed as they are, without being seen? Come now!" + +The detectives smiled indulgently. + +"You don't know these folks," said one of them, inclining his head +towards a squalid street at the end of which they had all gathered. "But +they know _us_. It's a point of honour with them never to tell the truth +to a policeman or a detective. If they saw those three, they'd never +admit it to us--until it's made worth their while." + +"Get it made worth their while, then!" exclaimed Gilling, impatiently. + +"All in due course, sir," said the official voice. "Leave it to us." + +The amateur searchers after the iniquitous recognized the futility of +their own endeavours in that moment, and went away to discuss matters +amongst themselves, while the detectives proceeded leisurely, after their +fashion, into the Warren as if they were out for a quiet constitutional +in its salubrious byways. And Sir Cresswell Oliver remarked on the +difficulty of knowing exactly what to do once you had red-tape on one +side and unusual craftiness on the other. + +"You think there's no doubt that gold was removed this morning by +Chatfield's daughter?" he said to Copplestone as they went back to the +centre of the town together, Gilling and Vickers having turned aside +elsewhere and Spurge gone to the hospital to ask for news of his cousin. +"You think she was the woman whose footprints you saw up there at the +Beaver's Glen?" + +"Seeing that she's here in Norcaster and in touch with those two, what +else can I think?" replied Copplestone. "It seems to me that they got in +touch with her by wireless and that she removed the gold in readiness for +her father and Andrius coming in here by that North Sea tug. If we could +only find out where she's put those boxes, or where she got the car from +in which she brought it down from the tower--" + +"Vickers has already started some inquiries about cars," said Sir +Cresswell. "She must have hired a car somewhere in the town. Certainly, +if we could hear of that gold we should be in the way of getting on +their track." + +But they heard nothing of gold or of fugitives or of what the police and +detectives were doing until the middle of the afternoon. And then Mr. +Elkin, the manager of the bank from which Chatfield had withdrawn the +estate and the private balance, came hurrying to the "Angel" and to Mrs. +Greyle, his usually rubicund face pale with emotion, his hand waving a +scrap of crumpled paper. Mrs. Greyle and Audrey were at that moment in +consultation with Sir Cresswell Oliver and Copplestone--the bank manager +burst in on them without ceremony. + +"I say, I say!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Will you believe it!--the +gold's come back! It's all safe--every penny. Bless me!--I scarcely know +whether I'm dreaming or not. But--we've got it!" + +"What's all this?" demanded Sir Cresswell. "You've got--that gold?" + +"Less than an hour ago," replied the bank manager, dropping into a chair +and slapping his hand on his knees in his excitement, "a man who turned +out to be a greengrocer came with his cart to the bank and said he'd been +sent with nine boxes for delivery to us. Asked who had sent him he +replied that early this morning a lady whom he didn't know had asked him +to put the boxes in his shed until she called for them--she brought them +in a motor-car. This afternoon she called again at two o'clock, paid him +for the storage and for what he was to do, and instructed him to put the +boxes on his cart and bring them to us. Which," continued Mr. Elkin, +gleefully rubbing his hands together, "he did! With--this! And that, my +dear ladies and good gentlemen, is the most extraordinary document which, +in all my forty years' experience of banking matters, I have ever seen!" + +He laid a dirty, crumpled half-sheet of cheap note-paper on the table at +which they were all sitting, and Copplestone, bending over it, read aloud +what was there written. + +"MR. ELKIN--Please place the contents of the nine cases sent herewith to +the credit of the Greyle Estate. + +"PETER CHATFIELD, Agent." + +Amidst a chorus of exclamations Sir Cresswell asked a sharp question. + +"Is that really Chatfield's signature?" + +"Oh, undoubtedly!" replied Mr. Elkin. "Not a doubt of it. Of course, as +soon as I saw it, I closely questioned the greengrocer. But he knew +nothing. He said the lady was what he called wrapped up about her +face--veiled, of course--on both her visits, and that as soon as she'd +seen him set off with his load of boxes she disappeared. He lives, this +greengrocer, on the edge of the town--I've got his address. But I'm sure +he knows no more." + +"And the cases have been examined?" asked Copplestone. + +"Every one, my dear sir," answered the bank manager with a satisfied +smirk. "Every penny is there! Glorious!" + +"This is most extraordinary!" said Sir Cresswell. "What on earth does it +all mean? If we could only trace that woman from the greengrocer's +place--" + +But nothing came of an attempt to carry out this proposal, and no news +arrived from the police, and the evening had grown far advanced, and Mrs. +Greyle and Audrey, with Sir Cresswell, Mr. Petherton and Vickers, +Copplestone, and Gilling, were all in a private parlour together at a +late hour, when the door suddenly opened and a woman entered, who threw +back a heavy veil and revealed herself as Addie Chatfield. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +AMBASSADRESS EXTRAORDINARY + + +If Copplestone had never seen Addie Chatfield before, if he had not known +that she was an actress of some acknowledged ability, her entrance into +that suddenly silent room would have convinced him that here was a woman +whom nature had undoubtedly gifted with the dramatic instinct. Addie's +presentation of herself to the small and select audience was eminently +dramatic, without being theatrical. She filled the stage. It was as if +the lights had suddenly gone down in the auditorium and up in the +proscenium, as if a hush fell, as if every ear opened wide to catch a +first accent. And Addie's first accents were soft and liquid--and +accompanied by a smile which was calculated to soften the seven hearts +which had begun to beat a little quicker at her coming. With the smile +and the soft accent came a highly successful attempt at a shy and modest +blush which mounted to her cheek as she moved towards the centre table +and bowed to the startled and inquisitive eyes. + +"I have come to ask--mercy!" + +There was a faint sigh of surprise from somebody. Sir Cresswell Oliver, +only realizing that a pretty woman, had entered the room, made haste to +place a chair for her. But before Addie could respond to his +old-fashioned bow, Mr. Petherton was on his legs. + +"Er!--I take it that this is the young wom--the Miss Chatfield of whom +we have had occasion to speak a good deal today," he said very stiffly. +"I think, Sir Cresswell--eh?" + +"Yes," said Sir Cresswell, glancing from the visitor to the old lawyer. +"You think, Petherton--yes?" + +"The situation is decidedly unpleasant," said Mr. Petherton, more icily +than ever. "Mr. Vickers will agree with me that it is most +unpleasant--and very unusual. The fact is--the police are now searching +for this--er, young lady." + +"But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraid +of the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask you +all to be merciful." + +"To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton. + +"Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with another +softening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so down +on an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There are +two of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old men +to be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?" + +Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked round +again, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a little +sheepishly at Mr. Petherton. + +"It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what Miss +Chatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own free +will--something. I should like to know what that something is. I think +Mrs. Greyle would like to know, too." + +"Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure +with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss +Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father." + +Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbed +by these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor. + +"Where is your father?" he demanded. + +"Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye that +lit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of +'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll do +no good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd come +to ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up. +The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tell +you all about it and then we can be friends?" + +Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were some +extraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, waved +them at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort. + +"I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what you +like--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!" + +Vickers gave Addie a sly look. + +"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no need +for you to tell anything against yourself, you know." + +"Me!" exclaimed Addie. "Why, I've been playing good angel all day +long--me incriminate myself, indeed! If Miss Greyle there only knew what +I'd done for her!--look here," she continued, suddenly turning to Sir +Cresswell. "I've come to tell all about it. And first of all--every penny +of that money that my father drew from the bank has been restored this +afternoon." + +"We know that," said Sir Cresswell. + +"Well, that was me!--I engineered that," continued Addie. "And +second--the _Pike_ will be back at Scarhaven during the night, to unload +everything that was being carried away. My doing, again! Because, I'm no +fool, and I know when a game's up." + +"So--there was a game?" suggested Vickers. + +Addie leaned forward from the chair which Sir Cresswell had given her at +the end of the table and planting her elbows on the table edge began to +check off her points on the tips of her slender fingers. She was well +aware that she had the stage to herself by that time and she showed her +consciousness of it. + +"You have it," she answered. "There was a game--and perhaps I know more +of it than anybody. I'll tell now. It began at Bristol. I was playing +there. One morning my father fetched me out from rehearsal to tell me +that he'd been down to Falmouth to meet the new Squire of Scarhaven, +Marston Greyle, and that he found him so ill that they'd had to go to a +doctor, who forbade Greyle to travel far at a time. They'd got to +Bristol--there, Greyle was so much worse that my father didn't know what +to do with him. He knew that I was in the town, so he came to me. I got +Greyle a quiet room at my lodgings. A doctor saw him--he said he was very +bad, but he didn't say that he was in immediate danger. However, he died +that very night." + +Addie paused for a moment, and Copplestone and Gilling exchanged glances. +So far, this was all known to them--but what was coming? + +"Now, I was alone with Greyle for awhile that evening," continued Addie. +"It was while my father was getting some food downstairs. Greyle said to +me that he knew he was dying, and he gave me a pocket-book in which he +said all his papers were: he said I could give it to my father. I believe +he became unconscious soon after that; anyway, he never mentioned that +pocket-book to my father. Neither did I. But after Greyle was dead I +examined its contents carefully. And when I was in London at the end of +the week, I showed them to--my husband." + +Addie again paused, and at least two of the men glanced at each other +with a look of surmise. Her--husband! "Who the--" + +"The fact is," she went on suddenly, "Captain Andrius is my husband. But +nobody knew that--not even my own father. We've been married three +years--I met him when I was crossing over to America once. We got +married--we kept the marriage secret for reasons of our own. Well, he met +me in London the Sunday after Greyle's death, and I showed him the +papers which were in Greyle's pocket-book. And--now this, of course, was +where it was very wicked in me--and him--though we've tried to make up +for it today, anyhow--we fixed up what I suppose you two gentlemen would +call a conspiracy. My husband had a brother, an actor--not up to much, +nor of much experience--who had been brought up in the States and who was +then in town, doing nothing. We took him into confidence, coached him up +in everything, furnished him with all the papers in the pocket-book, and +resolved to pass him off as the real Marston Greyle." + +Mr. Petherton stirred angrily in his chair and turned a protesting face +on Sir Cresswell. + +"Apart from being irregular," he exclaimed, "this is altogether +outrageous! This woman is openly boasting of conspiracy and--" + +"You're wrong!" said Addie. "I'm not boasting--I'm explaining. You ought +to be obliged to me. And--" + +"If Mrs. Andrius--to give the lady her real name--cares to unburden her +secrets to us, I really don't see why we shouldn't listen to them, Mr. +Petherton," observed Vickers. "It simplifies matters greatly." + +"That's what I say," agreed Addie. "I'm done with all this and I want to +clear things up, whatever comes of it. Well--I say we fixed that up with +my brother-in-law." + +"His name--his real name, if you please," inquired Vickers. + +"Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another name +for the stage," replied Addie. "We gave him the papers and arranged for +him to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all, +right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was an +imposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't know +for a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after the +real Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, he +produced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'd +buried. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be a +secretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had left +him in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to pass +himself off as the real man until he could get something substantial out +of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted +that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the +estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his +stewardship quick." + +"Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details +about which I am anxious to hear." + +"Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that. +Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth +certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody +accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till +that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven. And +now, Sir Cresswell, I'll tell you the plain and absolute truth about +your brother's death! It's the absolute truth, mind--nobody knows it +better than I do. On that Sunday I was at Scarhaven. I wanted to speak +privately to Martin. I arranged to meet him in the grounds of the Keep +during the afternoon. I did meet him there. We hadn't been talking many +minutes when Bassett Oliver came in through the door in the wall, which +one of us had carelessly left open. He didn't see us. But we saw him. And +we were afraid! Why? Because Bassett Oliver knew both of us. He'd met +Martin several times, in London and in New York--and, of course, he knew +that Martin was no more Marston Greyle than he himself was. Well!--we +both shrank behind some shrubs that we were standing amongst, and we gave +each other one look, and Martin went white as death. But Bassett Oliver +went on across the lawn, never seeing us, and he entered the turret tower +and went up. Martin just said to me 'If Bassett Oliver sees me, there's +an end to all this--what's to be done?' But before I could speak or +think, we saw Bassett at the top of the tower, making his way round the +inside parapet. And suddenly--he disappeared!" + +Addie's voice had become low and grave during the last few minutes and +she kept her eyes on the table at the end. But she looked up readily +enough when Sir Cresswell seized her arm and rapped out a question almost +in her ear. + +"Is that the truth--the real truth?" + +"It's the absolute truth!" she answered, regarding him steadily. "I'm +not altogether a good sort, nor a very bad sort, but I'm telling you the +real truth in that. It was a sheer accident--he stepped off the parapet +and fell. Martin went into the base of the tower and came back saying he +was dead. We were both dazed--we separated. He went off to the house--I +went to my father by a roundabout way. We decided to let things take +their course. You all know a great deal of what happened. But--later--my +husband and Martin began to take certain things into their own hands. +They put me on one side. To this minute, I don't quite know how much my +father got into their secrets or how little, but I do know that they +determined to make what you might call a purse for themselves out of +Scarhaven. Martin left certain powers in his brother's hands and went +off to London. He was there, hidden, until Andrius got all ready for a +flight on the _Pike_. Then he set off to Scarhaven, to join her. But he +didn't join her, and none of us knew what had become of him until today, +when we heard of what had been found at Scarhaven. That explained it--he +had taken that short cut from the Northborough road through the woods +behind the Keep, and fallen over the cliff at the Hermit's steps. But +that very night, you, Mr. Vickers, and Mr. Copplestone and Miss Greyle, +nearly stopped everything, and if Andrius and Chatfield hadn't carried +you off, the scheme would have come to nothing. Well--you know what +happened after that--" + +"But," interjected Vickers, quickly, "not your share in the last +development." + +"My share's been to see that the thing was up, and that if I wanted to +save them all, I'd best put a stop to it," rejoined Addie, with a grim +smile. "I tell you, I didn't know what they'd been up to until today. I +was in England--never mind where--wondering what was going on. Yesterday +I got a code message from my husband. When he fetched my father away from +you, he forced him to tell where that gold was--then he wired to me--by +wireless--full instructions to recover it during last night. I did--never +you mind the exact means I took nor who it was that I got to help--I got +it--and I took good care to put it where I knew it would be safe. Then +this morning I went to meet the two of them at Scarvell's Cut. And I took +the upper hand then! I got them away from that sail-loft--safely. I made +my husband give me a code message for the man in charge of the _Pike_, +telling him to return at once to Scarhaven; I made my father write a note +to Elkin at the bank, telling him to place the gold which I sent with it +to the credit of the Greyle Estate. And when all that was done--I got +them away--they're gone!" + +Vickers, who had never taken his eyes off Addie during her lengthy +explanation, gave her a whimsical smile. + +"Safely?" he asked. + +"I'll defy the police to find 'em, anyway," replied Addie with a quick +response of lip and eye. "I don't do things by halves. I say--they're +gone! But--I'm here. Come, now--I've made a clean breast of it all. The +thing's over and done with. There's nothing to prevent Miss Greyle there +coming into her rights--I can prove 'em--my father can prove them. So--is +it any use doing what that old gentleman's just worrying to do? You can +all see what he wants--he's dying to hand me over to the police." + +Sir Cresswell Oliver rose, glanced at Audrey and her mother, received +some telepathic communication from them, and assumed his old +quarter-deck manner. + +"Not tonight, I think, Petherton," he said authoritatively. +"No--certainly not tonight!" + + * * * * * + +Some months later, when Audrey Greyle had come into possession of +Scarhaven, and had married Copplestone in the little church behind her +mother's cottage, she and her husband, to satisfy a mutual and +long-cherished desire, visited a certain romantic and retired part of the +country. And in the course of their wanderings they came across a very +pretty village, and in it a charmingly situated retreat, which looked so +attractive from the road along which they were walking that they halted +and peered at it through its trimly-kept boundary hedge. And there, +seated in the easiest of chairs on the smoothest of lawns, roses about +him, a cigar in his mouth, the newspaper in his hand, a glass at his +elbow, they saw Peter Chatfield. They looked at him for a long moment; +then they looked at each other and smiled delightedly, as children might +smile at a pleasure-giving picture, and they passed on in silence. But +when that village lay behind them, Copplestone gave his wife a sly +glance, and permitted himself to make an epigram. + +"Chatfield!" he said musingly. "Chatfield! sublimely ungrateful that he +isn't in Dartmoor." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Scarhaven Keep, by J. S. 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